Chapter 1

THE LABORATORY

The Nor'easter roared in from the sea, leaving a scattered few trawlers on the rocks and two steamers unreported. On reaching land at Rye, it veered westward, rolling across Manchester, Weare and points west. It crossed the Connecticut river, slammed into the mountains and reversed course.

Unhappy to be thwarted, it blustered and blew, gathering strength as the west winds shoved it back down the foothills and to the sea. The tattering remains of the Nor'easter fought the west winds and an unholy hell was unleashed just over Concord. The old gods decided to play and the lightning lit the night sky in a spectacular but deadly show while Thor hammered and thunder ruled.

"Wust storm in 50 yars," complained the farmers, distressed at the loss of crops. A spring wasted.

"Nehva seen the like in all my born days," agreed the foresters, pleased with the downed timber, free firewood to sell in the markets.

The coastal people mourned their dead drowned sons and fathers, and scavenged the wrack and ruin. There is no wind that doesn't help someone.

"Spectacular," said the city folk. "Charley got some great photographs."

During the height of the storm, in an unregistered lab in the basement of a spooky abandoned house in a small and touristy town some distance outside of Manchester, a harried technician dashed for the intercom.

"Jason?" Come on ... answer the damn intercom. 'CLICK' Finally.

"Yes?"

"There's something wrong with mold 'J'."

"What?"

"I don't know. The chemical plasma mix has altered. The readings are off."

"Dump it out." Jason commanded. "Pour another."

"Yes, Sir."

He hung up.

The intercom buzzed again ... a much longer wait.

"Jason?"

"Yes?" A little perturbed this time.

"It's already semi solid."

"Did you pour it out?"

"Yes. Ah, Jason ... I didn't refill the mold.

"Good."

"Sweep out the sludge and see if you can find the problem with the mold."

Several hours later, just as Jason was cleaning his whip, the intercom buzzed again.

"Jason?"

"What now?" I employ idiots ... I simply need better help.

"The mold was chipped and cracked on a seam. We can fix it."

"No, No, No ... destroy it. The last time there was an imperfection the former crew tried to fix, we lost all the I's." What Jason really meant was the entire batch had to be discarded ... along with the bumbling idiots who allowed valuable plasma to be misused. "How many of the 'J's show the imperfection?"

"None, Sir. Just the one I dumped and it wasn't set yet." He was sweating profusely. "It was a pretty thing."