Happy Sunday and welcome to the eighth chapter of APOCALYPSE ROCK. Last week was jam-packed with news of all sorts - ranging from bad to worse, to just plain weird. This week, Doug meets another wandering soul from the new age retreat. And they’ve got an offer Doug just can’t refuse.

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DOUG PEERED OUT THROUGH HIS WINDSHIELD AS THE DJ’S VOCAL FRY BLARED. That’s right, folks, pay no attention to the body parts washing ashore!” he exclaimed. “Nothing to see here, folks. Move along! Move along! On that note, here’s a pearl from the past. Blue Öyster Cult’s Don’t Fear The Reaper… as covered by up-and-coming, soon-to-be local legends of ambient black metal hip hop, Dogsbane!” The classic rock tune’s opening riff had been replaced by an orchestra of distorted guitars. Incomprehensible vocals screamed out, and an MC name-checked the players as Doug’s car climbed over the hill just ahead of the trail to Mount Costo.

Standing in the same spot where Doug had left Shining Wind was another person, wearing a bright yellow rain jacket. They raised their right arm slowly, and started waving at Doug, then stepped out onto the road, almost in front of his car. Doug slowed down, switched on his hazard lights and pulled up next to the figure.

He turned down the music and opened the passenger side window.

“Everything okay?” Doug called out the window.

“Good morning. Are you Douglas?” a woman’s voice asked through the window.

“That’s me. How can I help?”

“You dropped my friend off here this morning,” the woman said and then held up Doug’s dog-eared business card. “He passed this on and said you might be able to help with some internet problems we’re having.” The woman smiled, “Also, I need a ride into the village. All our vehicles are in use right now. If you’re going that way could I could hitch a ride?” Doug nodded, thinking he heard a slight Irish accent to her voice. Or maybe Scottish. He thought it might also have a bit of German too.

The woman got in the car. She had strikingly light, almost white, blonde hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. She had fair skin, a thin face with delicate features, and a straight-backed posture. Her age was indiscernable. She could have been anywhere between her thirties or her fifties.

“My name is Marcus,” she said as she locked eyes with Doug, her face in a smile.

“Pleased to meet you, Marcus,” Doug replied, lifting up his bandaged hand. Marcus almost took it, but stopped.

“Oh, yes. Shining Wind said that you’d just been bitten by a wild dog?”

“Yeah, that’s true, but it’s a friend. I mean, it’s a friend’s dog. It’s not wild.” Doug paused. “Have you been out there in the rain for long?”

“I’m actually not sure,” laughed Marcus, her smile constant, just like Shining Wind’s. “I love the rain. The sound of it, the smell of it in the forest, how it just takes everything over. I get a little lost in the experience,” she laughed softly.

Doug switched the hazard lights off and pulled back onto the road. They drove south through the downpour.

“I’m the same,” said Doug after a minute. “With the rain. Especially in the morning, it’s comforting, I think.”

A large truck came speeding around a blind corner ahead, its headlights on high, blearing through the station wagon’s windshield, making Doug squint. The air pressure of the passing truck shook the small station wagon. This part of Sternum’s main road, where it traversed a central valley twisting with blind corners and hills, was Doug’s least favorite.

“Up Mount Costo, it feels like you’re in the actual rain cloud,” Marcus continued, “I have a pretty lame joke I tell about our heads literally being in the clouds,” she laughed. Doug kept his eyes on the road. “But I’ll save you from more of that.” The two of them laughed.

They came to the border, the signs in this direction reading, “AU REVOIR!/GOODBYE! YOU ARE NOW LEAVING CANADA! THANKS FOR VISITING!” Followed by “WELCOME TO THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA! LAND OF THE FREE!”

“It’s a beautiful part of the island, up where you folks are,” Doug agreed, “All the local kids, we used to go camping there. But I haven’t seen what it’s like after it was developed. A couple friends tried to visit a few months ago but it was gated off.”

“Unfortunately, we had to put up gates and warning signs. It was the insurance company,” Marcus explained, “That was not something we wanted to do. We certainly didn’t want to exclude anyone. Especially from a place the have a connection with. But hopefully we have a solution now.”

The headlights of a vehicle flickered in Doug’s rearview mirror, then rapidly brightened, closing in on them.

“I’m guessing you’re going to the meeting later?” Doug asked.

“Definitely,” replied Marcus. “I imagine there’s quite a bit of interest in what we have planned.”

When they came to a long stretch in the road, Doug slowed, letting a stream of cars overtake and speed past the little red station wagon, water spraying up in their wake onto the driver’s side window.

“It’s the rush for the next sailing to Terminal,” Doug explained, nodding at the red taillights disappearing into the blueish gloom ahead. “That’s the closest we get to a traffic jam here!”

“I like how you take your own time,” said Marcus. “It’s a valuable skill to have in this world. Taking time.”

“Actually, it’s more about safety,” Doug replied. “The ravine here is a trap, especially when it’s wet. Which is pretty much always, I guess.”

The station wagon descended the steep hill into Sternum Island Village. As they passed the post office, the town hall, the pharmacy, Doug pointed each one out, telling Marcus some of the history of the area.

“Some folks want to rename Sternum and the village to their original native names,” Doug explained. “I can’t pronounce it, but I think this area would be translated as something like Seal Bay. But seals don’t really come in here anymore. The boats and the ferry are way too loud for them. But I think it would be great to have names with real history for the people here. Not just names of some guys who mapped the area, or their friends. Most of them never even set foot here.”

“It’s like my name,” said Marcus. “I was given a female name when I was born. Elisabeth. But after joining Golden Years, I was offered the name of one of their recently passed founders.”

“Yeah, I was wondering,” Doug replied. “Sorry…” cutting himself off, unsure if he was being rude.

“It’s fine. I know some people find it strange, and I understand why. But in the end, what’s in a name? They’re all reincarnations of a kind, right? Anyway, I’m happy with it.”

Doug pulled into a parking space near the cafe and switched the engine off. Marcus leaned forward, touching her hand lightly to his forearm which rested on the parking brake.

“Thank you for the ride, Douglas,” she said. “We’ve ended at the perfect place,”

“Excuse me?” Doug asked.

“The cafe,” Marcus nodded toward Brandi’s Cafe, which Doug had parked opposite from. “I need to get coffee beans.” Marcus opened the door and stepped out into the drizzle. “We’re almost completely out,” She stooped back down. “If there’s one thing those folks demand up there, it’s coffee. And if we run out they’ll tear me apart.”

“Oh, right,” Doug laughed. “The essentials.”

“But, if you have the time it would be great if you wanted to come and visit us,” Marcus continued. “We have some issues with our internet that you might be able to help us with. What’s your availability like?”

“To be honest,” replied Doug, “my calendar is pretty flexible.”

“How about tomorrow?” Marcus asked. “I know it’s short notice, but we can offer a retainer of one thousand dollars.”

Doug felt his stomach jump. “That’s a lot of money, Marcus. I don’t even know what the problem is. I mean, I don’t… I don’t know if I can even fix it.”

“It’s our standard payment arrangement. It’s what we feel is right and fair,” Marcus replied, “You can say no after having a look. That’s completely fine. But it would be amazing to have your help. And we’d really prefer to find a local person who we can get to know and trust.”

Doug thought about the payment reminders pinned to his office noticeboard. “I have my kids tomorrow. But, I could come up with them in the afternoon. How’s four o’clock?”

Marcus smiled and nodded, closed the car door and walked into the cafe.

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