Alpine Tide: Book One of the Second Moon Trilogy

By Jon Fischer

Sea level is suddenly two miles high.

A second moon appears in the sky. 

As violent ocean waves are threatening the peaks of the Rocky Mountains, a group of seven survivors must navigate the erratic alpine tides, while trying to unravel the mystery of why this happened.

It is soon discovered that this cataclysmic event was not just by chance. And one of the survivors, Miriam Madsen, may be the planet's only hope. 

Explore the #AlpineTide online at www.alpinetide.com for exclusive content,

author commentary, and a sneak peek at the next installment of the trilogy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Covenant Books, Inc.
• Release date: Dec 23, 2021
• ISBN: 9781638147633

Book preview

Chapter 1

Could it really be true? Is that really a lobster? Miriam thought, getting nervous the warning bell was about to ring. The crustaceous creature wading against the high-sloped alpine mountain backdrop at more than two miles above sea level still seemed more than a little bit strange.

Hmm…how to catch it? Miriam’s hands, once smooth, but now rough, reached for a two-by-four plank floating near the temporary shoreline. She carefully slipped one end of the plank behind the lobster and with a great thud; she flipped the lobster out of the shallow water and onto the shore.

I got it!

She took aim again and slammed at the lobster with the six-foot-long plank and missed. The lobster scurried, but not for long. The second shot was a direct hit. Then, as if on cue, she heard the warning bell and knew she was out of time. Without any hesitation, she tossed the plank and grabbed her precious cargo by the tail and headed uphill as fast as she could. This time, the warning bell sounded more urgent as it gave a longer and seemingly more intense second ring. She began to run in the rocky mud, expecting the rising saltwater to reach her any second. Her mostly matted, shoulder-length brown hair waved back and forth as she stepped up her intensity to run up the steep hillside as if a tsunami were soon to follow.

*****

It had been about three months since the cataclysmic incident that had changed her world forever. It was still like a bad dream she wished she would wake up from. But today’s two-clawed find would add a measure of joy that would help her group escape the nightmare they were living, if only for a moment.

The lobster had stopped fighting and had accepted its fate. Miriam continued quickly up the hillside. She saw the strewn structure of broken stone, cement, and smoothed logs ahead over the hill and knew that she was going to make it in time. The eastern tide would not beat her today.

Once prized as the highest elevation facility of its kind in the National Park Service, all that was left of the Alpine Visitor Center at Rocky Mountain National Park was broken stone walls with a makeshift set of thick wooden logs and debris positioned like a large lean-to shelter. Somehow, the wooden monument sign that displayed the crest of the National Park Service had been preserved. At 11,796 feet above sea level, there was some sense of irony that Miriam was carrying a large saltwater lobster as she stumbled toward the shelter more than two miles above sea level—or at least what used to be sea level. She saw her sister waiting for her with a relieved look on her scared face.

Miriam, what in the world…where did you find that? asked Libby, her blue eyes focused on her sister’s cargo. A sense of excitement showed on her face, though not to the point of a smile. Libby, though four years younger than her sister, was remarkably tall for her age, only two or three inches shorter than Miriam. Despite her younger age, Libby had dealt with the events of the past ninety-nine days with remarkable strength.

Guess it found its way up with the tide, Lib. Miriam chuckled. Lobster was Dad’s favorite…maybe he sent it.

Miriam’s reference provided a gloomy reminder of the past.

He would have wanted us to enjoy a lobster dinner! she quickly added.

Libby glanced up again. She missed her dad. Even though at thirteen she had struggled to relate to her father like any typical teenager, she had loved him. Tears welled up in Libby’s wide eyes, and for a minute, she worried if it would mess up her mascara, only to remember that her lifetime use of mascara had only lasted a few days since there was no mascara to be found, nor did it matter at this point. She had finally gotten her mom to agree to let her wear makeup, saying she was the last one in her seventh-grade class. The argument with her mom seemed so inconsequential now. Not to mention the iPhone she had fought so hard to get last year (arguing it was for her safety). It still sat in its hot pink OtterBox case, dead for weeks now. Not that it would do much now anyway, even if the batteries still had charge. Maybe it would play some music? It had been a while since she had listened to her favorite songs…what would she listen to right now if she could? Would have to be something mellow. Country music maybe… Lady A?

Miriam interrupted Libby’s daydream, Let’s show the others what I caught. There is enough, we can all have a taste.

