Thanks so much for your comments. I have also been published more than 500 times in magazines but, like you, I am new to this genre. I will try to lessen the character study and concentrate more on plot in the first ten pages, then fill in on the characters as I go along. I agree with you and it seems to make sense. Of course, they would get the idea in chaps. later but that’s not quick enough. Thanks again. Are we friends? All you need is love, John T.
Action Adventure / The New Donner Party (chaps 1 & 2) (Analysis)
The New Donner Party
By John T. Allen
Saturday, December 18th
“It’s party time ladies and gentlemen,” said Lowell Donavan, smiling, laughing, waving to people he supposedly knew (but didn’t) across the room, acting like he was having the time of his life while trying to get some attention from the passing stream of tourists at Corrigan's Hotel & Casino in Lake Tahoe. He was in the lobby, the crossroads for people on their way to and from the 100,000 square foot Lucky Seven Casino, the two gourmet restaurants, three casual dining rooms and five differently themed bars. To the left was a shopping row of chi-chi boutiques and a state-of-the-art gymnasium which featured a fancy "Mediterranean Spa" and Olympic-sized swimming pool. The 2,000 seat Blarney Stone lounge (where Wayne Newton was a regular monthly performer), a small convention hall with business meeting rooms attached and the always busy non-denominational marriage chapel were all to the right and completed the destinations on the ground level. From where he was standing Lowell could see people getting on and off the four chrome and translucent glass elevators that whooshed up and down the twin towers. Each tower had 25 floors where the guest rooms were located. The 26th floors were dedicated to the penthouse suites for the high rollers and accessible only by special elevator pass keys.
South Lake Tahoe was where all the action was in the area and even though there were only about 30,000 permanent residents more than a million people visited each year to gamble, ski and enjoy the breathtaking scenery. The grand entrance of the Hotel was designed to WOW the out-of-towners. Bellboys wearing bright red double-breasted uniforms with silver buttons, silver epaulettes and shiny black patent leather chin-strapped monkey caps made their way through the crowds while attending to their duties. A floor captain in a tuxedo with tails and top hat stood next to the front door making hand gestures, snapping his fingers and whispering orders while greeting the guests. A sleek, curved emerald green registration counter was against the far wall where the guests checked in and out. All the front desk workers wore stylish black suits with red ties, their names embroidered in silver letters across the left breast pocket beneath the Corrigan's Irish elf logo.
The room had a picture-post-card view of the sapphire blue waters of Lake Tahoe and the snow-covered Sierra Nevada mountain range in the distance. Lowell had to practically shout to be heard above the electronic slot machine noise, the canned holiday Muzak from the hotel public address system and the conversations of all the people passing by. He had a little card table and two folding chairs tucked against the wall where people could sit down and look at the literature for the time-share condominiums he was selling. The hotel got a cut of every sale for letting Lowell's company pitch in the lobby.
If he could just get six more people to sign up for the tour that afternoon he was sure to make some money. Four people had already signed up that morning and the minimum needed to make the tour bus run was ten. Six more suckers, that’s all he needed, and come Hell or high water he was going to meet the quota. His boss, Larry, said he was a natural, a guy that could get ahead in the time-share business. There was always money left on the table for anyone willing to do whatever it took to get the sale, Larry always said. That’s why Lowell was there on a Saturday looking for some takers when Larry and the other salespeople had already left for the two-week Christmas holiday break. Although the company had notified the Forest Service that the condominium complex was closed for the winter Larry wanted one more trip to make their quota. If Lowell did make any sales he could deposit the contracts and down payments in the mail slot at the company headquarters just down the street. True, the contracts wouldn’t get registered until everyone got back from Christmas break after the New Year, but Lowell would be ahead of the game when they started up the “boiler room” again in January. When he wasn’t trying to hook the tourists into taking a tour Lowell was a “boiler man” working the phones in a tiny cubicle at the shop along with about 20 other sales reps. He had been taught how to use high pressure sales techniques as he surfed through the leads the company provided, usually responses from people who had seen an ad in some magazine and indicated they’d like a free information package. They didn’t expect to get a phone call, too. He made call after call all day long hoping to get one sucker to buy. He made $1250 for every sale he booked, so one sale a day would be great if he could get the sale. It was a commission-only job; he got no salary, so if he didn’t sell he didn’t get paid. He averaged about two sales per week but sometimes he didn't sell anything. One week he got seven sign ups and partied and gambled like a drunken sailor into the wee hours of the morning that Friday night when he got paid.
Not many people had the stomach for such hard-sell jobs and the turnover was heavy on the phones. But he liked the money so he stayed. Where else could a high school dropout make that kind of cash outside of dealing dope? When some senior citizen fell into his web he was like a spider with a fly and showed no mercy. All he cared about was getting them to sign their John Hancock on the bottom line of the contract. He didn’t give a shit if somebody was drunk, mentally ill, living on Social Security or whether or not they could actually afford a $35,000 time-share condominium in Lake Tahoe. He wasn’t a social worker.
So Lowell had volunteered even though he had to cancel dinner reservations he made for his one-year anniversary celebration with his wife, Joanne. He knew she would be disappointed, especially since she had already purchased a new dress for the occasion and hired a sitter for the baby, but oh well. When it came to money he had a one-track mind and everything, including his wife and their three-month old daughter, Christina, came in a distant second. He was going to be rich someday and that was all there was to it. Nobody ever gave him chance in hell of making anything of himself. His father, Louie, was a janitor at the Hilton and never forgot to remind everyone within earshot how much of a loser Lowell was. When Louie got drunk he made sure Lowell remembered it, too, by beating it into him. His mother wasn’t much help. She never lifted a finger to put a stop to it. She walked around in a semi-coma most of the time because of the pills the doctors gave her for her “nerves.” One night when he was 16 Lowell went to the store to get some milk and never came home again. His parents didn’t even file a missing person’s report and he hadn’t seen them since.
“It’s party time ladies and gentlemen,” he said again, louder, waving a fan of real hundred dollar bills that he held high in the air for everyone to see. “Sign up now for the Washoe Village Condominium & Resort Tour and get a FREE portable television set plus $250 in Corrigan Bucks to gamble with when you return! We’ll supply the FREE unlimited cocktails and dinner is on us! All you need to do is sit back and soak in the luxury of Washoe Village Condominiums & Resort while you listen to a short sales presentation. It’s party time ladies and gentlemen,” he repeated.
The pitch was a good one but somewhat deceiving. The portable TV was an old, outdated 8” black and white model made in Korea that required something like 30 large “A” batteries and didn’t have a regular channel selector (only a touchy dial a person had to try to tune to find a station) and no plug-in for use in the home or for recharging batteries. Since the condominiums were all the way past the North end of Lake Tahoe, up by Truckee near Donner Lake, it was a good two hour drive one way. With the sales presentation the whole trip took about six hours, which he pointedly failed to mention. The Corrigan Bucks were only good for even money bets on the roulette wheels. Even if people won some money the hotel management figured they'd gamble it back again and spend even more money. When people came for a vacation they usually wanted to win big money and wouldn't be satisfied winning a few hundred bucks. The “dinner on us” was two passes to the all-you-can-eat buffet which was free for the hotel guests anyway if they asked. People didn't realize that they could get a lot of things free if they just asked for them. The only part of the pitch that was really true was the free drinks part. Larry made sure that everyone who wanted to drank as much as possible to make it easier to get them to sign on the dotted line.
