The Arch

By Bruce La Pierre

The kids of Sanbornton Bridge live with the towering Arch and marble statues that accentuate the little village. Little did they know how important these things were to the survival of mankind. With the help of a lone Indian, six teenagers embark on a quest beyond their imaginations.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Feb 10, 2011
• ISBN: 9781456732165

Bruce La Pierre

Bruce La Pierre lives in North Carolina with his wife Michelle and two children, Nicholas and Alexa. He was raised in Tilton, New Hampshire, formerly known as Sanbornton Bridge. As a youth, Bruce played among the statues and places in which he writes and often dreamed of what was hidden beneath the Arch that is the town’s defining feature. The Arch is Bruce’s first book.

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© 2011 Bruce La Pierre. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse 2/5/2011

ISBN: 978-1-4567-3216-5 (e)

ISBN: 978-1-4567-3217-2 (sc)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2011901874

Printed in the United States of America

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

The Touch

The Sounds of Silence

The Dragons of Hannaj

A Feast

Missions for all

Squanto

Islands of Adventure

Statues

The Cave

Queen Frothro’s Dilemma

The Boy

Demon’s Cry

Break out

Onward Soldiers

Satan

The Gate

Help

The Dragon’s Aggression

Apollyon

Pebbles

What Now

The Gathering

The Feast of Six

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Chapter One

The Touch

The Town of Sanbornton Bridge, a small New England village, is full of the kind of negative optimism only found in a tight knit community, the kind of place where sarcasm has a hold. Everyone knows each other, as well as each other’s business. For the most part, this keeps everyone cordial in his or her own cynical way. Years ago, when the town managers wanted to replace some of the statues that used to stand on Main Street, several old timers argued against it. This caused a little tension that is still apparent to this day when the topic of the statues arises. Only the old timers knew the secret of the statues and they could not, or would not discuss it, in a calm respectful manor, and they would not disclose the secret to anyone.

Over Seventy-five years ago, the town had a lot of statues, one on the island, one by the high school, one by the train depot, another in the rotary, and one at the bank. All over the town, these silent citizens stood and greeted the town folk, but now there was only one left.

Standing in the middle of the rotary is the great Lady. The statue, an Indian Princess, is facing the east, facing the island, facing the rising sun. The marble statue, well over 100 years old now has that worn look that denotes age, tradition and demands respect, much like the old timers from the Veterans home. The faint cracks enhance the charm of her once bright white marble that has now turned a light shade of gray and has given her the look of wrinkles. The town continues to maintain the statue to some degree, planting flowers at the base and maintaining the brick foundation. The town has conducted very little restoration on her. She has stood on her pedestal and has watched the traffic change from horse and buggies to new eco-friendly hybrids, and her tired worn features show the damage of time and traffic. Twenty years ago when these events unfolded, there was no concern about being eco-friendly. There was very little concern about being anything but kids having fun, listening to music, getting ready for college, and getting in a little trouble.

In addition, the acoustical barrage from the music has damaged the foundation of many statues. Oh how the music has changed from the nice concerts of local barbershop quartets and jazz bands on the island that she would oversee to the thumping of rap and hip-hop music in muscle cars that threatens to crack the cement in her base when they pass.

Still, somehow, the old time feeling was alive on Main Street. With its Iona Savings Bank, B & L Hardware Store and the INN, all maintained like the day they opened for business, this was a thriving business section of town. During the 1980’s, Sanbornton Bridge was a good place to call home.

The kids of Sanbornton Bridge were good, mostly honest and hard working. However, being a rural community, one can imagine many worked on farms or in their family businesses. These kids learned the lessons of life early. Nevertheless, even then, they were still kids and needed reassurance and discipline regularly. Andrew was one such kid.

René, move up, Andrew yelled Wall! he demanded. On cue, René came up to the net on her side of the tennis court. The ball came hard from the other side of the net and bounced off René’s racket and out of the court.

Sorry, sorry, sorry. She pleaded.

Andrew and René were the mixed doubles team for the school and they were not that good. René was always becoming lost in her thoughts about things the drama coach called irrelevant. She lacked focus. Andrew tries too hard to be the leader and fails because of it. The other kids think he is pushy and demanding. The two do not make a successful squad but they are the only members of the small schools tennis program.

Squam is a tiny school district. The one high school serves three or four towns depending on how you look at it. Sanbornton Bridge, Lochmere, Southwick and Sanbornton Village and still the school graduates less than one hundred students a year.

