A Thousand Days and One Hour: Knowing and Seeing: Book One

By Lenn Corey

An estranged family of four and some friends find themselves transported to a different world where they find themselves fighting for not only their lives but for the lives of others—the Flow Born.

The power-generating solar facility Solaron in Deventon, Texas, needed an upgrade. When the upgrade showed signs of failure, project team members Cejay, Santos, and Toby scrambled to meet the deadline. But even with the help of Cejay’s family, they could not overcome the system errors. At the same time, a weather anomaly invades the solar field area Looking Glass. Just before the anomaly, Cejay and his son, Dave, see images—shadows—of beings in battle with one another.

And the group was gone. They left their work. They left their city. They left their homes. But where were they?

Communication worked differently. Long-distance travel worked differently. Their need for food and water behaved differently. Animal and insect life existed differently. Plant life appeared different and responded differently. But most of all, the water of the Enzolion River was different.

Their enemies, however, acted normally—they still pursued Earth Born and Flow Born, no matter what, no matter the pain.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Covenant Books, Inc.
• Release date: Jan 6, 2022
• ISBN: 9781638853459

Book preview

Table of Contents

Title

Copyright

Acknowledgments

Prologue

Chapter 1: The Rough Way

Chapter 2: The Treacherous Four

Chapter 3: Purple Pink

Chapter 4: A Good Plan Gone Wrong

Chapter 5: 5:00 pm

Chapter 6: Koustoda: The Watcher's Haven

Chapter 7: A Name to Remember

Chapter 8: The Falls of Fair Fortress

Chapter 9: The Fort of Vomduron

Chapter 10: A Lost Anchor and a Listening Soul

Chapter 11: The Siege of the Plain

Chapter 12: Get the Point

Chapter 13: Colvoschon and Abdiel Remembering the Seeder

Chapter 14: Inside and Outside

Chapter 15: Place of Protection

Chapter 16: My Anchor and My Chance

Chapter 17: Lither and Light

Chapter 18: A New Journey The Passage of Antomy

Chapter 19: Impossible

Chapter 20: The Vortex of Antomy

Chapter 21: A Lair Left Open

Chapter 22: The Descent The Ascent

Chapter 23: The Trip Begins Again

Chapter 24: Some Concerns Some Joys

Phositron Glossary

Map (partial)

About the Author

cover.jpg

A Thousand Days and One Hour: Knowing and Seeing

Book One

Lenn Corey

ISBN 978-1-63885-343-5 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-63885-344-2 (Hardcover)

ISBN 978-1-63885-345-9 (Digital)

Copyright © 2021 Lenn Corey

All rights reserved

First Edition

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Covenant Books, Inc.

11661 Hwy 707

Murrells Inlet, SC 29576

www.covenantbooks.com

Acknowledgments

I'm thankful for my parents. My father provided love, attention. My mother provided an additional gift—she read to me in my early years, Golden Books, Doctor Seuss books, and others. That started it, a love for story. Thank you, Dad, Mom. But there are others.

My sixth grade English teacher at Washington Middle School in Cedarburg, Wisconsin, assigned a first-person narrative—I earned an A. The storytelling desire grew more, ever so slightly. Cedarburg High School offered a reading class where grades were based on the number of books read. I remember enjoying that reading class, which strengthened my interest in reading. Thank you, middle and high school teachers.

Shortly after high school graduation, my close friend Tom introduced me to The Hobbit, Lord of the Rings, and The Silmarillion; these five fantasy books plus several science fiction works electrified my brain to ponder story lines of my own. Not long after that, I began to create names for science fiction machines, spaceships, weapons, planets, and characters (I kept 3×5 index card files that I still have). Thank you, Tom.

My sister Renee comes next. She was close to finishing her BA in English. I wanted to greatly improve my writing, so I asked her to evaluate my present level. She assigned up to two pages with five paragraphs, if I remember correctly. The work came back covered in red ink. I was crushed but motivated to improve (I'm a strong believer in red ink when accompanied with strong encouragement to improve). Thank you, Renee, with the red pen.

Although I was slowly improving, great improvement did not occur until I enrolled at UW-Milwaukee for a BA in English. I actually read all the comments of my professors and sought to understand why something was wrong and how to fix a problem. My John Milton and Early English literature professors helped the most, but there are a host of others. Thank you, UW-Milwaukee, the key professors behind those courses, and others as well.

All of my school of education professors helped greatly with how to teach concerns, but two professors of literature (adolescent and Western) at Cardinal Stritch University helped me push forward in my writing. Thank you, Cardinal Stritch, and those two profs.

Teaching English (and other courses) to students at middle, high school, and tech schools helped improve my writing because I needed to think through the subject matter and hopefully help them improve their writing. Although there were many great teachers I've worked with, Brooke always came up with clear methods and materials. Her clarity helped my students and me to write better. Thank you, Brooke. Thank you to all the teachers, students, and teaching institutions I've worked with over the years.