Lowell was wearing his only suit (which had cost big bucks), tailored, charcoal gray, and a crisp white shirt with a thin red and blue vertically striped silk tie tucked neatly under the button down collar. His long black hair had a slightly bluish tint, like a raven, and was swept back and gel-styled. He was clean shaven. His face was long and angular which made his Roman nose and blue eyes seem more prominent, but it also made him look older than his 25 years which was a plus when it came to selling. People didn’t trust a salesman who looked like he was still in high school. He wore expensive Gucci loafers mostly because Larry wore them and was always saying "shoes make the man." Since he was a full six feet tall and muscular he stood out somewhat above the crowd. He was a handsome guy and knew how to turn on the charm. He would go to any lengths to get the sale—virtually nothing was off limits-except for murder maybe. He was pretty sure he wouldn't commit murder. But he had gone to bed with more than one potential buyer's wife while her husband was downstairs playing blackjack. He had never gone to bed with somebody who was gay but he had already mulled that over in his mind and had decided that if it came down to a little hanky-panky for a sale he’d do it in a heartbeat. Anything beyond that would require further serious consideration.
“What you sellin’, son?” asked a man with a southern accent who had stopped at the table and was looking over the brochures. He was stocky, dressed casually in blue jeans and a bright green and red flowered Hawaiian shirt, a “good ole’ boy” Lowell immediately categorized him. He was probably in his mid-50’s but still fairly well-built with a good set of biceps. His black hair was turning gray on the sides and was buzzed into a flattop. His skin was tan and weathered, like he spent a lot of time outdoors. Little crows feet laugh lines framed his brown eyes, which were merry, twinkling, as if he was always finding something amusing. Standing right next to the man was a teenager who seemed a little retarded or something since his movements were slightly jerky, like he was out of it or on drugs. His eyes kept darting back and forth quickly looking from one thing to the next. He was a head taller than the man and looked like he lifted weights. His arms and neck were thick and muscular and the tight tee shirt he was wearing showed off a broad chest and flat stomach. His hair was blonde, also short and neatly combed to the side, but his skin was snow white in contrast to the redneck.
Lowell went into action, raising his voice slightly to try to draw more people in while he was talking. “I’m not really selling anything, sir. My job is to help people find happiness in their own little piece of paradise. What I’m really doing is giving away happiness. There are just too many unhappy people in the world, now wouldn’t you agree?”
Who could disagree?
The man nodded. “Yes. There sure are. So tell me about this thing you’re giving away. What’s it all about?”
Lowell started to shake his hand firmly while looking him straight in the eye. "My name is Lowell Donavan, sir, and what would your name be?”
“Al. Al Major, glad to meet you,” the man said, shaking back.
“Do you mind if I call you Al?”
“No, that’s my name.” Al was plain spoken.
“And is this your son, Al?” Lowell asked, sticking his hand out to shake with the boy.
“Yes, this is Simon. But he won’t shake. He doesn’t like people touching him.” Simon looked at Lowell’s outstretched hand with horror as if it were covered with green slime.
“Oh,” Lowell said, momentarily confused but then immediately turning his attention back to the father. “Well, Al, I want you to know that it is indeed a pleasure to meet you today. Do you enjoy the outdoors, Al?” Lowell always picked the one feature of the time-shares that he thought the potential buyer would like the most and this guy seemed like the outdoors type. He always used the person’s name as many times as possible since people loved the sound of their own name.
“Yes. Yes I do.”
“How about fishing, Al? Do much fishing?” Fishing was one of the top five leisure activities for men in America, right up there with golfing, bowling and woodworking.
“Yes, I fish a fair amount.” If the guy had said he didn’t like to fish then Lowell would have started out on skiing, or hiking or camping or some other outdoor activity.
“How would you like to walk out your front door into the soft morning sunshine, take a deep breath of invigorating mountain air and then casually mosey on over to your own private freshwater stream, just brimming with the best looking rainbow trout you’ve ever laid your eyes on? Is that something that would interest you?”
The man was seeing it in his mind. Lowell had been taught to paint a picture for the potential buyer.
“Yes, that would be nice,” Al said, trying not to sound too enthusiastic.
“Well then, if you’d like that, how about more than just a little mountain stream, Al? How about if you had your very own private LAKE that you could fish to your heart’s content—and never even have to buy a fishing license? And not just one lake, Al, but four or five lakes? How does that sound?” He always felt the buyers out as he was going along; it was called “test closing,” to see if his pitch was going the right way or not. He never wanted the person to say no to anything. If he could keep them saying yes to everything he was suggesting then they were more likely to say yes when it was time to sign the contract. If they did happen to say no to any one small thing then he just retraced until he was getting a yes again along a new line of conversation.
“My own lake? Yeah, that sounds good.”
“Al, I think you should take a tour and see our Washoe Village Condominiums & Resort. Do you like money, Al?”
Who didn't?
“Sure.”
“How about if I were to give you $250 to gamble with? How does that sound, Al?”
“For free?”
"Absolutely free, Al."
"Yeah, that sounds good."
“And while you’re fishing, have you ever thought about how nice it would be to maybe watch a ball game right there on the lake? Where are you from, Al?”
“Atlanta.”
“Do you like baseball, Al?” Baseball was big in Atlanta where the Braves played. Lowell knew the names of the major league sports teams in every sport in every city in the United States and Canada, including all the hockey teams. They got a lot of Canadian tourists at Lake Tahoe. If the potential buyer didn't like baseball, Lowell would suggest some other sport. If the person didn't like sports he would move on to something else on television.
“I don’t just like baseball, I love baseball.”
“Isn’t that weird? I love baseball, too! Well, Al, how would you like to be out there fishing on your own private lake and reach over and turn on your own portable television set to watch the Braves playing, maybe in this year's World Series, Al? Would you like that?”
“Sure. I usually just bring along an old banged up portable radio I've got. The Braves are #1.”
“Well then, consider that portable television set yours! And you like to eat, right? Because we always make sure you get free dinner while you’re visiting us here in one of the most beautiful places on Earth. Do you like to eat, Al?”
Who didn't?
“Oh, yeah, I can pack it away alright," he said laughing and patting his stomach.
“Al, you sound like the kind of person we’re looking for. After we get back from the tour dinner is on us! If I could just get your signature and Social Security number here we’ll be leaving for a five-star tour of our luxurious condominium and resort development at four o’clock. Just for going on the tour you’ll receive $250 in Corrigan Bucks, a free portable television set and free dinner? Sound good, Al?”
