I Am Not The Moon Lake Camp Killer

By Tambi Harwood

After sixteen-year-old Liam and his friends discover a meteor that crashed on Earth seventeen years ago, they start developing uncanny powers. The only problem is, that they are being hunted by Asher whose power is to absorb other Quantics' powers. Liam can't help his friends because he's falsely arrested for killing thirteen kids at Moon

• Language: English
• Publisher: Book Savvy International Inc.
• Release date: Oct 2, 2023
• ISBN: 9798891900271

Tambi Harwood

Tambi Harwood escribe ciencia ficción para jóvenes adultos. Se graduó en la Universidad de Seton Hill con un máster en Escritura de Ficción Popular, donde completó su primera novela psiónica de viajes en el tiempo, I am not the Moon Lake Camp Killer. Vive en la bahía de San Francisco con su marido; sus dos hijos adolescentes estudian fuera del estado. Asiste regularmente a ComicCons y le encanta hacer cosplay, siempre que pueda pintarse todo el cuerpo de otro color.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Liam – 2015

Liam—short for William—hid under the rusted slide in the playground at Cyber Beam High School, a dilapidated school enclosed by a 10’ high chain link fence with barbed wire on top of it. Outside of the fence were housing projects, empty now at 9am. An unremitting alarm blared from a loud speaker repeating Code Red Alert. This is Not a Drill.

He had already disarmed one of the gunmen, but a second one came around the corner of the building, assault rifle held casually.

Come out, come out, wherever you are.

Liam wished he had an AR-15 like this guy, but all he’d gotten off the other guy was a Glock. He waited for the killer to come within range.

Before he got close enough, the scumbag launched a grenade into the playground.

With a cry, Liam ran toward the basketball court. The explosion threw his body forward, and he received a shock on his right shoulder, probably from the automatic rifle.

His life points dropped to 50%.

He crouched behind a concrete bench. When he peeked over the top, he caught sight of the gunman’s boot as he ran behind the building. Gunshots erupted and a scream pierced the air.

Liam couldn’t see his buddy, Drew, anywhere. Then a shock of gold and green, their school colors, flashed before disappearing behind an oak tree.

Cover me! Liam yelled to Drew.

Liam rounded the building and almost tripped over the rifleman reloading his weapon. Liam aimed his pistol at the man’s temple but when it clicked, he swore. Immediately he switched to melee and used the butt of his gun to flatten the gunman. Nearby, Maddie, his slim, blonde friend with green bangs, sprawled on the ground in a pool of blood. He froze. How did she get inside the game?

The S.O.B. struggled to rise, one of the problems with hand-to-hand combat. Unless Liam had a one-hit knockout, his opponent wouldn’t stay down. From behind him, Drew blasted the shooter’s chest three times.

Liam pointed to Maddie, near apoplexy, and cried into the microphone pushed against his lips. What is she doing here?

Never mind. Was he working alone, or did he have a partner? Drew’s tinny voice rang in Liam’s ears.

Partner! Liam screamed at the appearance of a dark-skinned ruffian kneeling in a classroom doorway with a rocket propelled grenade launcher.

He did a double-take. He recognized the gunner—his friend Rafa, with purple one-inch gauges and piercings in his lips and nose RPG-29! Drew screamed.

And then everything went black. Liam floated above his body and watched his avatar bleed out to canned you lose music.

He pulled off his headgear. That’s crazy.

He stood in a booth sheathed with blue pads, except for the glass observation windows at eye level for both adults and kids. The floor was covered with black puzzle pieces of gym mats as a protective measure during the virtual game session.

Drew was in an identical booth next to him, except that his was red and black. They could see each other through the clear plastic divider between them. Not that they needed to see each other. In the game they only related through their avatars.

