Ch. 10: Cold of the Road

(Return to Arheled)



           Fire  and  smoke  raged  and  seethed  in  the  hidden  chamber  under  the  earth. Tiny amid  the  vast  places  Lara  Midwinter  crouched  on  the  cave  floor,  shaking  with  cold  despite  the  heat  all  around  her,  as  the  seven  giant  heads  of  the  dragon  peered  and  weaved  around  her.'' ''

           “Can  you  lead  Leviathan  with  a  hook  through  his  nose?”   the  great,  rumbling,  scorching  voice  of  the  Dragon  crashed  in  her  ears. ''“When he  sneezes,  light  flashes  forth;  his  eyes are  like  the  lids  of  the  morning. ''

''           “His  heart  shall  be  as  hard  as  stone,  and  firmer  than  the  anvil  of  a  smith. Where he  shall  raise  him  up,  the  angels  shall  fear,  and  being  affrighted  will  purify  themselves. There is  no  power  upon  earth  that  can  be  compared  with  him  who  was  made  to  fear  no  one.” ''

           “D-d-dragons  are  myths.”  Lara  managed  to  force  out. She could  not  think. She could  not  feel. She was  cold. Her body  had  passed  beyond shaking,  into  a  terrible,  numb  paralysis.

           “And  we  have  made  sure  that  all  believed  that  we  were.”  the  Dragon  laughed. “Do not  the  fairy  tales  say  that  we  can  shift  our  shape  to  walk  as  men? Do the  scientists  dare  suspect  that  the  interior  organs  of  their  dinosaurs  may  have  been  unlike  those  of  modern  beasts? But of  course,  you  don’t  read  fairy  tales,  do  you? You homeschoolers  shun  them  as  pagan,  as  too  near  to  the  occult,  and  in  so  doing  you  sunder  yourself  from  one  of  reality’s  chief  faces.”

           Lara  felt  the  heat  of  the  chamber  beating  vainly  upon  her  from  without,  from  somewhere  far  away. She quaked  no  longer. No shivers  ran  through  her. She was  utterly  frozen. Looking down  at  her  hands  she  saw  the  flesh  was  slowly  turning  pale  blue.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “I  saw  you  in  the  heavens.”  she  said. “You hide  behind  the  Wolf. You are  the  Father  of  Dragons.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “She  admits  it  at  last.” smiled  the  seven  faces. “And well  for  the  Star  that  she  does,  for  they  are  the  last  words  she  will  utter  in  this  life. I saw  you  in  the  heavens,  A  little  star…how  touching,  that. Now come,  It  is  time  for  you  to  take  your  seat  upon  your  throne.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “I  will  not.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “Oh  really?”  laughed  the  Father  of  Dragons. “And who  might  you  be  to  be  making  such  statements  to  the  oldest  of  Dragons?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           Lara  lifted  her  head. An utter  clear  stillness  possessed  her. Everything she  saw  she  comprehended  in  crystalline  clarity. She felt  immeasurably  strong,  and  deadly,  and  devoid  of  any  regard.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “I  am  Cold.” she  said.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           Flesh  and  hair  and  eyes  alike  were  hued  the  blue  of  winter  ice. Her clothes  crinkled  when  she  moved. She saw  sudden  comprehension  in  the  seven  pairs  of  eyes,  and  then  he  unleashed  upon  her  a  torrent  of  flame.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           White-hot  as  the  essence  of  the  heats  of  the  Sun  was  that  fire. Stone all  around  them  evaporated  into  plasma,  exposing  a  floor  of  black  stone  that  gleamed  but  did  not  melt,  to  which  was  welded  the  bed  of  the  cauldron. Neither it  nor  the  thrones  were  touched  by  the  heat. And that  fire  expired  where  it  touched  her.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “Do  you  think  a  mere  ice-super  is  going  to  mock  the  Father  of  Dragons?”  he  said. All seven  mouths  opened  up  this  time. This time  the  heat  was  so  great  that  the  air  around  them caught  on  fire,  and  for  miles  above  miles  the  stone  and  lava  and  water  and  air  burst  into  plasma,  and  the  plasma  burned.