The Mountain Will Cover You

Chapter 1

One day after graduation, Ken slid into a booth covered with imitation red leather. His blue eyes took in the sea scape visible through the floor to ceiling window in, Blubbers, their after school hangout all through high school. His eyes settled on Zelda’s pretty face. Now that high school is over with we can get married.

I’m not giving up college to marry you, Zelda said and ran her hand through his long blond hair. He had blossomed into a good looking man and could have almost any girl he wanted. Don’t you understand, I need to educate myself?

Ken took a deep breath and the salt air filled his lungs. Don’t you understand, I can’t imagine leaving Gloucester to live in Cambridge?

Boats visible through the window bobbed on the waves. Ken looked at his shoes then suddenly stood and strode from Blubbers with his head down. Zelda watched him walk to the docks and felt awful for hurting his feelings, but it was true, she felt compelled to study ancient religions in the hope of clarifying her dreams. People have pondered the meaning of dreams since the beginning of time. The Greeks and Romans were convinced that dreams had prophetic powers. Maybe dreams were a medium between our world and that of the gods? Lost in thought she didn’t see where Ken went.

She went home to finish packing.

***

A week later she sat in her first, Folklore and Mythology Class. Professor Cameron, a clinical psychologist specializing in integrative sleep and dream medicine, was her teacher. He looked to be around thirty-five, tall, well built, wavy black hair, good features. His was a popular class at Harvard, so every seat in the room was taken.

He stood in front of his desk holding a laser pointer in one hand and a bible in the other. His eyes roved over the students and after taking in his new charges he said, I expect every one of you to have an open mind and speculate on everything discussed in class.

Sure Prof, a boy in the front row said. But I thought this was a mythology class. Why the Bible?"

Cameron opened the bible and asked, "How many of you believe in God?

Zelda raised her hand along with every other classmate.

So you all believe what it says here? he held the open bible up so the class could see, and then turned it toward him so he could read. It says here, in six days the lord made heaven and earth, the sea, and all that is in them, and rested on the seventh day. Therefore the lord blessed the Sabbath day and made it holy.

Well the time it took can be disputed? the boy seated next to Zelda said.

That’s right, no one knows how long God’s day is, A girl behind Zelda said.

Regardless of the time frame, you believe God created Earth and the heavens?

I do, the girl said.

Okay, how many of you believe in aliens? Professor Cameron asked.

Zelda was the only one who raised her hand. Others in the class stared at her as though she were a freak.

Can I ask why you hold that belief? Cameron asked.

The entire class turned toward Zelda to hear her say, Since I can remember, I’ve had dreams about other worlds and other Gods.

Where do you think those dreams come from? Cameron asked.

Heck, I don’t know. Didn’t people talk about dreams in the bible coming from God?

Yes, they did. What’s your name young lady? Professor Cameron asked.

Zelda Morgan.

"Oh yes, you’re the one who lives in Gloucester. I’ve done lots of research in your neck of the woods. Did you know people who remember their dreams show different brain activity than those who don’t?

I wouldn’t know anything about that, Zelda said.

The rest of you believe in God, but not aliens, is that correct?

Affirmative nods and yeas came from the class.

Did you ever stop to think if God created our world, he or she must be an alien?

Seven hands shot up.

Cameron pointed to a boy seated in the front row. Your name? he asked.

James Callahan. I say since God’s our father, he can’t be an alien.

Well, James, the purpose of this class is to make you think about the dogma you’ve been taught. Did you ever stop to think that we’re only a speck in the visible universe that contains over 500 different galaxy groups? There are 2000 million suns, 100 billion dwarf galaxies and 10 billion large galaxies. That is what we know of. There may be many more that we have yet to discover.

So what? James asked.

Of course I don’t know, but I speculate that there is a God of Earth, he or she had to come from somewhere. And maybe where that somewhere is, races of beings with the power to create and destroy worlds live. So why do we think there’s only one God with the 100s of billions of other stars and worlds out there? Maybe each world has a God of its own? Maybe there’s a competition to see which one can build the most or best world. Why are there millions of species on Earth? Did they have a contest to see who could create the weirdest? I only ask these questions to make you think. See where your own imagination leads you, and parlay your love of the unknown into a great education.

For our next class I want you to submit an essay on why you believe there’s only one God, and Zelda, you write an essay on why you believe in aliens. Class dismissed."

