Tahoe

Gunner's F-550 took the lead as our column — Anderson's vehicles trailing behind us — climbed up onto the road.

The landscape of US Route 50, picking up again at the far edge of the long and brutal Eldorado National Forest, sat in the heart of a majestic vista that nature itself had carved. Against that scale, our procession of vehicles felt as insignificant as a march of tiny insects. Standing before that vast silence, human civilization and its ending seemed like nothing more than dust.

Not long after, Jake's radio came through announcing the helicopter was airborne, and Cody, back in the motorhome, reported the drone reconnaissance as well.

Moments later Jake overtook the column overhead and reported the rear.

I assigned Jake a new mission.

Then I switched to the other radio and called Anderson's group.

We ran for another hour or so. The dense timber began to thin, and then the view opened all at once, a wide, clean landscape pouring in as if we had just broken out of a long, dark tunnel. Jake's voice came over the radio, wonder bleeding through the static.

I said nothing. Jake filled the silence himself.

He paused to catch his breath, then went on.

Following Jake's guidance as we rolled into downtown South Lake Tahoe, I was struck by a strange sense of déjà vu — the place felt uncannily like Sokcho, the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Korean coastal city where Seoraksan Mountain meets the East Sea. Here, the same logic held: a narrow strip of flatland pinched between the towering Eldorado National Forest and the vastness of Lake Tahoe, packed tight with hotels, resorts, and shops.

A scatter of vehicles still moved through the streets. To eyes long accustomed to ruin and chaos, the scene was almost unnervingly peaceful. The sky remained a volcanic ash-gray, and the enormous lake was frozen solid in the sub-zero cold, but the scale of it — and the beauty of the city itself — had not diminished.

I thought of the calendar. It was already March. By the date, winter had passed and spring had begun.

At the order, Gunner's F-550 at the head of the column picked up speed and pulled away. We followed slowly along Route 50. As we neared the point Jake had marked, Gunner's voice came back.

Cody followed with the drone.

Before long the entire column had drawn up in front of the rest stop, and Jake directed us in from the entrance. The heavy trucks parked in sequence along the shoulder leading onto the lot.

I climbed down from the cab. Gunner, finished with his sweep of the grounds, came over.

"Most of the shops and restaurants are closed," he said. "And yet it's strangely peaceful."

Carlos, who had been looking around, walked toward us and called out.

"Boss — I don't know about the rest, but they're selling water."

"Bottled water?"

He shook his head.

"No. Over at the RV dump station, they've got a sign up charging for a water fill-up."

That, more than anything, felt like proof that a remnant of order was still alive here. I reminded myself once more that we were standing on the line between California and Nevada. Cross that frozen lake, and it was a new land with entirely different laws and an entirely different system.

"Gunner."

"Yeah."

"Take Frank and go over to that RV dump station. Check the prices and get a read on the locals. Whether they'll trade, and if they will, what they're taking for money — and who actually runs this town."

Gunner nodded and walked toward Frank.

I looked out across the frozen expanse of Lake Tahoe toward the mountain range faintly visible on the Nevada side. Amid this seemingly peaceful landscape, a nameless unease brushed cold across my chest. Like the calm before a storm — a strange premonition that something was waiting for us.

I was still watching Gunner and Frank's retreating figures when Mike came up beside me and pointed at the western sky.

"With the Sierra Nevada standing in the way, the sun's going to drop earlier than you'd expect."

I nodded. The rugged range blocked the west like a folding screen.

"I suppose so."

A sudden relief washed through me. The odds of a wave of California refugees crossing that treacherous stretch of Eldorado National Forest to reach us here were slim. And we had no reason to hitch our survival to the handful of fuel and food the federal government was doling out. Here, it seemed all right to stop for a while and catch our breath.

I made the decision quietly. There was no guarantee this strange peace would last — but at least for today, we were going to take the quiet and hold it.

I held two radios side by side. One was ours. The other belonged to Anderson's group. I pressed both PTT buttons at once, and a short beep sounded from both speakers.

I looked up from the radio. Most of the group, parking finished, had already flocked across the road. Every gaze was locked on the vastness of Lake Tahoe.

