The Rumors went around campus that night that Dr. Somner was behind the mysterious destruction of the statue of Good. Apparently he had been acting strangely for quite some time, and several of the senior students could remember back to their freshman year when he was publicly reprimanded for attempting to break into the school’s vault without authorization. Of course he was after the SkyPath scrolls: he was convinced that they contained the secrets to avoiding the coming apocalypse. He had thrown a lot of money and time into acquiring pieces of ancient manuscripts from all over the world that he believed shed some light on the college’s scroll. He was reported to have said that they all told the same story and that if you put them together you would be able to predict the end of the world.

            Naturally all this talking made me feel like a complete idiot. Just the night before when Dr. Somner had asked me to help him in his secret mission I considered myself distinguished because a tenured professor had chosen to confide in me. Now I felt like I’d been taken advantage of. I went to bed angry that night, and got up still feeling like I wanted to punch him in the face.

            Actually, I almost did. The very next morning in the cafeteria that man had the audacity to approach me in front of my friends and whisper quite suspiciously that he needed to see me alone. I would have walloped him in the choppers right there, but that would have expelled me from the school. So I just agreed as quickly as I could to see him in his office after breakfast.

            The meeting started out much how I had expected it. He sat on the corner of his desk with his glasses on the end of his nose explaining to me that what had happened yesterday was a sign of an impending catastrophe. He said there was something I needed to know about and began telling me a tall tale about knights and emperors sailing through space in wooden ships many centuries ago. At this point I couldn’t take any more of it. I stopped him abruptly and asked him why he had lied to me.

            Dr. Somner coughed and stared me in the face. “What do you mean?” he asked angrily. “I never lied to you.”

            “Yes you did! It was on September 11th when you asked for my help. You said you wanted me to translate the SkyPath scrolls, and that Professor Kraus would help me learn Byzantine Greek. I know that’s not true because I heard her talking to you yesterday.  She said that all of your theories were bunk!”

            “Oh!” said the professor smiling. “Is that all? You’re right that she doesn’t believe me, but you’re wrong about the rest. Professor Kraus is a skeptic of the best kind. She puts no stock in the ancient prophecies whatsoever. She wants to disprove them, but she can’t do that until someone has translated them. That’s why she agreed to teach you Byzantine.”

            “Well, I guess that makes sense, in a grownup sort of way,” I admitted. To me it still seemed completely crazy. “You’ll have to pardon me, Professor, but I don’t want to translate them any more. Every one thinks you’re off your rocker, and frankly I intend to agree. If I go through with this, I’ll lose my friends.”

            “Alright, you don’t have to do it,” said the Professor. “I was going to release you from your promise anyway. The scrolls don’t matter anymore: not since the statue got destroyed.”

            “Why not?”

            “Because the statue of Good has been destroyed. It’s a sign that all hope has vanished. When I asked you to translate the scrolls I knew I was asking you to do something difficult. It would have taken you years, even with professional help to accomplish that task. I thought we had time, but now we don’t. Since the statue has been destroyed we may only have weeks or even days. To start studying it now would be ludicrous.”

            “Uh, sure” I muttered. I looked at him strangely. He looked perfectly sane but everything he was saying was totally crazy. “Since there’s no hope, we might as well not try anything. I guess this is the last time I’ll be in this office.”

            Professor Somner nodded. “This may be the last time anyone’s in this office. It may be the last time this office exists!”

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The Harsh cold wind swept down from the college buildings putting tears in my eyes as I took in the sight that presented itself to me. All around were oval pebbles ground smooth as glass scattered out like a shock wave from the place where the two statues had stood. One of the statues was still intact. Its sword was drawn victoriously: its visor was raised to display a happy, beaming face. It was the statue of evil.

            “Hey Phillip, watcha doing?” Collin came walking around the corner with two freshman girls. He had been doing all the talking: they stared at him and giggled as if they’d just been injecting melted marshmallows directly into their blood stream. As he addressed me he noticed the statues.

            “Hey, what’s going on here?” He paused carefully trying to comprehend what his eyes were seeing. “Is that one of the statues?” he said, nodding to the stones. “Did you do this?”

            “Yes!” I said sarcastically. “I melted the statue with a hair-dryer until it dissolved into small droplets the size of BBs! Seriously roomie, how in heck do you think I could have done this?”

            “Umm, you couldn’t have!” he admitted. He put his hand on his chin and tried to look serious as he attempted to figure out what could have possibly destroyed the statue. It only made him look all the sillier.