Although none of my family members, friends, or coworkers (past or present) are seen in any characters, it is my wife of thirty-seven years, Barb, who has often put up with me as I would often talk about this or that story structure and what character function so-and-so is playing. My wife has always supported my career changes, volunteer decisions, and leisure activities. So too here, she never discouraged me but gave me the time I needed to complete this work on a part-time basis. Starting about twenty years ago, I had written short notes here and there, but the main writing did not start until about six years ago. My wife has witnessed the hours spent at the computer and has simply let it happen. She also helped give valuable feedback on the manuscript. Thank you to my wife (remember, Barb, there's still two more to go!).

Also, our son, Joshua, was very patient redrawing the map eight times, and our daughter, Ali, helped edit one of the latter manuscripts.

Others helped too. Steve and Karen, neighbors, read the prologue and chapter 1, giving me needed feedback. Debbie and Paul, the first offered suggestions and the latter read two or three early chapters. There's Kelly, who edited the first completed manuscript; hopefully, I won't make any of those early mistakes in subsequent writings. Thanks for your time and attention. Floyd and Sharon also helped check a later manuscript; I appreciate your efforts very much. Susan also took on a portion of the editing task in the last stretch without much time; thank you. Also, thank you Dan; you probably don't even know why! Next, there's Todd who has offered his expertise in the audio edition of this work (plus many other varied projects over the years) and Andrew who was simply the first work buddy to hear of this work's acceptance. Thanks also go to Sean who offered several important suggestions. Although the following neighbors of my mother did not give manuscript feedback, Peter, Polly (and even their children), also Mark, Jerry, and several others helped my mother in various ways, but especially when it was difficult for me to snow blow or make a quick check of her condition. Each instance saved me ninety minutes of drive time, plus the task time itself; their assistance contributed to completing this work.

There's also the staff and Baker-Covenant Books who should be mentioned. By order of involvement, they are Ashley, Adam, Megan, Denice, and the editors of this work.

Last and most importantly, there is Jesus. He has allowed me to live and move and exist (Acts 17:28) and to accomplish this, but this is not any more important than anything else He has allowed me to accomplish. It's all grace, each day I'm here and into eternity. Praise goes to Jesus who has overcome the world (Jn 16:33c). Amen. (Scripture taken from Classic Reference Bible, New American Standard Bible-Updated Edition [Grand Rapids, Michigan: Zondervan] 1999.)

Prologue

Small glints refracting off the opaque polished basalt walls served to allow some beings—only two—within the room to see, not much, but something. That's the way the others wanted it—dark. They thrived on the dark. One who needed light brought his own luminary. What produced the light? His stone emitted the light. It provided the minuscule glow. It was taken from a river and the city of his growth and from the planet Thailon. The stone was given to him unshaped. He saw the real stone then, but he imagined another. He sat silent, listening, with the small flat stone embedded in the palm of his left hand. He needed the stone; he desired its light.

This conclave of beings, from different realms, consisted of Riscoles, Farrions, Trolons, Ippies, humans, Nolls, and several others. Rex Sindar was an Adredarian and the official power guiding the adherent generals and a few committed attendees. Except for one, who better understood their lot, they had acute and prolonged hate over three areas and their related concerns: all light, which shone in all realms and was vital for some of their own; all Enzoaon waters, a river with many tributaries on Thailon; and one unspeakable name that was known throughout all their realms. The first hated, for it revealed them as they were. The second hated, for it pained their outer selves to their deaths. The third hated, for it tormented their inner beings. To this end, their Sounders sung the lines:

Light hatefully tolerated;

Waters enjoyably hated;

Namelessly hatefully named.

With the light merely endured and the name forcefully avoided, it was mainly the Enzoaon waters that thwarted most of their plans. It burned their waterless bodies inside and out. Why? Their forms were other. They were unlike the Earth Born and Flow Born, and that angered them even more.

Your reports are encouraging Generals Droggon and Nari. Now how about you, General Cabra? What news do you have about the activity, some activity in the Far Realm? asked Rex Sindar.

"All the signs are present for our plans to prevail. A recent sign is one who has left the Safe Land. She has at least a legion of Watchers about her," said Cabra.

She!

Yes. I've been told that she—Abdiel—came through the Endless Flow over seven thousand sunsets ago, but she had only ventured out of the Cloister less than one thousand settings ago.

From the back, from the shadows, the Silent One with the light clarified, Eight hundred and eighty…eight, to be…to be exact.

He speaks! Why did she wait so long to decide? Most decide in half the settings, like our Silent One here, sneered General Nari from the far end of the jagged table.

Turning toward the general with some hesitation, the Listener said, She may have wanted to be sure and get ready for a special moment, maybe one that's been anticipated—our plans, for instance. And remember, we need to act against them to draw them in. Motivate them. After all, decisions direct destinies. Is that not true here as well?