“How about Simon? Does he get free dinner, too?”
“Certainly, Al. We’ll even throw in a free dinner for Simon, too. All I need is your signature here,” he said, handing Al a pen and clipboard and pointing to a spot on the paper where he was supposed to sign, “and your Social Security number there. Then you just leave the rest to me. We’ll take good care of you and your son. We’ll have a great time.”
Lowell waited now, not speaking, until Al had affixed his signature and number to the waiver without having read the solid block of four-point small print that filled most of the page. He had been taught to stop talking whenever it came time to have a person sign something. The silence was in direct contrast to the camaraderie the salesperson and the buyer had hopefully built up and put a kind of unspoken pressure on the buyer to go ahead and sign so the camaraderie would continue. It also stopped the salesperson from "buying back" the sale by continuing to talk, maybe raising doubts with the buyer when it wasn't necessary. If the salesperson had done everything right up to that point then the signature should be a foregone conclusion.
“What is this thing, anyhow?” Al asked after he had given permission to the company to check his credit report.
“Nothing, really. We just want to make sure you're a good citizen and haven't robbed any banks. You haven't robbed any banks lately, have you, Al?" Lowell joked.
"No, can't say that I have. At least none that I remember," Al said laughing out loud.
"Good," Lowell purred, laughing along with him and taking the clipboard and pen back quickly before Al could change his mind. The credit reports were important because they let the salesman know what kind of assets the potential buyer had and how much they were able to charge on open credit cards. It was surprising how many ordinary middle-class people had credit card accounts with open lines of credit up to $10- or even $25,000 that they had never used or only used sporadically for small purchases. The company preferred to have people charge their down payments because they got the money instantly and it was easier than getting someone to part with real cash money, easier even than having someone write a check. The information was called in to a clearinghouse and the credit reports were printed out within minutes.
"And I don't have to buy anything if I don't want to?"
"You are correct, Al. No pressure. If you don't like what you see then there is absolutely no obligation. We'll bring you back here to Corrigan's and you'll still get the gambling money and the portable television and dinner to boot! So, we've got a deal, right? I'll meet you at the front door at four o'clock sharp, right?"
"OK, Mr.—"
"Please, call me Lowell."
"OK, Lowell, you got yourself a deal. We'll be back in a few hours then."
Lowell saw that two other people, a corpulent couple, were standing against the wall watching him talk to Al. He made a big production out of saying goodbye to Al, continuing to smile as Al walked away before starting his pitch again like he hadn't seen the couple, not wanting to appear too anxious.
"It's party time, ladies and gentleman," he started up again, waving the hundred-dollar bills in the air before happening to notice the couple still watching him. "Hello, folks," he said, taking hold and shaking the man's hand. "And what might your name be, sir?" He was smiling like he'd just met his long lost best friend.
"Abner Meeks," the man said. He was short, fat, bald and his eyes were wide open as if he was perpetually amazed. He looked like Homer Simpson, the cartoon character, round in the middle. He and the woman, who was also heavy set but much taller than the man, had on matching white leisure suit outfits straight out of the ‘70s. Lowell continued shaking his hand.
"My name is Lowell Donovan. And who is this pretty lady, your daughter?" Lowell reached over to shake the rotund woman's hand. She was blushing beet red and smiling shyly.
"No, that's my wife, Ethyl!" said Abner, opening his eyes even wider, looking more amazed than ever.
"What? But she couldn't possibly be your wife. She's too young to be your wife!" Lowell protested while opening another can of whoop ass sales pitch gas.
He had his six sign-ups by three o'clock which left him time to run the credit reports, change into his casual clothes and grab a hamburger at Burger King before picking up the shuttle bus. Before he started he called Joanne. The phone conversation did not go well. She was so pissed that she said she was taking the baby and going off to live with her mother for a while. She said all he cared about was money, which was pretty much true. Oh well, fuck 'em if they can't take a joke, as Larry always said.
It was getting colder so he opened the car trunk and got out his thick insulated winter parka. He paused as he was putting the coat on and looked to the northwest toward the mountains where the condominiums were located. A thick cloud front had moved in and the sky had turned a dark steel gray in that direction. It had snowed in the mountains nearly every day for the last five weeks straight, an area record, but he didn't want to mention that to his tour. The Forest Service had kept the 20 mile road leading to the resort (which was off the main highway) plowed and clear up until now. But they wouldn't be paying any attention to that section since the selling season was officially over. He hoped that it wouldn’t snow today, or at least that the snow would hold off until later tonight. The bus was a bitch to drive even in light snow because it didn't have snow tires and couldn't be rigged with snow chains.
But he could deal with the weather. He took a deep breath and focused in his mind on how he was going to sell the potential buyers that were going on the tour. He pictured each one of their faces, remembering their names and the little hints they had given that would help him to sell a time-share. And even though the air was pungent with the smell of cedar smoke rising from the small-town chimneys he detected another smell in the air—the smell of money.
-2-
Lowell finished his errands and parked the car to pick up the bus. He filled up the gas tank and checked the oil and tires and paid with the company credit card. A long-haired kid wearing a frayed denim jacket with “Metallica Forever” printed across the back checked him out and he drove the four blocks over to Corrigan’s and pulled up to the main entrance. The tour bus was the same style as most airport shuttles and could seat about 20 people depending on how big the people were. There was a full bar set-up in the back with beer and wine on ice in two aluminum sinks and hard liquor set in shelves and held in place with elastic cords so the bottles wouldn’t bounce around. He shut the diesel engine down, pulled up the emergency brake, opened the accordion doors and walked down the steps, searching the crowd for his sign ups. He waved to Jimmy Nelson, one of the parking valets he knew before spying two of his couples standing at the far end of the Porte cochere smoking cigarettes and talking, stamping their feet and moving around to keep warm. They probably discovered they were all going on the same tour. Lowell walked right over to them immediately. The main goal for him during the trip was to keep the morale and excitement level up which was difficult to do when he was driving. The company had a canned DVD presentation that he would play during the drive. That helped some since it kept people's minds off the uncertainty of what was to come. But now, while he was still able to talk to people he needed to do what he could to pump them up. He was the head cheerleader as well as the bus driver, salesman, chief bottle washer and whatever else needed to be done for the tour. The success or failure of the whole shebang depended on how well he took care of all the little details. Larry had taught him well and Lowell knew the procedures like the back of his hand. If he just followed the play book then several people would buy and the trip would be a success. If something got screwed up that could change the mood of the group in the blink of an eye. Then there would be no sales and the whole day would just be a monumental waste of his time and energy.
"Howdy folks," Lowell said, putting his arm playfully around Artie Randolph, a construction company owner from Madison, Wisconsin, shaking his hand. "Melanie, right?" he continued with Mrs. Randolph. He shook her hand warmly, bringing his left hand to cup their two hands together. Light touching was encouraged in the sales training unless the buyer seemed to object, as Al's son Simon had. He kept the patter up as he got to the second couple, Pastor Joseph Jennings ("just call me Joe"), and his secretary, Joni Henderson. "And Joni and Pastor—oops, excuse me, Joe," Lowell said, getting a laugh from them both as he finished shaking their hands. "Don't worry about the cold, folks, the bus is heated and we'll be as snug as a bug in a rug when we get up to the Resort. How we doin'? Is everybody ready to relax and have a good time?"
