Lake & Jude

"The meaning of life is just to be alive. It is so plain and so obvious and so simple. Yet everybody rushes around in a great panic as if it were necessary to achieve something beyond themselves."

- Alan Watts

Lake Aberdeen finds a pile of squirrel bones lying on top of the charred leaves. Scavengers pick its emaciated bones and chest cavity clean. Its rib cage transforms into a mound of dust. Tilting her head to the side, Lake picks up the femur bone with her bare hand and studies it.

"Holy shit," Lake mumbles, adjusting her steampunk gas mask. "That squirrel must have been lying there for a while."

Not to mention they smell like expired milk.

Broken bones poke Lake's boots, while the eyeless skull gapes at the scared girl. A long crack slithers from the top of its cranium to the tip of its pointy jawbone. Lake leaves her crouching position and approaches it as if the animal skull came alive. Unfortunately, Lake's best friend Jude Lew grabs her by the arm and pulls her close to him.

"Be careful, Lake," he warns.

"What the hell?" Lake snaps. "I just want to check it out."

Jude scrunches his face and scoffs, "they probably covered those bones in bird shit or something."

"Christ," Lake cringes. "That's too much information, dude."

"Hey," he snorts. "You asked, not me."

Lake flips him off before hoisting her green bag on her back. Antibiotics, packaged food, ammunition, and belongings bump into each other as Lake keeps up with Jude.

Brown, shaggy hair hit Jude's frozen cheeks. He tries pushing his locks out of his sight, but they wouldn't budge. Instead, they sweep over his wide goggles.

"Christ," he mutters.

Overhearing this, a worried Lake slows down. "What the heck is up with you?"

"I need a fucking haircut," Jude whines. "I look like a preteen Justin Bieber."

Lake studies Jude's hair for a second and places her hand on her chin.

When they first met in juvie, Jude told Lake he is a third-generation Japanese with a bit of Caucasian on the side. He has inquisitive dark eyes, a round face, and a gawky build. He wears a leather hunting jacket over a dark green flannel. His Nirvana t-shirt drapes his worn jeans. As leaves dance over his Doc Martens, Jude adjusts the rifle sticking out of his backpack.

"I don't know about Justin Bieber," Lake murmurs aloud. "You almost look more like a teenage Daniel Radcliffe."

Jude shoots her an unpleasant look. "Shut the fuck up."

"I'm just messing with you, Jude." Lake lowers her hunting rifle and places a comforting hand on his shoulder. "We'll find a barber for you someday, I promise."

Jude nods then follows Lake over to the bushes, where they set down their backpacks and open them. One by one, Lake drops the ripe berries into a plastic sandwich bag whereas Jude grabs a handful and pours them into his knapsack. They collect enough fruit Lake fears their bags might explode.

"Look at these, Jude." Lake whistles. "I think we have enough food for the winter."

Jude smiles until he glimpses a brown bear slinking behind the trees. Hot tears tumble on its flaky skin. Fatal burns sneak upon its fur. The tired animal tries to find its cave, but all it can see are dead trees and shriveled leaves. Enthralled, Jude reaches for his AR-15 when Lake stops him.

"We can't kill it," she tells Jude. "We have to let it go."

His forehead wrinkles. "Are you kidding?"

Lake shakes her head some more. "Come on, let it go," she insists. "That mother bear is going to die, anyway. Besides, look at her cubs."

Three cubs nudge their heads against their mother's swollen stomach. They push her to keep going, but the mother bear just sat on the pile of leaves and gave up.

"If we shoot the bear, those cubs have no chance of surviving on their own," Lake continues. "I get that we're thieves and all, but we can't shoot someone in front of a child."

"Yeah, but that's for when we steal and shit," Jude argues. "That bear is our food supply."

Lake points her finger at the cubs and growls, "And they are just kids, Jude. Without their mom, they won't fucking survive."

Jude examines the cubs tugging their mother's fat legs and relents.

"Alright, fine." he sighs, placing the fruit inside his bag. "We'll make do with the berries and deer."

"Good." Lake drops her fruit bag into her backpack and pulls the zipper. "I think we still have some turkey left in the fridge."

"Oh shit," Jude murmurs. "I guess I forgot about that."

Lake gives her short afro a toss before picking the crushed leaves off her worn cardigan. "We also have some leftover salad in the fridge."

"Hey, are you ready to go, Jude?" she asks her best friend.

Jude picks up Lake's old hunting rifle and hands it to her. "Yeah, let's go."

Lake follows Jude over to the bunker, where a variety of traps varying from land mines to tripwires welcome them. Leaves conceal the door like a thick blanket. Spiders spin webs on dead trees around the area. After leaping over thin wires, the duo maneuvers around the landmines then slide their firearms inside a large, hollow tree.

Fumbling inside his pocket, Jude earns the key and applies it to the rusty lock. Meanwhile, a discarded wanted poster of them soars over Lake's head. Her frozen fingers brush against the trigger, as Lake notices Canadian geese heading South.

Meanwhile, Jude fiddles with the lock. The key squirms inside the small groove until the lock bounces on the hardened floor.

"Finally!" Jude whoops.

He tucks the lock and key in his jeans pocket then opens the wooden latch. Lake peers down the tunnel and climbs down the silver ladder. Her bag jumps anxiously on her back. Putrid smells irritate the duo as they walk down the murky path.