Rex Sindar thundered, Listener! Yes, they decide. We decide. But we decide for hate, again and again. They expect it. We practice it. It's life to us. Is it not? We know that. But our decision—our aim—is to remove them from our presence and place, Earth Born or Flow Born. They must either change voluntarily or experience their decisions for misery while we watch. Only then will we have life as we want it. Most Earth Born think they die. They die there—but not here or in other realms. Flow Borns know it's not so. They're there on that river-riddled rock, Thailon. But who here likes looking upon any of them—the Flow Born or Earth Born? No one answered. The Silent One was acceptable. He decided differently.

Then looking directly in General Cabra's eyes, Rex Sindar asked, "Now, General, do you think this special moment is our chance?"

With gravely drawn eyes, he answered, Yes.

General, have you confirmed your observations elsewhere?

General Cabra became somewhat agitated, and glancing at the darkness, Yes, as much as can be done without your final approval, answered Cabra. Also our Silent One here has just further confirmed the word of many observers. We even have an anomaly planned for some present Earth Dwellers.

"An anomaly. Very well. You have my further permission—order, that is—for the anomaly. Although always troublesome, I'm usually pleased with the eventual results. There is a gain. Are there any further concerns you might have?"

Just one. I now think we need to involve a group of Earth Born with Flow Born.

How could we do that effectively? We have only succeeded with individual Earth Born, and that has produced minimal success, emphasized General Droggon. "No, two Earth Dwellers in a single moment haven't worked, so to control an entire group during and after transport would probably be difficult, at best."

Is that what you're suggesting, General Cabra, more than two Earth Dwellers? asked Rex Sindar. Maybe that's the answer to the troublesome concern: more—not fewer.

As stated, we get minimal results when it involves a single Earth Born and probably no victory with two Earth Borns. Little success. Few results. Much effort.

As I've said, I'm always good with the final results although it takes much effort. Still, increased numbers may produce greater gains. So then how many beyond two Earth Born?

More than three, I'd say. Eight, maybe ten, depending on how we attack, he offered.

Curious, Rex asked, Who? Where?

General Cabra replied, The group is located near Baneful Crest. Our goal would be eight specific travelers to Fort Vomduria.

Baneful Crest! I know it well but have not been there in many moments. How do others here see this? Agree or disagree? Rex Sindar demanded. And remember, Abdiel, our latest opposition, needs involvement within our plan as our listener here has intimated.

Agree. Although not an Earth Born, I think Abdiel may make an overt move for the eight if there were a connection, General Droggon offered.

Even though I believe the moment is one of certain success, we've never tried transports for this many at once, General Cabra objected.

General Droggon quickly countered, That's a concern. It's an unknown. Keeping them together is problematic, but with more support than usual, I'm certain eight—or maybe even more—would make it.

Double the transporters and the troops. General Cabra, are you able to do this? Droggon taunted.

Yes. I think so, with enough troops.

"Good. Make sure it's done. Abdiel must be lured in. Remember, there will be pain. General Cabra, work out the details. This faction is over."

As the lot made their way toward the mammoth doors, tall gnarly creatures began to open them, while Rex Sindar said as he walked, "Remember, the Remover will deal with Abdiel or whoever gets in the way, perhaps even some Flow Born. The Remover came through the Flow as did Abdiel. Others saw her leave it, like our Silent One here."

While smiling back at General Cabra, Sindar continued, "Our Remover may need to prepare and adapt to additional discomfort, we may too. I'm sure this won't be easy. Prepare accordingly."

General Cabra bowed his head toward Sindar and proceeded through the quickly closing doors but managed a whisper to General Nari and the Silent One, There's no getting used to it, the discomfort, the pain.

You seem concerned about something else, interjected the Silent One.

General Cabra first glanced at General Nari and then settled his eyes on the Silent One. Nari moved on. Then glancing toward Sindar, Cabra asked, How many settings have you been with us now?

Three thousand eight hundred and eighty-eight.

Hmm. You've probably never heard a certain name mentioned here because it's…it's…unsettling to all of us, but especially to those of us who have greater power, especially to Sindar and some others.

What's the name?

Pur—

In midword, a long display spear cut through the air and pinned General Cabra's left arm to the wall. The Silent One looked down the corridor to see Sindar quickly advancing. The Silent One considered extracting the spear but decided against it.

I've made it clear. Don't ever mention that name in this realm, said Sindar. "Do I make myself pointedly clear, General?"

Yes, replied the general through clenched teeth, now grasping some weight of the spear.

Good. Sindar turned and walked a few steps, turned around again, walked toward the two but held the Silent One's eyes for a moment and cautioned, You too. You don't want to speak that name. That name and its sole possessor have stood in our way from the start. I—we—repudiate his hand over us. His form and being are the source of all pain—for all of us and you! It is the Flow Born and Earth Born that remind us of him. We get to him through them. And that passage—that hole in the ground—the Vortex. What a foolish and silly hole. It detests us as much as those just named. If we destroy or render that inoperative, the one behind it and the Appeared Ones will need an alternative passage, a surface route, for instance—a route with fewer reminders of the unnamed one, General, Rex Sindar emphasized as he peered at General Cabra, who tipped his head yes two times, not making a sound.