To area locals, the quad, as the towns are collectively known, provides all the necessities of a good life. Residents from Sanbornton Bridge are called Bridgers while those from Sanbornton Village are known as Villagers and those from Southwick and Lochmere, well they do not have cute little names.

Come on René get your village butt in gear! Andrew was becoming agitated as they were about to lose a practice match to middle schoolers. 40-15 are we going to lose this…this match right here? he scolded her. He wanted to curse but there were too many people around walking past the courts.

The final serve came to him. Stepping back he brought his arm back, gave the racquet a little turn in his grip then with a great exhale swung forward. The ball made contact with the sweet spot on the racquet. He rotated his arm and brought the racquet over his left shoulder. The ball went flying hard and fast. The top spin was the best Andrew had ever accomplished, and the ball was heading for the back of the opposite service box. Andrew ran forward to the net and at the same time called to René to do the same.

His opponent stood fast at the approaching missile. His eyes focused and followed the yellow streak heading his way. He shuffled back toward the fence and raised his racquet to the ready. The ball hit the ground, bounced and increased in speed. The opponent swung forward and made contact with the ball and it went flying over the heads of the two at the net.

Andrew and René turned to chase the ball and the call came from out of thin air OOUT it took a full second for the line judge to call Andrew’s return out, thus ending the match. The ball had landed just off the line; some would have called it in because it hit the line a little. Nevertheless, the judge wanted to end the misery. Andrew turned to René and whispered something; he had the look of complete defeat and demoralization.

The middle schoolers were at the net waiting patiently. René, followed by Andrew who was sulking, approached the net and held out their hands. The middle schoolers feeling a little frisky having just beaten seniors, held out their hands then pulled them away. They ran their fingers through their hair, turned and walked to the bench.

Nice sportsmanship! René yelled. Then she and Andrew both gathered their bags and left the court.

I’m…. tired of always loosing, Andrew said as he and René walked through the gate. He looked at the school as they got in his car, a beat up old Chevy Chevette Scooter. At one time, the car was bright red but time and the New England winters have turned it a dark shade of pink and rust. The black interior is in ok shape and has a slight oily feel from the excessive use of Armor All.

Just bring me home, she said.

You forget about the meeting tonight? Andrew asked.

Crap. I don’t know. I’m not even sure I wanna go, René responded.

Come on we need to, you know we need to make sure we get the right class song! He stared at her as they pulled out of the school parking lot.

The meeting place was in Southwick. Across the river, a town boundary, just on top of the hill from the Elm Street Bridge was an arch, a granite replica of ancient triumphant arches of Italy. The Arch is so close to down town Sanbornton Bridge that a good ball player could throw a baseball into the center of the Main Street Rotary.

The Arch was constructed at the same time the statues were installed. Everyone knew the Arch was special, but few knew it held part of the mystery that worried the old timers. The Arch stands fifty feet tall and is forty feet wide. There is an empty sarcophagus made of salmon Italian marble with a large lion lying on top.

The Arch is the gathering place for Fourth of July firework celebrations. Everyone knows about the Arch, and most have been there hundreds of times. More than one adolescent has tried to pry the sarcophagus open, with no success. It was here they were to meet the others.

They pulled into the parking lot and walked the thirty yards to the top of the hill where the meeting was to take place. They were the first to arrive. The sun was about to set; they could see the orange and pink mixed with dark clouds to the west. They didn’t say a word. A flock of birds flew through the scene just to remind them it was fall and the migration had been in session.

There was a sudden electrical hum; four electric lights, made to look like old oil streetlamps, came on. Situated at each corner of the Arch, they hardly threw any light but it was not yet dark and they knew the lamps would do the job nicely as it grew darker.

René motioned with her chin toward the parking lot, someone’s here.

Good.

Is it getting cool? she asked

Well yaaa. What do you expect? it was more of an answer than a question.

Can I go change in your car, at least put my joggin suit on?

Do whatever you want, remember it’s small and there’s no tint, with that, she ran to the car. On the way, she passed one of the class officers. Rick Orth was the class treasurer and secretary. Rick is also Andrew’s cousin.

When he reached the top, he yelled Hey whasup?

Waiting on you, Andrew replied.