They all nodded. “Yes sir,” said Artie. Yes was like music to Lowell's ears.
"Do you think this jacket will be warm enough?" asked Joni, doing a modeling twirl. She was wearing a sky blue ski jacket with a cute little white knitted cap and blue and white striped slacks. The outfit complemented her mocha skin and made her copper colored eyes even more alluring.
"Oh, sure. You'll be fine. We'll only be outside for a few minutes. And may I say that's a great looking outfit," said Lowell, kissing ass.
"Yes, you look great," added Artie, drawing a glare from Melanie.
"Thank you," she replied demurely.
The Randolph's both wore expensive looking belted black leather full-length jackets. Artie was built like a brick wall which was appropriate since he was a bricklayer by trade. Lowell had noticed that his hands were solidly calloused from years of working with the sharp bricks and mortar. He also noticed that Artie seemed a little jumpy, scratching his arms absent-mindedly and running his fingers through his hair, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. But in contrast his eyelids stayed half closed as if he was about to go to sleep. He looked tired, his skin had a clammy, pale aspect and he kept wiping his runny nose with a white handkerchief. It could have just been a cold or the flu but Lowell had seen junkies with the same kind of mannerisms. On the other hand, Melanie was blonde, blue eyed, curvy and had that wholesome, All-American-Girl look. Her skin was flawless. She had mentioned that she was a member of P.E.T.A., "People for Ethical Treatment of Animals," and that she was a strict vegetarian. Why she had brought it right up in conversation Lowell didn't know, but she seemed very proud of her membership. He would use her love of animals in his pitch to them. They were both in their mid-forties. They had no children and plenty of money to spend according to their credit report.
The Pastor and his secretary were a little harder to figure out. Joe had told Lowell he was looking for a retreat where he could come occasionally and commune with nature and revitalize his spirits. But he and Joni seemed pretty chummy and Lowell wondered if this would be their little love nest for future trysts. The Pastor had a lot of money in his personal accounts. He was much more well off than a person would expect a young Pastor to be. He and Joni were both under 30. Joe had a winning smile, his face seemed to have a glow about it, like he had found true peace in his life, and tender, searching eyes that most religious people seemed to cultivate, Lowell had noticed in his short sales career. When a preacher looked at you it was as if he was searching your very soul for something only he could detect. It gave Lowell the creeps.
"Does it get this cold back in Wisconsin?" Lowell asked, knowing the answer would certainly be yes.
"Oh, my goodness, you betcha," Melanie answered. "It can get down to twenty below no problem." She and her husband had that giveaway accent that Lowell always pegged in people from Minnesota, Wisconsin or the lower parts of Canada that bordered on the States there in the Midwest. They all said "You betcha" a lot and stretched out their "O's" and "A's." As in how the word "yeah" came out "yeaaahhh."
"Well, let me go find the rest of our group and then we'll get cracking. We are going to have a ball," he said, rubbing his hands together excitedly as if he couldn't wait. "You folks feel free to go on inside the bus and sit down if you want to. And help yourself to anything from the bar," he said as he waved and made his way back through the crowd that was waiting for their cars to be brought around to the front door from the underground parking lot. Some people were loading into black stretch limos or taxi cabs for dinner and a night out on the town. There were only three major casinos in South Lake Tahoe but a lot of good restaurants and night clubs that catered to the tourist trade.
Lowell found the Meeks standing right next to the head of parking, Tony Albertini, at the front of the Hotel. Tony was dressed like the bellboys and valets except that he had silver vee-shaped stripes, like they wore in the military, on his sleeves, and he wore a red hat with a black visor like some policemen wore. "Whazzup, Tony," said Lowell, giving him a slap on the back. Tony was a good guy.
"Not too much, Lowell. What you up to?"
"I'm here to take these lucky people on a little trip up to paradise, isn't that right?" he said, turning his attention to the Meeks. "Hi, folks," he said shaking their hands happily.
"Hello," they both said.
"You all ready to have some fun?"
Abner looked a little apprehensive but his wife Ethyl spoke right up. She was wearing white knee high boots, a white Russian style fur hat and a knee-length white suede overcoat with a big white fur collar that came up to touch the sides of her face. She and Abner must have liked white. "Yes, we're looking forward to getting out and seeing some of the countryside. We've heard so much about the beautiful scenery."
"Lowell's the guy you want showin' you around," said Tony. "He knows all the best spots." Tony was putting in a good word for him in front of the marks.
"Tony taught me everything I know," Lowell joked, getting a polite laugh out of Ethyl. "OK. Good. Well, you're going to get an eyeful that's for sure." Abner had on a white camel hair coat and a pair of those snowball-like fuzzy earmuffs with a white plastic piece that spanned his bald head. His nose was red and his eyes were a bit watery looking. He and Ethyl were from Columbus, Ohio, and ran a chain of five dry cleaners. From their credit check, Lowell was surprised to find that they were, at least on paper, millionaires. They sure didn't act like it.
Just then Al Major and his son came through the front door as Tony opened it for them. "Well, just in the nick of time," said Lowell, shaking Al's hand pleasantly. "Al, have you met Abner and Ethyl Meeks? They'll be going along with us today." He introduced everyone. Al shook their hands while Simon stood off to the side, mute. "And that's Al's son, Simon," Lowell said, gesturing to Simon who was looking up, studying the redwood ceiling overhanging the entryway. Ethyl waved to Simon but stopped when she saw he wasn't paying attention, a bit confused. Al was dressed for the outdoors with a pair of brown vulcanized hiking boots, camouflage pants and coat with an orange hunting vest over the top of the coat. He wore an orange ski cap, rolled up now but the kind that could be stretched down to cover the face with holes for the eyes and mouth. He also had a pair of fur-lined leather gloves sticking out of his coat pockets. Likewise, Simon was bundled up in a full length hooded down jacket and wool cap and similar hiking boots. Simon looked like a little boy that his mother had dressed up to go out and play in the snow. His hood was pulled tight around his face with a drawstring under his chin leaving only a few inches of his cap and face exposed to the elements. They were both ready for a hike on the mountain! Lowell scooted them all over towards the bus before seeking his final passengers.
