Dr. Rayella Louise Bridgewaters gazed deeply into the computer screen, sandy eyebrows knitted over violet blue eyes, a prominent, upturned nose. Bare elbows rested against bare knees while the last rays of sunlight beat relentlessly through the lab window, highlighting her riot of curly red hair. Although she tried to keep it tied back neatly, a few maverick strands stubbornly pulled free to cascade around her face. "Locked up again," she muttered out loud to no one, shoving the curls back on her head. And damn, was it just her imagination, or were summers getting hotter?  

"Hey, Ray, how's the sample DNA analysis going?" said a pleasant male voice behind her.  

Rayella jerked her chair around. "Oh, Ed, you startled me!" Her shoulders slumped under the white lab jacket she'd worn over shorts, tee shirt, and sandals. She laughed.  

"Sorry. I came by to see if you wanted to go eat supper." Tall, lanky Ed Williams leaned over the tangled red hair to look at the monitor. "How's it going?"  

The sandy eyebrows relaxed, the violet eyes turned to rest on her colleague. Wearing a white lab jacket over a short sleeve Henley and khaki's, his long, dark brown hair hanging over impish brown eyes, which now smiled into hers, Ed was one of her favorite people in the whole world. The thought flashed through her mind, as it had many times before, that she had been blessed in her life. A job she loved, well, usually, good friends to share with. She and Ed had met in college at a guest lecture. They both stayed afterwards to grill the lecturer, and had argued all the way back to the Union about the role of genetic engineering in the future of medicine. They both won scholarships and ended up with the same major professor, Dr. Rachel Burns, who led her research group to the forefront of DNA research, genetic engineering, and cloning. And that's the way it was between them, intense competition and camaraderie, one of them, usually Ed, always nipping at the other's heels right across the finish line. In the lab Ray was in her element, pioneering research into the forbidden, and the unthinkable, in quest of answers for humanity.  

"I'm going to have to run more of the DNA sample we collected at the crime scene. Something must've gone wrong with the assay. Old Hal here," she tapped the stalled computer lightly with plain, but well-groomed fingers, "just doesn't know what to do with it."  

Now it was Ed's turn to frown. He knew Ray's assays didn't usually go wrong, especially with such valuable material. If she was having trouble with the computer, whatever was confusing 'old Hal', wasn't going to be easy to track down.  

Brushing the straight brown hair away from his eyes, he said, "I wrapped up the cloning experiment with Hammer's group today. I can put in some time tonight if you need some help."  

He paused to observe a grateful nod of assent. "Say, have you heard anything from Rachel yet?"  

"No," Ray said quietly. They were both getting a little concerned. After graduation they had followed Rachel Burns to Wells Pharmaceutical to work in the research division. Five days ago Rachel had abruptly left on a trip to do some urgent research, and to confer with some colleagues. She was very excited when she left. No one had heard from her since.  

Uneasily, Ray thought of the sampling site. It was a serial killer's graveyard, in reality a clearing in Bishop's woods next to an old wooden shack. The police unearthed body parts and skeletal remains all over the place - male, female, young, old. When she'd followed Rachel and the police lab personnel into the shack, there were cast iron pots and skillets, and curiously, neatly sorted piles of various articles of clothing. A pile of eye glasses over here, assorted sizes. Over there a stack of shoes. In the corner, women's purses. In a closet, dolls and teddy bears.  

"They say he ate the hearts of his victims," one of the lab assistants murmured.  

Rayella had tried not to think too much about the poor victims or the predator/thing who had lived here, as she helped collect samples. It was too disturbing. But she couldn't help overhearing some of the talk.  

"One of the witnesses thinks he saw this guy in Harry's Bar and Grill in Chambersburg last week. Says he picked up a guitar that happened to be lying on a table. Says anything they heard on the radio or jukebox, this guy would play it exactly. So the bartender asks him how many years he's been playing. Well, this guy gets up, says he's never even seen one of these before. Throws the guitar down and walks out."  

Then for a moment, at the police station, she and Rachel actually found themselves face to face with the alleged perpetrator. He was heavily chained, between two guards, medium height, sturdy build, long blond hair, gray eyes. Ray had heard his name was Lynch. He lunged forward at Rachel and screamed, "You're going to die! You're all going to die!" and fought the guards the whole way back to the cell block, almost breaking free.  

That was one day when her job was a real downer, although the research project was interesting in itself: classifying DNA samples from serial killers into a computer database and searching it for genetic similarities.  

With a deep sigh, she was back in the present. "Let's get out of here for a while, Ed. Lord knows I need some fresh air."  

That night and the next two days were spent trouble-shooting the system. No luck. And still no word from Rachel. They reran the assay. Hal still locked up. They arranged with the prison officials to get a hair sample from the unwilling Lynch and ran another meticulous assay. Hal locked up. So then they ran known normal samples and known abnormal samples against the database. Hal crunched right through them without a problem. Hal wasn't really old. He'd just joined the lab this summer, a Pentium 200 processor from Gateway.  

After an almost 24 hour shift, Ray leaned wearily against a counter. "I'm going to take a coffee break. Then I'll come back and rerun these samples. What time is it anyway - day or night?"  

"That's what I like about you, and what I hate about you," Ed commented wryly.  

"What?"  

"You are the most persistent human being I ever met. You drove me crazy in graduate school. You just never let go of something until you get an answer."  

Rayella looked sheepish. "I keep thinking about all those poor people in that clearing."  

"You know," Ed reflected. "I think this is really a software problem we're fighting. Why don't you gather up the whole database and these samples and have them run through a generic statistical package on the Paragon parallel processing super computer at the University? Maybe we're just hitting up against some software limitations on the Pentium database package."  