The others are on the way; they’re in Mike’s car, Rick offered. As soon as he got the words out headlights shone bright from the parking lot and they could see the rest of the gang getting out of Mike’s car. By this time, René had suited up and they all walked up to the Arch. Reaching the top, the teens paired off and hugged. Andrew hugged Jemma, Cheryl hugged Rick and René hugged Charlie. René motioned to the west so they all could see. They all stood silent as they watched the remaining sun fall below the horizon. To this point, René was having a good time and she was glad Andrew made her come.

Cheryl was the Class President. She immediately took control. Ok let’s get goin,’ I don’t wanna be here all night. Charlie you got the boom box?

Yep, he came back with as he pulled some cassettes out of his jacket pocket and set the whole mess on the steps of the Arch. No one had seen him carry it up the walk.

Okay, Cheryl started, Let’s hear the first song.

Charlie just picked up a tape, thrust it in the player, and hit play. AC/DC screamed out of the speakers for those about to rock, we salute you…

What th…, Rick started.

Nope, Cheryl cut him off. Who sent that in? she demanded.

Dennis, Charlie answered. With that, he removed the tape and slammed another in the player. This time some old Jim Croce played If I could save time in a bottle…

NO, NO, NO! Charlie cried, Miss Blynn must’ve snuck that in. You know she wanted that song. She’s a big Croce fan. Jim Croce was a popular artist back in the seventies.

I don’t care, that’s way old and not right, René added. What do you think Jemma?

You know I don’t care, it’s not even my school.

Oh! Excuse us, we aren’t rich enough to go to the ‘Prep school’, Cheryl blurted. When school’s out, you going back to Connecticut or are you staying here?

Hey don’t get bitchy we have a lot to do tonight, Andrew chimed in. With that, he held Jemma, moved over to the corner of the steps and sat down. They were still holding each other, started to rock back and forth, and sway together.

Charlie placed another tape in the boom box and this time it was an unknown song. They liked it. It had an edge that was not too hard and just sappy enough to get the point across. They listened to the whole song then played it again. What is that? Charlie asked

You put the tape in dummy, René interjected.

Oh ya, with that Charlie hit the eject button and pulled the tape out and he read the label. The Beginning of Forever, he said, By, no crap…John Hilton

John, Rick repeated

Jemma and Andrew were still rocking when suddenly there was a scream. Not sure who actually made the sound as they both jumped up. The granite had cracked where they were sitting and a gust of cold damp air had run up their pant legs. It was so cold it felt like a hand with pointy boney fingers touching their skin.

Everyone stepped back from the steps. There was an uneasy darkness to them as if the color had drained and they were just dark gray. The lights didn’t help either. The amber glow illuminated well enough to walk and see, but it did little to help with actual color and visual acuity.

Cheryl was the first to gain control. Ok have we decided? The rest nodded. Then it’s agreed The Beginning of Forever is our class song. Rick can you get with John and let him know we will also need the lyrics, and he’ll have to get with Miss Day to get the band on track.

Rick nodded in the affirmative.

Charlie picked up the tapes and boom box, shoved the tapes back into his jacket, mad that he didn’t get to play the song he wanted but he wanted to get out of there more than he wanted to play the song.

The Gang walked the path back to the parking lot. About half way there Andrew looked back at the Arch. He was concerned. He knew something had touched him and Jemma. It wasn’t air, and he wanted to know what it was. However, he was too scared to check now at night without any weapons, so he turned back to the path and Jemma then continued to the car.

That night all Andrew could think about was the Arch the odd color of the stone and the cold creepy caress of his calf. He completed his homework at the kitchen table, had supper then went to his room. He pulled out the journal he had kept since he was in the 3rd grade. The pages, folded, stained and creased, the results of years of Andrew falling asleep with it in bed. The cover corner was torn but the binding was still good. He flipped to the next empty space. He made one entry for the day.

ARCH.

He closed the book took a shower then went to bed. It was only 8:30 but he knew he would need his sleep because tomorrow was Friday and he was going back after school and he would be prepared.

Chapter Two

The Sounds of Silence

The next morning René popped up out of bed right on cue. She didn’t sleep much because she was Andrew’s tennis partner and she knew he was not the kind of guy who was easily startled. He would get mad, curse and he had a temper, but he was not easily startled. Last night something different happened to him. She had seen a look in his eyes that she had never seen before. Maybe she was the only one who saw it. Maybe she was becoming too close to him. Either way it concerned her so she played the scene over and over in her head all night long and she knew it was going to be a long day.

