Unfortunate Forecast

The following two weeks were hectic. Alan's teachers piled on the homework, trying to get as much done as possible before the Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays. When he wasn't practicing, doing homework, or seeing Dr. Fisher, he was in the weight room, strengthening his shoulder in particular. Coach Evans had slotted him in for the javelin in Julio's place, at least until Julio had recovered, and Alan knew his shoulder wasn't yet up to the job. He didn't have much time for just goofing off with his friends, though he and Fermat still worked on their math assignments together.

Fermat found himself drawn into the complexities of robotics. He wasn't an official member of the team, but he and Robbie – with whom he spent an increasing amount of time – worked together to iron out the programming kinks in Wharton's LEGO robot. Finally, the team sponsor, Ms. Gerrick, suggested that he join up. "We could really use someone with your particular skills, Fermat."

Fermat blinked. He was already surprised at how nice – and sometimes funny – Ms. Gerrick could be in Robotics, compared to how mean she had seemed in class the year before. "I'd h-have to ask my d-d-d... father," he explained. "He said only one e-e-extra-curricular activity, and I'm on the qu-quiz team."

"I understand. Definitely don't want to take you from quizzing, especially since the team is undefeated. But please sound him out on the idea. Even post-season quizzing competitions – which, by the way, I think you'll definitely be involved in – shouldn't interfere with our robotics tourneys. I can email you a schedule, so you can compare the two..."

"Sure."

With the schedule in hand, and his roommate absent, Fermat called his father.

"I d-don't know, son." Brains turned off the light on his high-powered magnifier so he could focus on the conversation. "I w-worry about how it would a-affect your st-studies."

Fermat thought hard. How can I get him to say "yes"? His eyes widened as an idea came to him. It's worth a try.

"Wh-What if I asked Mr. Feng for his o-opinion? He'd know b-better than anyone if I can h-hack it."

Brains's brow furrowed as he thought over the option. "T-Tell you what: I'll ask M-Mr. Feng's opinion. If he thinks you can d-do both and k-k-keep your grades up, then I'll a-approve." He sighed. "I j-just worry about your a-age, Fermat. You're still so y-young. A c-couple of years more maturity can m-make a big difference."

Sighing, Fermat nodded. "I know. It's just... well, it's so m-much fun!"

Brains smiled. "I'll t-talk to Mr. F-Feng and get back to you."

"Okay, D-Dad. I'll be waiting." The boy paused, then asked, "How is the p-project going?"

"Very w-well, actually. We've m-managed to fine-tune the f-fogger to ignore the f-flying camera by l-limiting the number of wavelengths the camera will broadcast on. We've also w-written an encryption p-program to scramble the c-camera's output on b-both ends. Virgil and I h-have been working on it, with J-John's help. When V-Virgil goes upstairs, John and I will t-tweak it some more. Did you get the w-watch?"

"Yeah, I did." Fermat held up his arm. "I guess you g-got this one s-solved?"

"Partially. If the main c-camera fogger is activated around the w-watches, then the video part of the w-watch won't activate. Just the audio. We'll continue to w-work on it, but they'll function well enough for y-your needs."

"That's gr-great, Dad!" The boy paused, then asked, "When will you be c-coming out again?"

Brains took a moment to pull up Fermat's quizzing schedule. Each meet that had already taken place was marked in blue, with the final score added to it. "Let's see. I d-don't think I can c-come until mid-November, son. There's t-too much on my plate right now."

Fermat looked a little disappointed, so Brains added, "You could have Alan r-record the interim meets, and I can w-watch them later."

"I'll t-talk to him and see if he will. I just w-wish you could come for this week's m-meet, even though it's an away g-game. We're up against N-Northampton again."

"Ooh." Brains gritted his teeth. "T-Tempting. V-Very tempting. But I just don't see that I c-can, son. I'm sorry. I will m-make arrangements to be at your m-mid-November meet, though. That's at Wharton, r-right?"