Ray suddenly felt a second surge of energy. "That's the best idea I've heard all day! Thanks, Ed, you amaze me sometimes!"  

When Rayella came to work the next morning, the building had been broken into, the monkeys were out of their cages, and the entire west lab had been trashed, including Rachel's office.  

And there was still no word from Rachel.  

Chris Archer followed Dr. Browning into the lab that morning to see Rayella sitting on the floor with her back against the main cabinet, bare legs and sandaled toes sticking out from under a white lab frock, red hair streaming around her face, wide violet eyes, with dark circles underneath them, staring blankly at the floor. Broken glass and equipment were scattered everywhere. Ed Williams was kneeling down beside her.  

"Dr. Bridgewaters," said Dr. Browning, "This is Chris Archer from the FBI. He's come to talk you about Dr. Burns." Dr. Browning was head pharmacist and Director of the research division.  

Giving the two men an annoyed look, Ed turned Ray's head to look her full in the face. "You sure you feel up to this?" he asked gently.  

She nodded. "It's about Rachel, Ed."  

She handed Ed a jewel case with a shiny gold CD in it. Thank God she'd burned Hal's files into a new CD and taken it home to work on last night.  

Chris Archer's expressionless blue eyes followed it quickly.  

"Can you run this over to the University Computing Center? They're expecting me."  

"Sure, Ray." Ed slipped the CD into his pocket and nodded to the two men as he walked out the door.  

Ray saw Chris Archer just as he took his eyes from the CD, and turned them on her. There was something she'd forgotten in all the horrors of that day at the police station. She'd seen him there. He was walking through the station with several police officers, just as Lynch was being dragged away. Chris looked like a FBI man, she thought. Clean cut, short blond hair, starched shirt, dark tie. About 5' 11", sturdy build. Blue eyes that seemed cold and analytical. She remembered at the police station their eyes had locked for a moment. Ray'd even tried to look away, but couldn't keep from returning his gaze. There was an eerie quality in the encounter that made the hairs raise on the back of her neck. But then his blue eyes unexpectedly sparkled, and he'd smiled down at her as he walked by, almost close enough to smell her perfume. She'd turned and watched him walk away, and he looked back at her.  

Now, as she rose slowly, he stepped quickly over to offer a hand. Taking it, she said quietly, "Hi, I'm Ray Bridgewaters. What can I do for you?"  

"Hello, Ray." He sounded concerned. "I hate to bother you right now, but Dr. Burns was working on some collaborative genetic research for the FBI - I'm sorry...can you tell me what, if anything, is missing from -"  

"We haven't heard from Rachel for ten days!" Ray blurted out. "Do you guys know where she is? Is her research the cause of what happened here last night?"  

Chris smiled wryly. "I'm not at liberty to discuss Dr. Burns' research with you, Ray." Then he sighed. "No, we don't know Dr. Burns' whereabouts." He looked around at the wrecked lab. "This must be very hard on you."  

Ray suddenly realized he still had her hand and drew it back. He seemed reluctant to release it.  

The ensuing three-hour search didn't turn up much - except a missing file section in the filing cabinet under the heading, "Anomalies."  

"Genetic anomalies happen frequently," Ray said, back in the lab. "They're one time occurrences that can't be duplicated."  

She paused to listen to a song that was coming in over Wells' PA system. Her face broke into a smile.  

"Oh, I just love Neil Diamond!"  

Chris looked up from Hal's workstation.  

"My mom raised us on his music," Rayella continued. She was leaning over an open drawer, her red curls tumbling forward to hide most of her face. "Told us she fell in love with that ragged, wistful voice when she was just twelve years old."  

"I've always liked his music too," Chris admitted quietly. He looked at Rayella almost shyly as he gathered up the remains of Hal to take back to the FBI lab. "We've got special technology and hardware for recovering damaged hard drives. I'll let you know what we find out."  

"OK." Ray watched him leave. She'd noticed his eyes, so disturbingly void of ? when she first saw him that day at the police station, were sparkling again. "He IS kind of a fox," she decided, then couldn't help smiling to herself at the thought.  

Getting home that night was a welcome relief for Rayella. Half way up the steps to her loft apartment in a converted warehouse, she could hear Buddy meowing plaintively. "Hey, Sweet Face," she said, opening the door. He started purring the minute he was in her arms, and prilled and trilled to her in various little tones. "Lucky for you, you ended up on my door step," she told him. No one else would have put up with him. Strong, wiry, and unpredictable, snuggling up to you one minute, and turning on you the next, he wasn't well suited to being a house cat, but then, how much damage could he do climbing the brick walls of her apartment? And he was gorgeous, extra long white whiskers, big yellow eyes, and a long, gray, fluffy coat so soft to touch, a white breast, and fat paws with white tipped toes. Ray'd decided he must be part bobcat.  

She drifted off to sleep that night, Buddy sitting on her chest, purring. Sometime during the night, a dream jerked her awake. As she lay there, Rayella put her finger on the eerie feeling she'd had on her first encounter with Chris Archer at the police station. It was like looking into Buddy's big yellow eyes...she loved having him, but at the same time, she was glad she wasn't the size of a mouse. An involuntary shudder suddenly went down her spine.  

When Ed Williams arrived at work the next day, he found a stunned Rayella tracing through very thick green bar computer printouts, the gold CD lying next to them.  

"Ed," she hissed, "come on in, shut the door. These results are impossible."  

"Let me see." He sat there a long time, silently, flipping page after page. Finally he looked up at her. "No wonder Hal choked on this.  

"But, Ed, how could a new species evolve so quickly?"  

"Global warming," Ed said. "Don't you remember Rachel teaching that climate changes could accelerate genetic mutations?"  

They stared at each other.  

The image of Bishop's woods leaped vividly into Ray's mind and she closed her eyes. "Looks like we just got bumped down the food chain."  