***

Cameron’s class was the last of the day for Zelda. She went to the cafeteria for dinner then to her dorm room to study. Not long after she went to bed she had a dream/nightmare. A chant came from a group of people in the woods surrounding her house in Gloucester. All were dressed in flowing black robes and wore bone-white masks with symbols of pentacles, the Triple and, Horned Goddess painted on them. Some she didn’t recognize.

She awoke with the words from her dream still in her head. She wrote them out so she wouldn’t forget.

Time has passed, the wheel has turned.

It is time for you to move on.

You will walk hand in hand with the Ancient Ones,  

and with your ancestors who came before.

Lord of Death, she waits for you to take her,

She comes to you with eyes wide open.

As her last moment approaches on the horizon,

It is time for her to move on.

As soon as she put the words on paper, an overwhelming urge to return home came over her. Since the age of 3, her dreams almost always foretold an event in her life. The Lord of Death may mean her life would soon end? Or had time passed and the wheel turned for another? Past dreams had shown her walking with ancients. Only way to find out, go home!

Zelda had planned on going home for the weekend anyway. So a day earlier than expected, she drove home. When she arrived at her house the headlights lit up the big old Victorian house with at least a dozen unfamiliar cars parked in the driveway and another ten were parked on the lawn.

She parked at the edge of the grass. When she got out of her car, silence greeted her. Why was it so quiet with so many people here? She climbed the porch steps and rushed through the front door, flicked the lights on, called out, Mom, Dad, I’m home.

No answer. She yelled again. No reply, she ran upstairs, searched all four bedrooms. Her father’s study was locked. She knocked but didn’t get an answer. Then she went to look in the attic. Finding it empty, she hurried to the basement. Empty, the entire house was empty. Cars filled the driveway and a pile of dressy coats and wraps lay across her parents’ bed. Where had everyone gone?

Her family’s home sat alone on the edge of the woods. The trees reminded her of the dream that compelled her to rush home. Through the kitchen window, a glimmer of light in the trees showed. She grabbed a flashlight from a kitchen drawer and rushed to investigate.

She flicked on a yard light that illuminated a narrow band around the house. Leaves crunched beneath her feet when she stepped outside. The sky turned as black as the forest floor when clouds passed in front of the moon. A sliver of hazy moonlight broke through the mist over the treetops. Past the tree line the fallen leaves were deeper and damper than those close to the house. She stopped and inhaled the damp sea air scented with the aroma of wet pine needles. The same shriek from her dream came from deep in the trees. After the scream, voices floated through the trees.

Straining to understand the words, but unable to make them out, she tiptoed toward the sound. The closer she got, the clearer the words became. She held her breath and stopped to listen to the exact same words from her dream, and wondered who chanted and who they were meant for if not her.

She followed the voices through thick branches that obscured her vision and came upon a flat rock as big as her dining room table. It stood four feet high with burning torches stuck in the ground beside it. The flames illuminated a circle of twenty people wearing attire she’d seen in her dream.

As the chanting continued, she recognized her mother’s voice and her father’s slender, six-foot-five robed body standing close to the rock where a nude girl of eighteen or so lay on her back with her arms and legs tied with rope to stakes pounded into the dirt. Zelda felt guilty when a sensation of relief came when she realized the Time Has Passed chant was meant for the girl on the rock, and not her.

With a black-handled knife in his hand, Zelda’s father approached the girl. Her pale face contorted in terror as he raised the knife above his head: the girl let out an unearthly scream. His voice boomed, drowning out all others. Great Mother, welcome our sacrifice back into your womb.

Zelda lurched forward in horror. Her foot caught on a tree root, she stumbled, and something smashed into her head.

She awoke in her great-great grandmother’s four-poster bed. Sunshine streamed through her east-facing Gothic bedroom window constructed in a circular shape. How had she gotten here? She swung her legs off the side of the bed and tried to stand, but her head pounded with pain and she lay back down.

Zelda rolled over and recalled her dream/nightmare at the dorm. Then memories of last night’s dream came. She recited the words she had heard so often last night she couldn’t forget them.

The mountain will cover you.

The mountain will hide you.

The mountain will enshroud you.

The mountain will pulverize you.

Chapter 2

Her mother breezed into the room and pulled the window shade down, relieving Zelda’s aching eyes. How are we this morning?

Mom, what was going on last night?

What do you mean, dear?

I saw Dad holding a knife over a girl. Who were those people dressed in robes and masks?

You have a fever. Her mother put her hand on Zelda’s forehead. You’re hallucinating. Good thing Dr. Campbell is on his way.

