My Half of Tomorrow

By John L Dunegan

What would you do if you were given the opportunity to travel in time? Would you renew a lost relationship, look into your mothers eyes one last time, or finish school while you are young? Or would you do something more heroic, such as kill Hitler to save the lives of millions or alert the world of a natural disaster?

For all the time you have spent wondering what you would do if you could time travel, have you considered what the consequences of changing history might be? So you kill Hitler, would you fool fate, or would another fanatic simply step up to take his place? Would a simple change of the past snowball into a catastrophe in the future?

When Johna young man of physics with an insatiable curiosity for scienceis accidentally given the opportunity to travel in time, he must face the questions that this ability presents to him. He must ask himself what he should do with this power. With the power to connect to the past and alter the future, John can change his lifeand the course of historyforever. But when he takes action, the outcome is far from what he expected.

Written into Johns legacy are the words, History is the sum of all known knowledge, including the forbidden knowledge of change.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Nov 10, 2011
• ISBN: 9781462062942

John L Dunegan

John L. Dunegan, one of six children born into a poor family in rural Oklahoma, shaped a career in computer science specializing in scientific and medical applications. He is now happily married and living in Dallas, Texas. He has two daughters, a stepson, and four grandchildren.

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Prologue

Silently, the large asteroid tumbled through the darkness of space on its death spiral trajectory toward the sun. Up close, the asteroid was huge and foreboding, with hundreds of vents spewing steam as the radiant heat from the sun vaporized the ice within. Now well into the inner solar system, the sixty-five-million-year journey was nearing an end. The sun was no longer just a bright dot in the far distance but a huge boiling cauldron washing everything in white light and radiant heat. The asteroid was about seventy meters in size and not the typical chunk of rock with its surface pockmarked with small impact craters. It was a freak of nature. Unlike most asteroids, it was comprised of a huge iron core surrounded by a shell of rock, iron fragments, and surprisingly, a large amount of ice. If not so heavily laden with iron, its classification would be that of a comet. The ice contributed to its shape, allowing the outer shell to coalesce into a nearly perfect sphere with a smooth outer surface. It appeared to be more man-made than a random creation of nature.

During its long flight, the asteroid had avoided thousands of near encounters with other asteroids and somehow survived the treacherous journey. But now as it crossed the orbital path of the single moon orbiting a beautiful blue-green planet, its destruction appeared imminent.

The gravitational pull of the moon had already altered the asteroid’s trajectory as it slowly pulled it into a fatal embrace. As the two objects drew closer together, the gravitational pull of the moon became stronger, forcing the asteroid to follow an increasing arched trajectory around the orbital face of the moon. As the rock increased its turning radius around the face of the moon the slingshot effect was speed. With each passing second, the asteroid’s speed was increasing. The increased speed would result in a much more dramatic impact, but the increased speed would ultimately become its savior. The moon was approaching at twenty-three hundred miles per hour, but that was not fast enough to catch the speeding rock. The asteroid streaked along the moon’s surface at thirty-five thousand miles per hour at an altitude of less than five miles. The close encounter had a strange effect on the lunar surface. The gravitational pull of the asteroid itself pulled the dust from the moon’s surface a mile up, forming an eerie, swirling wake. With no atmosphere, the dust quickly settled back from whence it came, erasing all effects of the fleeting visit. The close encounter covered a distance of fifty miles and took less than ten seconds to cross at the blistering speed. Every second thereafter, the asteroid gained altitude and began pulling away as it made its escape. Five minutes later, the asteroid cleared the lunar death grip and immediately began to slow down in reaction to the moon’s gravitational pull. Now on a new trajectory, its next encounter would not be a near miss, and it laid directly ahead, the beautiful blue-green planet Earth.

The exact point of impact on the planet’s surface was still in darkness, but the early morning light was already on the horizon. The impact location was the south central area of the North American continent. Two and a half millennia before the modern age, the area was sparsely populated with small bands of migrant Indians. Although they possessed great knowledge of nature and their surroundings, they had no understanding of the celestial event to come. Not hearing the knock of death at their door, they could not imagine the effect the event would have on them or on those of the modern age to come.