Ed nodded. "Rachel Burn's favorite corollary to Darwin's axiom of the survival of the fittest - If two species adapt to the same habitat, one species will destroy the other. It's a biological imperative."  

"If that were completely true, there wouldn't be a food chain," Ray replied.  

Ed shrugged, "How do you explain what happened with Neanderthal and Cro-Magnon?"  

They were both silent.  

"Look, maybe we're getting ahead of ourselves." Ed stood up and stretched his long frame. "If this is a single occurrence, it's a genetic anomaly, not a species."  

Ray pulled out ahead of him, "We need more samples, if there were other databases we could tap into, see if anyone else has found a match..."  

That afternoon, Ray made arrangements with Federal prisons near Miami, Florida, Los Angeles, California, and Terre Haute, Indiana to upload their databases to the University's ftp site. She picked up the results the next day, deciding not to wait for Ed, who was away doing field work with Hammer's group again. Turned out to be a good thing, because just as she was leaving the Computing Center, the power went down all over campus.  

"Damn," said the computer consultant. "Somebody probably ran into that telephone pole again. Last time, the RAID arrays were fried. We'll probably be here all night trying to get the servers back up. I keep telling these clowns to put 'em on an Uninterruptible Power Supply."  

The phone rang just as Ray finished leafing through the thick green bar report.  

"Hello, Rayella Bridgewaters."  

"Ray, this is Chris Archer. Are you all right? Your voice sounds strange."  

"I'm fine."  

"Listen, we've gotten word from Dr. Burns. She's OK, Ray, but she's asked us to meet her on Romney Road, by the old Carter Works. I thought you'd want to come along." There was silence on the other end.  

"Ray, are you sure everything's all right?"  

"Yes. When does she want us to meet her?"  

"How soon can you get away from the lab?"  

"I'll meet you out front in an hour."  

"Great, oh, and Ray?"  

"Yes?"  

"She wants you to bring with you any information you have related to the Lynch Peters' crime scene."  

"OK, Chris, see you in an hour." Ray laid down the receiver, and looked at the green bar report lying on her lap. On impulse she picked up the phone and dialed the Wells operator. "This is Rayella Bridgewaters. Can you get me the central number for the FBI?"  

When Chris Archer drove up to Well's front entrance, it was starting to rain. Rayella Bridgewaters was nowhere to be seen. He waited a few minutes, parked the car and walked up to Wells' central information desk in the lobby. Today he was wearing a gray trench coat over his dark suit.  

"Can you call Dr. Bridgewaters and tell her Chris Archer is here?"  

Lackadaisically, the receptionist dialed Ray's extension. It rang through to Dr. Browning's secretary who said, "Dr. Bridgewaters left a few minutes ago and won't be back the rest of the day." When the receptionist looked up from her phone, Chris Archer was gone.  

Chris Archer's car peeled out of the Wells Pharmaceuticals' driveway like a bat out of hell. But Ray's car was nowhere in sight. "Damn it, Ray!" he thought at her, "Don't you know you can't fight this? It's evolution!" And damn these...these...intrusive sensations that kept bubbling up unbidden inside him! What the hell were they anyway... He knew what they'd be called in humans - anger, anguish, affection, pity. Feelings? Well, whatever they were, they shouldn't be happening!  

"Lynch wouldn't be having any trouble right now," he thought. As he sped toward Ray's apartment, his face went blank. Deep within his blue eyes, a sentience looked out that was not swayable by any human appeal of logic or agony.  

The rain came in sheets as Ray pulled on to Highway 101 - like the emotions sweeping over her, wild excitement, grief, and fear. And questions, so many questions. A new species of hominoid! The first time in evolution's history when the species involved were actually conscious of it. The human race could learn so much from this. She wondered if Neanderthal and Cro-Magnon had shared a common language. One thing she knew for certain. No one named Chris Archer worked for the FBI. And deep down inside, she knew Dr. Burns was never coming back.  

She grabbed her cellular phone, shaking a myriad of thoughts out of her head. There was no time to wallow in the mire. She had to get someone to take care of Buddy, she'd call the Franklins next door for that, they had the extra key, and she had to warn Ed.  

Ed's voice mail came on when she dialed his extension. As his calm, unruffled voice finished talking, she spoke into the receiver. "Ed, this is Ray. Hope you won't be mad at me for not waiting. The report from the University pulled up six more matches to Lynch's DNA. Ed, I think Rachel is dead. I'm on my way to my Uncle Harvey's. Ed, get out of there - can you meet me at Uncle Harvey's? And, please, be careful!"  

Ray's Uncle Harvey lived six hours away. He'd rejected city life years before Rayella was born, preferring the privacy of the foothills and the wide-open spaces. Rayella's mother affectionately called him "Old Mountain Goat." Ray spent many summers on his farm when she was growing up, riding horses and herding cattle in the foothills.  

Ten hours later, Rayella finally reached the turn off to Uncle Harvey's farm. There had been times she could barely see the road, especially when the big semi trucks threw water against her windshield. But mostly, hers had been the only car on the road.  

"Uncle Harvey's probably gone across the river to Harpersville, or at least to Cedar Creek," she told herself. She'd take the turn to Cedar Creek. Two miles down the road, her car stalled when she tried to drive through a little dip that had been flooded.  

"Just great," she thought. "I can sit in here and drown, or I can try to walk and get swept away by a flash flood." She thought she was about a mile and a half from Cedar Creek. Reaching over the front seat, she grabbed a weatherproof backpack. She grabbed the CD jewel case from under the front seat, stuffed it into the backpack, and pulled out a fold up plastic raincoat. Finally she fished an old flashlight out of the glove compartment. The rain hit her square in the face, almost blinding her when she opened the car door and stumbled into the water. When she reached the top of the dip, she thought she saw lights in the distance. Suddenly she became aware of a powerful constriction around her throat. The pressure increased steadily and relentlessly. For a split second, she thought she heard someone shout, and that's the last thing she remembered.  