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “I  have  connected  my  throat  to  the  inside  of  the  Sun,  and  you  are  facing  the  furnaces  of  a  nuclear  star. Not even  Iceman  and  Icebox,  not  even  the  Medallion  of  Cold,  could  face  such  temperatures  and  live.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           He  shut  the  doorway  to  the  Sun  before  he  could  vaporize  any  landmasses  above,  and  hardened  the  plasma  back  into  rock. And still  Lara  Midwinter  stood  before  him,  that  detached  stare  in  her  frozen  eyes,  her  flesh  as  blue  as  ice.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “You  don’t  understand.”  she  said,  in  a  voice  as  remote  and  devoid  of  feeling  as  a  winter  night. “I am  not  a  superhero. I am  not  ice. I am  Cold.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           Heat  expired. Lava turned  instantly  to  stone,  and  stone  grew  brittle  and  shattered. Light faded  until  all  red  had  departed  the  chamber,  and  the  only  light  was  the  pure  hue  of  the  unearthly  pillar,  and  the  glare  of  the  Dragon’s  eyes. The blue  figure  that  faced  him  made  no  move,  spoke  no  word,  only  radiated  cold  as  if  it  had  an  energy  and  force  of  itself,  and  was  not  the  mere  slowing  down  of  molecules  which  is  only  an  effect  of  cold. The air  began  to  condense  like  dew  upon  her  clothing,  and  the  thrones,  and  the  motionless  figures  upon  them,  and  flakes  of  snow  fell  ever  thicker  about  them. Except it  was  not  snow. The air  itself  was  freezing. Then it  was  completely  frozen,  lying  like  a  floor  of  ice  above  the  black  Earthheart,  and  the  dragon  and  the  starmaiden,  both  standing  on  nothing  since  the  evaporation of  the  floor,  faced  against  each  other  in  a  vacuum.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           The  Father  of  Dragons  opened  his  mouth.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           Nothing  came  out.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           He  linked  his  seven  throats  to  seven  stars  greater  than  the  Sun,  and  then  to  seven  more,  and  then  to  seventy  times  seventy  stars;  and  still  the  torrent  of  their  furnaces  expired  as  it  left  the  gates  of  his  mouth.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           Harder  tried  the  Father  of  Dragons,  but  the  cold  of  Lara  was  reaching  inside  him  now. Into his  roaring  mouths  the  tide  of  cold  pressed. He felt  his  scales  crackle  with  ice. He felt  his  flesh  freeze  like  meat  left  out  in  winter. Only the  torrent  of  the  fires  of  the  stars  was  keeping  him  from  freezing  completely.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “I  feel  you  trying  your  angelic  power  on  me.”  the  passionless  voice  of  Lara  spoke;  even  though  no  sound  could  reach  through  the  vacuum  they  stood  in,  he  heard  her. “I feel  you  trying  to  flee,  trying  to  enter  my  mind,  trying  to command  the  matter  around  you  or  quench  me  with  magic. Don’t you  know  anything,  you  ancient  serpent? Though you  gain  great  power  over  matter  by  wearing  it  as  a  shape,  you  hamper  yourself  correspondingly  in  using  your  natural  power. While you  are  yet  Dragon,  you  cannot  use  the  strength  you  need  to  fight  me.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “Have  you  forgotten,  cold  one,  that  we  are  able  to  walk,  if  we  wish,  unclad?”  the  Father  of  Dragons  answered  darkly. His body crumpled  and  went  limp;  but  the  light  in  his  eyes,  though  it  flickered,  could  not  go  out.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “Have  you  forgotten,  old  lizard,  that  the  mind  can  suffer  from  its’  own  cold?”  Lara  replied. “And I  am  Cold,  and  it  is  me. It is  by  your  cold  spirit  and  your  cold  will  that  I  am  forbidding  you  to  leave  your  crystallizing  body. If you  had  a  warm  heart,  you  could  have  escaped  me.