"Yeah. It is." Fermat sighed, and Brains's heart went out to his son.

"I'm sorry, Fermat. I r-really am." When there was no response, he added, "I'll c-contact Mr. Feng right away about the r-robotics and g-get back to you, okay?"

"Yeah. Okay."

There was nothing more Brains could think of saying, so he just made his farewells. "Have a g-good night, son. I love you."

"Love you, too, Dad," was the dispirited reply. "B-Bye."

The conversation ended, broken at Fermat's end. Brains took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then he set about composing an email to Gary Feng.

In early November, report cards for the first nine weeks arrived. Having received Alan's via email, Jeff gave his son a call.

"Alan!" Jeff's face almost couldn't contain its smile. "I just got your report card!"

"You did?" Alan didn't know whether or not this was a good thing. "I haven't got my copy yet. How'd I do?"

"Very, very well, son. I couldn't ask for better... well, there is room for improvement in your history grade, but it's still a respectable one. Even with the time you had recuperating, you managed to keep your grades up. I'm very proud of you, Alan."

"Whew!" Alan dramatically passed a hand over his brow. "Thanks, Dad. You had me scared for a minute there."

Jeff rolled his eyes toward the ceiling and shook his head. "If you were in trouble, I wouldn't be grinning from ear to ear." He leaned back in his chair. "You know what the best thing is about this report card?"

"I don't know what could be better than good grades."

"The teachers' comments."

Alan grimaced. "Oh, yeah. Those. I guess they're not like last year's, are they?"

"Nope. Dr. Cambioso says you're attentive and a pleasure to teach. Mr. Graboski says you're well-disciplined. Mr. Beccara says you take the initiative and are willing to help others. Ms. McCall, your English teacher, says that you consistently contribute in class. Mrs. Morissette – she's your history teacher, right? She says you are well-mannered and a joy to teach."

"She does? Oh, man." Alan shook his head. "I didn't expect that. I always thought I aggravated her, though I never knew why."

"Well, obviously she sees something you don't." Jeff consulted the email again. "Your computer science teacher says you're a pleasure to teach, and your biology teacher mentions that you contribute in class. Overall, a big improvement over last year."

"At least I can't blow anything up in Biology." Alan settled back in his chair. "I'm glad that I didn't get too far behind with everything that happened."

"So am I, Alan. So am I."

There was a pause in the conversation, then Alan asked, "How is everyone at home?"

"Pretty good, Alan. Except for Virgil; he caught a cold at that last rescue, so we're waiting until it clears to send him upstairs. Shouldn't be much longer; maybe a couple more days. The weather here has been really hot for this time of year. Gordon's spending whole days in the pool."

"Wish I could say that. It's been really cold and we still have a couple of inches of snow on the ground from that last storm The weather guys say there'll be snow tomorrow, then some early next week. If it's not snowing, we get freezing rain. We've barely seen the sun for at least a week now. Zave took me, Kay, and Fermat to the mall so we could shop for winter clothes. I bought some kinda pricey snow boots; I hope that's okay."

"Of course. You get what you need. I'll make sure you have the money." Jeff tapped his stylus against the desktop. "How are things going with Dr. Fisher?"

"Pretty good, I think. She's a good listener, and she kinda guides me into figuring out ways to deal with the crap that happened. I feel more... stable. Like I have magnetic boots to keep me grounded." Alan shrugged a little. "It's hard to explain."

"I do understand, Alan. Been there, done that, after your mother's death. And even though it's been many years since then, I sometimes still need those tools my counselor taught me. Not necessarily for dealing with grief, but for dealing with other things... like my sons."

Alan's expression and tone were unreadable; it was as if he couldn't decide between a sympathetic smile or a teasing grin. "Like me?"

"Sometimes. But not just you. All of you have given me gray hairs. In fact, I'm still surprised my hair hasn't gone all salt-and-pepper yet."

"You sure you're not coloring it or something?"