A strong, burning sensation in Rayella's nostrils suddenly jolted her awake. When she opened her eyes, she was lying flat on her back on two tables that had been pushed together in the cafe of the Sandburg Arms Hotel in Cedar Creek. Her Uncle Harvey was leaning over her solicitously, a bottle of ammonia from the kitchen in his hand.  

"There, she's awake," he said. "How're you feelin', Honey?"  

Her head hurt. Rayella leaned up weakly on her elbows. "Uncle Harv! God, I'm glad to see you! How did I get here?"  

He touched a lump on the side of her forehead. "Well, Ray, your two friends here brought you in. Evidently you were knocked unconscious," Harv answered.  

"My friends?" Ray queried uncertainly  

"Yeah, this fellow here," Harv said, pointing right behind her, "and that fellow over there."  

Ray turned around to find herself looking straight into the inscrutable blue eyes of Chris Archer. She squeezed the backpack. The CD was still there. For some reason she, no, they were all still alive.  

Then she saw the other face looking at her from the corner of the cafe. Scraggly blond hair over half shut gray eyes. It was Lynch Peters.  

George and Jeanne...  

"Uncle Harv, we need to talk. Can we go somewhere?" Ray asked plaintively.  

"Can you walk yet, Honey?" Harv inquired.  

"Yeah, my head has cleared now. I'm all right," Ray said as she rose to her feet unsteadily.  

Harv put his arm around his niece and said, "Let's go back to the kitchen."  

When they got back in the kitchen, Ray checked all around as if to make certain they were alone. Then, she spoke in a soft voice. "Uncle Harv, I really don't know how to explain it. Those two men aren't my friends. I don't know if they are friends to any of us. See, I've been doing some genetic research. These two aren't even of our species. Lynch, the guy over in the corner is a born killer. He's a serial killer of the most vicious kind.  

Well, the other one, Chris, I don't really know about him, other than he's of the same species as Lynch. There's a chance he's a born killer too. If we can go by history, every time a new species appears, the older species becomes extinct. Do you understand what I'm saying, Uncle Harv?"  

"Yeah, and I'm not really surprised. Ray, you know I've been in the survival movement for years. Everything points to the new millennium being the start of the Apocalypse. Armageddon can't be too far off. Don't you see, Ray? It's like in Revelations. Satan's own, they're supposed to be marked by the number 666. Well, everyone believes it'll be marked on them like the mark of Cain. I knew it couldn't be that simple, so now, I know. It's genetic marking indicating a whole new species. The children of Cain have come from the Land of Nod to join Satan's Army. The indicator is in the genes. The sixth gene on the sixth chromosome with the DNA sequence of six..."  

Ray looked dumbfounded. She didn't know exactly the sequence that made up the new species. She only knew there were significant enough differences to designate a completely new species. She listened as Harv rambled on. She had always known her Uncle Harv was a bit different but...Oh, well, at least he understood. It just made her feel more secure just being with him. She had always felt safe when Uncle Harv was near. She knew he was a decorated war hero, but it wasn't that. Even as eccentric as he was, there was something about her Uncle Harv that inspired confidence. He was like a cat. He always landed on his feet.  

To be written by Carol...  

Granny comes out of the back. Lucille is in labor pains. She's not doing well. The baby will have to be delivered by caesarian section. Denny says he has a monster 4x4 outside. It should be high enough to make it through the floodwaters if they leave now. Granny says she's been a nurse midwife most of her life. She'll go with Denny.  

Harv protests, says water rising rapidly.  

Denny, Lucille, Granny, and Alex O'Leary leave in Denny's RV They get within 500 yards of high ground when the engine drowns out. Denny says he was a champion swimmer in school. He says he'll swim to shore to get help. Granny tells him to hurry, Denny leaps into the water. After a while he returns with help. The group is transported to a school gymnasium, where a vet ends up delivering Lucille's baby c-section.  

George and Jeanne...  

A few more people in the coffee shop introduced themselves, then a bulletin came over the T.V. The announcer said, "This is an update on weather conditions locally, for the next several hours. The National Weather Bureau is tracking a line of strong thunderstorms that should be in our area within the next half hour. These storms have the potential of producing torrential downpours. Rainfall amounts could total three to four inches within an hour's time. This is not good news for this area that is already flooded. Officials have been opening flood gates at the Paoli Dam. However, if these storms hit as predicted, officials do not expect the dam to hold. Residents are requested to seek high ground as soon as possible. If you are unable to evacuate, it is suggested that you try to climb to your roof tops. Civil Defense and the National Guard have already been notified. They have already dispatched what assistance they can. However, in light of the imminent failure of the Paoli Dam, rescue efforts have been halted until that danger passes. We'll have updates as they occur. Residents are asked to remain calm and to keep watch for any further developments..."  

Ray observed, "Gee, I hope Granny and Lucille have made it to high ground. Otherwise, they'll be stuck in the middle of this...What are we gonna do, Uncle Harv?"  

"We need to do what they say and keep calm...Ray, you go and check on Sarge and Molly...We need to all stay together and get to the roof," Harv suggested.  

"We have a boat hooked to the Suburban," J.R. volunteered. "We can all get in it and try to boat to higher ground."  

"There's too many of us. Besides, there's a lot of stuff like tree trunks that are floating down the river. A small boat would be awfully chancy out in all that," Harv observed.  

"Besides that, have either of you ever operated a boat?" Michelle queried snidely.   

"I used to be on my college rowing team," J.R. offered innocently.  