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “None  of  the  Damned  have  any  warmth  in  our  hearts.”  the  Father  of  Dragons  whispered  bitterly. “I am  defeated. Never could  I  have  dreamed  Arheled  would  raise  up  so  dirty  a  trick  against  me. Pale Galilean,  you  have  conquered.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           Then  with  a  crinkle  and  crunch  that  entire  dragon  became  solid  ice,  and  fell,  to  land  heavily  in  the  frozen  air  that  lay  deep  and  blue  upon  the  distant  floor.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           Slowly  Lara  Midwinter  floated  to  the  thrones. At her  touch  the  energy  holding  them  froze. Lifting all  four  of  her  friends  in  the  grip  of  bands  of  solid  cold,  she  reached  to  the  surface. Her questing  cold  found  an  answering  cold,  and  she  sent  them  there,  and  turning  to  the  chamber  she  spoke  one  word.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “Seal.”  she  said.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           She  felt  a  force  of  tremendous  power  pour  down  upon  the  chamber,  summoned  by  her  voice. It sealed. Lara reached  out  to  the  surface  and  pulled  herself  there,  and  let  the  cold  collapse  away  from  her  at  last. All five  of  them,  four  in  ridiculously  long  gownlike  robes,  were  lying  sprawled  on  the  floor  of  the  walk-in  cooler  of  McDonald’s  of  Winsted. At least,  she  was  pretty  sure  it  was,  but  then  all  McDonald’s  freezer  probably  looked  alike. No, there  was  the  bag  of  rusty  lettuce  she  remembered  noticing  when  she  had  to  clean  the  place  the  other  day. What she  didn’t  remember  was  the  ankle-deep  water  on  the  floor.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “Eew,  gross,  I  hate  sitting  in  puddles.”  Travel  was  saying.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “It  smells  weird  in  here. Like rusty  food. Going sour.”  That  was  Bell. Ronnie was  holding  up  his  long  flowing  red  sleeves  with  a  disgusted  expression  and  saying,  “Who  the  heck  thought  this  was  a  fashion  statement??”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           Despite  herself  Lara  had  to  laugh. Lifting the  lever  she  pushed  open  the  door  and  they  emerged  into  a  totally  empty  McDonald’s. At least,  all  the  lights  were  off  and  no  customers  were  up  front,  but  Debbie  could  be  heard  grumbling  not  far  off  and  James  was  whistling  some  inane  tune  absent-mindedly  somewhere  else. Water flowed  out  of  the  walk-in;  the  outside  floor  was  unflooded,  though  the  water-mark  a  foot  up  the  walls said  it  hadn’t  always  been.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           Lara  smuggled  old  uniform  shirts  and  canvas  pants  to  everyone:  bright  red  shirts  and  black  pants. They shuffled  out  front  cautiously. James was  mopping  the  lobby  and  didn’t  see  them. Debbie was  apparently  in  the  back  storeroom. As a  result  they  made  it  to  the  bathrooms  unobserved  to  change. Lara sighed:  she  still  had  her  uniform  on,  and  was  probably  going  to  get  docked. She headed  in  back  to  face  Debbie.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “Well! Where’d you  disappear  to,  miss?”  demanded  the  manager,  straightening  up  from  the  soggy  boxes   on  the  lowest  shelf. “You’ve been  gone  almost  two  hours. I hope  you  know  you’ll  be  docked  for  this.”  She  was  a  hard, plain-faced  woman  in  her  forties,  with  dull  half-shut  eyes  that  always  wore  too  much  blue  makeup.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “I  was  kidnapped  in  the  parking  lot.”  said  Lara.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           Debbie’s  eyes  opened  fully. “Good heavens.”  she  said. “You’re joking,  right?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “Look  it  up  on  the security  footage.”  said  Lara. “So, what  happened  here?