Sindar paused for a few moments, still burning hot his stare that shouted directly toward the Silent One. He then softened his tone, lowered his volume, and continued, But you're different, aren't you? You've joined us. Your allegiance and success with us erases the disgusting. Sindar smiled. The Silent One smiled back. Sindar gave him a nod, turned around, and continued on again but added, with his back still turned away, With the general, you must get both the Earth Born and Flow Born, and either destroy that long-standing Flow Born distraction or make the hole inutile.

Sindar stopped several paces from the two, turned, and said, Silent One, don't even hesitate. You would then become as all Flow Born to us. Rex Sindar quickly spun around, turned a corner, and was gone.

The Silent One turned back toward General Cabra and jerked the spear free. He tried to help further, but General Cabra rebuffed the aid. It was then that the Silent One noticed the absence of blood. Somehow tendons and bone were still visible, and some healing had slowly begun, but no blood.

That pain was minimal. I don't need your help. I've experienced far worse, and so will you.

General…I caught enough. I've heard the name, sundry times in Zotaeon and elsewhere.

"Good. I don't need to go through that again. But remember this, Kunarion, Sindar and others expect practiced obduracy against all those associated with the Flow. Why? Because they practice all which stands against us—even their dwellings become more invasive to us—most of all, that obtrusive Vortex. We carry out their desires—their orders—no matter the pain. You've passed previous assignments. This is your assignment—your first significant order. You've shown competence. Now carry on." And Cabra was gone.

The Silent One now knew there were two more considerations, maybe more.

The second one that needed the light listened and watched the exchange to conclusion. She, the Listener, needed light there, like the Silent One. But she co-opted his light; he knew this.

Chapter 1

The Rough Way

Whine, thud, thud.

Whine, thud, thud.

Whine, thud, thud.

The tires of Cejay Bridge's hybrid explorer met each trench mound as regular as a drummer's repetitive triplets. The momentary whine of the electric motor sounded for three seconds when he crossed the solar field's perpendicular roads. His direction—west. He liked to get where he needed to go—and fast too, if possible.

At this moment, his service truck was nearly drained, so quick shortcuts through the solar power plant's mirror field—the Looking Glass—were possible and necessary. Just as he crossed some recently dug trench mounds, his securely mounted two-way radio stretched its mouth for exactly two seconds as it delivered white noise and then said, Cejay! Why don't you hurry your DNA back here so we can play a round of Sheepshead?

With a wry smile and timely rebuff, Cejay retorted, Toby! Sheepshead? Now you know I don't get into all that trump and stuff. Games like that excite me about as much as a hill of sand, and we have plenty of that out here, don't we? Although I admit, I'd like to return faster and maybe try a hand or two. But I know how rude you'd be—oh, so ready to beat me down as the master gamer you are.

Toby Lester, operations engineer, smiled through the receiver, in a singsong tone, and said, "Oh, don't come back to me with that vocative play. You know the game is just a game, and it's good to mix with people more."

So this time, it's not just you and I but others too?

As much as I'd like to focus on you for a change—now that you've earned your master's and appear more relaxed—I know it's probably still not going to happen. And why? ‘Because I'm married to my work, and I need to raise my son.' Hey! The kid's sixteen now. He can take care of himself.

Toby stood five feet eight inches tall, appeared not quite thin but had well-defined muscles, long brown wavy hair, and strong cheekbones that help point onlookers toward her deep brown eyes and warmly toned skin. She's part Native American. Her graduate degree in systems operations and efficiencies helped her to quickly become the lead operations engineer of Solaron, a large solar electricity plant, after the previous engineer moved on. It seems that her predecessor needed a change from the solar collection field and its many self-aiming mirrors that she now concerned herself with. Like this day, she usually wore a pair of fashion jeans, flat shoes (because she stood for long periods of time), a light-colored high-cut top, and a long-sleeved and long-tailed sweater for those times when the air was set too low. Her main social media page was loaded with pictures of family and friends getting together, with an occasional caption to give viewers context. She liked people involvement. Cejay's social media page included many pictures of his son, some of other relatives, and an occasional friend; but there were a lot of work pics. He interacted with his son a lot, but his work craft was up there in his preoccupations too.

It's true, Toby, said Cejay. I'm married to my work and committed to my son.

I don't see a ring on your finger, which, for you, should indicate a work-related vow, but yes, I do see your son here, Toby said.

I'm glad you brought him up with just a little push from me. He is a priority. And besides, the age gap between us is too great. But if you'd like, just to show you that I'm not totally an introvert work beast or a single-focused engineer, Santos and I are meeting this Friday night, June 15, at 6:30 p.m. for some real good pizza at The Big Saucepan.