Chapter 2

The sound of the waves was getting closer, and the cool mist of ocean spray lingered in the air. Pablo was making his way down from the top of the rock pile that once was a busy visitor’s center. Instead of putting the bell in his pocket, he kept it in his left hand and struggled as he climbed down to brace himself. He was on the lookout to warn the others when the tide was coming in, still uneasy to predict. This evening’s tide from the east didn’t appear that it would be the highest yet, but he didn’t want to take any chances since twice in the past, the tide from the west had flooded the base of the shelter.

Pablo often wondered why he was spared and felt guilty about it. He hadn’t been a particularly religious man, but going to Mass nearly every Easter and Christmas at the Cathedral Basilica of the Immaculate Conception in downtown Denver had at least given him a sense that there was a higher power. His grandmother, whom he lovingly called Abuelita Marita, had insisted he join her every year when he was younger. As she grew older, he began taking her until she had passed away a few years ago. He hadn’t dared go back since.

He looked southeast into the giant body of water, wondering what was left of the magnificent gray walls and tall spires of the cathedral, now covered in water a mile deep.

Despite his family’s origins in Juarez, Mexico, he had spent all but the first year of his life in Denver, and every glance eastward was painful for him.

*****

Pablo stepped inside the lean-to shelter made of rubble and smelled something that he hadn’t expected. His shift wasn’t over for another few hours, but having alarmed the warning bell for the approaching eastern tide, he figured it was time for a break from his watch post.

Langosta? You’ve got to be kidding me, Pablo blurted out in excitement.

Despite being fully fluent in English, he still had a few words from his childhood that came out in Spanish first. He had grown up speaking English at school, but Spanish at home, since his grandmother’s English was scant. He had tried lobster once as a teenager, but he didn’t remember having it as an adult, although had always looked forward to trying it again.

Miriam and Libby gave him a curious glance trying to make sense of the Spanish word.

Lobster, Pablo clarified.

Miriam thought of the Latin word Locusta, which she had identified with a lobster. Miriam could pick up on some Spanish words that were close to the Latin root word. She had always been into science since she was very young and felt that learning Latin would help her with understanding the names of various species of life. She had petitioned that her high school add a Latin class, but funding was under pressure just to keep Spanish and French, so she lost that battle. In fact, at that moment, she remembered the word Crustacean came from the Latin crusta, which meant shell or crust. Though it was not obvious in her casual conversation, Miriam was considered extremely intelligent. She had skipped the eighth grade and spent much of the summer before ninth grade studying Latin on her own, but as her interest moved more from biology to physics during the last few years, her emphasis on Latin had waned. Once wanting to be a doctor, she had instead focused on rocket science and wanted to be an astronaut. She had been excited by the new emphasis on sending man (or woman) to Mars in the next couple of decades. If she couldn’t be an astronaut, she would at least be the person working on the ground to send the astronauts there.

*****

The lobster was now starting to turn dark red as the makeshift metal flowerpot was boiling over a fire made of a few pine logs and broken pieces of long sticks that were originally used to mark the high-ridge roads for snowplows.

Where did you find a lobster? Pablo asked.

Miriam chuckled, remembering that things outside were so different that they didn’t make any sense. Pulled it right out of the Rocky Mountain Ocean! When was the last time you had lobster? Miriam asked Pablo.

Don’t remember, he said. It’s been a long time.

Well, if you don’t like it, you can have more elk jerky instead, Miriam threatened.

Elk jerky had been the staple for them the last couple of months. If it wasn’t for the elk, they may not be alive. Herds of elk roamed the slopes near the Alpine Visitor Center, and most didn’t survive the initial floods. The group had largely survived eating elk steak and elk sausage (which took extreme hunger for Libby to even consider) but realized quickly that without power or a way to preserve the meat, making jerky was the best way to keep a long-term protein on the menu. Landon had taught them how to make jerky, not to mention how to survive in general.

Where is Landon? Pablo asked. He should be back by now…

Landon was an avid outdoorsman and hunter. The kind of guy that watched the survivor-type reality TV shows less to learn—and more to critique the made for TV fictional nonsense. Despite that, he had thought about sending in an audition to participate on a survivor show. And now, he never would.

Chapter 3

Landon liked to push the envelope sometimes on his physical limits just to see what he could do. For example, while not a military man or a fitness buff, he had once signed up for Sealfit Kokoro, an intense training camp in southern California modeled after the legendary Navy SEAL hell week, just to see if he could make it. It was clear right away when he arrived that he didn’t have a shot of making it, as all of the others had taken months of training far more seriously than he had. However, he still hung on longer than some of those who had trained until he was asked to leave the training for being unable to do the required pull-ups. He was mentally and physically tough but sometimes foolish and overestimated his abilities. At age fifty-four, he looked like he was sixty but was in better shape than most thirty-year-olds. However, he sometimes lacked the discipline to train and practice. He did things his way, almost to a fault. Compared to the other survivors, he was Rambo.