Jeff snorted a laugh. "Not yet. Probably not ever. When I start going gray, I'll keep every single one of those gray hairs, because, dammit, I've earned them!"

Now Alan's smile widened and became teasing. "What if you go bald before that? Y'know, from tearing all your hair out over us."

His father straightened up. "Balding... hm." He shook his head sharply. "Nope. Not going there. Not ever. I'll get some hair restorative or something if it looks like my hairline is receding a little too far."

Father and son shared a laugh. A chime sounded in the background. "Dang!" Alan said. "Gotta go, Dad. Meeting Julio at the weight room. Trying to help him strengthen his shoulder again. Hey, is Grandma still visiting?"

"Yep. She's staying here until after Thanksgiving. She wants to make a full course, traditional Thanksgiving dinner for us. Poor Onaha is almost banned from the kitchen!"

"Grandma's making Thanksgiving turkey! All right!" Alan was shrugging into his warmest jacket as he spoke. "Give her a kiss and hug from me, please, and tell her I love her."

"I will. Be careful, son."

"Always, Dad. Love you; gotta go! Bye!"

The call ended on Alan's end before Jeff could respond. He shook his head, a soft smile touching his lips. Then, with a sigh, he closed the conversation window, and emailed the report card to his other sons so they could see how well their brother was doing.

Even in this enlightened day and age, weather forecasting was still a matter of educated guesses. Highly educated guesses, but guesses nonetheless. So it was that the snow storm promised for the next day turned into freezing rain, and the one forecast for the following week took on far more ominous proportions.

"Man, look at it snow!" Alan's eyes shone as he gazed out his dorm room window. "This is so cool!"

"Cold, you mean," Dom remarked, rolling his eyes. He didn't move from his position on his bunk, stomach-down and reading a textbook. "I like some snow, but this is gonna be too much." He huffed out a breath. "My parents forgot to buy me any boots, and I think we're going to need them when this stops."

There was a buzz at the door, and Dom called out, "Come in!" Jason entered, his cheeks red from cold and a light layer of melting snowflakes dampening his hat and jacket.

"Did you guys hear?" he asked, his eyes shining with excitement. "We're under a blizzard warning!"

"Blizzard?" Alan looked delighted. "No way, man!"

"Yeah way," Jason replied, pulling off his knit cap. His recently cut red hair stood out in odd patches. "We're supposed to get up to three feet!"

"And this on top of the freezing rain from last night." Dom didn't sound too enthusiastic. He put his book aside, and rolled over to sit on the edge of his bed. "No wonder why classes were canceled today."

"Hey, how're we gonna get to the dining hall?" Alan asked, his excitement dampening a bit. "We still gotta eat."

"The sidewalk plows are out, and the walkways aren't too bad." Jason shrugged out of his jacket, and removed his knit scarf. "They put sand and salt down this morning, but probably couldn't get to all the walks in time for classes." He dropped his outer clothes on the floor. "We need hooks in these rooms for times like this." With a motion, he asked Dom for permission to use his desk chair. Dom nodded, and Jason parked himself, sitting so he faced the back of the chair. "I was out early today. You should have seen the trees." He let out a satisfied sigh. "The branches were covered in ice and looked all silvery. Too bad there wasn't any sun. They always look awesome in the sun."

"That's going to make the branches heavy," Dom predicted. "And the snow will just add to it." He shook his head. "Watch how many branches come down."

"Pessimist." Alan turned in his chair to face Jason. "Hey! How about a snowball fight?"

Jason grinned. "That's why I came. Kay and Zave are organizing one right now. It'll be massively awesome. The snow is just right for packing."

Alan jumped up from his seat. "Count me in!" He opened his wardrobe and pulled out his warmest jacket.

"Count me out," Dom said. "I'm going to stay inside where it's warm and dry."

"Your loss, then." Alan shrugged into his jacket, and patted his pockets, checking to see if his gloves were there. He pulled his expensive snow boots out of the closet, and sat down to put them on. "Glad I got out to the mall when I did. I'm gonna get lots of use out of these."