Toby's eyes followed a plume of dust starting down the slope that eventually stretched alongside the Solaron solar field fencing. She picked up the binoculars and roared, No, Cejay, I see your son right now.

Surprised, Cejay questioned, Dave? You see Dave right now?

Yep. And he's driving faster than you. That's clear from this observation deck. Usually he's weaving the ATV back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. Toby put her hands on each side of her head as she spoke into the headset microphone and said, "Hmm. Makes my head hurt. He seems to be a kid with a target, maybe you."

Cejay thought for a moment and remembered why his son chose to meet him here, now. I know what he wants. I didn't sign his final driver's application form before I left the house this morning.

Dave was born nearly three years after his parents married. Dave's mother was almost twenty-one when she had him, and Cejay was, then, almost twenty-two. The future husband and wife met while attending Rock Ridge High School in Cleburne, Texas. Cejay, now as a single parent, raised Dave on his own since he turned ten. As with most single parents, many challenges pressed upon Cejay, especially while attending graduate school for electrical engineering. Although he occasionally saw his ex on social media sites, Cejay had not contacted her since the electrical charge between them diminished. Still Cejay had high expectations for Dave because it was Cejay's grandfather and grandmother that set high goals for Cejay. Driving at age sixteen would have been a distraction for Cejay, at least his grandfather felt that way. And besides, Grandpa believed that any additional independence that a driver's license might have afforded him would have given Cejay an additional distraction in accomplishing expectations or perhaps life's greater needs.

Cejay's new girlfriend was a distraction. He only passively rebelled at times; he didn't want to hurt the ones who raised him after the death of his parents. He carefully studied academic pursuits and worked meager jobs as best he could. Cejay told part of this story to Dave.

Toby lamented, My dad passed away when I was thirteen. My mom said that I couldn't drive because we didn't have the upkeep and insurance money. From the sacrifices my mom made, I knew it was true. I don't think that's your reason here. Toby locked her owl-like spectacles on a nearby counter mount and then saw enough of Dave's face. "I'd say from the intensity of his drive and faintly observed expression, he's seriously engaged. I think the missiles are ready." She then took a low glance at a security monitor that produced a high resolution image of the determined traveler.

Softly, he added, You lost your dad…when you were thirteen. I'm sorry that happened to you.

Thanks, she said.

Glancing down for a moment, Cejay asked, How long until he gets here?

ETA for this dust trail is about fifteen minutes, which includes passing over Rock Ridge, Plate Plateau, Reflective Ravine, and Downhill Drag. All four are known collectively as the Quad. Passing through our own security might quickly slow him down, you know? Aah, he's just about to pass the northwest corner of the Looking Glass Field, just where you came from.

Fifteen minutes. Good, I just got on the main service road. I should be there in less than five. Just before he was to make his final push, Cejay noticed a dark shadow over one-third of the Rock Ridge wall. The shadow's appearance seemed to have even darker shadows within the larger shadow, but the smaller shadows were shimmering or moving, but decidedly. Similarly the nonshadowed portion appeared white with smaller and brighter portions of white within them, but the smaller white portions were likewise shimmering or moving. Both shadows appeared almost human at times but distorted. That's the strangest mirage I've ever seen. Maybe it's heat radiation…combined with my speed. Just then, the paved road appeared.

Now with a smooth roadbed, Cejay pushed on the accelerator a little more than usual, hoping that his batteries held out. This time, he drove straight and true. He didn't even try to hit any vermin crossing the road. He just thought about last night and the talk he had with his son.

Dad, this Completion Driving Application form needs your signature to get the real license tomorrow. I can get there after my summer martial arts class finishes at three, stressed Dave in a calm but direct tone.

Dave respected his dad, even loved him, though his parents weren't together now. Still there was a time that just flashed through his mind as a moment when he did not love his dad. Strange! The event concerned his sister, Codie, when she was eight and he was eleven, an event, a moment, which seemed almost out of a work of fiction rather than reality. He loved his sister, Codie; she was his little sister—he wanted to protect her. Perhaps he got that desire from his mom. He briefly hated his dad because he had hurt her. She had a pet rabbit that was old and sick. He clearly remembered the scene.

Eight-year-old Codie focused on the Ford's dome light. Her much older brother of eleven zoned in on her but then grasped the Touch in his hand again; he even used his left hand to steady himself. Suddenly the rustle of leaves shook the occupants loose and was an excuse to breathe, even say something. Codie continued to make the light more real but dimmer.

I'll bet there's a squirrel high up in your oak tree there, said her friend Lorie. Your dad ought to aim the pellet gun up that way.

Mom almost hollered out, How long could this possibly take your father? I'm turning on the radio. What do you three want to hear? We're not going anywhere this way. Let the music take us for a ride. Dave continued to hold his Touch but not to feel the sounds it made. The distance inside the explorer was greater now. Dad shot it through the cage; everything appeared different then. Everyone turned toward young Codie. Their eyes were at their widest. On her.