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           Debbie,  on  the  way  to  the  office,  said  over  her  shoulder,  “’Bout  two  minutes  after  you  walked  out  the  door  this  wave  came  down  the  river—I’m  serious,  a  brown  wave,  I  was  out  grabbing  a  smoke  and  I  saw  it—and  the  water  went  clear  across  Main. We had  it  a  foot  deep  in  here. I sent  the  crew  home  while  I  assessed  things—not  much  damage,  once  we  clean  up  we  should  be  open  in  an  hour. I’ll have  to  call  everyone  back  over.”  She  snorted  as  she  rewound  the  parking-lot  camera’s  TV  screen. Then she  replayed  it.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “Yep,  there’s  me.”  said  Lara.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “Who’s  the  tramp?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “He—he  was  dressed  up  as  my  uncle. Uncle Peter  has  weird  hair  and  it’s  pretty  easy  to  make  a  wig  like  that.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           Debbie  gave  her  a  funny  look. “You have  odd  family.”  she  said. They watched  as  Lara  and  the  false  Peter  went  out  into the  parking  lot,  and  then  the  camera’s  view  was  blocked  by  a  parked  dark-green  SUV  with  flame-decals. Nobody came  out  from  behind  it.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “Wow. I guess  you  were  right;  he  does  seem  to  be  kind  of  frog-marching  you. Where’d he  take  you?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “Out  by  the  park. He had  me  tied,  but  then  a  cop  car  came  by  and  spooked  him  so  he  took  off. Took me  all  this  while  to  get  the  tape  off.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “Good  for  you! The cops  got  him  yet?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “Don’t  worry,  they picked  him  up  already  and  I  filled  all  sorts  of  complaint  forms,  and  he’s  somewhere  perfectly  safe.”  said  Lara  dryly. “Do I  still  get  docked?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “Naw,  I’ll  just  put  you  in  as  leaving  with  the  others—they  left  about  twenty  minutes  after  that—and  clock  you  in—let  me  see—you  had  to  use  the  bathroom  at  6,  it’s  8:00  now—I’ll  clock  you  in  twenty  minutes  after  you  start.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “Thanks,  Debbie.”  smiled  Lara.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “You’re  welcome. You can  stay  as  late  as  you  want;  I’ll  pay  you  overtime. Take a  break,  and  start  work  in  twenty  minutes. OK?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “Sorry,  kids,  we’re  closed.”  James’s  voice  could  be  heard  from  up  front.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “Awww,  we’re  so  hungry! Can’t you  let  us  buy  a  cheeseburger?”  Bell’s  voice  sounded  coaxingly.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “How  did  they  get  in? I could  have  sworn  I  locked  those  doors!”  fumed  Debbie,  heading  up  front. “As far  as  that  goes,  how’d  you  get  in  here?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “Um,  they  were—the  ones  who  found  me  tied  up.”  said  Lara. “We just  pulled  and  the  door  opened. I guess  it  must  not  have  caught.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “Hmph,  I’m  going  to  have  to  look  at  that  lock. Here, these  were  all  going  to  be  thrown  out;  you  can  let  them  have  them. Just make  sure  they  don’t  tell  anyone  or  the  place  will  be  swamped  with  kids  expecting  free  food.”  grumbled  Debbie,  handing  Lara  a  garbage  bag  full  of  old  wrapped  cheeseburgers  that  had  been  out  front  too  long.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “Can  we  use  your  phone?”  piped  Bell.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “Sure  thing,  honey. Just hit  ‘9’  before  you  dial  the  number.”  