This time, he may have pushed too far. He found himself hanging on the remains of a thirty-five-mph speed limit sign lodged into the ground, wishing he had heeded the warning bell a few minutes sooner. The waves were increasing in strength, and he knew he had only a few seconds to act.

He had seen the water coming but had figured he could wade through it before the whiplash of the waves got too intense. He was wrong. He assessed the situation. In his cargo pants, he had a small pocket knife, a whistle, and a twelve-foot bungee cord.

Not a lot to work with, he thought.

The next wave crashed through even harder, forcing him to painfully lock his elbow on the metal pole of the sign. He knew he had to act now.

What have I got myself into? Landon muttered out loud.

He had heard the warning bell but thought he could challenge the rising water to a race. In his peripheral, he noticed his now-longer-than-usual gray hair blowing in the gusty mountain wind.

He decided his best chance was to wait for the next wave to recede and run like crazy and hope the following wave was a smaller one. While night and day didn’t have the clarity they once did, it was getting cloudier and darker, and he could see the glimmer of fire at the top of the hill. He knew which way to run—just didn’t know if he could pull it off. Memories of his failed attempt at Sealfit made him doubt, but this was about true survival.

He counted down out loud from five. Four, three, two, one… He pushed off the metal bar, causing the sign to fall down but giving him enough momentum that he thought he had a chance. With a loud sound that could only be described as a crash, the next wave hit him and threw him forward. Then everything went blank.

Chapter 4

There were seven of them who had survived the cataclysmic events of late August. Landon, Miriam, Libby, Pablo, Kate, Andrew, and Spence. There were countless millions who didn’t survive.

Kate, Andrew, and Spence were taking their shift to sleep. They had learned how to ignore the warning bell. Sleep was hard when you had to be prepared to move at any minute, but they had all grown used to it.

The company had once been eight, but Claus, a small boy from Germany, never had much of a chance with the injuries he had sustained. He was discovered washed-up on the shore and barely alive about one hundred yards away a few days into the ordeal. With no medical expertise and severe wounds compounded by near drowning, Claus only lasted a couple days before he passed. To each of the other survivors, he represented loved ones that they knew had met similar fates. Despite not knowing him, it was a very emotional experience for everyone to see him go.

Pablo had been especially close to Claus. Though they hadn’t really exchanged a lot of words, Pablo treated him with the care of a loving parent. Pablo had an ex-wife and two children of his own, but he didn’t speak of it. His mind couldn’t go there right now. The thought of his children having died in the city below was something he mentally could not accept. He kept his mind on other things, but Claus had served as a proxy of his children, and as the only father of the group (that he was aware of), he took on the duty to attend to the boy. Claus, while clinging to life, seemed to respond to Pablo with a similar affection.

Claus had been on a late summer holiday in the US with his parents and had been separated from them during the initial earthquakes and the subsequent global tsunami. In his condition, coming in and out of consciousness, he wasn’t able to say much other than his name and Mama which the others understood, though none spoke German. They gathered that his family was on a tour of western US national parks through the information they had seen on his iPod that he had in his zippered pocket. The passing of Claus had represented the short time they had to mourn before they shifted into just-trying-to-survive mode. They all felt a deep sense of guilt as they wrapped the blonde-haired child in whatever scraps of cloth and plastic they could find and set him on a makeshift raft out to sea…wherever that was. They thought about burning him like they did some of the bear and elk carcasses that came ashore, but they couldn’t bring themselves to do it. They had never seen signs of him again, but they always had Claus in the back of their minds, wondering what they would do if his body washed up again.

*****

Kate was the local expert, as she was a park ranger for the National Park Service. She had served fourteen years in the National Park Service, and she been transferred to Rocky Mountain National Park two years before. She had previously spent seven years at Yellowstone and five years at Zion’s National Park in Southern Utah. Kate, at a youthful thirty-six years old, had been married once when she was younger, but she was quickly divorced due to an unfaithful husband. She kept herself busy in solace of nature and was hoping to one day make it back to her native Pacific Northwest to Crater Lake (which would be her dream job), or maybe Mount Rainier. Despite only two years in Colorado, Kate knew the area well and had spent much of her time giving tours in the visitor center, which the group now lovingly referred to as the beach house. She often peered to the darkened skies to northwest, almost sure that Yellowstone, likely underwater, was spewing lava and ash as a fully active super volcano.