Liam sweated from the exertion, even though cool air circulated through the booth. When he took off his goggles, he combed his fingers through his damp, curly, brown hair and brushed his bangs out of his eyes. He kept his bangs long, so they tamped down the three cowlicks that warred on top of his head, but he was continually flicking his head to the side to brush them off his face. He bent his head to exit the booth, something that he’d gotten used to doing since he reached 6’1" by the age of 16.

Drew had donned his black and orange ball cap upon removing the goggles and exiting the booth. He claimed he wore his ball cap to support the Giants, but it was probably to cover the L carved into his fade—for his ex-girlfriend Lara. It was better than a tattoo, because it should grow over by the time Drew got another girlfriend. The look was too ghetto for his class president image anyway.

They whooped and high-fived outside the booth. Normally they did a low five, but the Obelisk game play called for something special, even if Drew had to jump up to slap Liam’s upraised hand. Drew was taller than average, but those extra 2" or so inches Liam had on him sometimes demanded a hop.

Before they left the booth, Drew checked out his look in the security camera footage.

Liam asked, Is that a new hat?

Do you like?

Did you nick it?

Me? Drew pointed toward himself. I would never do something like that.

Right, Drew had sticky fingers. It was something that Liam didn’t like about his best friend. It was going to get them in trouble one day.

He changed the subject. I might have been able to beat the game if I’d gotten the first shooter’s AR. Liam shook his head. "There is no way my mom will let me get this game. Especially since there’s an option to be the school shooter."

Yeah, but the console is sick. Drew examined the little black box, which stood on a display table outside of the booth with a library of other games. I like the alien dinosaur invasion better. You can be a predator and eat people. He played with a packet of mustard from lunch, twisting it in his hands. It popped.

Idiot! You got mustard on the Obelisk. Liam tried unsuccessfully to wipe the offending yellow off the console.

Two eight-year-old kids who had been waiting for Liam and Drew to clear out ran inside the booth and donned the goggles.

Let the kiddies play. Liam pointed to a long line of them. The store manager that hates you is back. Let’s get outta here before you ruin anything else.

A few years back Drew had put some Star Walker figurines in his pocket. The manager had taken him to his office, officially named the Dungeon, and banned Drew from the store for life. They couldn’t hang around for long if he saw them. But, how could they have resisted the first Obelisk display ever?

The boys ducked below the shelves and did a GI crawl toward the front of the store. When they exited, they jogged to their favorite childhood meeting place in the indoor shopping center—the frog wishing well.

That was crazy, Liam said again. How did they put our friends in the game? He crossed himself. Rafa had died a week ago at the Moon Lake Camp massacre.

Drew silently crossed himself, also. Good thing we weren’t there, he added in a hushed tone.

Liam agreed but didn’t relent. But, how did they do that?

There’s a reason they call it SNVR, answered Drew.

Socially-Networked-Virtual-Reality. They pulled images of the players’ friends from social media, to personalize the experience. Spooky, said Liam. Big Brother’s watching.

Damn right, said Drew.

Liam asked, Where did they get the photos?

After they died, didn’t you re-post a picture from our meteor expedition a couple weeks ago?

True enough. Two weeks ago, Liam and five other kids at Moon Lake Camp had left the premises to search for the site of a meteor impact. He checked his profile and there was a picture of the six of them at Peace Rock—a sheer cliff face with a 30-foot tall peace sign spray-painted on it—where the meteor was said to have crashed. He knew because his parents had stayed at a nearby resort seventeen years ago when it happened. In fact, all their parents had been there and helped form a bucket brigade until emergency vehicles had arrived.

In front of Peace Rock, the six stood, holding their black meteoroid trophies. Liam’s dark curly hair covered half his face, Drew had spun his baseball cap around backwards to show off his green eyes, Rafa’s purple hollowed-out gauges held open gaping holes in his earlobes, cute Maddie sported green bangs (not her usual magenta), her friend Fedora’s dyed black hair matched her beanie and Benjamin turned away from the camera to hide his acne. The picture had a comment attached to it— R.I.P. Rafa, Fedora, Benjamin. They had all died during the shooting at Moon Lake a week ago. Actually, Benjamin’s body had never been recovered.