Hallucinations? No way, I know what I saw.

Listen, honey, you had an accident. When you were approaching the house last night we were out back shooting spudzookas.

What?

Potato guns. Pipes that shoot spuds like a cannon by using pressurized gas. Good thing we were using a combustion launcher. If it had been a pneumatic launcher, you could have been killed. Nobody expected you to be on the path, so when Hank shot his off, the potato hit your temple and knocked you unconscious. We called 911; Detective Clovis got the call on his two-way radio and arrived before the paramedics. He gave you mouth-to-mouth until I told him you could breathe on your own.

The thought of the detective’s tobacco-stained moustache and teeth made her want to gag Yarrggh. Detective Clovis put his gross lips on me? You should have let me die.

That’s no way to talk; he saved your life.

"But Mom, he’s probably a pervert.

He used a CPR shield, so young lady; you have no reason to say something like that.

When I got home last night, our house made me feel so warm and welcome, until a light in the woods got my attention. I followed it and found you and Dad there with people dressed in robes and wearing masks. 

You took a serious blow to the head. Could be it caused you to have one of your dreams?

It was no dream, Zelda said.

Since you were three years old, every time you dreamed, you’ve insisted it was real.

That was true. She had difficulty her entire life distinguishing dreams from reality. Zelda felt alive during her dreams and was sure everything she dreamed had actually taken place so she couldn’t argue with her mother. Dr. Campbell and her father walked through the door.

Not feeling well? Dr. Campbell asked. I’ll give you something to ease the pain. It’ll help you sleep, too. He reached into his black bag, pulled out a bottle of pills and gave her two to swallow. The concerned look on her father’s face swam before her as everything went black again.

While sleeping, Zelda witnessed gusting snowflakes surrounding baby ducks walking in a row behind their mother. Jack Frost appeared. From his icy lips, a strong wind blew and scattered the ducklings across the grass like rolling balls of fluff. Their mother tried with all her might to line them back up.

The cruelest mother of all took charge and blew them across frozen ground. Mother duck, frantic with worry, gathered them again. But seizing their feet from under them with cutting wind, Jack Frost covered them with ice.

Zelda awoke wanting to rescue the ducklings! Mother Nature displayed breathtaking beauty, but cruelty as well in her dream. Had she also dreamed about the chanting, the damp leaves underfoot, and a sacrifice on an altar? Her father killing anyone had to be a nightmare. The memory was so clear though. As vivid as her memory of Jack Frost, but she knew she’d only dreamed about the ducks, so the memory of what happened in the woods was probably a dream too?

Zelda recalled the doctor visiting her yesterday. Why? She put her hand to her temple and found a bandage. Hit by a potato. She laughed, but suddenly stopped. She just couldn’t believe that was what had happened.

Her mother said she was hallucinating. Her mind went in circles. Dreams reflected a mix of reality and imagination she knew from experience. Was she confusing dreams and reality again?  She turned her head to stare at the light coming through her bedroom window and went to sleep before any answers came.

***

Zelda floated as if in outer space. Wisps of smoky white surrounded her. They squirmed in agony as they were wedged by an unseen hand into tiny pentacles of light one tenth their size. Ghastly arms reached out from the pentacles and their hands tried to close on her. She opened her eyes and sat up. The sun was coming over the horizon. Her head ached where the alleged potato had hit it. She staggered to the bathroom, shook two aspirins into her hand, and swallowed them with water. Her mom and dad acted weird at times, but she had never suspected them of, of what?  Her mother was right, she must have hallucinated.

Chapter 3

After Zelda dressed, she went to the kitchen where her mother buzzed around cooking breakfast.

Feeling better? Her mother shoveled eggs onto a plate, put them on the table at Zelda’s place.

Mom, I can’t eat. My head’s killing me. I’m nauseated from the drugs that quack doctor gave me.

How can you say that, Zelda? He delivered you and took care of you all these years.

Dr. Campbell frightens me. I’d like a doctor who knows about modern medicine, not one who lives in the past.

Because he’s a pagan doesn’t mean he’s behind the times. Her mother put a glass of juice in front of her and took the eggs away. He keeps up with all the modern advances.

She didn’t know much about pagans before she’d enrolled in her Ancient Mysteries class.

Enough talk about Dr. Campbell. How long are you home for?

Two weeks. I’m not going to do anything but veg out. I’m worn out from studying.