Dave remembered that scene vividly. He wondered how much Lorie remembered.

She's fourteen now, he thought. Codie mentioned that Lorie—a true animal lover—said that she'd remember the whole event for years, until she was older than that rabbit Kunaria was in human years, Lorie later told Codie. She probably can't send that memory out the front door of her mind as Codie and I can't boot it out of ours. Important experiences like that aren't forgotten, Dave thought. But maybe I have a lot to learn yet.

Now he was annoyed—not angry or hateful. He had learned to control his thoughts, his actions, even his mouth better. Where'd he learn this? His father, his father had changed, especially over the last three years. Like his father, he simply became annoyed more often. He'd learned over those three or so years that it's just better to be polite with his dad. Sternness, rudeness, or disrespectfulness didn't get him anywhere. He learned that the hard roadway was the wrong roadway. Inside he wanted to rant, but practice and experience taught him better. His uncle Pete, martial arts instructors, and others taught him this too. It worked. They also taught him to remember the times as well as situations when his dad helped him. Still on the inside, sometimes, he wanted to expel nuclear stress, nuclear disgust, and nuclear anger. But that explosion just killed everyone around. Dave prepared to listen to his father's talk.

Setting his evening coffee down on the kitchen counter, Cejay emphasized, You know the responsibility. If you mess up, an accident or physical injury could affect your whole future. He picked up his coffee again. And he began to speak. Further— But he was cut off with a slightly raised voice.

"Dad, the ATV is more dangerous than a car. And we've been through all that before. You know that when it comes to responsibility, I'm more responsible than ever, especially since starting high school. It was rough after you and Mom made your decision. Now look—

"I'm always involved in at least one after-school activity. I've almost always taken the garbage out to our dumpster, yes?"

Thanks for not tossing it from the second floor into the Brenton dumpster, said his dad.

I've often volunteered for extra projects at school and here too. I've even come to work with you and done homework and some work for you.

But, son, you have often gotten paid from either me or Solaron, replied his dad.

"I've been saving money for a decent car and college tuition. And I've kept all my grades at Bs or better, and they're mostly better."

"Wait. I remember you earning a C+ in Ms. Carr's class," said his dad.

Dave groaned a little on his dad's last retort and said, Remember that was the one music class that I've ever taken, and it was you who insisted that I take it like you had? What was your grade again?

Silence.

Okay. I'll surrender that point, said his dad.

Although the pace of the conversation picked up, Dave kept calm, thinking back over the past three years. He brought the pace back to normal and said, Dad. I even got a new job at Carson's, which pays better and has a couple more hours a week. Besides my grades are up more this past semester. Another thought, pulled from his brain's rim, exploded. "And as far as the danger thing goes, it's not like you played chess and ping-pong in high school. And besides, danger—how do you explain allowing me to take martial arts lessons for the past five years?"

It's the chance and benefit stuff, Dave. Cejay then set his coffee down, picked up the form, and studied it for a few seconds. Okay. Let me look at it more closely after I finish a few e-mails tonight, and I'll consider…sign it, I mean.

With a look of concern and with a sound of slightly clenched teeth, Dave asserted, Dad! I know you want me to apply for the High School Apprenticeship Program. And I will—right after I acquire my driver's license and I begin my junior year. A lot of my friends will be applying at the same time. Also as I know you know, that's the year that most students take and succeed in the program anyway.

His father was not directly looking or holding the form anymore, but he kept spinning it on the countertop with his fingers, thinking. Then he said, Okay. That sounds a lot better.

I need it signed before you leave for work in the morning.

Dave looked at his dad for a few moments, glanced at his phone's text messages, and said to him, I need to get going.

Glancing at the clock on the wall, his dad said, Wait. Wait. Wait. Where are you going tonight?

"Remember, I spoke with you about this a week ago? An anniversary rerelease of Back to the Future is showing at the Times Cinema."

His dad nodded yes and said, Good movie. How could I forget? As you know, it's been one of my favorite movies and subjects for a long time. Of course there's the usual paradox, the father-son and death dilemma was a great idea to base a story on, but reality and logic say—

I know, Dad. You've mentioned it at least once or twice or three or four or a whole lot more times. Besides, said Dave, I hear you talking about time-shifts on the phone or at home with an occasional friend who's willing to listen.

Do I talk about it that much?

While scooping up his phone charger from the kitchen counter, he said, "There isn't enough time to discuss it now. I need to get going to that movie."

Waving his hand as if he was lightly brushing dust from a tabletop, Cejay replied, Go. I'll look at this form in a short while.

Thanks, Dad. Just leave the form where I can find it. And please don't forget.

Cejay slid the form under a placemat and smiled at his son, but Dave strolled over to his dad and slid the form from under the mat and smiled back.

And what time will you be home?

Midnight. Maybe just a little later if we decide to feed the voices in our stomachs.

