Chapter 32: Lake Mead

Monday morning, the last week of May.

Las Vegas was devoid of sunlight, the air whipped by a chilling wind that raised goosebumps, like a banshee slipping beneath the skin.

Two vehicles sped out of Las Vegas, merging onto the broad, level interstate highway between Arizona and Nevada.

The road began to dip, turning into a gentle slope.

Dean stuck his head out the window, and in the distance, a sweep of blue lake came into view.

There was no sun today, yet the water’s color was still breathtaking—a jewel resting between cliffs, its tranquil surface shimmering with a deep blue glow.

Dean squinted at Caroline beside him.

“So what’s the schedule for Memorial Day today?”

“It’s simple. We’ll go to Lake Mead, chat, bask in the sun—well, not today, no sun, so we’ll just enjoy a midday barbecue party, and at three o’clock sharp, we’ll observe five minutes of silence for the fallen soldiers and loved ones, then head home so everyone can enjoy the holiday for Tuesday and Wednesday.”

Caroline flicked her twin ponytails and beamed sweetly.

“No parades, no gun salutes? No old veterans giving speeches to reminisce about past glories and promote good old American patriotism?”

“Haven’t you noticed? All that happened last Friday.” Caroline pressed close and looped her arm around his, blowing a mischievous warm breath in his ear.

Dean smiled helplessly.

Don’t be fooled by this rock girl’s open facade; in truth, she was as slippery as an eel, always evading his grasp. But Dean didn’t mind, taking it all as a pleasant diversion from his training.

A racket erupted from the other side of the sofa.

“You’re squashing me, darling… Why didn’t you bring your Dodge?”

Noah’s girlfriend, the nose-ringed Mariah, and Liam’s girlfriend were squeezed onto the “human sofa,” complaining loudly.

“Haha, crowding a bit makes it easier to bond!” Liam tickled his girlfriend’s waist and kissed her long hair.

…

After a lively half hour, it was ten in the morning.

They arrived at their destination.

The Chevrolet and Ford came to a stop. Dean opened the door.

“Have you ever been here?” Caroline got out with him, and at the lakeshore, over twenty cars were parked along with a school bus.

Teachers, students, and other unfamiliar visitors were energetically spreading picnic blankets and setting up grills.

“I never left Las Vegas before,” Dean replied.

“Then you made the right choice this time. If you’ve never been to Lake Mead, can you even call yourself a Vegas native?” Caroline patted his chest.

Dean slowly walked to the sandy shore, scooped up a handful of icy lake water, and looked up: yellow earth, sandy beach, cliffs bristling with jagged rocks all around, and rented boats at the far edge.

Despite the endless desert all around, here, in the midst of barren yellow sand, lay this breathtaking man-made lake.

The water was crystal clear, calm as glass. You could fish, dive, or row across.

Lake Mead was a sapphire set into a tray of gold sand—a mirage made real.

Dean grinned. “Won’t a barbecue party in such a beautiful place ruin the environment? Does the government allow it?”

“We made a special application. As long as we clean up the trash afterwards, it’s fine.” Caroline crouched beside him, playfully splashing him with a handful of water.

Dean shielded his shoulder bag.

“What have you got in there that you’re guarding so fiercely? You even slept with it last night.”

Caroline’s eyes sparkled with curiosity.

“A few novels to kill time,” Dean replied with a smile.

Caroline was about to probe further when a voice interrupted.

“Look at that—what a quiet Sleeping Beauty.”

Carter and Rust strutted over, crab-like, lugging a bucket of vegetables, gazing out at the lake.

“They say this ‘beauty’ hides a deadly secret. The Vegas casino enforcers and gangsters love nothing more than weighing down their victims with rocks and chains before sending them to the bottom of Lake Mead. This lake’s been here over forty years—if ten bodies a year go in…”

“So you’re saying Lake Mead is basically a mass grave? And we’re having a barbecue on its banks?” Carter exclaimed. “A party on the graves?”

“Oh, it gets worse,” Rust said, clutching an onion, his face turning green. “Our geography teacher told us Lake Mead supplies drinking water for millions in California, Nevada, and Arizona. Guess where Vegas gets its water?”

Dean frowned, the dreamlike spell broken.

Brittany and Caroline, who’d been eavesdropping, turned pale.

Have we really been drinking corpse water all along?

“Shut up, you idiots! You haven’t grown an extra limb after all these years, have you? Get over here and help!” Liam, paring carrots, made a mock stabbing gesture. “Say any more buzzkill stuff, and I’ll send you three to the bottom first.”

…

Dean’s group set up grills, spread charcoal, set pots, and chopped onions, carrots, corn, and parsley. Mariah, in an apron, stood at the grill mixing marinade, turning ribs, and minding the heat.

From each grill, ribs sizzled, corn popped and crackled, and the aroma rose with the smoke to the somber sky.

It was like a row of tendrils stretching into the clouds.

It was a new experience for Dean.

In his previous life, he’d rarely barbecued in the wild himself. Besides, as a fake Chinese, his cooking skills were just passable—good enough to lend a hand.

…

The barbecue party unfolded in good order. To avoid outsiders, Dean had chosen the most secluded corner of the camp.

But he’d underestimated the Good Morning Band’s popularity.