Liam’s alarm rang with Maddie’s song, Don’t Tell Mama, from a play she would be starring in this fall. Speaking of, I am meeting Maddie in fifteen minutes at Crunchy Crickets. He and Maddie had been supporting each other after the horrific events at Moon Lake. And now they had a date, kind of.

The edible insect store? Drew puckered his lips together like he was sucking on a lime.

Yes. He blushed. We’re getting a birthday present for her brother. We’re getting him chocolate covered grasshoppers.

Drew mimed sticking a finger down his throat. That’s ironic, considering what happened in fifth grade.

Liam held a finger up to his lips. Shhh. That was six years ago. It never happened. He wished he’d never told Drew about it because his friend teased him every chance he got.

They got to the bench at the frog wishing well and dug into their pockets for change before they sat down. They threw coins at the polka dot frog statues while they raved about the new game console, anything to avoid thinking about their dead friends. The ceiling of the mall was super high, and the skylights two stories above let in natural light—it almost seemed like they were outside. That’s why Liam liked this mall better than the others, because it was less claustrophobic. Drew whooped as his penny landed in the open mouth of the purple frog.

Score! He pumped his fists.

Everyone knew if you got a penny in the purple frog’s mouth your wish would definitely come true. Drew closed his eyes and outlined with his hands the thing he wanted. I wish I had an Obelisk game console. A black and silver one, just like that one in the store.

Liam rolled his eyes at his buddy. You do know wishing wells don’t actually work, right?

Duh. Then, Drew held up a finger and whispered. There’s something I’ve been experimenting with.

He closed his eyes. His eyeballs darted under the lids creating a bizarre, otherworldly effect.

Liam sighed deeply as he shook his head in despair over his best friend’s theatrics.

But then there was a whooshing sound, and the Obelisk materialized on Drew’s lap. Even if he had been expecting it, he jumped up and would have dropped the console if Liam had not made a grab for it.

What just happened? Liam was on his knees, having dived to save the device from hitting the floor.

Success! Drew raised both arms. I am the master of the universe.

What happened? Liam examined the console in his hands, and then he tried to hand it to Drew who still bathed in his own adulation. Excuse me, Mr. Universe? When he still didn’t respond Liam knocked on his chest, Universe, Master? He was finally able to hand it off. How did you do that?

Drew hugged the console close to his chest. I imagined it. I created it, he waved one arm like a Shakespearean actor on stage. An Obelisk, just like the one in that store.

You imagined it and created it? Liam mocked his friend. "That was amazing! But, this isn’t just like the one at Game Busters. This is the one from the Game Busters." He pointed to the mustard stain.

Okay, then maybe I didn’t create it. Maybe I displaced time and space and took it. Drew shrugged.

You what?

Drew shook his head. I don’t know. You were here. You saw it appear on my lap.

Liam had seen that. Drew couldn’t have lifted it in the store and hidden it under his sleeve, right? It was too big.

What should we do? Drew sat back down and pet the console on his lap.

What do you mean, what should we do?

I mean, I didn’t ‘steal’ it. Drew used air quotes. So, it’s mine, right?

I don’t know how, but you did steal it. Liam glanced toward Game Busters, which was three stores down. The scrawny store manager had exited the building and was looking around. Drew and Liam were hidden behind the ferns that surrounded the frog wishing well. Good thing because two cops joined the manager. How’d they get there so quickly?

Liam casually moved closer, so he could hear them.

The manager pointed toward the shopping mall exits. Loudly, he counted out seven on his hand. Check all de bags. The manager’s heavily accented voice rang through the mall. Especially dose back packs all de kids are wearing. Dat game belonged to de inbentor and it is on loan. It is a beta bersion, he is trying to raise funding to market it.