            By this time a small crowd had gathered around us. At first it was mostly students who had been roaming the campus with nothing productive to do. On the one side the misfits were huddled together making lame jokes and stupid remarks that I don’t want to repeat while fifty feet away the intellectuals were gathered in their suits and ties all surveying the scene quietly, trying to think of something wise to say. Presently some professors and staff approached and forced the rest of us to stand back a ways to give the scene some breathing room. Finally, the school President was sent for, and everybody stood by expectantly as if somehow his presence would shed some new light on the situation.

            As they waited I saw Professor Somner talking to Professor Kraus. They seemed very angry with each other as they spoke in low tones. I eased gently towards them so that I could hear what was going on.

            “I’m just saying that this isn’t a natural occurrence,” my English professor proclaimed passionately. “Look at those little pieces of stone. They represent only half of the statue: the rest must have been completely vaporized. Surely now you must believe me Professor. There is no way that a human being could do that!”

            “Then it wasn’t done by a human being,” said Professor Kraus sternly. “But it wasn’t done by magic either! There’s no such SkyPath curse and there’s no supernatural prophecy that has anything to do with this! These happenings are all part of natural history and you know it. You just enjoy being a stubborn old goat.”

            That was all of their conversation that I captured. About this time the college president finally arrived. Scores of eager students surged forward as if they expected something exciting to happen now. The president came forward and examined the remnant of the statue very carefully. He picked up a piece to look at, but then put it back down and wiped off his fingerprints. The growing wind played with his comb over the entire time, swishing around thin strands of gray hair.

            Five minutes later the president left the site without saying anything. The students all heaved a collective sigh of restlessness, and began to realize one by one that there was nothing more that would happen now. As he left, he summoned a few professors to come with him to his office in the administration building. Dr. Kraus was invited but Dr. Somner was noticeably left out.

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September 12th 2001 dawned like any other day, but like every other person waking up that morning, I knew that some things would never be the same. I got up slowly, combed my hair and brushed my teeth. Somehow it seemed appropriate to begin my day with a morning ritual, even though it was a ritual that I hadn’t practiced for a long time.

            I meandered to the dining hall to eat breakfast, and then headed off to the student center to watch TV. When I got there I discovered that half a dozen kids had stayed up all night watching the news. Disappointed, I returned to the dorm and watched cartoons. I stayed awake just long enough to hear someone say that our classes had been canceled again.

            I dozed off in the armchair and didn’t wake up until afternoon. I vaguely remember having a repetitive dream that kept irritating the heck out of me. I think I recall something like a drop of water falling into an empty bucket again, and again, and again. It was silvery like mercury and shaped like an angel’s teardrop. I have no idea how I knew what an angel’s tear drop is shaped like: I’m just telling you what I saw.

            That afternoon the warm weather broke and a brisk wind swept across campus bringing large fleecy clouds scudding in over the ink-blue sky. By three PM it was dark, lonely, and beginning to rain. I finally got up from my chair and went to look for Andrew.

            I walked across campus dejected and bothered by the chilly breeze. Goose bumps were popping up on my arms beneath my sagging sweatshirt. As I got closer to the classroom buildings I saw a squirrel playing with a chunk of stone that was resting on the grass. It struck me as strange that a squirrel would be playing with a rock, especially one that had a familiar blueish-gray tint to it. I knew I had seen that color of stone before very recently, but I couldn’t remember where.

            I just shook my head lackadaisically and raised my eyes. My mouth dropped open and my tongue collapsed downward onto my molars. I was so shocked by what I saw that I never got the chance to clamp my jaw shut again and bite my tongue off. The energy drained from me and left me standing there limp and haggard like a statue. But I wasn’t the only statue around. There were two others, and one was lying in pieces at my feet.

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“Phil,” said Dr. Somner slowly, “I have a very strange request to make of you. I know it’s highly unusual, and it’s not something I would normally ask of a freshman taking a full slate of classes, but given what happened today, there’s just no time to wait. That attack on the pentagon was not a coincidence.”

            “I know,” I said. “It was terrorists.”

            “Yes, of course,” he said, “but that’s not really what I mean. It’s more than just terrorism. It’s more than just Al Qaeda. There are greater things about to happen here that are not related to the physical causes or technical reasons that these horrible events have occurred. The powers of fate often use unrelated incidents in close proximity to bring about ambient changes that portend to major shifts in the time-line. History is sending us a message that terrible things are about to happen.”

            “Terrible things have happened,” I said.

            “I know, Phillip, that’s why I need your help. If we don’t stop it, it will get much worse. Do you remember that story that Brian told you the other day? He told me that you’ve heard the legend of the SkyPath scroll that was discovered on the college campus 100 years ago.”

            “I remember,” I said.