Within half an hour, several groups came over to greet them.

A Black guy with an afro, in a floral tee and ripped jeans, greeted everyone with a rhythmic rap accent and fist-bumped the band members.

Leather-clad, eyeliner-wearing nonconformists—pairs of them—hugged Liam, whispered in his ear, and swiped some corn, sausage, and juice.

A bespectacled nerd, clutching a notebook, eagerly sought autographs from the band while stealing glances at Caroline’s flowing blonde hair, fair skin, and sultry figure.

…

But without exception, when these newcomers looked at Dean and Rust among the Good Morning crew, their surprise was obvious.

An Asian guy and a quiet, sardine-obsessed loner, hanging out with the most popular rock band in school?

“Open up…”

Caroline, attentive, pressed a freshly grilled sausage to Dean’s lips, her slender, oil-slicked fingers looking very tempting.

Dean took a big bite without pretense.

Caroline smiled, her eyes alight, her words like music.

“Don’t mind those idiots. They don’t understand anything and will live mediocre lives, unable to buy even a single house in Vegas. You’re different, Dean. You write great songs. You’re a genius—destined to shine in the music world!”

Dean looked at her.

Even knowing she had her reasons for flattering him, he still felt a trace of satisfaction.

“Caroline?”

“Mm?”

“You’ll be a big star one day.”

Her eyes curved into crescents.

“Don’t make promises lightly. If you don’t deliver, I’ll come after you.”

…

They gathered around the wooden table by the grill, feasting.

Dean assembled his burger as he remembered: bacon, steak, lettuce, onion rings, pickles, a layer of melted cheese and spices between each.

Layer by layer, all sandwiched between two slices of bread.

A steaming, towering burger!

Dean licked his lips and took a bite.

Mmm…

Rich juices flooded his mouth, the hearty fillings packed his cheeks.

Utter satisfaction!

…

“I still remember, a few years back, the day Noah signed up for the band. Scared the hell out of me,” Liam said, tearing into a drumstick.

“Yellow jacket, dusty gray pants, so skinny and hunched—like a grandma from the sticks. Well, you are from a farm in rural Arizona!”

“Bah! A grandma’s better than your flaming gay self!” Noah straightened his wind-blown mohawk.

“Cynthia, your boyfriend dated both boys and girls in middle school—he even had a boyfriend!”

“What nonsense! Want me to rip your mouth apart?”

“Hear that, folks? Only a man says ‘I’ll rip your mouth!’”

“Forget it. Can’t argue with a moron. Let’s talk scandal—the measurements of our band’s core member Caroline. My girlfriend told me in secret. Anyone interested?”

“You want to die?” Caroline glared, brandishing her fork.

Dean savored the food and the cheerful chatter, eating more than he would in a normal day.

An hour later, everyone was stuffed and warm, heads dizzy from the post-meal drowsiness.

Dean glanced at Caroline. She blushed, quietly tugging her tank top down to cover her slightly rounded belly.

…

Such a perfect moment.

Screech—

Suddenly, a harsh brake shattered the mood.

All eyes at the lakeside camp turned.

“Who the hell parks like that?”

An M151 jeep had stopped across the slope between the lake and the highway, forming a black barricade that blocked the exit.

The doors swung open like the wings of a giant black bat. Three men got out on either side.

All wore heavy olive drab coats, full-face helmets like motorcycle visors obscuring their faces, black square goggles glinting coldly.

They looked bulky and ponderous, as if clad in battered old armor—clumsy, yet exuding a deadly air, matching the oppressive weather.

Dean’s heart skipped a beat.

These three felt eerily familiar.

What were they planning?

Each carried a heavy, long, tubular dark bag. One crouched by the car, unzipping his bag.

Another strode toward the parking lot.

The last limped through the barbecue camp toward the lake, his odd attire and behavior drawing most eyes in the camp.

Someone sensed something off.

“Sir, could you remove your helmet? You’re scaring the kids.” Baseball coach Tom reached to tug the man’s shoulder, but was violently shrugged off. The man continued purposefully toward the lake.

“Stop! I’m warning you, don’t cause trouble!” Tom warned sharply as a few burly men joined him, surrounding the stranger.

“Stop, sir!”

At the lake’s edge, the man halted, and from inside the helmet came a powerful, booming voice, like a soldier calling roll.

The teachers fell silent.

The camp quieted in an instant.

“We’re soldiers!”

He set down his bag, clumsily slapping his crippled leg.

“We gave everything for America—our youth, health, families, stained our hands with innocent blood for her.”

His voice rang across the camp.

“But when we’re wounded, when we’re sick, she ignores our suffering, sweeps us aside like trash!”

“She lets us drink, brawl, off ourselves, go to hell.”

“She abandoned the warriors who bled for her!”

His companion at the parking lot picked up the thread.

Meanwhile, the man by the jeep stood up, raising a long, black, deadly weapon. Dean, who’d recently visited the gun shop, recognized it at once—

Fully automatic, AK-47.

“Fuck this damned America! Fuck this filthy, hypocritical society! All of you will pay the price!”

“The price…”

The furious, despairing declaration swept the camp on a chill wind, a wail of death.

The man lifted the black muzzle and aimed it at the crowd by the lakeshore.