Zelda opened a drawer, looking for more aspirin. A dagger sat in it, with a double-edged blade and a black handle, like the one she had seen her father holding in the woods. Her chest constricted. Zelda held the dagger up. Mom, where did this come from?

Oh, that knife, generation to generation has handed it down. She turned away.

This is the knife used during the ritual.

Child! How many times do I have to tell you that what you think you saw is all in your head? You do have an imagination.

But he held this knife.

You’ve probably seen the knife a hundred times before, so when you imagined him holding a knife, that’s the one you imagined. She reached for it. Zelda handed it to her.

This is only the second time I’ve ever seen it.

It’s been in that drawer since the night you came into this world. She returned the knife to the drawer.

Had she really seen it hundreds of times and never consciously noticed it?

Chapter 4

Zelda answered a knock on the front door. Her ex-boyfriend, Ken, stood on the doorstep, his eyes shining with their usual light. He had lost weight from his already lean frame since they had broken up when she started classes at Harvard the previous fall.

Heard you took a shot to the head from a spudzooka! I wanted to be sure you were okay. He eyed the bandage on her head.

Come on in. Zelda led him to the living room where her mother had left incense burning in the marble fireplace.

Ken sat on the couch.

She sat beside him and he put his hand gently on her bandage. She put her hand on top of his. It’s nice of you to come.

How long you sticking around?

Two glorious weeks, she said smiling for the first time that day.

Think we can hang out while you’re here?

I’ll be leaving soon and I don’t want you getting upset when I return to school. She watched his reaction.

Ken remained calm. I acted like an idiot when you were leaving, but I promise, I’ve grown since then. No more acting like a boy. I’m nineteen now.

He had matured over the months and now she had her old buddy back. All right, what should we do today?

Don’t know. What do you want to do?

Let’s go for a walk through the trees. She didn’t tell him why.

Ken followed her on the narrow trail. She wondered if she should tell him what she believed she had seen. In a small, superstitious town like Gloucester, her story about a sacrificial ceremony would soon pass from mouth to mouth. She had learned to keep her mouth shut about her dreams early in life, but it was already too late. Most of the populace already thought her strange because of her insisting her dreams were true.

Everything in the woods looked different in daylight. She had walked for a good ten minutes that night she thought she had seen the ceremony. She paced herself to the speed and time she remembered. After ten minutes passed she had walked in a circle. Her eyes stayed glued to the ground but she couldn’t find that big rock or any sign that anyone had ever been there. I must have dreamed because I don’t see the rock anywhere.

What rock?

"I thought I saw a large flat rock that stands about this

high. She held her hand at her waist. It’s as big as my dining room table."

He stood silent for a minute. Oh yeah, follow me. He turned and headed through the trees.

She had to half jog to keep up with his long stride. A few minutes went by. There it is. He pointed to it. Sacrificial Rock’

Crushed leaves and broken twigs surrounded the rock. Did this mean her parents were lying, or was this like the knife, something she had seen many times before but never registered in her conscious mind? Why do you call it Sacrificial Rock?

Legends say that Indian shamans used to offer animal sacrifices on it to their guiding spirits.

Her knees weakened. On the verge of collapsing, Ken threw his arms around her to steady her.

It was true. There had been a ceremony here, and it wasn’t an animal sacrifice. How could her parents participate in something like that? She wasn’t going to let them get away with telling her she got bonked with a potato, of all things.

Ken held her close and then eased her down onto the rock. As her back touched it, a tingling started in her head, crept down her body as it did when she dreamed. Then an image of the nude girl appeared. She jumped from the rock and buried her face in Ken’s chest. She enjoyed his arms around her. He promised everything would be all right.

The next day Zelda appreciated Ken taking her to Sacrificial Rock the day before and his kindness when she had the vision of the girl. She would definitely confront her parents about their lies.

Yet, what evidence did she have? Memories her parent’s called dreams or hallucinations. She went to the drawer. The knife was gone. Only Sacrificial Rock remained as evidence. What did it prove? They’d say she must have known it was there and dreamed about it too. Her parents had never lied to her before. Did she dare call them liars to their faces?

Chapter 5

Her mother stood outside her bedroom door. We’re going to Eddie’s Chowder House. Want to come along?

No thanks. I’ll make a sandwich or something.

Okay. There are fresh cold-cuts and cheese in the fridge, and tomatoes and lettuce in the veggie drawer. We shouldn’t be gone long.