Chapter 1

With the morning light just breaking the horizon, the small migrant tribe moved in a long line across the countryside. They made little noise, and each member carried or dragged his or her share of the load. For safety, most family members stayed within earshot of one another. Many of the younger women walked together in small groups. They talked about camp life, prospects of marriage, and other topics that required a whispered voice. If nothing else, the girlish chatter and giggles broke up the boredom of the grueling walk.

Breaking camp before sunrise, the tribe began its long journey in search of a new hunting area and a suitable site for their next tribal camp. After a short time, the morning sun began to chase away the lingering nighttime chill. Soon they stood on the northeastern bank of a muddy river, waiting the return of the scouts. The scouts were searching for a suitable location for forging the river. The slow-flowing chocolate-colored water of the river was warmer than the air breathing across it. The contrast in temperature that resulted was a low-level fog that meandered down the waterway, obscuring the view of the opposite bank

Merish stood on the riverbank and waited with her friend Ricene, holding the hand of her young son. Suddenly a cold chill crawled up her back as an uneasy feeling moved to the back of her neck. She shrugged her shoulders and shook her head attempting to shake the feeling. Looking around, she saw nothing, and then she looked up at the bright, beautiful sky. A small dark spot caught her attention. She squinted to focus on the moving object and then realized it was just a hawk flying high in the sky.

Her lifelong friend Ricene noticed her expression. What wrong? she asked.

I don’t know, just a bad feeling.

Maybe you are with child, Ricene commented with a smile.

You think? Merish answered, rubbing her huge pregnant belly with her free hand. Both women laughed at the remark, and the laughter settled Merish’s ill feeling—but not completely.

After a brief wait, the scouts returned, leading the group upstream to a location that was shallow enough to wade across. The location was a short mile south of the three-river junction.

The water was not actually warm, but it was certainly not cold either. It felt somehow familiar to each member of the tribe—like the soothing touch of nature’s hand caressing her children. Thankfully the crossing was uneventful.

Now three miles and two hours later, as the heat climbed with the sun, the thought of the cool water was a welcome memory. Every member knew that such a refreshing respite would not come again for a while. Indeed, the next river crossing was a full two days’ walk to the southwest, and most knew that crossing would be more dangerous.

At the front of the moving line, the tribal leader kept a watchful eye for anything that would pose a problem, man or beast. He carefully selected the path to walk and avoided trails that would be too difficult to drag the pole skin sleds across with their heavy loads. Throughout the day, he periodically sent out scouts to look for signs of game, predators, and a possible encounter with hunting parties from other tribes. Although most of the tribes that roamed the central plains and low mountain regions were related to each other in one way or another, chance encounters were not desired events. When food was scarce, encroachment on another tribe’s territory occasionally ended in brutal conflicts.

Off to their east the beautiful Ozark Mountains rose above the horizon, their bluish color reflecting from the heavy covering of trees. The game was plentiful in the mountain areas. But this tribe rarely ventured that far to the east. Other nonimmigrant tribes were of the mountains, and they hunted heavy game there year-round.

During the summer months the tribe stayed in virtual perpetual motion as they continuously moved from one campsite to another. They moved with one purpose—to hunt for food while making certain to never completely exhaust the existence of game in any one area. They had a kindred understanding of the earth and all it provided. Hence, they rarely stayed at a previous campsite or a new site for an extended time. Such logic assured nature could easily erase their temporary visit. The summer months were certainly more relaxed than the winter season.

In the spring and summer, game was plentiful and the hunting was easy. But curing and storing meat was difficult, so fresh game was prepared and eaten as quickly as it was gleaned from the hunt. The land offered plenty, and the rivers were as bountiful.

The tribe consisted of thirty-five families with a large group of young adults, several children, and a few senior members. Dogs were a welcome addition to the tribe and were the only domestic animal treated with favor. The dogs that could be trained for hunting were well tended. Those that could not be trained or those too aggressive were often eaten during the winter months. All dogs had to hunt for their own food and only received handouts when larger game was being butchered. They were never given cooked meat, always raw, so as not to hinder their sense of smell.

