Before turning out his light Corvan looked for something to read. A fantastic story that might fill his mind and bar the nightmare from coming back. His bookshelf, however, was cluttered with a variety of bird nests, rock samples, petrified bones, and a well-used set of encyclopedias. He already had his small stack of dogeared comic books and science fiction magazines pretty much memorized. They had been given to him by Mrs. Barron over the years when she couldn’t sell them. Some she had removed the covers before giving them to him due to complaints from local parents.

  He picked up his latest treasure, a new copy of A Star Man’s Son, that Mrs. Barron had given him after a tourist left it on her counter. Each time he read it, Corvan identified more strongly with its young mutant hero, Fors of the Puma Clan. Like himself, Fors was a loner, ostracized because he did not fit in with his clan but at least Fors took matters into his own hands and fled the situation with his loyal animal companion. This one had its cover intact depicting a white hair Fors navigating a raft down a river with Lura, his mutant cat, beside him. Two summers ago, Corvan had rafted down the river with his father, searching for the hidden entry to a cave. Watching the banks slip past with no noise or effort, all the while moving towards new lands, was a memory he often used for his own made-up science fiction adventures.

  A wide grin spread over his face. In his personal fantasy story, he had named his imaginary mountain lion, Kate, because she was like the Puma that protected Fors from harm. No doubt, if he ever told her about that bit of his personal science fiction story, he would get another punch in the nose. Putting the book down, he turned off the light, crawled into bed and resumed his well-rehearsed river adventure.

  It didn’t work, and before long he was right back inside his nightmare caverns. There was no point in trying to wake himself up. He was trapped until he either escaped from the now familiar monster - or died trying. Pressing against the side of the tunnel, he peered into the gloom. Once again, the beast was somewhere up ahead in the darkness, waiting for him to move and betray his location. As soon as he did, the heart-pounding, terrifying chase would begin again.

  Although he knew that dying inside the dream would only end the dream it didn’t make it feel any less real; the taste of musky fear, the foul stench of the creature in his nostrils and the gasping breaths as he come back to reality.

  He also knew from his grandfather’s stories that there was only one way to escape from the maze of tunnels; he had to find the green rope and climb it to a doorway filled with blue light. The problem was that the labyrinth of tunnels was constantly changing around him. He waited in place until the rock wall beside him melted away and a new passage opened up. Ducking inside, he crept quietly along to where a jagged fracture broke the cavern floor. At least the dream was consistent; a translucent green line dangled over the void, just out of reach.

  The click of claws on rock set his heart racing. A glance over his shoulder revealed a massive bear-like creature sweeping toward him, its bulk filling the passage, its red eyes piercing the dark.

  Corvan whirled about, leapt off the edge, latched onto the rope, then climbed furiously. A deafening roar assaulted his ears as the creature’s fetid breath rolled past him, propelling him even faster towards the rock shelf overhead, and the glimmer of blue beyond. His breath came in ragged gasps as his sweaty hands lost their grip on the rope. He heaved himself higher, but the rope only stretched and grew thinner. He squeezed it tighter but it squished out like jelly between his fingers, then broke apart.

  He plummeted toward the open jaws, a strangled scream trapped in his lungs.

  Corvan sat bolt upright in his bed and wiped the sweat from his brow. Had he cried out and awakened his mother? He could go and check but then again, he would turn fifteen this month. He couldn’t be running to his parent’s room in the night like a frightened child — but he was afraid.

  Throwing off the covers, Corvan crossed to the window, sat up on the wide sill. Pulling his knees in close, he wrapped his arms around them and gazed out the window. Low on the horizon, the moon looked like a flying saucer about to land inside the crenelations of Castle Rock.

  An owl hooted in the trees, then glided in a ghostly shadow puppet journey behind the bedsheets strung up on the clothesline runningalongside the path to the outhouse. It rose up along the crest of Castle rock searching for something to eat, and as it soared over the ring of boulders, the shadowed figure of the lizard scooted across the southern gap on its hind legs.

  In an instant he was tugging on his pants and pulling on his T-shirt. “It’s nocturnal,” he whispered to himself. “That’s why I’ve only seen it once in the very early morning. It doesn’t like the heat of day. This is my only chance.”