René lived in a large Victorian house up in the village. Her bedroom was on the third floor and it was the highest room in the house, except for the attic. She had redressed and redressed her room over the years and it had that look of a little girl trying to be a woman. Barbie Dolls on shelves and Manudo and Bon Jovi posters on the walls. She had a nice Magnavox stereo and a Commodore 64 computer. The room, which was once pink, now had a coat of green with purple accents. In places, the pink had come through the green where toys like her doll house had rubbed the wall.

Next to her room was a bathroom. René took a shower and got dressed. She threw her nightgown down the laundry chute that went straight down three stories to the laundry room. Then she rewent down the two flights of stairs to have breakfast, her favorite, a bowl of cereal. She then went out to the bus stop and waited.

When the bus arrived, she could see Cheryl talking to all the seniors on the bus. Cheryl lived down the road from René in a cozy A frame back in the woods. René joined them. The bus took off almost tossing her into a seat on top of another girl.

Mornin, the girl said to René.

Morning, she replied

Okay, like I said, we chose the class song last night and it’s The Beginning of Forever, Cheryl stated talking again.

Never heard of it, one boy chirped out. Who’s it by?

Well that’s the cool part,… John, René blurted out.

John? another girl asked.

Ya, John Hilton wrote the song and it’s good, who knew. He even made a tape of his band playing it, Cheryl exclaimed. Her excitement seemed a little too much for this early in the morning but the other kids were used to it. Cheryl always runs full bore and is the best cheerleader for the class. That’s why she was elected president freshman year and has held the post ever since.

When we get to school, I’m gonna see if principal Paulson will let me assemble the class in the library so we can all hear the song together, with that stated the bus hit a bump that threw Cheryl and the rest of the kids into the air. Cheryl turned around and sat in her seat.

Conversations changed to the normal issues about what was on TV last night and how cute this person is or that person and how tough the homework was. René just sat in her seat next to a red haired freckled and bespeckled boy named Fred Wagner. They just looked at each other then turned away and sat in silence as they traveled the bumpy roads to school.

At school, everyone assembled in the cafeteria. The large room has the appearance of a typical lunchroom with one exception. On the back wall, the wall by the hallway to the office and the wood shop, there was a large painting, a mural. In shades of blue and black and white, there was a heroic portrait of Luke Skywalker overshadowed by Darth Vader. Painted by students back in the seventies it was a focal point for, and example of what being honest to yourself and doing right was all about. It was just cool and that’s all the kids cared about.

René took her usual seat under the larger than life image.

Cheryl walked over to Miss Blynn and informed her of the officer’s decision on class song. Then, getting in line for breakfast, Cheryl discussed math issues with another student. The events of the night before didn’t enter her mind at all except for the song. That bloody song was almost haunting her nothing else seemed to matter.

As Cheryl moved through the breakfast line, the rest of the gang arrived, minus one, Jemma, who was downtown at the prep school on the hill opposite the Arch.

Hey, what you guys doin’ after school? Andrew asked.

Nothin, they all answered in unison.

Cool…, Andrew started. Just then Cheryl arrived with her breakfast sat down.I’m goin’ up the Arch after school. Something strange happened there and I want to know what it was.

What are you talking about? mumbled Cheryl as food fell from her mouth.

Look, something touched us last night. It wasn’t wind or air or something like that it was real and solid. I’m going back to see what it is. You guys wanna come?

Ya, Charlie said. He was always ready for anything. Anything was better than sitting at home watching Hee Haw with his parents.

I don’t know, said René. What if something happens and we get hurt or something?

Come on, it’ll be fun, Charlie added.

I don’t know let me think about it.

What about you Rick? Andrew asked.

You know I’ll be there cuz, Rick affirmed.

Well that leaves you Cheryl, you in or out? Charlie added

I’m in, she stated. With that the bell sounded and the cafeteria started to empty as students went to the first period class. The little band went their different ways mixing in the crowd unaware that the decision they have made or will make will affect the rest of their lives.

All day Andrew couldn’t stop thinking about the Arch and what could be under there. In each class, his mind floated into its own little world, he was not paying attention. He was the one thinking about non-relevant things as far as the teachers were concerned. He tried to focus but the mystery was too much and he drifted back to the broken slab of granite. Now he knows what it’s like to be René.

After school, they met at