He didn't have far to look. Tara Milton, a twenty-something gorgeous blonde with a knock-out figure, was surrounded by a group of young men, chatting it up and laughing coquettishly. She was accompanied by a girlfriend, Gina Ramone, a vampish brunette who wore a black fur coat and matching heavy eye makeup. Her right eyebrow was pierced and displayed two small gold rings with a matching ring in the side of her nose. Her spiky, black hair was streaked with white stripes. She only signed up because Tara convinced her they'd have a good time but according to her credit report she was loaded. Tara was a question mark to Lowell. She had acted like she was going on the trip strictly for kicks and had flirted outrageously with Lowell before signing up. Since she was only in her 20’s she didn't have much of a credit report of her own but had about ten high-limit credit cards she could sign on in her father's name. She didn't seem to have a job yet she was the registered owner of an expensive turbo-charged Porsche, the same car that Lowell had decided he was going to buy someday when he was wealthy. She must have been a rich man's daughter, and would probably need her daddy’s OK, but he didn't rule her out as a non-prospect. Sometimes he had a whole tour bus full of people without a pot to piss in who only went along to get the free television and gambling money. But he had learned that looks could be deceiving in this business and more than one time some joker that didn't seem to have a dollar to his name had pulled the down payment of $3500 cash out of his front pocket. He treated all his potential buyers equally—he was a non-discriminating pushy salesman with everyone. He managed to extricate Tara and Gina from the throng of male admirers and led them off to the bus arm in arm. Tara smelled like she already had a few cocktails under her belt and her eyes were a little glassy.
When everyone was safely aboard the party started. People were talking and laughing and some had gotten drinks from the bar. "OK, everyone, if I could please have your attention." Everyone stopped chatting to listen.
"The only rule on this trip is the have fun rule. You're all going to get to see some of the most beautiful scenery on Earth and we want everyone to enjoy themselves and have a good time. So, help yourselves to the bar and there are sandwiches under the counter. Just sit back and take it all in and get to know your neighbors. While we're at it, why don't we just go around and let everyone introduce themselves, tell us where you're from and what kind of work you do. How about if we start with you, Artie?" He and his wife were to the left side in the rear.
"Well, my name is Artie Randolph and I'm in construction, and this is my wife Melanie. We're from Madison, Wisconsin."
Everyone said hello to them.
"And we're the Meeks," said Ethyl. They were to the rear on the right-hand side. "This is my husband, Abner, and we're from Columbus, Ohio." Abner whispered something to her. "Oh, and we're in the dry-cleaning business."
The preacher took the lead since they were next in the middle of the seats. "I'm Joe Jennings and this is my secretary, Ms. Joni Henderson." Joni nodded hello to everyone. "I am a certified Pastor, but I'm really more of an administrator in accounting for the Baptist organization in Florida."
"Oh," Melanie said, nodding, as everyone else welcomed them.
"How about you, Tara?" asked Lowell. She was sitting up front behind the driver's seat.
"Who, little old me? OK. Well..." she said, as if she had to think about who she was. "My name is Tara Milton and I go to school part-time at the University of San Diego and I don't work at all," she said, laughing at the little joke. "I'm only here for the free drinks," she added, laughing some more. Everyone greeted her, too, as she got up and made her way back to the bar to get a refill, looking sexy in her black stretch pants and purple ski jacket with matching purple ski hat. Artie Randolph got up to refill his glass, too. Melanie turned around to watch what Artie and Tara were doing in the back.
"Gina?"
"I'm Gina Ramone and you all may have heard of my grandmother, Jessica Ramone, the famous actress. I'm studying acting myself now at UCLA and I hope to be just as famous as my grandmother someday." She seemed confident and sure of herself.
Most of the passengers were impressed with Gina's lineage and there was some talk of her grandmother's films. Jessica Ramone was at her peak during the “film noir” days in Hollywood and had played in many movies opposite leading men like Humphrey Bogart, Kirk Douglas and Robert Mitchum. She was usually cast as the mysterious “bad girl.” Surprisingly, most people still remembered her from the early days of television when she played an aging matriarch on one of the first soap operas, “The Restless Heart.” When she finally “died” in the series in the late ‘70s she held the record for being on television in the longest continuous role. She still did an occasional commercial now and then, mostly for charitable organizations, and she and Gina were very close.
"Al?" Lowell asked.
"OK, well my name is Al Major and this is my son Simon. I'm mostly retired now, from 41 years in the Marines, but I still keep my fingers in the pie and do some consulting work on occasion.” He didn’t mention that his consulting work was for the CIA. “Simon is mildly autistic, so don't be put off if he doesn't seem to be paying attention to you. I'm real proud of him."
"Did you make it over to Iraq or Afghanistan?" asked Abner.
"Yes, I did spend some time over there," Al said soberly. He’d spent two years in both countries before any fighting started, playing the role of a German businessman while gathering covert intelligence on Al Quaida, the terrorist group which had been responsible for the attack on the Twin Towers, the World Trade Center in New York City. He spoke fluent German as well as Russian, Chinese and three different dialects of Arabic. He used the dumb redneck role when it suited him, as it had with Lowell.
"Well, glad you made it back in one piece," said Ethyl.
"You're not the only one."
People nodded their heads and greeted Al and his son. Most of them didn't know what autism was or how to interact with autistics.
"OK, then, now that everyone's gotten acquainted, let's roll," said Lowell, turning back to the front and sitting down in the driver's seat. He started the bus up and adjusted the heater and took off the emergency brake before pulling around a white limousine and on out of the Hotel driveway. He popped in the tour guide CD that was programmed to comment on the various sites as it got an electronic cue from the GPS, Global Positioning System, about the time the bus would be passing by.
The dulcet baritone voice of what sounded like a radio or television announcer, since his enunciation was precise and practiced, came through the speakers. "Welcome, ladies and gentleman, to the Washoe Village Condominiums & Resort Tour in beautiful Lake Tahoe. On behalf of the staff and management of Washoe Village, we'd like to welcome you all to our little piece of paradise and we hope you all enjoy your stay with us today."
As the announcer spoke images of the Lake Tahoe area played on a flat panel display screen hung from the ceiling of the bus behind the driver's seat. Well dressed gamblers laughed and high-fived each other while winning at craps in the casinos in one scene. A middle-aged couple, embracing lovingly in a soft breeze, were shown in the summertime, awestruck, looking out across the Lake at sunset while standing on the bow of the M.S. Dixie II, a stern-wheel paddleboat that gave Lake Tahoe tours. The local videographer probably got the idea for the shot from a similar scene in Titanic. A college-aged man and woman, both blondes, sporting goggles and dressed in wild yellow and orange winter outfits, zigzagged their way ecstatically down one of the area mountain runs on snow boards in another scene. Lowell was glad people were watching the video because he didn’t want them noticing that the town was not all glitter and glamour.
He drove through the Westside of South Lake Tahoe, past a phalanx of smaller motels, some of them run-down and seedy looking. Even with the cold weather, women, ladies of the night, some of them pretty damned good looking, Lowell had to admit, plied their trade walking the sidewalks in spiked heels, short mini-skirts or tight Capri pants and fake fur coats. There was a part of town that catered to the transvestite crowd, and further down the boulevard young boys in tight blue jeans waited for the homosexuals to pick them up. Cars full of local teenage kids smoked and joked in the fast food joint parking lots oblivious to anything but each other. The local Taco Bell seemed to be their favorite place to see and be seen. They weren’t allowed in the casinos and there weren’t any teen clubs in town.