Good, but make sure a little later is no longer than 12:30 a.m.

Yeah. Yeah. And with that, Dave was out the door.

That was yesterday, but now Cejay's Solaron service truck just pulled into the parking port. Cejay liked making business and engineering decisions, but he didn't like making this one. He knew Dave was right; the promise to apply to the HSAP was assuring.

Just before entering the Solaron service truck facility, Cejay stopped and looked past thousands of solar mirrors, Quad Ridge, and much of Deventon beside him. He exclaimed, This place is a great hole of decision. Rock Ridge paths, solar field roads, and electrical pathways require choices.

*****

Aleece Lozan, not Millie Montag.

With her back pressed tightly against the northern wall of her room, Aleece slid down to a seated position and trod upon every word; the soles of her eyes ached from stepping, stumbling, and staying on ideas, new and old. If she could take ideas, stories, and explanations in through her toes, through osmosis, she would have. Books broke barriers, and her eyes—not her toes—would have to do. All information is new to the pupil, to the student, to the eye, to the eager one. What got then-thirteen-year-old Aleece reading, thinking, and expressing? Mr. Cielo, her eighth grade English teacher. What exactly catches the attention of a middle school student is not always apparent, but maybe it was his humor and seriousness, his specific questions and partial answers that needed her ideas. He actually refused to tell the class some answers, even her.

He'd say, Check it out yourself, if you really care.

She tried to check out everything. Savannah, a school friend, even asked her, Why do you read so much? Have a little fun maybe!

"I read to understand.

"Why and how is there an earth?

"Why and how is there a universe?

"Why and how is there air?

"Why and how are there animals?

"Why and how are there people?

"Why and how are people so difficult?

"Why and how do we look as we do?

"Why and how do some people believe or not believe in God?

"Why and how do people try to do great things when most would rather watch TV or go to a movie?

"Why and how do people grow up in poverty, why others do not?

"Why and how can that be fair?

"Why and how can fair be considered fair?

"Why and how do we steal, lie, cheat, curse, insult, and even waste time?

"Why and how are there evil and good?

"Why and how is there time?

"Why and how is there anything?

And why don't you ask a lot of questions?

Savannah just looked at Aleece for a good long time—twenty-three seconds. She took two bites of an apple during that life span and finally said, Does Mr. Cielo have anything to do with this?

Or it may have been Mr. Cielo's demeanor, his smile that got her to read. Aleece did not know what staid her mind; Aleece was not exactly sure what it was to that day, but it happened. Her attention left her for a brief moment during her sophomore year when she met a junior boy, who, like herself, had goals, had ambition, and had fun. Still somehow, she survived the relationship, and she eventually learned to control both the senses and sentences of her life. She had help. Her European American father and Native American mother did that.

After high school, she married, had children and earned major and minor degrees in English and forensic investigative science. Her daughter was thirteen years old. After teaching English in a small Midwestern city of 14,000, she was unexpectedly offered a teaching position in her home state of Texas where she'd teach both English and general forensics to juniors and seniors at East Mountain Academy, in Deventon, Texas. Deventon had a population of 30,888 and was a city and town surrounded by desert but possessing a large aquifer for its vegetation. The English class was understandable, expected. But why would a high school want forensic analysis? The principal and school board saw the course as a good way to motivate the students in critical thinking skills. They could examine the evidence and apply the procedures, the logic. The job offer came through a popular career search site near the end of May, which gave her time to plan before June. Even her daughter, Codie, said, Let's go, when first asked about leaving friends. As far as her friends go, she said, I can social media and maybe even call them. I'll actually be with other family members that love me as much as you do. Let's pack. There was a hug. Mother and daughter agreed to keep the move off all media until the last moment. Aleece knew how to keep secrets, for a long time if she had to.

During her married years, Aleece also lived there in Texas as well as through most of her college years until Codie turned seven. Now they were home, almost. Traveling to see dad, her aunt, brother, grandpa and grandma, and who knows who else would be a lot easier for them.

Moves meant madness, no matter how organized one was, even for Aleece. That's why Jackie, Aleece's younger sister, offered to help unpack, plant, and even watch Codie while Aleece did a little room arranging and organizing at the academy, which was where Aleece was that morning.

Before you leave, make sure you fill out the general information forms. They ask for the usual such as personal contacts, nearest family, friends, license plate number, and a few other details as well, stated Mrs. Moore, the academy's principal.

I'll get the papers to the head secretary before I leave at one, said Aleece.

You need to turn them in one hour earlier because we're under summer hours.

That's right. I'll complete them right now and finish some organizing maybe next week. Besides I need to take care of a few errands. I need to pick up my daughter, Codie, and her aunt, Jackie, sometime between two and three from the water park along Highway 3, said Aleece.

Water Time? said Principal Moore.

That's it.

I've been there many times with my family and friends. It's a great place to spend a day and enjoy a few laughs. The waterslides are amazing, and the pools are fun too. You should try it out. I'm sure you'll enjoy it.

