Footprints of Thunder (11 page)

10. The Group

Who can fathom the minds of the gods? There will come a time when the words
past, present,
and
future
will have no meaning.

—
Zorostrus, Prophet of Babylon

East Lake, Oregon

Time Quilt: Saturday, 7:35
P.M.
PST

P
hat! It’s getting late, give it up,” Dr. Piltcher yelled.

“Soon, Doctor, soon!”

Phat was high in one of the pine trees surrounding their campsite trying to move the antenna for the shortwave radio higher into the tree. They could pick up Petra and Colter at Summer Lake, but not Mrs. Wayne and Ernie Powell at Warm Springs. To help them with the antenna, Phat had stayed longer than he should have, and family was waiting for him in Eugene.

“Come on down, Phat,” Dr. Coombs urged him. “I’ll get up there and rig it.”

“You too big,” came Phat’s reply. Phat was too gracious to add he thought Dr. Coombs also too old. “Got it.”

Phat climbed down carefully, placing each foot solidly on a limb. He wasn’t going to risk a fall that might keep him from his family, not at this crucial time.

“Thank you, Phat. Now go! Give my regards to your family.”

“I will, Dr. Piltcher. Dr. Coombs?” Phat said, holding out his hand, then shook hands with both men. “See you afterward.”

“Remember what to do?” Dr. Piltcher asked unnecessarily, to reassure himself. ‘“Yes, Doctor.”

After Phat drove away, Dr. Piltcher worried about him. The group had dispersed to await the arrival of the window, all except Phat, who had stayed to help Dr. Piltcher and Dr. Coombs. The window was three days long, but they had never been able to pinpoint events. If something significant came earlier rather than later in the window, Phat was at risk. Dr. Piltcher hoped Phat made it to his family before anything happened.

Dr. Coombs cranked up the shortwave again. Colter and Petra answered immediately; the atmospheric conditions made for good reception. But it took three tries to get Mrs. Wayne and Ernie Powell, who could barely be heard through static. They agreed to check in every half hour.

The half-hour checks continued into the evening, but nothing happened. It was late when Dr. Coombs cooked up a stew for dinner, and they ate the beef and vegetables in silence, soaking up the gravy with buttermilk biscuits. After dinner they built a fire and sat in lawn chairs outside the RV. It was a clear night, and despite the full moon they could see the Milky Way. In the campground other travelers slowly drifted off to their tents or trailers, taking their family sounds with them and leaving the doctors in silence.

The radio crackled to life at eleven. Petra was calling with nothing to report, except a beautiful evening. Colter shouted something unintelligible from the background, eliciting a frown from Dr. Piltcher. The call from Ernie Powell followed, the static just as bad as ever, but they too had nothing to report. Dr. Coombs found a stick and began poking the fire. After sending several showers of sparks into the air, he spoke to Dr. Piltcher.

“You know, Chester, I’ve been thinking about that static.” Dr. Coombs poked the fire again. “I’ve been wondering if it could have anything to do with the effect.”

Dr. Piltcher’s eyebrows raised slightly.

“I’ve been thinking the same thing, George.”

Dr. Coombs knew Dr. Piltcher had been thinking no such thing, but he was unwilling to concede an original thought to anyone. It irritated Dr. Coombs only mildly. Dr. Coombs had long ago given up the endless quest for recognition. He was a true scientist now. He wanted only to understand. Whether he or Dr. Piltcher took credit for good ideas, made no difference.

He poked the fire again. “Of course the static could be the effect itself.”

Dr. Piltcher’s eyebrows went up sharply again.

“Oh, no. I … I can’t accept that.”

Dr. Coombs understood. They both feared what could happen, but they also had invested in it. They, and the rest of the group, had cut their social and professional ties believing something was going to happen. They needed an event more important than a little electromagnetic interference on the radio.

They talked awhile about the static, speculating on its source. As the fire burned hot and bright they sat exchanging ideas, questioning each other, building up and breaking down theory after theory. These kinds of discussions had characterized their entire friendship. Two lonely men, whom others thought odd, drawn together by a common love of the ancient and the mysterious. Not once in their seven-year friendship had they ever run out of conversation, because the world had never run out of mysteries.

The midnight check-in brought no news. Petra reported she would take the first watch, but they could hear Colter giggling drunkenly in the background. Dr. Piltcher’s face reddened, but there was nothing he could do. Colter was useful at times, and Petra seemed to need him, but Colter was undisciplined, and— even worse from Dr. Piltcher’s perspective—dumb. Petra’s attraction to Colter was one mystery Dr. Piltcher could not even begin to fathom. Here was a serious, brilliant young woman, who lived to learn, while Colter was a young man with a mediocre intellect, dedicated to drinking, partying, and apparently sex. Dr. Piltcher could understand why Colter was attracted to pretty and personable Petra. Dr. Piltcher finally concluded Petra’s need for Colter must be hormonal.

Mrs. Wayne checked in a minute later and reported no changes. Dr. Piltcher could hear a radio in the background going over the evening’s baseball scores—Ernie’s Cincinnati Reds were in the thick of the pennant race. Mrs. Wayne also reported that Shontel assured her their prediction was accurate and it would happen soon. Dr. Piltcher thanked her and asked her to pass his thanks to Shontel.