A black and white police car drove slowly past going the other direction. The cops maintained a presence but were fairly low-key with the tourists and if an out-of-towner wanted something in the way of sin, he was likely to be able to find it without too much trouble. Most of the cab drivers knew where to go when somebody wanted hookers, dope or a wild party.
Lowell stopped for a red light and a wild looking guy, probably a transient, wearing a filthy tan jacket, his hair long and scraggly, stood on the corner holding a sign that said, "Will work for food." His eyes were shining brightly and he looked feverish. He had a small skinny mutt, some kind of terrier, on a leash. The dog sat shivering in the cold looking pitiful. The man held the sign up higher as if Lowell hadn't seen it. Lowell ignored him and then started to pull away when the light turned green. The man shook his fist at Lowell before giving him the finger.
Then they were passing the fairly quiet residential neighborhoods and a city park that ran along the Lake until Lowell came to the cut-off where Route 50 met 89. He followed Route 89 which would take the tour along the western side of the Lake. There wasn't that much on the eastern side except for some Forestry Service demonstration projects and the ranch where NBC used to film scenes for the old "Bonanza" television series in the '60s.
"Lake Tahoe is a masterpiece of nature and most locals can tell you how it was created," continued the announcer. The visual display was showing a graphic animation of the topography of the area. "The Tahoe Basin was formed five to ten million years ago by the rising and falling of the land due to the shifting of geologic faults.
"Tremendous forces began the western tilt of the Sierra Nevada block. As a result, two principal parallel faults developed. The Eastern margin created the Carson Range and the western margin created the Sierra Nevada. The up-thrown blocks created the highest peaks in the region. The down-thrown blocks sank to create a deep v-shaped valley, now called the Lake Tahoe Basin.
"Mammoth volcanic activity exploded about two million years later and lava flows from Mt. Pluto formed a barrier across the Basin's northeastern outlet, creating a natural dam across Lake Tahoe's original outlet, the Truckee River.
"Then an ice age developed and huge glaciers grew in the surrounding mountains and gradually moved down the v-shaped canyons on the western side of the Lake. The glaciers scoured away loose rock and reshaped the canyons into broad, u-shaped valleys of Emerald Bay, which created Fannette Island, Fallen Leaf Lake and Cascade Lake. Today, the highest point in the Tahoe Basin is Freel Peak at 10,881 feet. The deepest part of Lake Tahoe is near Crystal Bay, measuring a water depth of 1,645 feet. We'd like to thank the folks at the Lake Tahoe Chamber of Commerce and Tahoevacationguide.com and Tahoesbest.com for providing much of this information. If you'll look to your right, you'll just begin to be able to see the jewel of Lake Tahoe that I just mentioned, Emerald Bay."
Sure enough, the GPS system was working and they had just come around a corner and could see the pristine bay off to their right. There was tiny Fannette Island in the middle of the bay, rocky looking, with some stunted trees growing on it. The water appeared frozen. Surrounding the bay was a solid green wall of tall Ponderosa Pine, with an occasional dead tree noted by the silver coloring. The shoreline itself was etched in white from an accumulation of snow.
"The discovery of stone artifacts and projectile points confirms the inhabitance of the Native American culture group known as the Washoe as many as 10,000 years ago. The Washoe women made exceptionally fine baskets of remarkable artistry.
"Da-ow-a-ga was the Washoe Indian name for Lake Tahoe. The area from Taylor Creek to Camp Richardson was a favorite. Sadly, the Indians were practically run out of the area during the Comstock Lode silver and logging boom during the 1860s to the early 1880s. The natural resources are still recovering from the mass deforestation that occurred during the relatively brief period of time. The Indian word Tahoe means big water, and by action of the California state legislature Lake Tahoe became the official name in 1945."
"Isn't that beautiful," said Ethyl, looking down on the scene from the roadway.
"Yes, it sure is," Melanie answered. "I wonder if the Indian tribes own the land again?"
"Oh, I'm sure they must," said Ethyl.
“Fat chance,” said Artie sarcastically.
The announcer continued his commentary. "Some of the trees you'll notice on our trip include Alder, Aspen, Cedar, and Jeffrey Pine, Lodge pole Pine, Ponderosa Pine, Sierra Juniper, Sugar Pine, White Fir and Willow. In the spring and summer there is an abundance of beautiful flowers, including Lupine, Indian Paintbrush, Shooting Star, California Corn Lily, Cow Parsnip, Ranger Buttons, Buttercup and Thistle.
"Keep your eyes peeled for birds because they live in the area year-round. You might see the great American Bald Eagle, California Gull, Canadian Goose, Hairy Woodpecker, Chickadee, Red-tailed Hawk and the Yellow-Headed Blackbird. As for the mammal population, there's the Black Bear, Coyote, Douglas Squirrel, Mule Deer, Cougar (also known as the Mountain Lion by some), the Yellow-bellied Marmot and the Gold-mantled Ground Squirrel."
The passengers were scanning the skies at the mention of the birds. "Look, there's an eagle," said Artie excitedly.
Everyone looked to where he was pointing and it was indeed an eagle soaring effortlessly between the mountain cliffs.
"Now, I don't want to bore you good people but here are some interesting facts: Lake Tahoe is 22 miles long and 12 miles wide with about 72 miles of shoreline. The surface area is 193 square miles and the Lake holds over 39 trillion gallons of water, enough to cover a flat area the size of California to a depth of 14 inches. If drained, it would take 700 years to refill the lake! If just the amount of water that evaporated every 24 hours could be recovered it would easily supply the daily water needs of a city the size of Los Angeles.
"Oh, and for the curious, Lake Tahoe never freezes because the huge volume of lake water is always in motion. Each winter, the cold water on the surface sinks while the warm water rises from the deep. Some protected inlets, like Emerald Bay, have been covered with a thin layer of ice at times.
“Looks pretty thick to me,” said Al. The ice was almost six inches thick in the inlet surrounding the island.
"Even though the sun shines an average of 274 days a year on this wonderful marvel of nature, for you ski buffs, the snowfall averages 300-500 inches each year. Skiers can hit the slopes on one of the 182 ski trails in the midst of more than 8,800 total ski resort acres. The longest ski run in the area is 5.5 miles long at Heavenly."
"Wow, 500 inches of snow is more than 40 feet!" said Al.
"Omigod," said Tara. "That's, like...a lot!"
Lowell didn't want to mention that they'd already had more than 650 inches of snow that winter, almost 55 feet! It was a record for the area, beating the horrible winter of 1846 when so much tragedy had befallen a certain wagon train which Lowell didn’t want to think about. But even more troubling than the snow was the way the temperature had continued to drop for the past two to three weeks. Even though the thermometers managed to stay in the teens and twenties during the day when the sun was shining, there had been nights when it had dropped to 10-20 below zero in the high mountains with the chill factor from the strong winds. Lowell certainly didn't want to scare anyone with that kind of information. And since most of the visitors hadn't been in town but a day or two, they weren't aware of the terrible winter the area had been having. Of course, the Chamber of Commerce wasn't putting out press releases on the cold, either. If it wasn't for the tourists most of the town would be out of work, and anyway, the snow was good for the ski resorts.
