The sun was rising over the I-15 as Wake Razor, Poseidon’s Edge, and Storm Surger cut north through California in their blacked-out SUV, ski gear packed tight in the back. They had spent the last few months carving up Mission Bay and Sunset Cliffs, but now it was time for something more elevated—Lake Tahoe.
“Think we’ll find anyone up there that can hang?” Storm Surger asked, thumbing through his playlist of wake-thrash metal and vaporwave.
“There’s always a legend lurking around mountain lakes,” Wake Razor replied. “Sometimes it’s a skier.”
“Sometimes it’s a sunburned dad in Crocs and a life vest from 1994,” Poseidon’s Edge muttered, still skeptical from their last lake mission.
They arrived at South Lake Tahoe by late afternoon, the glassy waters reflecting pine trees and a lazy sky. As they unloaded their gear near the marina, a voice called out from the end of the dock.
“You boys new in town?” the figure asked, leaning on a gleaming, fire-red ski boat with chrome trim and tribal wave decals.
He had aviator sunglasses, a sleeveless rash guard, and a grin that said he either knew something… or nothing at all.
“I’m Wake Blazer,” he said, snapping a finger gun toward them. “IF you know what I mean…”
Wake Razor raised an eyebrow. “Uh... I think I do?”
“Do you?” Blazer grinned again. “Because most don’t. IF you know what I mean…”
Poseidon’s Edge stepped forward, arms crossed. “We’re just here to ski.”
“Oh, I ski,” said Wake Blazer, nodding slowly. “I ski like a bat outta Havasu. But enough about my speed runs—get this. I saw a Sasquatch the other morning. Right near the south point of the lake. IF you know what I mean…”
Storm Surger’s eyes lit up. “Wait, really? What happened?”
“I was prepping the ballast tanks just after sunrise,” Wake Blazer said, suddenly shifting into storyteller mode. “Lake was like a mirror. Then… CRACK!—tree knock, sharp, just one. Maybe 100 yards from shore. Then I heard this low, throat-rattling hoot. Not like an owl. Deeper. Primal. Like a bass player gargling gravel. IF you know what I mean…”
Wake Razor looked intrigued. “Any footprints?”
“Nah, but the reeds were all pushed down like something huge had squatted there. Big globs of lake muck on the trail too. IF you know what I mean…”
Poseidon’s Edge snorted. “Or maybe it was a bear.”
“Hey, maybe,” Wake Blazer said, shrugging. “But do bears hoot like the ghost of James Brown getting abducted by aliens? IF you know what I mean…”
Storm Surger grinned. “We gotta see that spot.”
“But first,” Blazer said, beckoning them to the dock, “let me show you my ride. IF you know what I mean…”
They followed him to the end of the pier where the ski boat sat glistening like a ruby demon on the water. Twin engines. Hydrofoil assist. Subwoofer setup that would rattle trout out of the depths.
“Gentlemen,” Wake Blazer said, “welcome to the Thunder Vessel 9000. She hums. She roars. And she knows all the lake’s secrets. IF you know what I mean…”
The three superheroes climbed aboard, engines rumbling under their feet. Somewhere in the woods above the south shore, a strange hoot echoed in the fading light.
Wake Razor turned to Poseidon’s Edge.
“You still think it was a bear?”
Poseidon’s Edge hesitated.
“I think we’re about to find out.”
To be continued...