and  Debbie  showed  Bell  to  the  wall  phone. It was  an  old  model,  with  square  buttons  and  a  square  receiver  hat  actually  was  long  enough  to  reach  from  ear  to  mouth. Not as  old-fashioned  as  a  rotary-dial,  but  Bell  liked  it. Forest stood  beside  her. The others  were  heading  over  to  a  front  table  where  they  could  see  the  TV. Bell counted  the  rings—three—four—and  then  Mrs. Lake’s voice,  tight  and  anxious. “Hello?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “Mom? It’s Bell.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           She  held  the  phone  away  from  her  ear  with  a  grimace  as  Mrs  Lake  erupted  in  exclamations  and  questions. She made  a  wry  face  at  Forest. “Are you  sure  she’s  your  mom?”  she  said  under  her  breath  to  him. “You never  talk…she  never  stops.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “She’s  your mom,  too.”  he  retorted.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “Yes,  Mom,  we’re  fine. No, we’re  not  at  the  jail. We’re at  McDonald’s  and  we  all  need  rides.”  Eventually  she  pried  her  mom  off  the  phone  and  hung  up.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “She’s  coming  in  fifteen  minutes.”  she  reported. “Let’s grab  one  of  those  burgers  before  Ronnie  eats  them.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “Can  she  give  me  a  lift?”  Travel  called  over. “And aren’t  we,  like,  wanted  or something?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “And  how’d  the  bridge  get  fixed?”  said  Forest. “I thought  she  was  stuck  on  the  Island.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “Dad  drove  the  car  over  it  at  top  speed. Figures he  would. He still  thinks  he’s  Bruce  Lee.”  Bell  said  affectionately.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “Hey  guys,”  called  Ronnie,  “come  look  at  this.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           They  joined  him  and  Lara  at  the  table  and  looked  up  at  the  big  flatscreen  TV  high  up  in  one  corner. What caught  their  eyes  immediately  was  the  name  of  their  town  across  the  screen.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “…and  now  we  bring  you  a  full  report  on  the  tremendous  occurrences  happening  at  Winsted. Live on  the  scene,  here’s  our  Terry  Wilcox. Terry, what  can  you  tell  us  about  the  events  here  in  this  back-country  Connecticut  town?”  said  the  anchorwoman.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           Terry,  dark-haired  and  petite,  tried  to  disguise  her  girly  voice  by  saying  in  a  no-nonsense  tone,  “Cory,  rumors  and  wild  tales  are  rife  in the  aftermath  of  what  is  undoubtedly  a  phenomenon  of  nearly  inexplicable  origin. Apparently at  5:34  Eastern time  a  massive  tidal  wave  occurred  in  a  bay  of  Highland  Lake,  which  somehow  managed  to  literally  strip  the  soil  from  several  nearby  islands. Damage around  the  lake  was  catastrophic;  no  death  toll  has  yet  been  reached,  but  figures  are  expected  to  be  high. Here’s the  clearest  footage  from  numerous  cell-phone  videos  taken  at  the  scene.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           A  massive  streaming  wall  filled  the  screen,  doubtless  the  trailing  water  pouring  from  the  ends  and  bottom  of  the  tilting  lake. The slab  of  water  was  only  dimly  discernible  far  above;  the  camera  had  been  too  close.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “Eyewitnesses  are  describing  a  literal  rising  of  the  lake  water,  even  though  no  earthquake  tremors  or  severe  weather  has  been  reported  for  the  region. Terry was  replaced  by  about  five  or  six  clips  of  typical  lake-tourists in  beach  wear. “It was  like  the  whole  lake  got  up  and  stood  on  its’  head.”  said  a  middle-aged  woman  with  a  hard  tanned  face. A handsome  young  man  with  no  shirt  was  saying  excitedly,  “It  was  like  it  was  peeled  up  like  a  pancake—I  swear  I  never  seen  anything  like  it.”  A  young  woman  in  a  very  revealing  top  babbled,  “it  was  awesome—it  was  scary  as  hell—I  thought  I  was  gonna  die.”  