Zelda’s hands sweated as she waited for the car to pull out of the driveway. This wasn’t right. She felt guilty just thinking about going through her father’s private papers. But what was she supposed to do, make believe nothing had happened?

Headlights shone through the windows in the living room as her parents’ car swung out of the driveway. She hurried to her Dad’s study and turned the knob, she pushed on the door. Locked! It was locked the night she came home too. Zelda went to the pantry where a jar held spare keys. Since the locks were the originals, they only needed a peculiar old skeleton key to open them.

There were three different types of keys in the jar. Zelda took them all to the door. The first didn’t fit. The second fit but wouldn’t turn. The third fit and turned. Checking for any markers set up to show the door had been opened turned out to be a waste of time. She’d been watching too many spy movies. She pushed the door open and the odor of old books engulfed her. She cracked open a window and fresh air flooded the room.

Open books sat on her father’s desk. The open page of the top book said, Vonyich Manuscript. It had a label inside the cover that read, Donated to the Yale Library. Leafing through it, she admired the beautifully drawn pictures of plants and women. She had never seen the language on the pages before, so the text didn’t make sense to her.

She turned her attention to a grimoire, a book of magic that lay partly underneath the third volume. It was The Malleus Maleficarum, with the English translation printed beneath it, Hammer of Witches.

She had seen grimoires at Harvard, so she read the blurb on the cover jacket of The Malleus Maleficarum cover mentioned that the Inquisition and the Burning Times are virtually synonymous. She turned the page. Although these deaths are inexcusable, they are a long way from the nine million quoted in the National Film Board’s popular (but unhistorical) movie called, The Burning Times.

Had her father rehearsed for what he did at Sacrificial Rock using these books? When she was a toddler, Zelda used to watch her father open a secret drawer by pulling a peg on the side of the desk. She yanked on the peg. The drawer popped open. A thick white envelope lay inside. Guilt washed over her as she reached for the envelope, and then pulled her hand away as though it were red-hot. She couldn’t betray her father’s trust.

As Zelda started to close the drawer, she envisioned her father with the ceremonial knife in his hand and the girl on the rock. Her guilt dissolved. He betrayed my trust by lying to me. She reached for the letter; her breath came in small gasps. Her hand shook as she picked it up, turned it over, and the return address said. John Hancock, Life Insurance Company Inc., John Hancock Place, Boston, MA 02116.

It was unopened. If she opened it her father would know she had done it. She put it back in the drawer thinking it must just be an insurance policy. It wouldn’t help her solve anything. She looked through every drawer in his antique desk and the drawer in his beat-up writing table. She searched the storage bins under it. An old photo album was stuffed between some papers. When pulling the album out, loose papers fell onto the floor. Her father had printed them on his old dot matrix printer. She had given him a laser printer last Christmas, but he insisted that his old printer worked well. If it isn’t broken, why fix it? was his motto.

She glanced at the first paper she had picked up.

The mountain will cover you.

The mountain will hide you.

The mountain will enshroud you.

The mountain will pulverize you.

Zelda fell onto the chair behind the desk. These words were already burned into her memory. She forced herself to look at the page and the signature said, Asipu. The next sheet said, "Be off, be off, begone, begone," This didn’t make any sense. She read on, Depart, depart, flee, flee! Go off, go away, be off, and begone!  Relieved that she had no memory of these words. This e-mail was signed the same as the other. Who or what was Asipu? She’d never dreamed of anyone by that name.

She turned her father’s computer on, typed the name into Google. The results came up: "Asipu, a social group residing in Tigris-Euphrates valley around 3200 BC. They acted as advisers on risky, uncertain, or difficult decisions."  What the heck did that have to do with anything?

Looking for more information, she lifted a heavy album stuffed with papers. An inscription on the cover read, Morgan Family Book of Remembrance. Expecting old family photos, she lifted the old leather cover and exposed a printed page: "A record of the spiritual experiences and meaningful occurrences that have affected the lives of our family members will be instrumental in binding the hearts of fathers to children and the hearts of children to fathers. This book will create interest and love in the hearts of our children for their fathers by teaching them not only their family background, but also of the spiritual power that unites them to these loved ones."

She turned the page and read the first paragraph in her father’s handwriting: "Our ancestral name is Corey. Martha Corey settled in Gloucester, and then moved the sixteen miles to Naumkeag, now known as Salem. She is the first recorded family member to receive the gift, or curse as it has become. Martha Corey was hung when her gift was discovered in 1670."