"A row boat compared to a power boat? You've got to be kidding?" Michelle asked incredulously.  

"It's basically the same principle," J.R. responded.  

"Uh, I don't really know about that, J.R.," Harv commented as he raised his eyebrows.  

The group was quiet for a few minutes.  

Back in the kitchen, Ray found herself completely alone. She walked around a long kitchen counter and glanced down at the floor. Coming to the pantry, she put her hand on the door knob and opened it slowly.  

"Molly? Sarge?"  

She flipped on the light, and a mouse scampered across her foot and disappeared behind bin of potatoes.  

"Oh!"  

Deathlike silence returned. She breathed in very slowly, and placed one foot cautiously in front of the other. The air had closed in like a thick soup that she had to push through, as she forced herself towards the walk-in freezer. With her hand on the huge latch, she hesitated.  

"Get a grip, Ray!" she told herself, lifting the latch, and giving the heavy door a shove. It slowly swung open, revealing two bodies laying in a pool of blood, their throats slit from ear to ear.  

"Oh, my God!" She stepped inside the freezer and bent over the two corpses. They were already turning blue.  

"You can't fight this, Ray," a voice behind her said quietly.  

Wheeling around, Ray confronted the solid frame of Chris Archer outlined in the doorway. As he quickly stepped inside, she lunged forward, grabbed him by the forearms, swung around, and shoved him, as hard as she could, back into the freezer.  

"We'll fight this! We'll fight for our existence!" she exclaimed, quickly stepping outside the freezer, and slamming the door.  

She barely managed to bolt it, before Chris's sturdy shoulder rammed against it, visibly jolting it with the impact. She jumped away.  

"And you'll lose! It's evolution, Ray...it's not just about survival, it's about dominance!" The voice on the other side of the door sounded harsh, uncompromising, barely human.  

Rays heart felt as if it was going ninety miles an hour. Suddenly all the horror of the past 48 hours came down on her. She slumped against the wall, buried her head in her hands and started to weep, with deep shaking sobs.  

On the other side of the door, Chris Archer shrunk back as if he'd been struck, a look of confusion, almost panic on his face. If it weren't for a recent injury, he'd have had the door off its hinges by now. He closed his eyes, clenched his jaw, and said, "Ray...let me out!"  

But it came out more like a plea.  

"Who are you!" Ray blurted out between sobs. "Or should I say WHAT are you! And what have you done with Rachel Burns!"  

Silence answered her, during which all that could be heard were the anguished, angry sobs that wracked her slender frame as she crouched there in front of the freezer.  

Finally, Chris whispered to himself almost inaudibly, "Awwww." He swallowed, and opened his eyes. Resignation had melted the blue iciness within them, and his sturdy frame relaxed as all the fight drained out of him. He shook his head. "You aren't going to like the answers to those questions, Ray, but I did not kill these people. I won't hurt you, Ray. Now let me out?" His voice sounded human again.  

Ray jumped up and said abruptly, "I'll come back and let you out if the dam breaks." She wiped her eyes and her nose on her shirt sleeve and ran out.  

"Ray?"  

No one answered.  

Chris gave the door another tremendous jolt and yelled, "Ray! Come back here! RAY!"  

In sheer frustration, he leaned against the freezer door. It was one of those ill-advised designs that had no inside handle. He looked down at the cook and the waitress. "You need my help," he finally admitted into thin air.  

As Lynch casually slid into his seat, he suddenly got a strong sense of a censure and an appeal for help. An image of Chris, locked in the freezer, with the dead bodies of Sarge of Molly, materialized in his head. He looked back toward the kitchen. Though no words were spoken, he got Chris's intent.  

"Lynch! You should not have done this! Come back here and let me out."  

Lynch smiled. Old' Chris was slipping, he thought. He turned back and surveyed the crowd through half shut eyes.  

Just then Ray returned with a concerned look on her face. She motioned to Harv to come over away from the crowd.  

She said in a nervous but quiet tone, "Uncle Harv, I just found Sarge and Molly in the walk-in freezer, dead. Maybe it would be better to get as many people away from here as possible. Maybe you should let J.R. try it by boat."  

"I reckon they'd be just as safe out there as in here," Harv reflected. "There's four of them. The boat will probably safely hold two more - Hey, J.R., after doin' some thinkin', maybe it would be just as well you try to get out of here by boat," Harv said casually. "If you make it, send someone back for the rest of us. We'll try to tough it out on the roof."  

"Come on, guys! If we're going by boat, we'd best leave right now," J.R. said.  

"Yeah, it is best if you go now. If that dam breaks, it'll send a wall of water 50 feet high through here, travellin' at almost 60 mph," Harv explained to them.  

"You mean we're actually going to try this, with a tidal wave coming in our direction?" Michelle asked incredulously.  

No one answered.  

Harv walked over to where the other travellers were seated and said, "We need to head up to the roof right now in case the dam breaks. We won't get much warning when it does. I know it's gonna be wet and miserable but we don't have much choice."  

As Harv and the rest of the travellers began to shuffle out of the restaurant to the fire escape they'd use to climb to the roof, J.R., Luke, Michelle and Mariah walked out in the parking lot to where the boat was on the trailer behind their suburban.  

J.R. said, "I guess we'll drive over towards the river where the water gets deeper. We'll drive in deep enough to float the boat. Then, we'll try sailing across the river. It looks like there's higher ground over there."  

"I still don't like this," Michelle replied anxiously. "I sure hope we're doing the right thing?"  

J.R. drove the Suburban until the water was about waist deep. The women got out and climbed up in the boat. Luke and J.R. pushed the boat off the trailer, then climbed in. J.R. started the boat's motor and slowly cruised in the direction of the river. It seemed surreal, boating down a city street with buildings and houses on each side. When they came to an intersection, the stoplights were still functioning. J.R. instinctively hesitated.  