One of the officers spoke into his radio. He nodded to the store manager. We’ve got all of the exits covered. We’ll find it.

How did they have the manpower to cover all of the exits?

The manager must have asked the same question. Liam scooted closer and heard the answer.

The Moon Lake Camp Killer just escaped custody. The cop handed a photograph to the manager. He went to school around here, so we’re watching the malls, movie theaters… places where kids hang out. Maybe someone will know where he is.

Liam returned to the wishing well.

You stole it, Liam said. You’ve got to return it.

Drew shook his head. I’m not going back into the store with that whacked-out manager.

Put it back the way you got it. Quick!

Drew looked as his friend blankly. "You want me to put it back in the store? He shook his head. Uh, no. I think I’ll try to get the goggles."

Damn, Drew. I hate it when you do this.

What do you mean?

I hate it when you shoplift.

Drew mouthed the words shoplift with a who me? expression.

Even if you have a weird-ass way of doing it. Liam’s exasperation with his friend grew. "We’ll talk about how you did it later. I’m meeting Maddie in ten. I’ll put it back." He took the Obelisk, tucked it under his arm and draped his red hoodie over it.

Drew grabbed for the console, but Liam evaded him.

Trust me. Your dad said that if you shoplifted anything again, he would take your car away.

You’re going to tell him? Drew asked. Some friend. If he takes away my Jeep, you’re walking to school.

Liam stomped off flashing his middle finger.

Drew shouted obscenities at him, but he wouldn’t do anything. They would get mad at each other, but they’d never gotten into a physical fight. And they always made up after. But this shoplifting thing was one thing he hated about his best friend. A baseball cap was one thing, but an expensive, one-of-a-kind game console?

Grow up, Drew. Liam growled to no one in particular.

Sure, Liam was nervous about putting the Obelisk back. He was more nervous about seeing Maddie. He’d just asked her out yesterday and coming to the mall had been her idea. He wasn’t sure how she felt about him, but at least she’d said yes.

The crowd of people in the store examining the gaming booth had thinned. Probably because the console was missing and there was nothing to see. Liam screwed up his courage. How could he get in trouble? He was just putting something back. He wasn’t taking anything. He would be a do-gooder, a hero.

Liam checked his watch. Seven minutes. Finally, when there was a long line at the cashier and they had to call one of the floor people to help at the counter, Liam made his move.

He walked into the store with a casual stride. He sauntered to the display table outside the booth and peered at the specially showcased, but missing Obelisk. When he was sure no one was looking, he dropped his sweatshirt and the Obelisk on the table. He examined a game like he was trying to read the small type. He checked his watch. Five minutes. Good deed done; it was time to meet Maddie.

As he reached the exit, a clerk called, Excuse me. Excuse me sir.

Liam wanted to run, but he knew that would be a dead giveaway. What were they going to do, anyway? He didn’t actually have anything on him they could say he stole.

The clerk caught up with him. Excuse me, sir. You left your sweater. She held out the maroon sweatshirt for Liam.

Liam took a relieved breath, took the shirt and said, Thanks. He hit himself on the head. Stupid, right? He pulled the hoodie on and checked his watch again. Two minutes to get to Crunchy Crickets. He could make it. Just.

He stepped over the store threshold when the store manager grabbed his arm, slapped a handcuff on one wrist, pulled it around his back, and attached it to the other.

I got you! The manager yelled triumphantly.

Even though Liam had feared something might happen, this seemed over the top. You can’t cuff me. Liam struggled, and the restraints dug further into his wrists.

It is a citizen’s arrest. The man preened while by-standers averted their gazes. Liam’s phone vibrated in his pocket as he was led away, and he swore inwardly, unable to answer Maddie’s special ring tone.

Before the manager locked Liam in the Dungeon, he announced to the milling people, I have caught the Moon Lake Camp Killer.