Jude shifts his feet around a dead mouse and observes the lights hanging above the concrete ceiling. Sounds of footsteps bounce across the concrete walls. Lake was quiet for a moment until she tells Jude a scary story.

"Believe it or not," began Lake. "This bunker used to belong to a wealthy businessman."

Jude circles his eyes. "Bullshit."

His best friend pretends to gasp. "Jude! We have been friends since juvie! When have I ever lied to you?"

"Hm," Jude pretends to think. "Probably the time when you planted the warden's keys under my pillow and blamed me for it."

"And I regretted it ever since," Lake says defensively. "Anyway, before the bombings, this guy used to provide medicine and drugs for the government. You know, CIA shit. Then, he saw something he shouldn't have seen."

"Like what?" Jude asks.

Turning her back away from him, Lake's warm smile vanishes.

"He saw files," she replies. "Endless files on the government using underprivileged cities to test nuclear bombs. So, with the money he has, the guy blew it on food, supplies, and built his fancy bunker with his blood, sweat, and tears."

"Ew." Jude shudders.

Lake rolls her eyes. "It's a metaphor, Jude. Anyway, after he built this bunker, the guy takes his wife and kids there and stays there until-"

"He got paranoid, killed his family with a knife, and slits his throat?" Jude guesses.

"No, that's like every shitty horror movie trope. They went one day to get some fresh air and then they disappeared."

Jude stops. "That's it?"

"That's it."

"I have heard better crime stories on the Nightly News."

"What?" Lake scoffs. "You think my story is crap?"

"Well, it could use a flare."

After they approach the heavily sealed door, Lake asks, "Do you still have that key?"

Jude hands it to Lake. "Who told you that crappy story, anyway?"

"Some guy I used to steal car parts with." Lake grins. She slides the key inside the small hole and twists it counterclockwise.

Jude makes a face. "Benny? I thought he was in the drug smuggling business."

"He was," Lake began. "but since the world went to shit, Benny is selling stolen car parts for money. Anyway, why don't you take your shower first while I make some grub?"

* * * * *

The warm water always wakes Jude up. He places his head under the showerhead, letting the dirt and sweat tumble on his acne-ridden back. Picking up his soggy washcloth, Jude manually scrubs away the soap lather growing on his chest.

In the meantime, Lake prepares dinner for the two of them. Loud sizzles fill the noiseless kitchen. She pours duck oil on the seasoned meat and shifts around the pan. Jimi Hendrix's One Rainy Wish pours from the dying radio, standing on top of the wooden cupboard. Shutting off the stove, Lake scoops the meat with her spatula, dries the brown grease with a napkin, and places two massive chunks on the porcelain plates.

"I hope it's enough for the both of us." she thinks.

As soon as Jude leaves the shower, he throws on a Velvet Underground t-shirt and a pair of denim jeans then enters the kitchen.

"Hey!" Lake grins. "Food is almost ready."

Jude grins back and slides his fingers into his small pockets.

"Cool," he grins. "I'll be right down."

Once Lake serves the food, she hands the plate to Jude and carries hers over to the table. Forks and steak knives sit on top of the napkins. They sever their meat and devour the pieces. Warm grease oozes on their plates; Lake swoons in delight, whereas Jude bobs his head to the radio.

The functioning lights shine down the young adults as they consume their meals in silence. Their knives and forks bury deep inside the well-cooked meat.

"Are you okay?" Jude asks, tossing his salad.

Lake stops drinking her beverage. "Huh?"

"You were staring off to space for a moment."

"Yeah, sorry." Lake grins. "I just miss my parents, that's all."

Jude takes his time swallowing his meat before giving her a reassuring pat on her shoulder.

"Just give it time," he says. "They will be back, eventually."

Lake leans her back against her chair. She looks at the photo of her adopted fathers sitting near the kitchen faucet and sighs. Though Lake is not a huge fan of Christianity, she finds praying therapeutic. Every night, whenever she goes to bed, she begged God to watch over her dads. It didn't ease her loneliness, but it gives her hope that her parents would return unscathed.

After supper, Jude washes the dishes while Lake takes a long, hot shower. Mud, grime, and oil glide off her tattoos and into the drain. Apple and cinnamon soak her loose hair. She moves her naked body to the left when she hears the music transition to the news. Turning the water off, Lake pushes the curtain.

"Hey, Jude!" she shouts. "I was listening to that!"

"You're in the shower, Lake!" Jude shouts back. "How the fuck can you be listening to music when the water is on?"

"Oh, says the guy who sings Broadway musicals in the shower!"

"Will you stop bringing that shit up?"

"I will, if you turn the music back on!"

Jude responds by increasing the volume. He plucks the beef off Lake's plate and tosses it in his mouth before he plunges the dirty plate into the soapy water. Jude yawns. His eyelids droop, while the water drains the youth from his fingers. A fat drop of liquid falls from the faucet and lands on his pinkie finger.

Aside from the mountains of puzzle boxes and game boards stashed in the game room, Jude yearns for excitement. He finds nothing interesting on the radio or the TV, so he abandons dish duty to smoke cigarettes. Drying his hands, Jude ventures upstairs over to his room to get the carton until three ominous knocks make his blood run cold.