An  older  fisherman-type  gentleman  said,  “The  whole  lake  just  sorta  tilted  up  and  up—it  musta  been  a  good  quarter-mile,  half-mile  high—just  the  water,  though  not  the  bottom—and  then  just  sorta  foom.”  making  a  downward  motion.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “Seismologists  report  no  fault  or  earthquake  activity  in  the  NW  corner  for  the  time  given. There were  no  erratic  weather  formations;  a  few  thunderstorms  in  the  formative  stage  had  not  reached  farther  south  than  Norfolk,  but  none  of  them  could have  caused  this. Damage around  the  lake  was  total  in  the  Third  Bay  area,  with  washed  out  roads  and  cottages,”  here  several  clips  of  damage  were  shown,  “—and  mild  farther  north,  with  only  a  few  surges  inundating  buildings  and  breaking  loose  boats. Further complicating  matters  is  a  manhunt  by  state  and  local  police  for  a  group  of  six  young  people  wanted  on  suspicion  of  murder  in  the  area. As the  scene  of  the  murder  happens  to  be  the  very  island  worst  hit  by  the  wave,”  a  clip  of  Club  Island  blasted  to  its’   bones  appeared,  “any  evidence  of  the  crime  was  lost  at  the  scene. An attorney  for  two  of  the  young  people  has  asked  a  judge  to  remit  the charges  on  the  grounds  of  insufficient  proof  that  a  murder  was  even  done. Oh, it  looks  like  the  judge  complied,  folks;  word  from  the  courthouse  is  that  the  police  had  their  case  dismissed  for  lack  of  proof.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “Can  you verify  rumors  of  a  large  flood  control  berm  west  of  the  two  mysteriously  being  breached?”  the  anchorwoman  said.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “Cory,  ‘breached’  does  not  begin  to  describe  what  helicopter  footage  has  gathered. The berm,  built  by  the  Army  Corps  of  Engineers  after  the  Flood  of  ’55,  was  over  two  hundred  feet  high  and  nearly  half  a  mile  long  at  the  top,  completely  filling  a  deep  gorge  along  Mad  River. This dam  has  apparently  ceased  to  exist. There are  no  traces  of  an  explosion;  it’s  as  if  the  entire  dam  was  vaporized. Satellite footage  shows  a  large  red  shape  on  the  dam”  the  picture  was  replaced  by  a  blow-up  of  the  dam  from  an  apparent  height  of  500  feet,  showing  the  figure  of  a  long,  red,  branched  thing.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “The  Father  of  Dragons.”  said  Lara.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           The  footage  then  showed  an  eruption  of  fire  and  weirdly  curling  smoke  that  changed  hue  inexplicably. This settled  to  show  a  round  dome  instead  of  the  dike  or  the  dragon. The hills  seemed  to  be  shifting  or  wavering. Then quite  abruptly  the  dike  disappeared.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           Terry  had  been  talking  as  the  footage  played,  but  all  Forest  heard  was  “speculations  of  a  top-secret  experiment  of  new  military  weaponry.”  Now  he  began  to  pay  attention.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “Massive  flooding  occurred  in  downtown  Winsted  in  a  surge  that  lasted  about  ten  minutes,  carrying  water  in  some  places  to  almost  four  feet  above  Main  Street. Main Street  follows  the  river  very  closely  as  it  passes  through  Winsted,”  aerial  footage  of  Winsted  from  above  followed,  “and  local  restaurants  too  close  to  the  river  reported  a  foot  of  water  inside;  McDonald’s  was  closed  for  two  hours,  and  Dunkin  Donuts  for  three.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “Thank  you,  Terry. Well, that’s  a  look  at  what’s  happening  in  the  state  today,  and  in  half  an  hour  we’ll  have  an  interview  with  General  Lincoln  of  the  US  Army,  who  is  adamant  no  equipment  the  Army  possesses  could  bring  about  the  results  we’ve  seen  today. Science fiction  scenarios  about  alien  tractor  beams  and  vaporizing  rays,  as  well  as  other  paranormal  explanations,  will  doubtless  be  abounding.”