Today was not much different from any other day of travel except for a noticeable slower pace. Two of the women were several months pregnant and struggled to keep up, so a night campsite was selected early.

Once the leader gave the word to make camp, the women began to prepare the site. The senior women immediately began barking commands to the younger women and girls. The sky was clear, so no shelters would be erected, and all would sleep on the ground in the open on skins. For a few minutes, the site was a very busy place. The younger boys were sent to gather large stones for the fire hearth, as well as skins of water, and the younger girls to gather wood for the fire. Soon the central fire began to crackle as the women began to prepare the evening meal. Within a short time everything began to take order, and the group as a whole began to settle into their evening routine.

The tribal leader called for two men to scout the area around the site, looking for signs of grizzly bears or mountains lions. The leader was all too aware that both grizzly bears and mountain lions were common in this area, and he was very familiar with the danger they represented.

The two men ordered to scout gathered their weapons and immediately walked out of the camp to do as they were told. The pecking order of authority was duly established, and no one questioned that authority.

A small creek ran adjacent to the campsite, and Merish, the older of the two pregnant women in the tribe, began to slowly walk in the direction of the water. Merish paused for a moment, turning back to look for someone to accompany her. But alas, everyone was busy. Besides, she didn’t want to share her secret with just anyone. As Merish neared the creek, she smiled as she passed two young boys returning from the creek bed, carrying skins of water.

Merish was very beautiful and very pregnant, and as she passed, the young boys blushed. They both lowered their eyes to the ground and muttered, Karota, Merish—a maternal phrase that was a respectful greeting of honor. She acknowledged their greeting with a smile. The obvious embarrassment of the pubescent boys was only somewhat due to her radiant beauty. It was also due to the fact that her pregnancy was revered as a mysterious condition. It was a sign of favor on the woman and upon the tribe. Hence, all members of the tribe offered pregnant tribal members respect and tribute. However, most of the younger boys struggled with the logic of it all.

Karota—mother of Earth, she muttered to herself. I feel more like the mother of mud. She continued mumbling and groaning to herself as she waddled along. With her hand firmly planted on her hip and lower back to relieve the aching, she took the last few steps to the edge of the creek. Her aching back was not the only thing bothering her. There was something else, an ill feeling she experienced all day for no specific reason. She moved her other hand to the back of her neck and then glanced around in all directions. But there was nothing to see; it was just a feeling—a feeling like someone was watching her or something was going to happen, a maternal feeling of danger. Although the feeling was persistent, she forced it from her mind, taking a seat on a large log at the water’s edge with her back to the running water. Removing her animal skin footwear, she immediately noticed the dried blood that had run down the inside of her legs all the way to her feet.

Much more this time, she thought.

During her last pregnancy, she also bled toward the end—so much that she had feared the loss of the child. But almost to the day predicted by the tribal midwife, the baby was born and was now a warrior of six years. A smile crossed her face as she thought of her young man, and almost instinctively she looked up toward camp to spot his whereabouts as the ill feeling again jumped to the forefront. There, there he is, she thought as she saw her son playing a hunting game with the other little boys of the tribe, all under the watchful eyes of the tribal grandmothers.

After finding comfort in knowing that he was fine, she turned her attention to the task that had brought her to the water. First, she struggle to swing both of her swollen feet over the log on which she sat, without causing anymore undue strain on her abdomen. It was difficult and took some time, but eventually she gave out an audible sigh as she felt the cool water caressing her feet. Her big belly made it impossible to bend over and reach the water with her hands.

Knowing this in advance, she had come prepared. She carried two-foot-long forked stick and a small piece of softened deer hide. She carefully wove the skin in and out of the fork of the stick to ensure it would not fall off and then slowly moved it to the water to soak. Using it like a sponge, she worked on cleaning the blood from her legs, but it required several rotations of scrubbing and rinsing.

