Free China Lake by Meg Gardiner

novel isn’t about annihilation; it’s about tenacity. Yeah, the characters are screwed up, they drink too much and listen to goddamned Patsy Cline music, but they hang in and keep on fighting. You like to write about people who have their back up against it. Nine hundred megatons of bomb craters across the landscape, that’s just backstory.’’
    I smiled. It was good to hear spirit in her voice.
    ‘‘Face it, woman—sci-fi lets you imagine whole new worlds, and that’s the buzz. ‘In the beginning, God thought— Hot shit! What’ll I cook up today ?’ Quite a kick, huh? You love possibility and creation. You’re just too dark-minded to realize it.’’
    ‘‘So, I’m the Gloomy Gus here, and the Remnant are the real optimists?’’
    ‘‘Ironic, isn’t it.’’
    I put an arm around her shoulders.
    She said, ‘‘Of course, Pop’s favorite quote was from Pascal—‘Men never do evil so completely and cheerfully as when they do it from religious conviction.’ Watch out for the event that convinces the Remnant it’s now. They’ll be joyful when they pull the trigger.’’
    And, like that, she took a juddering breath and started crying. After a minute she said, ‘‘Mom should be here, tossing in some choice comments.’’ She rubbed her eyes roughly with the back of her hand. ‘‘God sure lets the dog turds fly against the fan sometimes.’’
    We rounded a point. To our stupefaction, ahead on the sand, surrounded by beachcombers, civil engineers, and a television news crew, was the whale. It dominated the beach, rising like a cartilaginous gray pudding, ringed by kelp and barking dogs.
    A moment later the wind shifted. The stench hit, pungent and greasy, and the next thing I knew Nikki was bent over, throwing up. When she straightened again she said, ‘‘The Apocalypse is upon Santa Barbara. Live at five, on CNN.’’
    At three I walked Luke home from school. Back home we sat on the lawn eating a snack, with sunlight speckling our shoulders through the greenery, and I broke the news.
    ‘‘I have to tell you something important. Your mom has moved back to Santa Barbara.’’
    He stopped sipping from his juice box and looked at me, brown eyes huge.
    ‘‘She’s living at your grandma’s old house, up in the mountains.’’
    He sat as still as glass, his colt’s legs sticking out from his baggy shorts, looking as if he had heard something growling in the bushes. ‘‘Is Dad going to live there too?’’
    ‘‘No, he’s still moving to China Lake. They aren’t getting back together, bud.’’
    Seeing a thousand-yard stare on a six-year-old is deeply disconcerting. I rubbed his shoulder, trying to bring him back. Slowly his lips parted and he said, ‘‘But she won’t let me bring Teddy. I can’t go there.’’
    ‘‘What?’’
    The juice box dropped from his hands and dribbled onto the grass. He began kneading his fingers together. ‘‘She doesn’t like my bear because he has Dad’s patch sewed on him. The skull makes her mad.’’
    It was true; Tabitha hated Brian’s squadron patch, a death’s-head with red eyes and a dagger clenched in its teeth. But I didn’t understand what Luke was saying. His neck and shoulders were rigid, his fingers working painfully. His mind was grinding at an idea I couldn’t reach.
    ‘‘She won’t let Teddy come, and I can’t leave him here by himself. Don’t make me stay at her house.’’
    ‘‘No, Luke—oh, sweetheart, no.’’ I pulled him into my arms. ‘‘You aren’t going to her house. You’re staying with me until I take you to your dad’s.’’
    Evan, you dumb ass. I held him, feeling his fingers continue to writhe, wanting to kick myself.
    He said, ‘‘Promise?’’
    ‘‘Cross my heart.’’
    But he had trouble believing it. He made me repeat the promise, insisting that I add ‘‘hope to die’’ and ‘‘stick a needle in my eye.’’ And a while later, when I looked out the kitchen window, I saw him