  Creeping down the stairs and through the kitchen, he eased himself out the back door. Swirls of dust rose between his toes as he moved past the outhouse and onto the worn path leading to the rock. A lone coyote barked at a moon ringed by dark clouds.

  Cutting away from the outhouse path, Corvan circled the base of Castle Rock just inside the tall stalks of ripening grain. Approaching the water channel cut into the west side of the rock, he dropped to all fours and crawled forward inside the smooth walls. The lone coyote barked again, closer this time. Corvan flattened himself against the cool stone. He could handle a single coyote but had no wish to encounter a pack alone in the dark. He listened intently, but there was no answering call.

  Instead, he heard the scratching of claws heading directly toward him.

  Corvan lifted his head above the edge of the channel in time to see a shadow detach itself from the protection of the rocks and dart toward him. The lizard! It was trotting alongside the water channel on its hind legs; eyes glinting in the moonlight as it looked out over the field.

  Very close now, the lizard ran alongside the worn channel leading down to Corvan’s hiding place. It was almost upon him when it abruptly veered off and disappeared into the wheat. A swath of stocks swayed with its passage.

  He had nothing to catch it in. What was he thinking? Slipping out of his t-shirt, Corvan tied the neck shut with the sleeves. The improvised sack wasn’t near big enough to catch the large reptile. He could wrap the shirt around its head so it couldn’t see but what if it ripped the thin cloth to shreds? What if it ripped him to shreds?

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  He wanted to run to the house to find something stronger, but this might be his only chance to prove he was not a liar. Flattening himself into the water channel, he peered into the darkness where the lizard had disappeared.

  Time crawled by as dark shadows from the clouds overhead moved across the rock, then launched out into the sea of grain, looking like an armada of pirate ships sailing away in the night. The shadows vanished momentarily as a brilliant flash of lightening illuminated the open prairie. Thunder rumbled overhead, and in the deep silence that followed, Corvan heard a sharp hiss from just below his hiding place.

  Rolling on his side, he found the bright eyes of the lizard watching him intently from where the channel flowed into the field. Dropping a small bundle, it crept up the slope toward him, its gaze fixed on his face.

  The lizard drew close enough for him to clearly see the blue marks on its chest and also a black collar around its neck. He hadn’t noticed that before. Was it someone’s pet? Maybe someone in the city brought it home from a tropical jungle on their travels and it had escaped. The creature’s claws scraped across the rock as it hissed and clicked in angry tones. Corvan was about to leap to his feet to scare it off when the creature stopped, raised its nose, and sniffed the air.

  Out of the darkness, a coyote bounded up from the field. Corvan shouted and the reptile managed to duck low and evade the attack. The coyote skidded to a halt, whirled about, then pounced on the lizard. The lizard rolled to one side, its front claws raking the coyote's lean face as it rushed by. The wounded animal yelped, then stopped to wipe a paw over its torn nose. In that moment, the lizard sprinted up the slope and disappeared into the circle of rocks. The coyote shook its head furiously before growling and leaping after it.

  Corvan jumped to his feet, tore up the incline and darted inside the ring of boulders, waving his t-shirt over his head, and yelling at the coyote digging furiously in the dirt next to the central stone. It turned to him, snarling, and weaving its head from side to side. Bubbles of saliva dripped from its black lips. Rabies!

  Corvan resisted the urge to run, dropped his shirt, and waved both hands over his head to make himself appear larger. Immediately the angry growl gave way to a whimper. Fear shone in the animal’s eyes. Rabid animals were usually more aggressive than this. The wounded animal put its tail between its legs and stumbled out of the ring of rocks to disappear in a brilliant flash of lightning. A blast of thunder rolled across the darkening prairie. The storm had arrived.

  Drops of warm rain fell on Corvan’s bare torso and he bent to pick up his t-shirt. Lightning crackled, illuminating a small bundle on the ground. Picking it up, he discovered a dozen or so short stalks of wheat neatly wrapped with a leather thong.

  “Animals don’t gather wheat,” he whispered. “Where did it get this from?” Setting it down on one of the outer boulders he untied the shirt sleeves and tugged it over his head. A spatter of rain fell on his upturned face as black clouds boiled in the sky overhead. The storm might turn into hail, maybe even a tornado. It was time to get back to the house.