Jason retrieved his own coat and wrapped his scarf securely around his neck. "Better make sure you cover your nose and mouth, too, if you can," he warned. "The wind is really wild."

"Gotcha!" Alan finished lacing up his boots and pulled his hat on. "Let's go see if Fermat and A.J. want to join in."

"The more the merrier, man; the more the merrier!" Jason said with a grin. "See you later, Dom!"

"Look at the s-s-s-snow!" Fermat all but squealed. "There's so m-much of it!"

"I know!" A. J. joined his roommate at the window. "I heard on the televid that we're under a blizzard warning!" He shivered in delight. "I love snow, especially this early in the year. By February, I'm usually sick of it."

"It's s-spring where I l-live," Fermat said, sighing. "It'll s-start to get hot and m-m-m... humid there soon."

A.J. didn't seem to hear him. He seemed mesmerized by the furiously swirling snow. "Wow. Look at the tree."

"Wh-What about it?" Fermat pressed his face closer to the window, to the point that he left nose prints, and breathed out mist. "It's just across the d-drive, and I can b-barely s-see it."

"The branches are all covered with snow, from all sides." The younger boy glanced over at Fermat. "Usually, it's just the top of the branch that has snow on it. But the way this wind keeps whipping things around..."

"And the fr-freezing rain we had earlier..." Fermat added.

A.J.'s eyes widened with sudden realization. "Yeah! I'd forgotten about the ice! I bet that helps the snow stick better." He turned back to the window. "Wonder what this snow is like?"

"Well, why d-don't we f-find out, then we can l-look up the I-Inuit word for it." Fermat suddenly drew back and pointed. "Isn't that A-Alan?"

A.J. peered out, squinting past the whirling snow. "Looks like it! He's got Jason with him. They're coming in!"

"Let's g-go see why."

The two boys scrambled away from the window, and out the door of their room. Fermat called the elevator, but when it opened, Alan and Jason were in the car.

"Hey, guys!" Alan took off his cap and ran a hand through his hair. "Wanna have a snowball fight? Zave is organizing a big one on the quad."

The two boys glanced at each other. "Sure!" A.J. said, grinning. "We can do an in-depth study of the snow while we're splatting everyone else."

"A study of snow?" Jason looked and sounded incredulous. "Dude, what for?"

"The I-Inuit have lots of words for snow. We want to f-figure out which one d-describes this stuff." Fermat sounded smugly confident, but Jason just shook his head.

"Dude, don't you know? That's not true; it's an urban legend."

Fermat's eyes widened behind his glasses. "N-N-No! No w-way!"

"Yeah way." Jason was now the smug one. "My parents spent some time in the Aleutians a few years ago, and found that out."

"Well, then," A.J. said cheerfully. "We can just go out and have fun!"

Alan laughed. "That's more like it! C'mon, Fermat, get your winter gear! The white winds await!"

"Any change in conditions?"

Dr. Alice Harding stood by the reinforced windows of the weather station atop New Hampshire's Mount Washington. She could see nothing outside except a swirling gray mass that might be snow or cloud or even rime ice. The weather system had moved in with a vengeance just a few hours before. They had been prepared for it; they always were. But no one could be prepared for every contingency.

"Things are getting worse. This storm isn't going to let up until tomorrow afternoon, if then." Matthew Chang, the meteorologist on duty, told her. "What did the National Guard have to say?"

Dr. Harding shook her head. "They can't get up here. Their equipment just can't cope with these winds."

Jen Adamson, one of the center's volunteers for the week, asked, "If we could get a doctor up here, they could stabilize him, right? Make sure he's okay until the storm stops?"

"That's too risky, Jen," Alice replied with a sad sigh. "Acute appendicitis can be life-threatening. The appendix could burst, and that's extremely dangerous."

"But he'd at least have a chance. The doctors in the valley are willing to come, if we can find transport." Her tone was pleading.

