Time Bomb Town - Chapter One

It was early morning at Malibu Lagoon State Beach. The dawn patrol was out. A dozen or so surfers, bobbing up and down at Third Point in the impact zone. 

The Pacific Ocean was glassy. The Sun was just rising behind the mountains, its first rays hitting the backs of the surfers as they stared toward the dim horizon waiting for the next set to come in. Two young surfers were sitting balanced on their shortboards during the lull.

Wyatt Vance was older, but Dalton was taller. Both Wyatt and Dalton were tan and trim, with blue eyes, but Wyatt's hair was wavy with a hint of curls and dark brown while Dalton's already blond hair was blown out almost white-gold by constant exposure to the sun. They scanned the distance watching for the first hint of a wave. While they watched, they argued.

“Are you out of your mind?” Wyatt stared at his younger brother.

“Is that how you're going to approach this request?” Dalton glared at his older brother. “Really? That's your response?”

“It's premature. You haven't even graduated college yet,” said Wyatt.

“I fail to see the relevance of that fact.”

“Because how do you know what you want? You're only nineteen.”

“Wyatt, I know what I want. And I want...for some reason that is currently escaping me, you to be the best man at my wedding. My age is just another irrelevant fact.” Dalton was getting annoyed. When he set his jaw he looked like his mother, while Wyatt definitely favored their father.

“Your age is a very relevant fact. Two years from now, you'll probably have changed your major. You think you won't want a different woman by then?”

Dalton stared at his brother. Wyatt may have been older but Dalton often felt like he was far more mature.

“Love isn't like changing a major. Love is a choice that you have to make every day. Besides, Mom and Dad got married at my age.”

Wyatt snorted. “Look how well that turned out. So...what? Did Mom and Dad stop 'choosing' to love each other?”

Wyatt had Dalton trapped. If he said 'yes' then Wyatt would needle his brother about his hope that their parents would get back together. If he said 'no', Wyatt would ask him, if that was the case, why did they get divorced three years ago? There was no good answer. Dalton stewed. Then nature came to the rescue. Dalton rose up on his board. He could just make it out. The slight surge, far in the distance, the change in the feel of the flow of the water beneath his board.

“OUTSIDE,” Dalton cried out and began paddling towards the incoming swell. Wyatt saw it as well and was only just behind his brother. Up and down the line, surfers paddled toward the wave as it rose. Then, almost as one, almost as if they choreographed it, the surfers spun their boards to the North and paddled for the shore. Dalton was paddling like crazy, glancing over his shoulder at the wave. It was big, double-overhead. To his left, Wyatt was paddling as well. The wave lifted them up and they both dropped in with a hiss of spray and popped up. But Wyatt had position so Dalton shanked it off the back, getting some air as he got out of his brother's way.

Wyatt had the run of the wave and he owned it. He carved the face, tearing it up. It was a great ride. Dalton watched him from behind, proud and impressed as the wave turned to whitewater and swallowed Wyatt in a flurry. Dalton turned to catch the next one himself. It was coming in fast.

Dalton felt the wave surge underneath his board, felt the smooth drop as he took off and popped up. Trailing his fingers into the face of the wave, he felt truly alive. As the wave closed out behind him and surfers rolled out of his way in front of him, he felt something surge in his spirit the way the wave did under his board. Strong, powerful, relentless. Joyful.

Wyatt watched his younger brother ride, ripping it up, water glistening off his tan skin. He smiled to see it. Laughed. Dalton only really let himself go when he was riding the waves. He was too tightly wound and Wyatt worried about him sometimes. Not out here though. Out here, Dalton was an artist. Wyatt watched as Dalton crouched and shot up the face of wave, getting air off the back and flipping into the ocean right before it crumbled into whitewater.

Wyatt, paddling out, ducked under a wave and came up on its backside, just as Dalton burst back into the atmosphere. They caught each other's eyes and laughed. 

* * *

The sun was higher in the sky. Morning was getting on. The sound of traffic on PCH was picking up to a steady groan. Dalton pulled himself out of the surf, picked up his board and walked up the beach towards the parking lot. Wyatt was finishing off his final ride. What they agreed would be the final ride of the day since they both had class in about an hour.