"Anybody want a drink while I'm up?" asked Ethyl.
"As long as you're making, I'll have a gin and tonic," said Al. "And how about a Pepsi for Simon?"
"OK."
"I’d like a Budweiser," said Abner.
"You want a Bud, Abner? There’s Heineken."
"Heineken?"
"Yes."
"I’ll take one of those."
"Comin' right up."
"If you're looking for fishing, Lake Tahoe and the surrounding lakes are filled with trout. The biggest fish ever caught in Lake Tahoe was a Mackinaw lake trout that weighed in at 37 pounds six ounces," the announcer continued.
"That's a whopper, alright," said Al. "Thanks, Hon," he said as Ethyl gave him his gin and tonic and the Pepsi to Simon, who looked at the plastic cup curiously before taking a small sip.
The video screen showed clips of some movies then. "Indian Love Call, starring Jeanette McDonald, was the first movie to be filmed at Lake Tahoe in the 1920s. Subsequent films have included The Godfather, starring Marlon Brando and Al Pacino, and The Bodyguard, starring Kevin Costner and Whitney Houston."
"Oh, I loved The Bodyguard," gushed Tara. "But what's up with Whitney Houston? Did she turn into a crack addict or something. I saw a picture of her in the National Enquirer and she was down to like 80 pounds."
"I know, I saw that picture, too," said Ethyl. "Isn't it terrible?"
Gina stared at Ethyl but didn't say anything. She looked supremely bored as only the young can do so well.
The announcer was replaced with "light rock" music to allow the passengers some time to converse and enjoy the scenery. Shania Twain was singing, "Man, I Feel Like a Woman," followed by Celine Dion doing her rendition of "River Deep, Mountain High."
Lowell picked up the intercom microphone. "How's everybody doing? We having fun yet?"
Everybody chimed in with positive responses. "Yee haw," said Tara, well on her way to getting pleasantly soused.
"OK, we're going to play a little game and we've got some fabulous prizes for the winners waiting for us when we get up to the Resort. Whoever shouts out the answer first wins a prize. Is everybody ready?"
"Yeah," a few people said.
"What? I can't hear you," Lowell said, doing his best comic imitation of a drill instructor.
"Yes," everybody said in unison, louder this time.
"OK, here we go. You were all listening to the announcer, right? How many miles is it all the way around Lake Tahoe?"
"Oh, I know that one," said Abner.
"72 miles," said Al, beating Abner to the punch.
"72 miles is correct," Lowell said.
"I knew that," Abner said sulkily.
"Somebody keep track. How about you, Melanie? Would you mind writing down our winners so they can accept their fabulous prizes when we arrive?"
"Oh, alright," she said, getting a piece of paper and pen out of her purse like it was a big deal.
"OK. Who is or are the all-time top selling recording artist or artists of all time in U.S. sales?"
"Frank Sinatra?" asked Ethyl.
"No."
"Michael Jackson?" asked Tara.
"No."
"Elvis Presley, I know it," said Al.
"No again."
"The Beatles," said Simon in a high, squeaky voice.
"The Beatles is correct. Very good, Simon." That was the first thing anyone had heard him say, and everyone except for Al was a bit surprised that he had gotten it right.
"He's got a photographic memory," Al said proudly. "He can remember everything he's ever heard or read in his entire life."
"Ahhh," a few people remarked, almost in unison, nodding their heads.
"The Beatles have sold more than 164 million records in the United States alone," said Lowell. He had all the questions and answers memorized.
"Wow!" said Artie.
"I could have sworn it was Elvis," said Al.
"OK. For the next question: Who is or is the second best selling recording artist or artists of all time in U.S. sales?"
"That has to be Frank Sinatra," said Ethyl.
"No, not Frank."
"The Supremes!" said Melanie, sure she had the right answer.
"No, not the Supremes."
"Garth Brooks?" asked Abner.
"No, but that is very close. Garth Brooks is #3 all time in U.S. sales," said Lowell.
"Well, I was close," said Abner to nobody in particular.
"Elvis?" somebody asked.
"Nope, not Elvis."
"Led Zeppelin," said Simon flatly, without emotion. His voice was very high-pitched though, almost a soprano.
"Led Zeppelin is correct, Simon," said Lowell, amazed. This kid knew all the answers if he put his mind to it.
The rest of the passengers were amazed, too, and started seeing Simon in a completely new light.
"Does he know the winner at Hialeah in the 7th race tomorrow?" asked Artie, being facetious.
"No, afraid not," Al said, smiling.
"Ok, folks, just sit back and relax now and we'll have some more fun in a little while." Lowell turned the sound system back up and Blood, Sweat & Tears was doing "Spinning Wheel."
It had started to snow a little, not much, but the flakes were large and the wind was blowing everything around quite a bit. While the passengers were listening to the music, Lowell plugged in his headset to listen in for the National Weather Service report which was broadcast every half hour on a shortwave radio frequency. He glanced around to make sure that nobody was watching him. He was getting a little paranoid about the weather. Everybody was getting into the party mood and couldn't seem to care less what he was doing. After a few minutes of white noise, the announcement came in as it did exactly on the half hour and hour.
"Beep—beep—beep," came the three long electronic tones announcing the broadcast. At one time, the report had been announced by three bell-like dongs from a xylophone, and the report had only been given in the dits and dahs of Morse Code; but now anyone could tune in and listen in plain English and long as the person had a short-wave radio.
"It is zero two thirty Greenwich Mean Time and this is the National Weather Service forecast from the Western Regional Climate Center in Reno, Nevada; for northern California and the Sacramento Valley, the Sierra Nevada mountains and Northern Nevada.
"An extreme weather advisory with a Winter Storm Watch has been issued. Freezing rain in the lowlands and a Blizzard Warning is in effect. A combination of warm air from the Gulf of Mexico and an Arctic cold front is meeting in an area from the Hawaiian Islands at approximately 20.72 degrees North latitude to an area roughly paralleling North latitude 41 degrees encompassing the waters from the Monterey Peninsula, California, to Coos Bay, Oregon, and across the Sierra Nevada as high as latitude 47.5 including Wyoming and Montana.
"Travelers at sea are advised to make way for the nearest port since confused wave action and winds of Category Five, extreme gale, are predicted. Inland, expect temperatures to drop unexpectedly to below zero in the valleys. Mountain areas can expect heavy snow and wind gusts as high as 100 MPH and chill factors lowering temperatures to 20-30 degrees below zero. Elderly persons, pregnant women and those with serious health conditions are urged to seek shelter in designated areas. All others should stay inside, avoid travel, and be prepared for power outages. Prepare for possible isolation in your home. Have an emergency kit available including flashlights, batteries, first aid supplies, candles and bottled water. Extra fuel for wood burning or pellet stoves is recommended.
