Winter Moon

maybe we'll spot an opportunity right off the bat. And if not.
        . well, we don't have to live there forever. A year, two years, and if we don't like it, we can sell." He finished his champagne, poured refreshers for both of them.
        "Toby starts school in two weeks…"
        "They have schools in Montana," she said, though she knew that was not what concerned him. He was no doubt thinking about the eleven-year-old girl who'd been shot to death one block from the elementary school that Toby would be attending.
        She nudged him: "He'll have six hundred acres to play on, Jack. How long has he wanted a dog, a golden retriever, and it just seemed like this place was too small for one?"
        Staring at one of the snapshots, Jack said, "At work today, we were talking about all the names this city has, more than other places.
        Like New York is the Big Apple, and that's it. But L.A. has lots of names-and none of them fit any more, none of them mean anything. Like the Big Orange. But there aren't any orange groves any more, all gone to tract houses and mini-malls and car lots.
        You can call it the City of Angels, but not much angelic happens here any more, not the way it once did, too many devils on the streets."
        "The City Where Stars Are Born," she said. "And nine hundred and ninety-nine out of a thousand kids who come here to be movie stars-what happens to them? Wind up used, abused, broke, and hooked on drugs."
        "The City Where the Sun Goes Down."
        "Well, it still does set in the west," he acknowledged, picking up.another photo from Montana.
        "City Where the Sun Goes Down… That makes you think of the thirties and forties, swing music, men tipping their hats to one another and holding doors open for ladies in black cocktail dresses, elegant nightclubs overlooking the ocean, Bogart and Bacall, Gable and Lombard, people sipping martinis and watching golden sunsets. All gone. Mostly gone. These days, call it the City of the Dying Day."
        He fell silent. Shuming the photographs, studying them. She waited.
        At last he looked up and said, "Let's do it."

PART TWO
        
    The Land of the Winter Moon Under the winter moon's pale light, across the cold and starry night,
    from snowy mountains soaring high to ocean shores echoes the cry.
    From barren sands to verdant fields, from city streets to lonely wealds,
    cries the tortured human heart, seeking solace, wisdom, a chart by which to understand its plight under the winter moon's pale light.
    Dawn is unable to fade the night. Must we live ever in the blight under the winter moon's cold light, lost in loneliness, hate,
    and fright, last night, tonight, tomorrow night under the winter moon's bleak light?
    - The Book of Counted Sorrows

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.
        
        In the distant age of the dinosaurs, fearful creatures as mighty as the Tyrannosaurus rex had perished in treacherous tar pits upon which the visionary builders of Los Angeles later erected freeways, shopping centers, houses, office buildings, theaters, topless bars, restaurants shaped like hot dogs and derby hats, churches, automated car washes, and so much more. Deep beneath parts of the metropolis, those fossilized monsters lay in eternal sleep. Through September and October, Jack felt the city was still a pit in which he was mired.
        He believed he was obligated to give Lyle Crawford a thirty-day notice.
        And at the advice of their Realtor, before listing the house for sale, they painted it inside and out, installed new carpet, and made minor repairs. The moment Jack made the decision to leave the city, he'd mentally packed and decamped. Now his heart was in the Montana highlands east of the Rockies, while he was still trying to pull his feet out of the L.A. tar. Because they no longer needed every dollar of equity in the house, they priced it below market value. In spite of poor economic conditions, it moved quickly. By the twenty-eighth of October, they were in a sixty-day escrow with a buyer who appeared qualified, and they felt reasonably confident about embarking upon a new life and leaving the finalization of the sale to their Realtor. On November fourth, they set out for their new home in a Ford Explorer purchased with some of their inheritance. Jack insisted on leaving at six in the morning, determined that his last day in the city would not include the frustrating crawl of rush-hour traffic. They