One of the State Park employees, Daniel McCullough, cleared his throat. "Uh, I once read about a guy who performed his own..." His voice trailed off as he saw how the others were looking at him.

"I'm a meteorologist, not a medical doctor," Alice snapped. "And Chuck is a realtor, up here as a volunteer. Please remember that." Moderating her tone, she continued. "It's too long and risky for the tractors to go down and pick someone up." She shook her head again. "Or for us to bring him down, for that matter. The visibility is just that bad."

"There is someone else who might be able to help," Matt said, trying to persuade the scientist. "All we have to do is call them."

Alice turned to him. "Who?" she asked, her tone one of disbelief.

"International Rescue."

Her eyes widened, then closed. Her face took on a rueful expression, and she huffed out a self-deprecating sigh. "Of course. I don't know why I didn't think of them." She paused, then asked, "Do you think their craft can deal with the winds and the zero visibility?"

Jen's face had brightened, and she nodded. "Probably. They rescued a party from a glacier not long ago. Bad weather in that situation, too."

"Ah, but we have the world's worst weather." Alice raised a finger, but her tone was one of slight humor. She shrugged. "I guess all we can do is ask. How do we get in touch with them?"

Matt grinned. "Let me take care of that."

Alice nodded firmly, "Okay." Tapping her chin with a fingernail, she thought for a moment. "It might be wise to get a doctor up here to stabilize Chuck, then have them take him down." Looking up, she ordered, "Once we have confirmation that they're coming, then we can get hold of the folks in the valley, and coordinate with them. Dan, we may have to ask you to use the plow and clear landing space for them."

"I'll get the tractor warmed up as soon as you give the word." He glanced outside. "I'd better get started on chiseling our way out."

"Yeah!" Jen rose from her seat. "I'll go check on Chuck right now; see how he's doing. I hope that IR can here quickly, before his appendix decides to burst."

"Man! That was great!" Alan shook the flakes from his outer clothes as he entered. "You missed a really great snowball fight, Dom. It was fantastic!"

"Why'd you stop?" Dom asked, turning from his computer to watch his roommate shed his coat.

Alan ducked into the bathroom with his jacket, but carried on the conversation while he removed his sodden boots and pants. "Mr. Mags came out and told us to stop. It was getting dark anyway; with the winds like they are, we could barely see. " He came out wearing a bathrobe, his socks, gloves, and hat in hand. He draped them on the room's heater to dry, and warmed his hands over the hot air it dispensed. "Whew! It was cold!"

"I'm sure there'll be a better fight tomorrow. I've already heard that they've canceled classes again."

Alan's eyes widened. "Really?"

Dom sounded smug. "Yup. News went out over the campus email, and on the website."

"Yes!" Alan made a fist and pumped his arm down once, then opened his drawers to find some dry jeans. As he sat and donned them, he said, "Y'know, you were right about the branches. A couple of big ones came down at the far end of the quad, up by Maplewood."

"Do y'mean that oak tree? The one they still have roped off?" When Alan nodded, Dom continued, frowning. "That one's awfully old. I hope it doesn't lose too many branches."

Dom's comment reminded Alan what Fermat had told him after the first snowfall. "Yeah. I hope so, too."

The swelling harmonies of Rimsky-Korsakov's Scheherezade cut off as a male voice boomed from the speaker. "Calling International Rescue. Calling International Rescue. Can you hear me?"

Virgil hurried to turn down the volume and key the microphone. "This is International Rescue. What is your emergency?" He sat in the command chair, fidgeting. He had finally shaken his cold, and John had gone home to the island, while he was left on Thunderbird Five. He didn't have access to the things that usually kept him sane. Though he had brought an electronic tablet and had a virtual keyboard at his disposal, they just didn't compare with his usual art supplies and instrument. He could swear that the keys were marginally out of tune. So he spent his time playing his favorite music... at twice the volume that would normally be allowed back home, and communicating back and forth with Brains as they worked on their camera vs. fogger dilemma.