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<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           They  had  dinner  at  the  Island,  Mrs. Lake refusing  to  hear  of  anything  else. Lara promised  to  come  by  in  a  few  hours  “if  they  don’t  keep  me  till  midnight,”  but  she  seemed  subdued  and  a  little  washed-out,  and  Forest  was  sure  she  wouldn’t  show. The sight  of  Brooke  lying  prone  upon  her  bed  had  a  sobering  effect  upon  the  others. Conversation at  the  table  lagged.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “Well,  we  can  have  Brooke  taken  to  the  hospital  now  that  I  got  the  charges  dismissed.”  Professor  Light  was  saying. “I mean,  Cornello  must  have  been  nuts. He hasn’t  even  tried  to  sustain  his  case. I think  he  just  wanted  to  harass  us.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           Mrs. Lake left  to  drive  Travel  home. The power  was  out  and  the  generator  was  running  the  fridge,  so  nobody  could  watch  movies,  Bell  and  Forest  went  upstairs,  and  Mr. Light and  Ronnie  were  left,  facing  each  other  across  the  table.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “Okay.”  said  Hunter,  passing  one  hand  over  his  face. “What on  earth  is  happening?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “You  saw  it,  Hunter.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “That’s  not  what  I  mean. What I  want  to  know  is,  how  is  this  possible?  How  is  any  of  this  possible?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “You’re  the  scientist;  don’t  you  have  some  scientific  explanation?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           Hunter  clamped  his  face  in  his  hands. “Even seismic  activity  can’t  lift  a  whole  lake  on  end  while  keeping  it  in  one  mass. There weren’t  any  tornados  or  air  pressure  systems. That leaves  only  ridiculous  Star  Trek-style  tractor  beams  and  vaporizing  rays,  unless  the  Army’s  got  some  new  bomb  capable  of  vaporizing  solid  rocks  without  destroying  the  surrounding  area. Unless you  want  to  posit  some  paranormal force! I’m at  a  loss,  Ronnie. I can’t  say.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “And  yet  you  are  the  one  that  told  me  everything  is  relative,  and  the  conclusions  of  relativity  lead  inexorably  to  counter-intuitive  propositions.”  Ronnie  said  sternly. “Yet when  faced  with  an  actual  counter-intuitive  event,  your  mind  rejects  it  as  impossible,  despite  the  inexorable  evidence  of  your  own  eyes  and  those  of  countless  others. And yet  this  event  is  much  less  incredible  than  your  Twin  Paradox.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “Are  you  saying  there’s  an  explanation  for  this??”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           Ronnie  looked  him  in  the  eye. “Brooke.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           Mr. Light stared  blankly  back  at  him.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “You  saw  her  walk  upon  water,  wrapped  in  the  water. Water is  hers  to  command,  Hunter  Light. She called  upon  the  lake. And the  lake  answered.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “You’re  saying  the  phenomena  is…related  to  her.”  Hunter  said  slowly. “Yes, I  admit  I  saw  her  on  the  water. I’ve often  wondered  if  I  wasn’t—“

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “Oh  please. Let’s not  go  hash  out  all  the  psychological-delusion  scenarios. That stuff  was  hackneyed  ten  decades  ago. You really  did  see  it,  Hunter. Not everything  is  relative. Some points  are  fixed. Some things  can  be  measured  absolutely. You believe  in  angels,  don’t  you?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “I  surrender.”  muttered  Hunter. “I should  have  known  better. I deal  with  the  study  of  the  stars,  and  every  week’s  new  observations  call  into  question  every  one  of  our  conclusions. I suppose  I’m  hardly  one  to  say  what  is  and  isn’t  possible.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “Yet  we  can  know  what  is  and  is  not  real,  Hunter.”  said  Ronnie. “We never  know  fully  what  is  physically  possible,  but  we  can  know  what  is  metaphysically  possible. Our minds  are  able  to  discern  what  is  and  what  is  not. Miracles do  not  faze  me. Impossible conclusions  do.”