"Warning: Do not attempt to perform activities which require physical exertion in extremely cold weather. Drink ample fluids and avoid caffeine and alcohol. Cover your mouth with a heavy scarf to protect your lungs. If you must be exposed to the elements, wear several layers of loose-fitting, lightweight, warm clothing rather than one layer of heavy clothing. Watch for signs of frostbite: loss of feeling and white or pale appearance in extremities. Watch for signs of hypothermia: uncontrollable shivering, memory loss, disorientation, incoherence, slurred speech, drowsiness and exhaustion. If any of these signs are observed try to find a warm area and get medical help as soon as possible.
"Beep—beep—beep. This is the National Weather Service signing off. Stay tuned to this station for the latest weather news and updates every thirty minutes."
Shit, Lowell thought as he took off the headphones. Should he turn back? What would Larry say if it was just a false alarm? He would be really pissed and might even fire him. It couldn't be that bad, could it? Anyway, they should be back before the front hit, he hoped. Yes, now that he thought about it, they would be back long before anything serious happened, he convinced himself.
The GPS system kicked in again and the announcer came back on. "To your left, ladies and gentleman, and on down to the Lake itself, is the area known as Sugar Pine Point. The Park includes almost two miles of lake frontage with sandy beaches and an untouched, primeval forest in the Tahoe Basin. There are a number of historic buildings in the area including a hand-hewn, 19th century log cabin and an elegant turn-of-the-century summer home known as the Ehrman Mansion.
"The Park extends into the General Creek watershed, a natural entryway into the nearly 63,000 acre Desolation Wilderness Area." The announcer clicked off.
"We'll also be in a designated Wilderness Area," Lowell said into the microphone. "Our company was chosen as the only one allowed to develop in the area because of our dedication to the ecology," Lowell added smugly.
At that point people were only listening to him out of one ear. There was a general party going on and everyone was talking with everyone else, moving around in the seats, getting drinks and sandwiches from the bar. Just the kind of atmosphere and mood Lowell always wanted people to get into. But he was thinking more and more about the weather and less and less about his job, which, he realized, was not a good thing.
The tour passed around Meeks Bay, Tahoma and Homewood before reaching the cut-off at Tahoe City which was where Route 89 headed up into the mountains towards Truckee and Donner Lake. As the bus started up into the foothills the forest got thicker and more Christmas-like since everything was covered in a blanket of snow. Along the road the snow banks were at least 50 feet high since the plows had created the original mounds and then added to them as the snow continued to fall for the last few weeks, and on top of that was all the new snow. It was like driving through a crystalline white canyon. Waterfalls with frozen sheets of water hanging in long sections could be seen on the sides of the granite cliffs. It was starting to snow more heavily now and there was at least six inches on the road. Lowell had to slow down since the tires were starting to slide a little on the curves. There were no guardrails and if they were to go off the edge of one of the cliffs it would be a thousand foot drop at least.
The musical selections had kicked up a notch for this last leg of the journey. As in the major department stores that played slower, more easy listening music at certain slack times of the day but revved up when people were doing the most shopping, the bus music loop was programming to be rocking out by the time they reached the condominiums. But since the buyer demographics tended toward people who rocked out in the '60s and '70s that was the music that was played. Every
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oneshot92 reviewed Version 1 -
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SwordMistress reviewed Version 1 -
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Russell_Parkway reviewed Version 1 -
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First of all what you did well is that it’s obvious that you’ve done your research into lake Tahoe, I can almost say that it is safe to assume that you work in sales, or used to at one time for you to know a bunch of sales terms.
What I liked less was that you’ve engaged into the unpopular style of “info dumping”. Everything you’ve described in the casino and what everyone wore, etc. basically what took up the first several pages before Lowell’s conversation with Al. This was way too much and sorry to say, I wanted to skip ahead to the parts that interested me, but couldn’t risk doing so at the possibility that I might miss an important aspect. I’ve run into the same problem also. However there are some authors, like Vince Flynn for example, who do it, but do it effectively because the information being “dumped” cannot be explained in any other way. And it must be done very well as not to stop the flow of the story, but instead, carry the story forward. Maybe it’s just me, but I was wondering if this story was actually in the category of Action/Adventure.
Something that was also missing was the hook. I was wondering what the story would be about, and that’s not a good sign when you’ve reached 38 pages just to find out about the possibility that this story was about the group being stranded. When it was mentioned that Al consulted with the CIA, that was the first time I got excited, but then I read again about this long drive in the mountains. My excitement level dropped back to zero.
What would help you a lot is if the big threat is mentioned in the beginning in order to hook the reader. For example, you could write about Lowell knowing about the storm warning in advance but he still pitches sales. That’s the point where you could describe how he doesn’t have any scruples and all he cares about is the sale, and that his wife objects to his behavior, maybe mention that he hits the bars often and gambles callously in order to forget the latest argument. If Lowell ends up changing by the end of the story, maybe he rescues everyone, then you could use it as some form of transformation in him, maybe he decides to quit his job to spend more time with his wife. I don’t know, after all, this is your story.
A major rewrite would have to be done on this. It is important for you to get to the point and establish the threat as early as possible and cut out all the info dumping. One thing, I noticed that you gave more attention to Al than the other characters on the bus. I am guessing that he’ll play an important role in the story, correct? Then why not focus a bit more on him by dedicating a chapter to him. “Show” and not “TELL” about how he used to be in the Marines and now consults for the CIA. Anyhow, I’ve said a lot and I don’t want to bore you with too many details. Good luck with the rewrite and I’ll be happy to see how it turns out.
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groundscore reviewed Version 1 -
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Let me be fair and start by saying that I am a published writer. I am published in magazines, newspapers and books. I am trying to break into this genera (action/adventure) with a new work myself. With that said, Let me say that you are well written. You have good grammar and a syntax that is easy enough to follow. I find that you have worked on the characters and their bio’s previously, even to the point of being obsessed, I can appreciate that. If I had any criticism, its that you go a little overboard for discriptive. Some people, and some writers do well with this. I find it a little distracting, slowing down the rhythm of the story. I find that if you are willing to change a little, you can afford to spread some of the profile of characters out over the length of the book, surprising the reader instead of overwhelming them in the front.
The description you give the Lake Tahoe area is good. I think that it is important to give any reader, even one familiar with the area, some discript. I would say that you could have done it without so many quotes, making it easier on yourself.
“Wow, 500 inches of snow is more than 40 feet!” said Al.
“Omigod,” said Tara. “That’s, like…a lot!”-—-—-Publishers, and their editors hate exclamation points, take them out! All of them!
I think that it is only fair to mention that in reality, you must impress a publisher within ten pages, yes that’s right, you have ten pages to sell them on your work. It would be good of you to make some kind of plot-related-point within the first few pages.
I hope this was helpful.
Groundscore!
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Version 1
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