Dalton expected to see Wyatt trudging up the beach behind him. But when he looked back he could see Wyatt paddling out again. Damn it, thought Dalton. They were already pushing it, getting back to the dorm, showering and making it to class. Wyatt had promised he wouldn't pull this again.

“WYATT! WE GOTTA GO, MAN!”

Wyatt waved at him, but kept paddling out. Dalton, aggravated, shook his head and plowed through the sand to his truck.

In the parking lot, Dalton stowed his board, stripped out of his wetsuit and changed into shorts, tank-top and flip-flops. Pulling his sunglasses up on his nose, he looked down the path to the beach. Still no Wyatt. With a huge sigh, Dalton hiked back to the beach in time to see Wyatt paddling back out to catch another wave.

Dalton couldn't believe it. He called out after him, “WYATT! WYATT, COME ON MAN, WE GOTTA GO.”

Either Wyatt couldn't hear him or ignored him. He kept heading out into the surf zone.

“HEY LISTEN, THIS IS NOT HAPPENING. I'M LEAVING! YOU HEAR ME, MAN?”

No response. Not even a glance back. As Dalton slogged back to his truck, Wyatt caught the finest ride of the day. The perfect wave. Every move Wyatt made was right. Everything in sync. Everything moved in slow motion. And Wyatt felt the transcendence. 

* * *

Wyatt headed to the parking lot, exuberant, still rushing on the morning, still rushing on the last ride. And then the rush slammed to an end. Dalton's truck was gone. Wyatt had been left. He sprinted towards PCH, hoping his brother was just messing with him. But as Wyatt looked up and down the highway, he knew this was no joke.

Rage filled him where a moment ago he had been filled with peace.

He swore at his brother silently. He didn't even have his cell phone on him. It was in Dalton's truck. Wyatt couldn't believe it. He was going to miss class. And that would cost him.

* * *  

Ten minutes later, Wyatt, in his wetsuit, barefooted, surfboard under his arm, was hitch-hiking West on PCH. Traffic whizzed by him as he picked his steps carefully, trying to avoid glass and crap. Wyatt muttered to himself angrily, cursing his brother over and over. He switched the surfboard to the other arm and spun around, walking backwards, his right hand sticking out, thumb up.

Suddenly, a Honda swerved over and stopped. Wyatt couldn't believe it. He walked to the open passenger window and stuck his head in. The driver was an attractive young woman in a conservative dress suit. Her long blonde hair was pulled back into a tight pony-tail. It was Adrienne Jacks. Wyatt's law school nemesis. She stared at him, her eyebrows arched in a cross between surprise and...was it contempt?

“I thought that was you, idiot.”

Wyatt sighed. This day was just getting better. “Yeah. I don't suppose you can give me a ride?”

“Only if you tell me what you're doing out here. We have class in twenty minutes.”

“My brother ditched me.”

“Why?”

“Who knows...” He looked away from her, at the traffic passing them by.

Adrienne tilted her head, studying him. Finally she reached a decision. “Get in, idiot.”

Her car pulled away from the shoulder, Wyatt's surfboard sticking out of the trunk. The sudden move cut off on-coming traffic to the blare of a horn. Adrienne's left hand shot out the open window, sending an undeniable signal to the irritated driver behind her. Wyatt hung on as she gunned it through the traffic, weaving back and forth.

“Uh,” Wyatt opened his mouth.

“Are you gonna say something about my driving? 'Cause I can dump your ass back on the side of the road.”

“Nope,” Wyatt buckled his seatbelt and pushed on the dash. “This thing have airbags?”

A few miles later, Adrienne pulled off PCH into a gorgeous college campus on a hillside overlooking the ocean. The green lawn of Mara Vista University ran down to the highway. Buildings, dorms and classrooms sat right in the foothills of Malibu.

“Drop me off at Starr Dormitory. I stayed in Dalton's room last night. All my stuff is there,” Wyatt pointed out the way to the underclassman student dorm.

“I think we should go straight to class. We're going to be late.”

“Hey, I'm in a wetsuit. I don't have any of my books or anything. I have to change.”

Adrienne pulled up in front of the dorm. Wyatt jumped out hurriedly and grabbed his surfboard. He leaned into Adrienne's driverside window.

“I'll only be a few minutes. Five, maybe ten at the most.”

“Take all the time you need.”

Wyatt smiled at her. “Thanks. That's really cool. I totally appreciate this.”

She snorted and drove away.