"This is Mount Washington Observatory in New Hampshire," a male voice replied. "We have a medical emergency."

"Go on," Virgil prompted when the caller paused.

"Well, we've got some really bad weather up here. Visibility is down to under 10 feet, winds are high and gusty, and we have a volunteer with what appears to be acute appendicitis. We have no real medical facilities to treat him."

Virgil pressed the keys that would put him in touch with the island. "What do you need us to do?"

"First of all, can you come?"

"Hold on, please." He muted the connection with Mount Washington, as Jeff's face appeared in a screen to Virgil's left.

"Command and Control to Thunderbird Five. What's the emergency, Thunderbird Five?"

"A medical emergency at Mount Washington Observatory. I'm pulling up weather conditions now." Virgil pulled up the satellite weather maps for the region, and began to dictate the information that Jeff would need as he confirmed it with the caller. "My information tells me that you're in a blizzard warning area, your sustained winds are over 100 mph, gusting to 140 mph, your outside temperature is -5 Fahrenheit, and your visibility is less than 5 feet. Is this correct?"

"That's correct, International Rescue." The voice on the other end sounded half hopeful, half resigned. "Can you come?"

Virgil glanced over at the link to Command and Control. It was obvious that Jeff was discussing the situation with the other boys, though Virgil could hear nothing. Then the commander looked directly at Virgil and said, "Clarify what they want us to do. The weather is tricky, but we should be able to do this."

Turning back to the unseen caller, Virgil said, "We can assist. What do you need?"

There was a relieved sigh, then the caller began to explain what they had in mind.

"Thunderbird One can rendezvous at the hospital in..." Virgil checked Thunderbird One's speed and the distance involved. "Forty minutes. However, Thunderbird One won't be able to return your patient to the hospital. She doesn't have the capacity for that."

"Oh." The caller sounded as if he'd been pole-axed. "I suppose that will help..."

Virgil grinned. "However, Thunderbird Two will be one hour ten minutes behind Thunderbird One and will be able to transport the patient."

"Oh!" There was a world of relief in that single syllable. "That's great!" The voice then turned business-like. "What kind of landing area will you need?"

"We need no runway, but Thunderbird One might need a helipad-sized area, and someone to transport the doctor from there to your facility." Virgil pulled up a schematic of the observatory, its outbuildings, and parking area. "Do you have the equipment?"

"We do," the caller affirmed, hesitantly. "How big is Thunderbird One? We don't have a lot of flat space close to our buildings. I mean, we have parking lots, and they might work, but with visibility the way it is, it's dangerous to plow them. And there's no way anyone can hike up to where we are from the lots."

"Let me talk with my commander." Muting his mike to the caller again, Virgil now consulted with Jeff. "What do you think?"

"Are they sure there's no space for Thunderbird One near their building?" Jeff asked. "I thought they had an observation deck."

"They do, Dad, but from what I'm seeing, it's actually the roof of the building. No way could it take Thunderbird One's weight."

"Then I think we'll have to scratch Thunderbird One on this job, Virgil. Thunderbird Two can pick up the doctor, deliver him or her to the observatory, then return to the base of the mountain and wait until they're ready to transport the patient." Jeff pressed a switch. "Scott, we're scratching Thunderbird One. Head over to Two; John and Gordon are already on their way there." He looked up at Virgil. "I think this may be an 'all hands' rescue, so I'll pilot Two. Brains will hold down the fort."

"F-A-B. I'll let them know." Virgil returned to the caller. "International Rescue to Mt. Washington Observatory. Here's what we're going to do. Since Thunderbird One can't land close to you, you'll have to wait on Thunderbird Two. It will pick up the doctor in... North Conway, is it?"

"Yes, North Conway." The caller sounded disappointed.

"Thunderbird Two will deliver the doctor. The crew won't land, but will lower a rescue basket," Virgil said, thinking of how he would handle things if he were in the cockpit. "We'll get as close as we can with the basket, and will escort the doctor to your facility. We'll land somewhere else where the weather won't be quite as bad, and wait. When the doctor feels the patient is stabilized enough, just call us, and we'll be back."