Her big belly made the process difficult, but the cool water and soothing sounds of the creek were refreshing. As she neared finishing, she paused to enjoy a peaceful meditative stare at the water around her feet. Although exhausted, she was nonetheless thankful that she had made yet another day of travel without the loss of the child. To lose a baby from the womb was an unspoken disgrace.

One last time she lowered the deerskin sponge into the water to rinse it clean. Then as she slowly pulled the stick up out of the water, a noise from the far bank of the creek caught her complete attention.

Fear raced through her as she froze in place. Without moving her body, she slowly raised her eyes to peer into the thick brush on the far side of the creek. At first she saw nothing, which only worsened her fear. Holding her breath, she sat motionless, eyes searching the bank.

Mountain lion? her mind posed the question as her lips silently said the words. Her heart began to pound in her chest with such velocity she could actually hear her heart in her ears. She peered into the brush, but still she saw nothing. Her mind raced, hoping to realize a less fearful resolution.

The blood, she whispered. A mountain lion could have smelled my blood from a great distance. I should of known better, she thought. I knew I was bleeding. Why didn’t I bring someone with me? Her mind questioned her own stupidity.

Her husband was one of the two warriors sent out to check for bear and mountain-lion tracks. She was too embarrassed to ask another one of the men to come with her and stand guard while she washed blood from the inside of her legs.

As she straightened her back to sit upright, she heard a rustle from the far bank. This time her eyes focused on the exact spot of the noise. Suddenly her worse fears were staring back at her—a pair of green glowing eyes from deep in the brush. The eyes did not move. They did not blink. She could feel them on her, staring a hole into her soul.

She heard a deep throated growl just above a whisper. Her vision narrowed to the one deadly spot. Those eyes were all she could see. She knew not to scream, because openly showing fear would provoke an attack. Yet every muscle in her body was pushing her to scream. She knew not to run—that, too, was an invitation to death, and in her state, running was futile.

She knew this powerful animal well and immediately recalled the horrifying scene of watching a senior member of the tribe being torn to shreds before her young eyes. As a young child, she could only scream as she watched the large mountain lion viciously tear apart an elderly woman who was gathering berries one spring morning years ago.

Her mind raced as she recalled all the blood and gurgling screams. The blood went in every direction from the animal’s knifed paw. Death took only a few seconds, and now as she sat in catatonic fear, she was convinced that she herself was now only seconds away from the same fate.

The bushes shook briefly, and then she saw the head of the large cat pushing through the brush, pausing for a moment and then lunging in her direction. She tried to scream, but nothing came out. In her effort to turn and run, all she accomplished was fall from the log backward. It was pointless anyway—the cat was already across the creek and upon her before she hit the ground. She closed her eyes as she felt the cat’s large paw pin her head to the ground.

Time goes so slowly when you are about to die. She saw her mother’s face calling to her as a child. She saw her own child’s face smiling back up at her from her arms. She felt the big cat’s breath on her neck. Fear overpowered her as she anticipated his powerful teeth ripping into the side of her throat.

But nothing happened—seconds were forever and still nothing. Then the weight of the cat’s paw on her head was gone. Next she heard the familiar roar of the mountain lion, mixed with the screams of her friend Ricene and the frantic barking of a camp dog.

Merish! Merish! Ricene screamed in a terrified voice.

Help! Help! It’s Merish! Ricene yelled frantically without taking a breath. Merish had not heard Ricene’s screams or the barking dog before the lion was upon her, but luckily for her, the lion had. Ricene’s instinctive reaction to run to the aid of her friend and the barking dog had startled the creature enough to break off its attack.

Ricene watched the big cat disappear through the sage and thistle brush on the other side of the creek. She continued screaming for help even as she dropped to the ground next to Merish, who was now trembling violently as blood streamed from her nose.