Dr. Piltcher and Dr. Coombs returned to the discussion of the static problem, and the role of sunspots in such interference. They had just begun discussing spot cycles when Petra’s voice sounded behind them. They hurried to the RV to respond.

“Something’s happened here. It might be nothing, but there was a strange noise a minute ago, a kind of whumping sound. Now there’s a range fire east of here. Pretty big one. It came out of nowhere.”

Dr. Piltcher and Dr. Coombs turned to look at each other. Dr. Coombs spoke first.

“I expected something more. I don’t think this is it.”

“Agreed,” Dr. Piltcher said. He directed Petra: “You shouldn’t get near it tonight. Keep a safe distance and check it out in the morning. We’ll contact Mrs. Wayne and Ernie just to be sure.”

Dr. Piltcher signed off and then called for Mrs. Wayne. The static had diminished some but was still annoying.

“Mrs. Wayne, Mrs. Wayne. Are you reading me, Mrs. Wayne?”

After a few minutes he switched to calling for Ernie Powell. Neither ever answered.

11. Pig Pile

Fiery winds and fierce clouds lashed the world accompanied by violent hailstorms. When the storm abated the beings who had been hidden beneath the earth multiplied upon the earth.

—
New Zealand, Maori Oral History

Oregon Caves

Time Quilt: Saturday, 11:05
P.M.
PST

T
erry saw that the military man had inched his way forward so that he was sitting near the front of the group now. He’d moved there during the blackout. When the kid finally pulled a light out of his pack and snapped it on, the military man was in the front row. The kid was distracted for the next few minutes, screaming out the entrance that he wanted the lights back on, and Terry was sure the military man would make his move, but the kid did a good job of keeping his gun pointed at the group, and nothing happened.

Now Terry wanted to move forward too, but felt it might jeopardize the rescue. So instead, Terry had inched himself a little sideways until there was a clear path between him and the kid with the gun. Terry did not have the training or nerve to do anything alone, but he hoped he could help the military man if necessary.

The chance came sooner than Terry had expected.

He was partially dozing with his head on his knees when another voice reverberated through the cave, startling everyone awake.

“Hello in the cave.”

The kid was startled too and stood turning toward the noise. At that instant the military man jumped to his feet and raced toward the kid, who jerked back around, but it was too late. The military man barreled into the kid, knocking him backward, his hands outstretched and reaching for the gun as the kid fell onto his back.

Terry hesitated, but when he realized no one else was doing anything he jumped to his feet and sprinted toward the struggling men. He could see the gun was still in the kid’s hand and the military man was trying to hold the gun arm down. At the same time the kid was kicking and shoving and punching with his other hand. Terry dove onto the struggling pair, reaching for the gun. His landing partially knocked the military man sideways, and he lost his grip on the gun arm, which Terry grabbed—then realized that the kid might be too strong for him to control. There was a manic look in the kid’s eyes and his strength seemed out of proportion to his body.

The military man was swinging around to get a better grip when another person hit the pile so hard he knocked Terry over the kid’s arm and the military man off of the kid entirely. The new person wore a helmet and climbing clothes, and slid so far forward that he was nearly sitting on the kid’s face.

Terry realized that he was now lying in front of the gun and the gun was pointed at his leg. He let go and jumped up as a young woman in climbing clothes held him back and then did a knee drop on the kid’s solar plexus, ending the fight.

They were soon surrounded by police officers and rangers, and the kid, now handcuffed, had gone from mania to severe depression in seconds. He was crying and begging them to leave him in the cave. “It may not have happened yet,” he said over and over again. “Please, let me stay here. Jill! Jill! Please don’t let them take me out. It’s too soon. Please, Jill!”

Jill began comforting him, repeating “it will be okay,” but Terry doubted the kid could hear his sister. The kid was in a different reality.

Finally, Terry heard someone call over the radio for a stretcher, and the police escorted the hostages from the cave. The kid was still sobbing and begging when the hostages left.

When they reached the surface, the police needed to interview all the hostages and have them fill out reports. It took hours.

It was nearly dawn when Terry and Ellen were finally released. As they walked toward the parking lot Terry saw the military man. When his eyes met Terry’s, he and his wife began walking toward them. The couples met with hands extended.

“My name’s Conrad, Bill Conrad. Good job in there,” he said to Terry.

“I only followed your lead. I’m Terry and this is my wife Ellen.”

“This is my wife Angie. Man, wasn’t that strange?” Bill said shaking his head from side to side in slow movements. “I wonder what he thought was going to happen?”

In the parking lot they found a knot of excited people clustered around a motor home. Terry could hear voices from a CB radio.

“What’s going on?” Angie asked.

A couple broke off from the group, anxious to share the excitement with newcomers.

“You’re not going to believe this, but something has happened to the interstate. It’s gone!”

“What? An avalanche?” Terry asked.

“Maybe,” the woman responded, “but that’s not the way it sounds. You drive up 1-5 and it just ends. Where there was a four-lane highway, now there’s grass, trees, and a mountain. Can you believe that? A mountain.”

12. Road Games

… the day of the Lord will come like a thief in the night. When people say, “there is peace and security,” then sudden destruction will come upon them…

—
I Thessalonians 5:2