I plan on it. Maybe in a week or two. Once the major concerns are taken care of. Water Time was not around the last time I was here.

Good. Everyone needs a little rest. We just don't know when something might unexpectedly happen, and then new concerns override our rest times, remarked Julie Moore.

Hopefully the unexpected are good events.

Ah. An optimist.

Well, I try to be a realist. Life is filled with good and bad. It's just that the bad seems to take a lot more time to fix than the time we're able to enjoy the good.

That sounds too thought-provoking for this hot day. I'd go to the waterpark and rest—or enjoy—that thought if I were you, said Julie with a smile.

"I'd like to, but I promised Codie and Jackie that we'd go out for dinner. My sister says she knows just the place. The three of us need to really see one another and catch up on a few laughs…mostly. Texting and video chat are great, but talking face-to-face is better."

"Good laughs, they're needed. Then I'll really see you next week sometime. I hope you have a good time, Aleece." And with that, Julie headed for the door.

Just after Julie left, Aleece brought to mind some of the good and bad events in her life. Those thoughts were ephemeral. She knew that if she dwelt too long on those events right now, she'd lose track of the clock and need to alter her plans and drive directly home. Instead she organized the school's server thoughtfully. Then after placing a Lewis Carol book and a couple of others in her teacher's bag, she closed and locked the classroom door. It was now 11:45 a.m. as she dropped off the requested forms. She headed toward her first stop, a local women's rodeo club.

It had been a long time since Aleece had competed in any rodeo events, since the spring of her junior year in college. She had begun reading about specific areas of rodeo—safer practices rather than those areas that invite danger—like wild animal roping. But still, bronc fascinated her. Reading wasn't enough, unfortunately. She knew that experience was the best teacher, and since she had moved back to Texas and found a place right on Rodeo Road, joining a rodeo club seemed to make sense. Well, at least her younger sister, Jackie Regan, encouraged her to pursue the sport again. The rodeo was located between their two homes, only ten miles apart. A perfect arrangement.

*****

Right, left, up, down.

Down, down, left, right.

A giggle, a laugh.

A laugh, a giggle.

That was great, said Codie as she and her aunt laughed and nearly slipped under the water when they exited the waterslide at Water Time. Imagine if we could do that backward.

I'm not always one for following the rules, but they say we need to go down face forward.

"No. I mean start at the bottom and go up the slide."

That would be amazing, said Jackie to her niece. We'd be in another world.

With Codie's blond hair and wet face still sopped, she suggested, Let's go down again.

No, I promised your mom that we'd be ready to go by 3:00 p.m. at the latest, and it's already 2:15 p.m., said Jackie with long black wet hair covering one eye. We need to get these slide protection suits off and get going. We'll be able to come back sometime.

Oh. ‘Sometime and Water Time.' Mom's always late.

Your mother is the most on time person I know, unlike me—but I try hard. You know, once she finishes her stops, she'll be here faster than lightning. She wants to head to the Tumble Weed Ranch for a few refresher rodeo lessons and then see both of us.

Just one more time? Besides I think she's doing it only because you talked her into it.

Codie! She's taking them because she really wants to. I only planted the thought. Her mind simply wandered to the open ring all by itself. It takes her back to a time when she was younger, just a little older than you. Codie and Jackie periodically glanced at each other as they walked toward their lockers. As they walked, the sun was still fairly high in the sky but low enough to blind their eyes. Codie began to get ready for another entreaty, and Aunt Jackie sensed it.

Why did you plant the thought?

You're quick, just like your mom. Codie smiled. I just thought your mom needed a diversion from her English classes, philosophical exercises, and life's repetition. You know? Everyone needs a little…well, physical excitement, let's say—exercise.

I'm concerned that Mom is going to spend more time with the rodeo than me. There's also the danger of the sport.

It'll take some time, that's true. But hasn't she always made time for you, a lot more than your father did? The danger—she knows her age, don't worry.

Yeah, she's spent good time with me. As best she can. But please don't criticize my dad. He tried and, most times, came through. And with Mom, the summertime is when we're supposed to make up for time apart during the school year. Aunt Jackie! She's my mom, you know?

She'll still make time for you, and so will I.

Thanks. That's nice, but I'm still concerned.

I don't think you have anything to worry about. Hey, wait! I just thought of something else. What if you took rodeo lessons too?

You mean we could be together more?

Perceptive. Jackie smiled. Why not?

I'm thirteen, and I've never ridden a horse before… Well, there was the time a few years ago at the state fair, but that was with one of those small grassy areas that keep the horse and rider going in one direction—not very exciting.

Kids younger than you ride in the rodeo all the time. Besides you're athletic as it is, with your soccer and other school activities. You seem to have a lot of confidence, I think, because you're not afraid to fail. Why don't you ask your mom? But think a little about it first. I'll bet your mom would go for it. Also it's probably no more dangerous than soccer.

"What's it