The camp dog continued past the two women crossing the creek in full pursuit of the deadly creature. A moment later, a single yelp marked the end of the pursuit and the dog’s life. A swift blow to the neck of the dog nearly severed its head. The big cat even paused for a moment, considering taking the dead dog as its evening meal. But the sound of several more dogs and men approaching it quickly dismissed the thought. Besides, it could always come back that night and retrieve it.

As the rest of the dogs and several armed warriors reached Ricene and Merish, all Ricene could do was point in the direction the cat had run and scream the words mountain lion, mountain lion!

Without anyone giving the order, the warriors continued across the creek and into the brush to learn the direction of the cat’s retreat. Each men knew that the cat was long gone, and even the fastest of runners could not run down a mountain lion. The men hoped that by learning the direction of the animal’s retreat, they might be better able to anticipate the direction from which it would return. And it would likely return in the dark of night.

Mountain lions and grizzly bears were ever-persistent enemies of the tribe. Over the years, many members of the tribe were lost to these creatures. All hunters feared the unexpected encounter of a grizzly. You never know how it will react. Because of this threat, men always hunted in groups and never alone. Everyone knew that no one could outrun a grizzly or survive a face-off against one alone. For single man to stand and fight a grizzly, spear or no spear, the outcome was usually the same—death.

The two scouts sent earlier to recon the area stood atop a rocky ridge nearly a mile upwind from the drama back at the campsite stream. They had not heard the screams. For them the scene was peaceful. Indeed, they paused and gazed at the fleeting remains of the sunset.

The sun, now below the horizon, sprayed fingers of light into the distant clouds. All Indians found a reverence in the beauty of sunrises and sunsets. Being so integrally in touch with nature, they experience a wonderful presence of peace during sunrise and sunset. It was a revered moment that demanded a pause of adoration.

The rocky ridge where the scouts stood provided a great view of the landscape as it fell off toward the campsite. The ridge sat atop a ravine that was about ten meters high. There was a sheer rock wall on one side that dropped straight down to the base of the ravine. At the base of the wall there was a small cave extending several meters into the rocky wall. The cave was big enough for a large animal, and upon investigation, it was obvious that predators had indeed used the cave as a place to rest and to eat. It was empty this evening.

With their recon complete and darkness coming quickly, one scout looked at the other; and without saying anything, they both took their first steps to return to camp. Darkness was racing across the woodland, and even men as young and strong as these had a fearful respect for the night. It is hard to fight something you cannot see. As they picked their way down from the ridge, they heard the first roar coming from the direction of the camp.

Both men froze in place as the sound of a large grizzly echoed through the trees. It sounded as if it were a couple of hundred meters directly in front of them. The older man gave the younger a hand signal indicating the direction of the light evening breeze. It was moving away from them and toward the bear. Both understood the danger. The younger man nodded his understanding and pointed up the ridge, and then they reclaimed the rocky ridge as quietly as possible. Hopefully the bear was moving across their path and would clear the area before picking up their scent. If not, and if it was already coming in their direction, they needed to improve their position to defend themselves.

Again reaching the top of the ridge, the younger man pointed to a rocky ledge sticking out about three meters down the face of the wall below them. The older man nodded his agreement, and without saying anything, they immediately and carefully climbed down the face of the ridge to the protruding ledge. If the bear decided to attack, it would have to expose its head and neck to see over the ridge. From the ledge below, they could use their spears against the bear’s neck and head while remaining out of the reach of its powerful paws.

The spear each man carried were perfect weapons for this defensible position. Each spear was about a forearm longer than a man’s height, and each pointed with a large finely tooled piece of flint stone. One well-placed lunge of the spear could easily severe the large artery in the bear’s neck, and within minutes, the animal would bleed out. They stood quietly and waited to hear the next report. Hopefully it would echo from a much greater distance, indicating the bear was moving away. For the longest time, it was deathly quiet. Then the next call came, reverberating through the trees with such force it sounded as if the bear was all around them.