Michelle yelled from the back of the boat, "J.R., you dumb shit! You don't have to stop for red lights when the road is flooded!"  

The rain had been coming down steadily all this time. However about then, it began coming down in sheets. The wind picked up and the lightening flashed fiercely.  

Michelle moaned, "Oh, no, just what we need, more rain!"  

It became hard to see. Between that, and the fact that J.R. was not a skilled boat pilot, he ended up running through the display window of the department store.  

"This is not what they mean by window shopping, J.R.!" Mariah yelled.  

"J.R., man, I just don't think you can win!" Luke exclaimed.  

In spite of all the problems, the craft managed to make it to the river. J.R. stopped the boat and everyone stared for a few seconds. The river was really swollen, and it was racing down the channel. Harv was right. There were houses and cars floating in the deluge.  

Michelle queried, "Do we really want to do this?"  

Luke answered, "It's either try to get across to higher ground or take our chances if the dam breaks. There won't be any safe ground if that happens."  

Cautiously, J.R. slowly steered the boat out into the current. A surge could be felt as the current caught the boat. J.R. tried to gently ease the boat in a catty-cornered path across the raging torrent.  

Mariah was nervously watching the raging water as it swirled around the boat. Suddenly she exclaimed excitedly, "Good Lord, J.R.! You didn't tell me there were crocodiles around here!"  

Luke answered, "There are no crocodiles around here!"  

"Well, what in the hell is that?" Mariah pointed at someone's inflatable crocodile floating by. "Oh," she said.  

"Well, if this rain keeps up, the flood waters are gonna us carry down the Mississippi to the Louisiana Bayous, and there are gators there!" Michelle commented.  

J.R. steered the boat about mid-way out into the river where the current was really fast and strong. Just then, a loud thud jolted the boat, they all heard a shrill scraping sound, then the boat's engine came grinding to a halt.  

"Oh Lord! We've hit something!" J.R. exclaimed.  

He tried to restart the boat's motor, but all he heard was a knocking sound as smoke rose up from the engine compartment.  

Mariah asked frantically, "What do we do now?"  

Luke looked around the floor of the boat and exclaimed, "There're oars in here! Maybe we can use them to steer us towards shore?"  

By this time, the lights of the city were becoming faint specks in the distance behind them.  

Michelle exclaimed, "The boat is filling up with water!"  

Luke replied, "You guys are going to have to start bailing while J.R. and I try steering the boat to shore!"  

Mariah and Michelle began looking around the boat for something to bail the water out with. They located some old pots and pans among the camping equipment J.R. and Luke had stowed under the seat.  

Michelle pulled out a bottle of scotch. She lifted it up and exclaimed, "Oh, thank God! I could really use a drink about now!"  

She opened the bottle and took a swig then passed the bottle around. Everyone became very intent on keeping the boat afloat and steering it towards shore. In the dark and the heavy rain, they didn't see the house come floating up beside them. It nudged the boat and scraped up along the side as it passed them by. Sitting up on the roof of the house was a little dog that was barking excitedly.  

Luke looked up and exclaimed, "I don't think we're in Kansas anymore, Toto!"  

"Ohhhh, come here, sweetheart!" coaxed Mariah. She and Michelle persuaded the timid little fellow to jump into the boat with them. Then it was quiet for a while, as the men paddled and the women bailed.  

Michelle broke the silence when she commented, "You know we didn't bring along any fishing poles. We could all starve to death out here."  

"We don't have any fruit either," Mariah chimed in. "We'll all get scurvy or St. Vitas' Dance or something like that."  

J.R. groaned, "Oh, we would've had to marry smart alecks, wouldn't we?"  

Just then Mariah exclaimed, "There may not be gators around here, but I swear that's Moby Dick swimming over there!"  

They all looked in the direction that Mariah was pointing. Luke commented, "That's not a whale. That's a giant catfish. They say catfish can grow huge. They get so big they just lie on the river floor by the dam. When they opened the floodgates, it must've washed him out!"  

Michelle then quipped, "Too bad we don't have a harpoon. We could eat for weeks off that sucker!"  

Just then a loud roaring noise caught their attention. It seemed to be get louder and closer as they listened. J.R. stood up in the boat and yelled, "Sweet Jesus, look at that!"  

The small group of marooned travelers that had remained behind when J.R. and his band set sail stood outside the Sandburg Arms Coffee Shop staring at the rickety fire escape in the driving rain. The water was rising rapidly around them.  

"Women and children first," Harv ordered. He motioned his niece Rayella forward. Ray took hold of the bars, and Harv made a brace with his hands. She placed a small foot on them, and he swung her up onto the first landing.  

"Climb," Harv yelled. He helped Janet Donaldson next, then he, Ronald, and Lynch hoisted themselves onto the first landing. As she made her way to the roof, a silent war was raging within Ray. What to do about Chris? She couldn't just leave him to drown! Could she? No, how could she even think it! He said he hadn't killed Sarge and Molly. And why hadn't he killed her when he'd had the chance? But would letting him out be a terrible mistake? Then again would NOT letting him out be a terrible mistake? She glanced back in a panic, but Harv motioned impatiently for her to keep going. When they reached the top landing, Ray could stand it no longer. She knew what she had to do. She just hoped Chris didn't kill her, or they didn't both drown before she got back up to the roof. As soon as Lynch put both feet on the roof, Ray lowered herself back onto the fire escape.  

"Rayella Louise!" Harv exclaimed. "Where do you think you're going?"  

"Please, Uncle Harv," Ray said determinedly. "This is my leap of faith."  

"No one's going anywhere!" A strange sounding masculine voice spoke up suddenly. Everyone turned to see Lynch Peters standing aloof, smiling at them. He was holding a gun.  