*****

Andrew was a New York City native and was clearly the most out-of-place of the group. He often withdrew himself from the rest of the group so they wouldn’t hear him cry. He was used to tall skyscrapers, thousands of people everywhere, and the night-lights of the city. At twenty-seven, he was one of the youngest partners at his consulting firm that specialized in mergers and acquisitions. He had already banked his first million dollars at twenty-five and was well on his way to his second. He still sometimes wore his tattered necktie, which made absolutely no sense to anyone in the group but gave him some sense of worth. He thought of all that money he had made, all the deals he had facilitated, and how none of it mattered today. His quest for success in business hadn’t given him time for deep relationships. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d seen his parents, even though they lived just across the river in Queens. A slightly stalky but handsome man with broad shoulders and jet-black hair, he always said he would find time for love and family later. The childhood memories of September 11, 2001, or the COVID-19 pandemic, now seemed like a drop in a bucket. None of it mattered. The money. His MBA diploma from Columbia. His midtown loft. It was all gone. If the ocean waters were reaching nearly twelve thousand feet, he couldn’t imagine a scenario where the Eastern Seaboard existed. The water would have not only covered the Empire State Building, but probably ten of them stacked on each other. The pain of all his long hours and wealth being washed away for nothing was almost more than he could handle.

*****

Spence was more of a mystery. He looked twenty-one, maybe twenty-two years old, with somewhat pale skin and blondish hair, but a strong physique. He was lean, but not skinny. Confident, but not arrogant. Gentle but not weak.

He hadn’t talked much about his past and seemed much more concerned about the future. Most assumed it was too painful for him to discuss. Miriam especially felt a sense of obligation not to pry too much—she didn’t want to talk about the past and what she had lost either. They were all just happy he had been there to help save their lives on that fateful late summer day when the earth very suddenly got a second moon.

Chapter 5

Landon regained consciousness. At first, he thought he was waking up from a strange dream.

Saltwater is the worst thing you can drink in a survival situation, he told himself. He tasted salt water and suddenly realized he wasn’t dreaming. He gasped and realized he was lucky to be alive. He had caught a large wave at just the right spot where it had expelled him forward to higher land with only several inches of water. He instinctively started to run up hill, knowing he may not be so lucky if he got hit by another wave, or even worse, pulled down into the undertow.

He quickly stumbled, not realizing the impact of the blow to the side of his head and fell right back to the ground. He got right back up and, like a drunken man in fast motion, hobbled in the straightest line he could away from the receding waters.

Wave number two crashed right behind him. He was going to survive again.

I win, he thought.

He stumbled to the beach house, stepped through the makeshift tarp door, and immediately collapsed to the floor.

The next thing he remembered were three faces above him mouthing words he couldn’t hear…and the smell of lobster. Maybe he was dreaming. He hadn’t had lobster in months.

Chapter 6

According to her digital watch (which surprisingly still worked, despite being labeled as only water resistant), it was 11:43 p.m. The darkened sky, full of smoke and ash to the north, was still light to the south. Kate knew it was time to get up. It was her turn to be on watch next. She needed to get up and climb up to the lookout point above the beach house.

The beach house was divided into two sections. The common area, which was more of a lean-to with debris and various planks forming a wall against what was left of the buildings. An open space allowed for a fire and kitchen area. The other division was called the bedroom, even though it consisted of makeshift grass and pine-needle-covered floor loosely covered with scraps of cloth and Rocky Mountain National Park T-shirts—no beds in sight. The bedroom was sheltered on both sides and had a partial roof that had been patched with old pieces of the building, and it provided decent protection from the elements. Water had never penetrated this part of the beach house, at least not yet, and the miraculously preserved, large, thick glass pane that presumably was used for a viewing wall from the visitor’s center, created most of the east wall of the bedroom.

The survivors had initially been concerned that as the winter approached, they would be dealing with cold and snow (which would be very typical for that location even in October), but they had been fortunate that the weather had continued to stay warm. They were all sure it had something to do with changes in the atmosphere, volcanic activity, and water temperature, among other things.

They had thought to make a raft and float away. But they didn’t know where away could be. On a clear day from some of the higher locations, they could see one of Colorado’s fourteeners to the southeast poking up above the vast water horizon in various directions, but the chances of having a better situation than the beach house in any of those high mountain peaks seemed even more remote. That is if they could even survive the journey. The tides were extremely unpredictable. Sometimes the waves swept the shore into the common room of the beach house from the west and sometimes within twenty feet from the east. They felt trapped, but as if some divine act of mercy, to date the water hadn’t submerged them from both sides. All of them worried that if the water were to rise ten yards higher than its peak, they would all be swept to sea. So the thought of being on a higher fourteen-thousand-foot mountain peak was attractive, but having the structure of the beach house was more valuable to them. There had been aftershocks for the first few weeks, but the remains of the visitor’s center had been relatively stable since its initial destruction.