Merish rested on a bed prepared on the ground for her by Ricene. She was lying on her back as Ricene darted around, fetching water and skins to make her lifelong friend more comfortable. Merish and Ricene were near the same age, with Merish being the older. The two young women had spent their entire life in each other’s company. As young girls they had made a pledge to each other to always be friends—to always pick berries from the same bush. Whenever you saw one, you saw the other. Both their mothers treated them as if they were sisters. As Merish recuperated from her ordeal, she smiled, watching Ricene race around, taking care of her. She thought of the love she had for her friend.

She recalled a tribal meeting years ago, when all had gathered to listen to the tribal leader speak of the coming winter and all the work that was needed to prepare for it. About ten years of age, Merish and Ricene stood side by side, sharing a large flat stone just big enough for the both to stand on. The stone had a high center, so soon the girls discovered its teeter-totter effect. The longer the leader spoke, the more robust the rocking became. Ricene glanced over toward her mother, and Merish took advantage of her lack of attention by jumping up and coming down hard on her half of the rock, flipping Ricene off onto the ground. They both busted out in laughter but were not able to enjoy the moment for long.

Looking up, Ricene pointed toward the leader, who was now marching toward them with a switch in his right hand. Merish extend her hand to her friend, yanking Ricene up from the ground. In a blink they were on the run, laughing every step of the way. The leader did not pursue, and even if he had caught the pair, he would not have taken the switch to either. After all, he was Racine’s grandfather and loved her more than the dirt of the earth. Their mothers stood together, watching the incident in disbelief. Lucky for the mischievous pair, their fathers were not in camp that evening. For two days the girls snuck around, avoiding the leader, who continued to carry the switch everywhere he went. It was simply for effect, but they did not know it at the time. Several members of the tribe playfully reminded the pair that the leader was looking for them, just to get a reaction. At the next meeting, the young women stood separated, with their mothers standing between to keep the pair out of trouble.

Merish closed her eyes for a moment, and again the horror of the day raced back into her mind. Startled, she reopened her eyes and tried to regain the comfort she felt a few moments before. Although the mountain-lion attack was traumatic, it was now over with, but the ill feeling of doom still haunted her. Ricene returned to her side, carrying some sewing she planned on doing that evening. She had already told her husband that she planned to stay and comfort Merish that night, so he would be sleeping alone. Her husband reminded her that Merish had a husband who would be returning soon, and he could care for her.

I don’t care. I am staying with her, she responded with a stern voice. Her husband did not argue the point, for he too regarded Merish as a sister and was thankful that she had survived the attack.

Ricene dropped to the ground next to her friend, and without looking in her direction, she asked if she was feeling better.

Much better, she replied, although the sick feeling still growled in her stomach, and her facial expression told Ricene there is something else.

What is it? Ricene asked.

Oh it’s nothing. I have had this ill feeling all day, like something is wrong.

Well, you were just about eaten by a mountain lion.

Merish smiled at her friend’s comment and then remarked, I know, but it is something else. I don’t know how to explain it.

That is strange you say that. I was just talking with one of the other mothers, and she said something similar. She said she felt like a huge spider was perched on the back of her neck.

Really? Merish asked.

Yeah, really. With Ricene’s answer, both women instinctively glanced in the direction of their children.

Oh well, I’m sure it is nothing, Merish muttered as she laid her head down to the deerskin pillow.

Merish stared at the stars and quickly found her and Racine’s favorite star. They had shared their lucky star all their life, and no one else knew which one it was. They had spent countless evenings staring at the heavens and sharing their secrets. Countless times they had whispered to each other their wishes upon their special star. Alongside the bright star was a faint smaller star. As kids they had determined that the smaller star was a child of the bright star. A mother star and a child star, much like her and Ricene, each now with a child. Thinking of her child, she subconsciously placed her hand on the crown of her stomach to ensure herself that everything was all right. The comfort of the moment consumed her, so she muttered thanks to the star for all the blessings and good luck of the day. Ricene looked down at her friend and smiled, as if she knew what Merish was doing. Then suddenly a look of concern crossed Merish’s face, and Ricene also noticed that immediately. Merish rubbed her eyes and struggled to focus her stare at the spot in the sky. Not taking her eyes from the sky, she reached over and began tugging Ricene, pulling her arm hard, pulling her down onto the ground next to her.