Chapter 2

Will – 2315

The Gate. Luminescent estate lights twinkled through the fog, but the upper-echelon neighborhood drowsed in the early morning. Once, the opulent community had been a thoroughfare and famous landmark, the Golden Gate Bridge, back when Will’s friends still called him Liam. Those friends and the bridge were long gone now. Hover vehicles had made overpasses obsolete while the rising water levels had driven the wealthy to claim higher ground.

Will left his hover-cycle at the secured entrance to the chichi Gate and veered downhill to an unremarkable path that soon turned to mud. Once he reached the tattered rope denoting the entrance to JunkTown, he breathed through dry lips so as not to be assailed by the smell of polluted ocean and human refuse.

JunkTown. Houseboats adorned with ancient rubber tires crowded each other in the fog. Unlike its slumbering neighbor, JunkTown stirred. Will nodded to a man hanging fish on a rack above his sleeping quarters and climbed up the side of his boat. A woman draped clothes on a line that ran the length of the boat. He’d spent years living here with an adopted family, and if the people couldn’t identify him, they recognized that he felt at home and would not bar him. They eyed him watchfully but let him pass.

The dispatcher had caught the signal of a Quantic in this vicinity. While the other Hunters scoured the Gate, Will knew better. Quantics were more likely to hide in JunkTown. The JunkTowners were wary of Quantic Hunters, but nothing gave him away as one—no hover-cycle, no uniform, no visible artillery. His tracker was camouflaged as his five-fingered glove for his four-fingered hand. It heated up as he neared the target and cooled as he moved away.

Never mind that he had modified the glove to hide his own secret.

The glove had an anti-itch anesthetic in the fake middle finger to calm the slow growth of his new finger. During the Purge of 2055, Asher had decreed all citizens were to have the middle finger of their non-dominant hand cut off. It had been a bloody mess. From then on, it was law that every newborn’s middle finger was removed at birth. If anyone’s finger grew back, Asher could identify an auto-healing Quantic, which Will was. The Purge was how Asher had caught Will and imprisoned him for 240 years, reabsorbing his power every forty years or so.

That’s what Asher did. He absorbed other Quantics’ powers. Normally it killed them, sucking out their energy like that. Not Will, though, because Will healed. Asher’s stolen powers didn’t last forever, though, which is why he had kept Will around. Almost forty years ago, there had been a lapse in Asher’s telepathic power, and Will escaped.

He’d returned to JunkTown where he procured a black-market suppressor so he couldn’t be tracked and a Shield so he wouldn’t succumb to Asher’s mind control. Since then, he’d devoted himself to working as an undercover Quantic Hunter in order to rescue as many Quantics as he could. Living alone in Jiù jīn shān, the once fabled San Francisco, Will sliced off his finger every day as part of his morning ablutions. The tracker hid his finger growing back each day. Some days he needed to whittle it down one or more times, in case he needed to remove his glove for the authorities doing random hand checks. Right now, he wiggled the little nub imperceptibly.

More people hung fish, nets and clothing out to dry with the hope that the sun would pierce the fog. The boats were like sardines, huddled together on the Bay. He stepped easily from one boat to the other. Privacy was not highly valued in JunkTown since you had to cross one person’s property to reach another’s.

He walked through the JunkTown Market, boats on which people lived and also sold jewelry, rugs, rice, algae, last decade’s technology and even coffee. Instant coffee, but coffee nonetheless. There was even a good black-market trade if one knew where to look.

His glove heated up as he passed a wrinkled woman with ratty hair hawking fake fingers, four and five-fingered gloves and jewels which some women wore to highlight their lost fingers, rather than hide them.

As he stepped onto the next boat, the glove cooled. He turned back, feeling the boat shift with the waves.

How much for the handlet, Tita? In JunkTown, to the locals, all older women are Tita and all older men are Tito.

She gave him a toothless smile. I’ll give it to you for that old comm device in your pocket, she croaked. She reminded Will of his God-mother on whose boat he had lived. And one gallon of water.