Could the group in the woods could have been a coven. Did her father hold that ceremony to gain power? Would he turn on Zelda once she confronted him? She hoped they had just recreated a ritual like the Masons did with their crazy formalities.

A car crunched gravel in the driveway. She closed the book, hurriedly replaced it and the papers where she’d found them, and locked the door behind her while wondering about Martha Corey’s life.

Chapter 6

A car door slammed and moments later, the doorbell rang. Through the peephole she saw Ken and happily swung the door open. She flung her arms around his neck. He drew her close.

What are you doing here so late? Zelda asked in a whisper.

I sensed you needed me, so I came right over.

She backed away. Since when do you get premonitions?

Umm, I don’t know how to say this. I never told you, but, ever since I was a kid, I’d . . . I’d . . .  Heck, I find this embarrassing. Whenever I tell anyone they laugh and make fun of me.

Zelda took his hand in hers. Come in where you can relax. I’ll get a couple of Cokes and you can decide how to say what you want.

How about a beer instead?

Okay.

She took two Buds from the refrigerator. Ken twisted the tops off, then handed one to her and took a long drink. When he set the bottle down, it was more than half empty. He sat at the kitchen table across from Zelda. Her gaze went to the clock that showed midnight had come and gone. Way past her parent’s bedtime. She must have spent hours in the study looking through the books, but it had only seemed like minutes.

I’m worried about my parents staying out this late, Zelda said.

Ken chuckled, Should be them worrying about you. Could be they decided to go to a motel or something or stayed late for drinks. You know, for a change.

But, they would have told me.

Why not call them?

Dad says the electromagnetic waves from cell phones damage neurons and brain cells, so he won’t allow them.

You can call the restaurant to find out if they’re okay. Ken handed her his cell phone.

She dialed the Chowder House. The phone rang ten times before a recording recited the business hours. Were they on the way home? Or were they out sacrificing another girl?

Zelda jumped up. Come with me, I want to visit the rock.

At this time of night? Can’t you wait until morning?"

Ken didn’t look like he wanted to move. She put her shoes on and as she took her jacket from the closet, he got off the couch, put his baseball cap and windbreaker on. I’ve never seen it at night. Guess there’s no time like the present. He used a light tone, but it was obvious he wasn’t up for a midnight hike through the woods.

A full moon in a cloudless sky lit the trail well enough so she didn’t have to use her flashlight.

Okay, I’m ready to tell you about the rock now, Ken said from behind her.

Not now, I need to listen for voices.

Voices?  Now?

Ken didn’t say another word until something alongside them snapped a branch. Wait, what’s that? he whispered. They halted. Leaves rustled where somebody or something moved in the heavy foliage. She turned on the flashlight and shone it through the vegetation.

Who’s there? Ken shouted.  No one answered. The sound headed back the way they had come. Do you want to go on?

Let’s just hurry up and get there.

They slogged through the leaves for another five minutes before they came to the rock. Moonlight gave it a luminous appearance, as though a light came from within. Zelda wondered what she would have done if her parents were there. She sat on the rock and closed her eyes. Tingling started at the top of her head and went down her spine, settling in the small of her back. Suddenly she saw two dark-skinned men ransacking her father’s study. Wide awake, she wasn’t dreaming.

Ken started to say, Look Zelda, the rock you’re . . .

She jumped up. Quick, we need to get back to the house. She started running.

Ken easily overtook her with his long strides. He could walk almost as fast as she ran. What’s the hurry?

I . . . I saw something when I sat on the rock.

What?

Two men robbing my house. She breathlessly said as they ran.

You had a vision?

She ran until she had to stop to catch her breath. Yeah, I had a vision all right.

That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. When I get around that rock, I see things I shouldn’t.

She stared at him. You’re saying it gives you visions?

Dunno. Maybe there are psychedelic mushrooms growing under it, and when I sit on it, I breathe in the spores.

He wasn’t lying. Could the rock have anything to do with her realistic dreams or the vision she just had?  When they got to the house, the front door swung in the wind. She couldn’t remember if she had closed it when they left. She ran through the doorway. The house was completely dark. She turned the flashlight on.

Her father kept his shotgun and two pistols under lock and key. She got the key, opened the cabinet and took out two Smith & Wesson .38s. She checked that they were both loaded and handed one to Ken. Gun held in front, he led the way upstairs.

On reaching the top, they stopped to listen. No sound, but the door of the study was wide open. She had relocked it when she left. Ken reached through the door and flicked the light switch on. Books and papers littered the