  He went to pick up the strange bundle of wheat, but it was gone. Whipping about, he caught sight of a shadow slipping beneath the large boulder where the coyote had been digging. The lizard had returned for its prize, but why would it want a bundle of wheat so badly? Did it actually live under the rock? He had never noticed a hole there before.

  A powerful gust of cold wind rushed past him before a blast of freezing rain pummeled the back of his head and sent a shiver through his body. He made a dash past the central rock and into the wooden fort he and Kate had built on the other side. He squinted at the light bulb swaying on his back porch. He was about to make a run for it when the clouds burst, and sheets of driving rain obscured his view.

  The tattered tarp roof whipped up in the wind, spraying water into his face. Corvan backed away from the door. A prairie storm like this rarely lasted long but the display of lightning was exciting to watch, as long as it didn’t hit the lightning rod his grandfather had attached to the very peak of the house.

  The rain pounding on the canvas roof of the fort began to mix with the intermittent patter of hailstones. The rickety walls swayed in the gales of wind that whipped past it and in through the open doorway. Huddled in the far corner, Corvan watched as the water falling over the Castle Rock gathered and spread out around the central boulder.

  Usually, the water would rise high enough to drain out the channel heading down the side of rock, but this time it began to leak into the hole the coyote had dug into the soft dirt. The coyote’s mound of dirt collapsed and the muddy water rushed in and dropped away. The drain opened wider, and a whirlpool formed, sucking the water away inside the Castle Rock. A column of bubbles shot up through the whirlpool, and something bobbed to the surface of the water, swirling amid the hailstones. Corvan jumped to his feet and peered out the door.

  The sheaf of wheat was floating in the water. Corvan splashed into the pond and tried to grab the small bundle, but it shot past his fingers and disappeared back down the water funnel. Dropping to his knees in the freezing water, Corvan thrust his hand in to get it back. The wheat was gone, but below the surface he could feel the water flowing between two slabs of rock. His hand came up against a slender rock with a series of sharp angular edges. It was some sort of quartz crystal but a very large one. It would be the perfect addition to his rock collection.

  He tugged, but it did not come free. He tried pushing down on it instead, but his hand slipped off the crystal and he fell hard, painfully jamming his arm between the two slabs of stone and trapping his face under the water. His arm blocked the drain and cold water rose over the back of his head. Twisting his arm frantically he pushed against the bottom with his free hand until his trapped arm came free. Scrambled to his feet he stared into the whirlpool, gasping, and shivering in the cold wind. Were his grandfather’s stories about a maze of tunnels under the rock real?

  The entire mound of rock shuddered as a deep rumble of thunder echoed through the stone below his feet. The lightning flashed and the whirlpool vanished, replaced by a rapidly rising swell of freezing water around his legs. The water flowed quickly out into the western channel, and Corvan ran ahead of it down the slope and turned for home. Another flash, then the lightbulb on his back porch and all the lights in town winked out. Repeated streaks of lightning and peals of thunder chased him up the stairs and into his room.

  He stood at the window, dripping, and staring through the grey curtain of rain at the Castle Rock. The numbness in his injured arm slowly gave way to a growing warmth. Corvan flexed his arm, and a sharp pain clenched his shoulder. He looked down his arm to find his fist coated with sticky mud. Somehow, he had managed to hold onto the large crystal.

  His hand clutched around the angular stone grew warm and then a wave of internal heat made the muck between his fingers steam. The crystal was suddenly to hot to hold and he flung it into the corner, where it thumped off the wall and landed with a dull clank in his metal wastebasket. He pinched his sore arm and winced. This was not a dream. The lizard was real; the space beneath Castle Rock was real; and he had almost drowned to retrieve something that had its own source of heat from under the ground. How could a rock do that?

  Pulling the wastebasket over to his bed, he sat on the floor and looked over the edge.

  Whatever it was, it now lay below a layer of dirty crumpled papers.

  Corvan shook his head as he mumbled to himself. “Get ahold of yourself. You are frightened and your mind is playing tricks on you. It’s likely just some old bone a dog had buried in the dirt.”

  Moving the papers aside, he peered into the wastebasket.

  This was no dog bone.