What do you need a comm for?

She pointed to the boats crowded against the other side of the bay. My nephew lives over there, and I can’t walk the distance anymore, she muttered as she reached her hand toward the bulk in Will’s pocket.

He blocked her, laughing. Of course, I’ll give you my phone. But as you can see, I don’t have any water on me.

She shrugged and pointed to his hand. How about that glove of yours?

Will froze. Did she know he had a tracker inside his glove? Though warm, it did not burn the way it would when he was face-to-face with a Quantic. Tita was too old to have evaded Hunters her whole life anyway.

It won’t fit you. He held out his outstretched hand next to hers. See, the fake finger is too big for your delicate hand. But, I’ll give you the comm and something better. He reached into his pocket and pulled the phone out for her. Under it was a suppression device that attached behind the ear, allowing Quantics to hide from Hunters. He gave her the first and flashed the device.

She drew back. I don’t need that. She started to close up her shop, tucking her gloves and jewelry into a valise.

Someone on your boat does. Will tried to be reassuring, but the old woman continued to stow her things.

Before the woman could finish her packing, Will tilted his head to show her the back of his ear. Despite his military haircut, the suppressor blended in nicely against his olive skin, but could be seen upon careful inspection. She stopped packing and looked at him with wide eyes.

A Signal has been sent.

The woman’s chin started to tremble. Tears welled in her eyes. Then a door behind her opened and a girl who looked around seventeen peeked out. She ran to Tita when she saw her shaking.

Tita, what’s wrong? she asked.

Tita pointed behind Will’s ear and used her rough hand to pull his head down. The girl gasped.

He, he says they’ve tracked you, Tita murmured.

Will’s glove burned. This young girl with matted blond hair and luminous green eyes was the Quantic whose signal the dispatcher had picked up.

What’s your name? he asked the girl.

Instead of answering the girl pointed at the device behind his ear. What are you?

Tell me your name first, Will insisted.

Clare. She asked again, What are you?

He stopped smiling and held the device up to her ear. Put this on. They’ve sensed you. I’m a Hunter and the squad has been sent here to find you.

She stared defiantly at him, grabbed the device, kissed her Tita, and ran back into the cabin.

He passed a wrinkled woman with ratty hair hawking fake fingers, four and five-fingered gloves and jeweled handlets which some women wore to highlight their lost finger, rather than hide it.

His glove heated up as he passed this woman. As he stepped onto the next boat, the glove cooled. He turned back, feeling the boat shift with the waves. Something hit him from behind and he blacked out.

Will – 2315

He woke up in a cramped hallway, inside a junk. Someone had knocked him out. He heard whispering from a room beyond an open door. Shaking his head, he crawled to the doorway. Inside stood a 17-year-old girl with ratted blond hair and the same old woman he had just passed.

The girl was trying to calm the old woman. Don’t worry. He’s like me.

If he’s like you, then why haven’t they found him? You shouldn’t use your power, that’s how they track you.

The girl produced the suppressor. Panicked, Will felt behind his ear. His suppressor was still intact. That must be the suppressor he had brought for the Quantic for whom he was searching.

The burning in his glove confirmed this girl was that Quantic.

She said, We have to move. This man is a Hunter. He’s a Quantic, but he’s also a Hunter.

How do you know?

He told me.

When?

You know. I’ve done this before. And the other time he told me who he was and gave me this suppressor. He doesn’t want to turn me in. But they know I am here.

As she spoke the girl attached the suppressor behind her ear. We have to leave.

We can’t leave, where will we go?

Clare comforted her Tita. You don’t have to go. You stay here. I’ll go.

Tita shook her head again, on the point of tears. You have this… thing now, they can’t find you.

Tita, they know I am under the Gate. They’ll rip this area apart looking for me.

Will rose and stepped into their room. "They’ll tear it apart whether or