"That'll work for us, International Rescue. We're going to contact the hospital in North Conway now."

"Acknowledged." Virgil muted his microphone and checked the link to the island again. Brains had taken over the command chair. A quick glance at the air-sea radar showed him that Thunderbird Two had just launched.

"Thunderbird Five from Thunderbird Two." Scott's voice came over the speakers, and his picture appeared in a corner of a third screen. "I need coordinates to the hospital and to the observatory."

"F-A-B, Thunderbird One." Virgil pulled up coordinates on another screen. "Downloading them now." While the information streamed its way to Thunderbird One, he asked, conversationally, "Who's piloting?"

"Who else? The Commander. I'm just co-pilot on this trip."

"International Rescue?" The caller had come back. "We have an update for you."

Virgil turned his mike back on. "International Rescue here. Go ahead."

"Your contact at North Conway will be a Doctor Pauline Harrington. She is bringing equipment and a nurse along. Is that okay?"

"We can handle it. I'll relay the information to Thunderbird Two, which is already on its way to you.. Keep this frequency clear for any further updates."

"Thanks, International Rescue." His caller sounded relieved. "We really appreciate it."

Virgil grinned, and dropped his serious, formal tone. "Hey, it's what we do."

Fermat peeled back his hat, setting his short hair into damp spikes. "Whew! It's c-cold out there!"

"Yeah, and we're going to have to go out in it again, I think. That is, if the dining hall is open." A.J. had already dropped his hat and gloves to the floor, and was unwinding his scarf. "Where should we put these wet things?"

"Hm." Fermat removed his own gloves and rubbed his numb, reddened nose, sniffing slightly. "Maybe over the shower c-curtain bar in the b-bathroom?"

"It'll have to wait, then," A.J. said, tugging on the ends of his jacket sleeves. "I want to get a hot shower after that."

"You w-won't want to go to the d-dining hall with your hair all wet." Pulling off his own coat, he grabbed a hanger from his closet, arranged the wet item on it, and hung them both up on the back of the bathroom door, over the laundry bags.

A.J. sat down to remove his boots. "Then, I might just snack on some of the stuff we have here. Unless you have a better idea."

"Well, d-doubt they'll d-deliver pizza in this w-weather," Fermat said with a snort of laughter. "I think you have the r-right idea."

A.J. stripped down to t-shirt and jeans, grabbed his pajamas and a towel, then headed into the bathroom. Fermat took another look outside; the darkness was complete, except for the fuzzy yellow globes of street light which looked as if they were being attacked by a huge swarm of tiny, blown-about feathers. The tree across the way was wanly lit near the bottom, but as the beleaguered light faded, the oak became an unrecognizable gray mass of swaying limbs. Above the strident whistle of the winds, Fermat could hear an eerie, tortured moaning and creaking. He shivered, and turned away.

Stripping down, he chose some fleecy sweatpants and a thick Wharton sweatshirt. Donning them and a pair of dry socks, he decided to tuck his still-chilled feet under his comforter and relax with a book while waiting for A.J. to finish his shower. The air around the bathroom door was fragrant and steamy, and Fermat figured that A.J. would dress in there instead of braving the cooler, dryer air of the bedroom area. Climbing under his covers, Fermat leaned on one elbow, facing the room, his pre-engineering textbook open to the light from above.

Outside, the weight of accumulated snow and ice on ancient, half-rotted branches began to take their toll. Assisted by the white, punishing winds, a once-solid trunk began to splinter, cracking and splitting. Twigs and thin branches fell as the tree shifted, bark folding, wood fracturing and coming apart in jagged pieces. It fell toward the dorm, shattering through shingles and trusses, brick wall and plaster ceilings.

Fermat had only a second to react, burying his face in his pillow, covering his head and neck with his arms as the world came crashing down around his ears.