Casually tossing the long hair back from fierce gray eyes, he ordered, "Nobody move."  

Then he looked at Ray. "Get back up here."  

Ray clung tightly to the fire escape, and wondered if she could just make a run for it. But Harv walked quickly over to her, and held out his hand.  

"Do what he says, Honey."  

Reluctantly, she took Harv's hand, and allowed herself to be pulled back on to the roof.  

"Everyone over there," Lynch ordered motioning with his gun toward the northwest corner of the roof.  

Huddling close to one another, the travelers slowly moved that direction.  

"What are you going to do, Lynch?" Ray demanded.  

"You're all going to die," he said smoothly. There was no smile on his face.  

"Why?" gasped Janet Donaldson. "I mean - what have we ever done to you?"  

Lynch smirked at Ray. "Wanna tell them? What they know won't matter where they're going."  

"You don't have to do this, Lynch," Ray argued vehemently.  

"Don't I?" He tilted his head and flashed white teeth in a sardonic smile, considering her words. "Tell you what. I'm a sporting guy, I'll give you a chance." His gaze traveled across their faces until it rested on Winston's. "You! Step aside!"  

Winston looked around and swallowed. "Me?" he said weakly.  

"Here's your choice - you can either jump off this roof and hope you hit deep water, or I can shoot you."  

"WHAT?" Winston said horrified, "Oh, please - "  

A bullet from Lynch's gun cut short the sentence. The group watched aghast as the force of impact hurtled Winston over the edge of the roof.  

"Who's next?" Lynch asked quietly. "Don't keep me waiting."  

Ronald Benson grabbed Janet Donaldson by the arm and jerked her in front of him. "Us," he said. "We'll jump." Before Janet could say a word, he had shoved her over the edge and jumped off the roof after her.  

Harv took Rayella under his arm and started to follow.  

"Not so fast!" Lynch snarled suddenly. He glared at Ray. "You two move away from the edge - I'm not done with you yet."  

Chris Archer sat up with a jerk. Water was rising rapidly around him. He was cold and he was tired. His shoulder ached. He jumped up and started hammering on the door again. It shuddered violently with each jolt. Just a few more times...  

Then, in his mind's eye, he saw the front door of the Coffee Shop swing open.  

"Help, let me out!" He yelled as he banged on the door. "Damn," he thought, "It's no good, they can't hear me."  

Just then he heard the kitchen door open. He immediately knew who it was.  

"Hey!" he yelled, "I'm locked in the freezer! Get me out!"  

"Hang on a minute!" A voice answered. The freezer door swung open.  

"Chris Archer!" exclaimed Ed Williams. "What are you - ?" He stopped and stared at the two dead bodies.  

"No time to talk," Chris interrupted, pushing Ed towards the stairs. "We have to get to the roof NOW!  

"But - "  

"We can't help them, Ed, they're dead. Lynch Peters escaped from prison."  

On the roof, the storm was becoming more intense. As Lynch backed Harv and Ray away from the roof's edge at gun point, Harv suddenly pushed Ray at arm's length and said, "My niece Ray, here, tells me that you and Chris are some kind of mutants."  

Lynch's eyes narrowed quickly and he trained his gun sight right between Ray's eyes. "Don't try anything, old man, or she's history."  

"You're some kind of advanced species," Harv continued. "You're more intelligent than us. You're more advanced than us, but I know the real truth. You're the spawn of Satan. You're Satan's own. You're marked with 666."  

"What are you rambling about, you crazy old man?" Lynch asked disgustedly.  

"Intelligence, that's something that's determined by the genes. That's something you're born with: the capacity to learn. Knowledge, that's what got us kicked out of Eden. Adam and Eve ate the fruit from the Tree of Knowledge. Poetic, ain't it? I mean Satan's chosen ones are gifted with advanced intelligence."  

"Man, you are one crazy old fart. Aren't you?" Lynch queried.  

"Now, wisdom, that's something you have to earn. That's something your advanced genes can't give you," Harv went on.  

"Wisdom is over-rated, old man. There's plenty of wise old men pushing up daisies over in the cemetery," Lynch added.  

"A big part of wisdom is experience. Experience is something you haven't lived long enough to gain," Harv stated.  

By now, the lightening was getting really wicked. Thunder was a continual roaring background. The rain was becoming heavier as the wind picked up.  

Lynch looked around at the mayhem going on around him. Then he said, "So, what's your point, old man?"  

"Well, I'm not as dumb as you think I am. Sure, you may have advanced intelligence. Maybe, you can even read people's minds, but you see, our species isn't just gonna roll over that easily. You see, I've lived about twice as long as you. That means your kind has got a lot of ground to make up. I'm not that much of a pushover either. I was a ranger, special forces. I got medals up the Kazoo. I was in the Peace Corps in Africa. I survived in the Amazon jungles. I've always been a survivor," Harv explained.  

"Well, whoop do doo, old man. I'm impressed, but I'm still afraid your time's past. You're goin' the way of the dinosaur," Lynch returned with an evil laugh.  

"See, I never quite fully agreed with Darwin's survival of the fittest. I tend to believe the species with the greatest tenacity is the one that survives. It's like they say in Jurassic Park: 'Nature will find a way.' For instance, look over there. See them cockroaches crawling up that antenna? They've been around since the dinosaurs roamed the earth. Look over there. See them rats floating down the raging flood water on that timber. They've survived since Jurassic times. Their relatives dined on the eggs of Tyrannosaurus Rex. Both of them are way down on the food chain. Man has tried for centuries to eradicate them from the earth. Even our best technology hasn't been successful. I believe some of that tenacity is inbred in mankind. We won't go gently into that good night!" Harv exclaimed.  

All the while Harv was talking he was moving closer to Lynch.  