Kate rolled off the makeshift bedding, and as was customary, brushing the pine needles off her body. She loved nature, but this was not how she pictured her time at Rocky Mountain National Park. She looked toward the west and remembered how she would explain the concept of the Continental Divide to tour groups. The Continental Divide was the point that determined if water would drain toward the Atlantic Ocean or Pacific Ocean, and it ran along the top of the mountainside right near the visitor’s center. Rain that fell or snow that melted on the west side would eventually end up in the Pacific Ocean, and rain or snow on the east side, the Gulf of Mexico in the Atlantic. She remembered a children’s book they sold at the gift shop at the visitor’s center that told the story of two raindrops that fell in Colorado, and each ended up in different oceans. She had purchased it once, in case she was to ever have children someday. With some sense of irony, she saw that the oceans had now risen and collided together at the very Continental Divide that had fed them water for years.

She looked over at Andrew and Spence, who both seemed to be in deep sleep and decided she would let them sleep on for now. She heard commotion across the rubble wall in the common area and wanted to see what was going on before heading up to lookout duty.

Chapter 7

Do I smell lobster? Kate exclaimed. She hadn’t even noticed Landon lying on the floor near the makeshift entrance to the common area.

Yes, Miriam confirmed. I caught it in the water on the eastern shore.

You’ve got to be kidding me!

Nope, we saved half of the tail for you guys.

Just then, Kate noticed Landon.

What happened to him?

We’re not sure, but he’s not in great shape.

Landon was indeed shaken up. He was breathing fine but felt like his head was spinning. He turned his head so that his left ear hit the ground, and it got very quiet. It was clear he wasn’t hearing from his right ear. As he gained his composure, he sat up. Miriam handed him a morsel of lobster, which he quickly consumed without even stopping to enjoy it. He had forgotten to eat anything that day, and the lobster was a welcome change from the various elk products that dominated their diet. Mostly jerky now, as fresh elk meat had not been available for several weeks now.

A wave got me from behind, Landon half-fibbed. The wave ended up worse than me, he quipped. He wasn’t going to admit he had been to blame by not heeding the warning bell seriously. I think it must have punctured my eardrum. The blood dripping out of his ear pretty much confirmed he was stating the obvious.

Landon, other than collecting food, played the role of a scout, trying to explore the land as far away as he could when the water receded. He was fixated on trying to gather useful items and measure how far the dry land stretched when the tide was low.

That day, he had explored the ridge to the north. He had found an old dump truck that was on its side and hadn’t had time to search it for items of value. He noted where it was and hoped to return back to explore more next time—if there was a next time. He was having a hard time making sense of the new and unpredictable tide tables of the earth.

I’m on watch duty, said Kate.

Pablo handed her the bell as Landon passed by her on the way to the bedroom.

You gonna be okay, MacGyver? Kate said.

Ask me in the morning, Landon replied. He climbed through the rubble wall that separated the two main areas of the beach house.

Sleep tight, Kate said.

Pablo mumbled, He needs to take the warning bell seriously. When the water crosses the warning line, it is not a joking matter.

Suddenly, all eyes were on Libby. Her face was blowing up like a balloon.

Chapter 8

Lib! Oh no. Please, no, Miriam gasped.

She’s having an allergic reaction, Kate confirmed.

Lib…just breathe. Hold on… Miriam was remembering why she didn’t want to be a doctor. She hated the thought of someone suffering, and her emotions would give her anxiety when calm was needed.

Pablo, Kate, what do we do? Lib, Lib!

Kate put her arm on Miriam’s back to calm her down. Lib was still breathing, though clearly with much strain as if through a small straw.

Pablo, grab the first aid kit, Kate ordered.

Pablo reached up to the tallest plank shelf and pulled down a red box.

Is there an EpiPen? Kate asked.

Pablo shook his head.

Miriam, taking Kate’s example of calm and gaining her composure, moved to the first aid box and after sifting through, located a couple pink tablets. Diphenhydramine, she said, using the scientific name of a common antihistamine. These may help.

The three of them held Lib up, and Kate brought over a scoop of water from the pot they had positioned to catch rainfall. Lib struggled to swallow the tablets. The struggle triggered Miriam’s emotions again.

Lib, you can’t die. You’re all I have left. Keep breathing, she cried.

Miriam, despite being pragmatic and science-oriented, could be dramatic in situations that she could not control. At her high school graduation speech that