Look, Look, she muttered, pointing toward the sky.

Look at what? Ricene replied, now almost on her back next to her friend.

Our star—it is gone, she said with puzzlement, still pointing to the black spot in the night sky. It was there a moment ago then it just disappeared, she continued. Look, it is not there.

Ricene quickly fixed her vision on the spot in the sky she knew so well and then moved her head from side to side, trying to see the bright spot of their childhood.

I don’t understand, Ricene spoke slowly. Where is it? Where has it gone?

Both women stared at the void in the sky in bewilderment. It was as if death had come to a loved one. Then as suddenly as it disappeared, it reappeared, and both gasped as they suddenly saw the light again.

What! I don’t understand, Merish said.

Me either, Ricene echoed in bewilderment.

Then as they stared in wonderment, the adjacent small faint child star suddenly winked off.

Look, do you see? The child star is gone, Merish whispered.

What does it mean? Is it a sign? Ricene queried. No one said anything for a moment, and then the ill feeling Merish had been experiencing all day began to engulf her.

Where are the kids? Merish blurted out in a fearful tone.

Instantly both women lifted their heads from the ground and scanned the campground, looking for their two children.

There, Ricene blurted, pointing at the two children playing near the center campfire.

Both women laid back and refocused on the void in the sky. Then as they studied the spot, just as the bright star had reappeared, the faint child star winked on and then off again and then on.

Look! they both said in unison, pointing at the star now clearly visible.

I don’t understand! Merish exclaimed, It is like something is in the way!

Could it be a nighthawk flying high in the sky? Ricene asked.

Maybe, but I don’t think so, Merish responded in a puzzled voice.

With their limited knowledge of the universe, they were severely handicapped yet partly correct. Something was blocking their view, and if they had any idea what it was and the effect it was going to have on their lives, they would have been terrified. They had no way of knowing that it was an asteroid, and it had traveled for millions of years to arrive at this moment and this place an now just moments away from its deadly encounter with the earth. The exact impact location was now also determined—a small Indian campsite in an area that one day would be known as northeastern Oklahoma, about three miles southwest of the three-river junction on the Arkansas River.

The two braves prepared themselves as they heard the bear again roaring in the quiet night. The huge creature was making its way up the rocky low side of the ridge, following the scent of the men. As the bear neared the top, its tremendous weight caused loose gravel and rocks to fall over the edge of the ridge and onto the men standing on the ledge just below. Still the creature had not spotted them but knew they were near. Again it roared with the sound of thunder before looking down into the ravine and spotting the men. Both men were ready, and both lunged with their spears at the huge head of the animal. The younger man’s spear found its mark in the bear’s soft neck; and it cut its way through muscle, veins, arteries, and tendons. As he pulled the spear back to lunge again, blood gushed from the wound, spraying both men below. The older man’s spear entered the bear’s large mouth, piercing through the sidewall and protruding out the far side of the bear’s mouth. He tried to pull the spear free, but it was lodged. The bear jerked backwards yanking the shaft from his hand with such force it almost knocked him from the ledge. He struggled to keep his balance as he watched the shaft of his spear disappear back over the top of the ridge as the bear backed away for the moment. The bear roared with anger as it struggled to dislodge the spear from its mouth. Within seconds, the broken spear shaft fell from over the top of ridge, landing at the man’s feet. He quickly picked up the short wooden stick.

A short weapon is better than no weapon, he thought. He had a knife in his waistband and considered tying it to the end of the short spear shaft. But there was no time-out or pause for the bear. It was the moment of kill or be killed.

Again the men stood, ready for the bear to return as they knew he would. Then unexpectedly, as their eyes scoured the top of the ridge for their enemy, they both simultaneously spotted something moving in the sky. At first it was only a faint glow. Then within seconds it was much brighter. Soon the object began to light up the evening sky, and a trail of smoke became visible in its wake. The strange object had also caught the attention of the bear. It was