Lynch said, "You don't really scare me, old man."  

"Didn't figure I did. You're the type who's so intelligent, you don't have the good sense to be scared. That'll end up being your undoin'! Fear, that's one of the basic survival instincts," Harv explained.  

"Old man, fear is an emotion without logic. Once you've achieved enough intelligence, you see there's nothing to fear. People only fear what they don't understand. With intelligence, there comes that understanding of the world around you," Lynch answered back with a sneer.  

"Advanced species or not, new species or not, you still have that one classic human flaw. You have an ego much to large for this world. You figure you're so superior that your intellect is capable of overcoming any threat. Your ego is so large that you'll overlook the most subtle threat, and that's the one that will bring you down. As H.G. Wells said in 'War of the Worlds, it was the least of God's creatures that led to the undoing of the Martians.' You're the type that feels so superior, you won't recognize the threat until it's on top of you," Harv said calmly.  

"Old man, I see nothing that could possibly threaten me," Lynch said smugly.  

"Then you just made your first mistake. You let an old man get too close to you," Harv said with a wry smile. With that, in one deft move, Harv grabbed Lynch's hand which held the gun and flipped him over into the raging floodwaters. Lynch's head could be seen bobbing up and down, as the raging floodwaters washed him out of sight.  

Harv watched Lynch disappear. He had a wry grin on his face. He mumbled almost inaudibly, "So what do you think about that, grasshopper?"  

Ray rushed up to Harv and exclaimed, "God, Uncle Harv. I heard all those war stories about you, but I just figured they were tall tales!"  

"That'll teach you not to take your Uncle seriously," Harv replied with a grin.  

"Ray! Harv!" a voice yelled from the stair well.  

Ray and Harv looked around to see Ed Williams and Chris Archer emerge on the roof.  

"Ed!" Rayella flung herself into Ed's arms. "I'm so glad to see you!"  

"Chris told me about Lynch," Ed said, holding her tightly, "Are you two all right?"  

Chris Archer's head snapped sharply to the left and he stared off into the distance.  

"No time to talk!" he said suddenly. "There's a column of water headed this way from the mountain!"  

"How do you know that?" Ed asked. "I don't see anything."  

"It must be a sixth sense or something," Ray thought to herself. "Ed," she said immediately, "Just trust me, he knows!"  

"That means the dam broke!" said Harv.  

"Find something to hang on to!" Chris yelled.  

Then they all saw it. A huge wall of water was rapidly coming their way.  

"It looks like it's good night Irene!" Harv said. The words no more than left his mouth than the wall of water hit the hotel, tearing it from its foundation. The force of the collision threw Chris, Ray, Ed, and Harv into the boiling floodwaters.  

Luke, Michelle, and Mariah looked at J.R. He was pointing at a large wall of water that was racing towards them. The swell caught the boat and tossed it up with a surge. The four people and the dog were tossed to the bottom of the boat as it rocked and bobbed like a cork. Water gushed over the sides nearly swamping them. As soon as the boat settled so they were not thrown all around, everyone jumped up and started bailing fiercely. When it appeared they were no longer going to sink, the group stopped and took a breath.  

Michelle looked around and saw the tall cliffs on both sides of them. She moaned, "Oh, good Lord, it looks like we're in the Valley of the Shadow of Death...where's that bottle of scotch? I sure could use a drink now."  

Mariah went on, "Okay, J.R. What do we do now? Float down to the Mississippi? It sure as hell doesn't look like there's any way out of here."  

"I hate to disappoint you tow whiners but this river doesn't run into the Mississippi. It lets out in the Pacific," Luke corrected them.  

"Pacific? Gulf of Mexico? It doesn't make a whole hell of a lot of difference. It looks like we're outa luck anyway. I knew we should've stayed with Harv," Michelle moaned.  

"We don't know Harv is any better off. We don't know if they got washed away when the dam broke. At least we're in a boat, and it's floating on top of the water. At least we're not treading water right now," J.R. answered with a hurt tone.  

"I'm sorry, J.R. I guess you're right. At least you've kept us alive so far," Michelle said apologetically.  

They were all then quiet. They watched as the raging torrent carried them further down stream. They watched as the rocky cliffs passed by. Slowly, the torrent seemed to subside. The current seemed less swift. Then, all of a sudden, there was a grating sound on the bottom of the boat, as it came to a noisy halt. The passengers just stared at one another for a few seconds, with their mouths agape.  

J.R. broke the silence. "It appears we've run aground?"  

Michelle gasped, "I don't believe it!"  

"It just doesn't seem possible the water could've dropped that fast. The tops of the trees are just barely visible along the sides of the cliffs and we're still fairly far out from what would be the banks of the river," Luke observed.  

"Oh ye of little faith. You guys just don't want to admit ol' J.R. managed to get you all to safety. I say we've run aground, and to prove it, I'm getting out of the boat and walking over to that cliff," J.R. boasted proudly.  

"J.R., I really don't think you should do that," Luke cautioned. "I think we just got snagged on the top of a tree or something."  

"Nonsense," J.R. replied. "This boat is resting too firmly. I know we've run aground. We're saved!"  

With that he climbed over the side of the boat. He landed in water about knee deep. Cautiously, he stepped forward. Again his foot hit solid ground. He took three or four cautious steps. Then he became more confident and started striding towards the cliff.  

He shouted out, "See, I tooool..." Then he disappeared beneath the water. They saw him bob back up 20 or 30 feet down stream.  

Michelle gasped in disbelief, "Where in the hell is he going now?"  

Mariah screamed frantically, "J.R.! J.R.!" as he bobbed up and down in the current until he disappeared out of sight.  

Luke gasped, "Oh good Lord! He's gone!"  

And now the rest of the story, part three...