"Whoa—!"

"My God… that's really a lake?"

Dave muttered it like he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing. Beyond the water — a boundless ice plain with no end in sight — snow-covered peaks stood around it like a screen. The sky was still ash-gray and the world was still frozen, but the beauty pouring off that landscape was enough to stop the breath in your chest.

"If only we'd brought the kids here once, back when the world was still whole."

A deep regret colored Raven's voice. Watching them, I said quietly to Mike,

"It's strangely peaceful."

"There's reason enough for that."

Mike answered without taking his eyes off the frozen lake.

"Geographically, this place is an oasis and a fortress all at once. Rugged mountains on every side. To get in from the outside, you'd have to thread a narrow valley road — or go all the way around a lake that's dozens of miles across."

He went on.

"The Great Winter cut off the tourists, so economically it's gone bust. Flip that around, though, and the supplies they stockpiled for those tourists should still be sitting there intact."

I said nothing. He wasn't finished.

"Population density's low, and outside inflow is hard. If they just keep their own order, this kind of peace isn't strange at all."

While we talked, the others who had gone looking around started coming back one by one. Dave and Cody reached us first.

"Chan, I checked a few motels right next door. They've got vacant rooms. But they're asking three hundred a night — triple the old rate. And that's not even counting heat and hot water, which you have to haggle for separately."

I shook my head.

"We'll look at it again when Frank gets back."

Cody followed.

"Boss, the South Lake Tahoe subreddit is extremely active. From what I can see, almost all the local trading of supplies happens through Reddit."

Then Gunner and Frank returned, clutching their collars against the biting wind.

"It's cold. Let's take this inside my trailer."

I picked up the radio and made an all-call.

Once we had settled again inside the warm trailer, Frank spoke first.

"Water refill was no problem. Two dollars a gallon, cash only. It's a gouge, but it's clean water, so what can you do. And I picked up something interesting."

He looked around at everyone.

"Not far from here, a local market runs every afternoon from two to five. All the trading happens there, they said."

"A market?"

"Yeah. The local sheriff and a militia provide security, so safety's guaranteed. Prices are high and the terms are all over the place, but you can apparently get just about anything."

Cody picked it up, energy rising in his voice.

"Ah — so that's why. You post what you need on Reddit, the seller who sees it brings the goods to the market the next day, and you trade there. That's how it works."

It was an interesting system. I looked around at my people.

"Anyone need anything in particular?"

A few hands went up, cautiously. Cody spoke first.

"Boss, I'd like one more drone. We need a spare, and it'd be good to have for continuous recon if it comes to that."

"Fair enough. We don't know how long we can keep the helicopter in the air anyway. That's a good idea."

Then Tank, who had been silent, opened his mouth in that heavy, low register.

"I need new boots."

I could see them — the old, worn-out combat boots. It struck me that Bill and Tank, who had fallen in with us so abruptly, needed time for maintenance as much as anyone.

Frank raised a hand.

"While we're at it, how about we offload some of the nuts and dried fruit we hauled from the farm? Honestly, we brought way too much."

I thought it over, then made the call.

"All right. We stay here another day, maybe two. Before we cross into Nevada, we trade for what we need and get every vehicle and every piece of equipment fully serviced."

I put the decision out over the radio. The instant I finished, Raven and Sarah's voices came back almost on top of each other, bright with pleasure.

I handed Cody my laptop.

"Cody, post on the subreddit that we're looking for a drone."

Frank, sitting beside him, jumped in.

"Oh — Cody. While you're at it, mention we've got top-grade organic nuts and dried fruit too. Say the trade items are negotiable. A good fisherman's got to throw out some bait, right?"

"On it, Frank."

I watched Cody take the laptop and get to work, and for a moment I sat with my own thoughts. Cash. The internet. A free market and a functioning watch. South Lake Tahoe was perhaps the last oasis in this fallen world where the old machinery of civilization was still grinding along.

But wherever an oasis exists, thirsty predators always prowl. And I could not shake the thought that this peace might be nothing more than a deceptive curtain drawn over the war unfolding beyond those mountains.