            “Well, I need you to help me translate it.  That scroll contains a lot of prophecies. Some of them may pertain to what is happening now. I’ve heard that you’re a great scholar of Classical Greek. Dr. Kraus says that you’re the only freshman ever to start in her 5th semester course. The scroll is written in Byzantine Greek, which is easier to read than Classical Greek. Professor Kraus says she thinks you can translate it if she trains you properly.”

            “Now why would she say that?” I asked.

            “Because I asked her,” said Professor Somner. “She told me she’d be willing to teach you if you were willing to learn. She says you have the ability to translate the main body of the document, although you will obviously make a few mistakes.”

            “I might do better than that!” I protested. “You’d be surprised how good I am.”

            “Excellent. Then will you do it?”

            “I don’t know. Why are you asking me this anyway? Wouldn’t it be better if a faculty member like Dr. Kraus herself would make the translation?”

            “Yes,” my English professor sighed, “but unfortunately that’s impossible. The college has an insurance policy that specifically stipulates that no one on the school payroll can ever attempt something like that without their explicit endorsement. Apparently they’re worried that another building might burn down or something worse.”

            “Oh, that’s right!” I said, suddenly remembering. “Brian mentioned something about people dieing or some such. He said that everyday the scroll was open something horrible happened. I certainly hope it’s not real!”

            “Oh it doesn’t really matter if it is,” insisted Dr. Somner. “There are many effective ways to defend against a curse, if there really is one. For instance, you can surround the affected article with charms to irradiate the pathways so that the evil can’t escape. Or else you can try exorcising it. Sometimes you can defeat the curse through simple technicalities in the language.”

            “Yep, he’s a lunatic,” I thought to myself, as he squinted his gray-shaded eyes at me. All that knowledge had driven him completely bonkers. He was not only off his rocker, but he had fallen through the floor—psychologically speaking. Still, I couldn’t say no. This was the most exciting thing I had ever been asked to do.

            So that night before I left I promised to give it a shot. I told him I’d wake up at 4:30 on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday mornings just so I could study Byzantine Greek with Dr. Kraus in a dark, deserted class room. It didn’t take me long to regret my decision, however. Not only had I effectively cut all of my week-day free time in half, but I was doomed to spend seven to eight hours a week in close quarters with my classics professor. Those of you who have ever taken a class taught by a classics professor know how intolerable their company can get after just twenty minutes.

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I stood riveted to the floor watching the terrifying footage of airplanes full of people crashing and burning on the sides of large public buildings. The photos seared a part of my consciousness as if my synapses had just been soldered together with a cattle-brand. I doubt that a novelist could have come up with a more nefarious plot.

            As I stood there in utter disbelief I felt someone’s hand on my shoulder. It was friendly and familiar, yet strong and gripping. I whirled around to see Andy’s older brother Brian standing face to face with me.

            “Come with me,” the senior said without explanation. He had a look in his eyes that told me he had something important to show me. He seemed nervous and edgy. There were lines in his visage that I had never noticed before.

            I decided not to resist him. Everything seemed so surreal. He led me outside where I got into his car. Then he drove me to a house on the other side of town that I’d never been to before. On the way we drove by a dozen streets and alleyways which seemed to mesh together in a blur.

            “Come on, let’s go.” We exited the car and walked into the large white house. It had Greek columns on the porch. Once inside I found a lot of people whom I had seen that previous Friday out at the bonfire. Rachel was there and so was Andy. I sidled up next to my best friend and asked him what was going on.

            “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” he said.

            “Come on, we don’t have time!” Brian gripped me from behind by my shoulder again, refusing to let me chat with his younger brother. He forced me away from the party up a stairway into a second story hallway. He led me into a deserted bedroom and told me to wait.

            I honestly don’t know how long I stood there. Sometime later—it could have been a second or an hour—the door handle moved and someone stepped inside. I recognized him immediately as Dr. Somner, my English Professor.

            “What do you want with me?” I asked.

            “Lots of things,” said the Professor.  “I want to protect you. But I also want you to protect me.”

            “From what?” I asked. My hands were shaking as the old man looked at me.

            “From the end of the world!” he proclaimed with gravity. He paused for a moment and looked at me with those bizarre eyes of his. He was as scared as I was. He was waiting to find the courage to say more.

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Tuesday morning threatened rain, but shortly afterwards the sun broke through. As I walked across campus I noticed that the two statues were still kneeling like they had been the day before, but this time they each had a hand over their chest. Before I had time to think about what it meant, Collin came up behind me and grabbed my arm.

            “Come with me,” he insisted.

            “Can’t,” I sputtered.  “I’m on my way to Greek.”

            “Your class has been canceled.  Mine too. Come with me.”

            “Why? What do you mean?” I resisted at first, but followed him anyway.  I considered the possibility that he was joking just to get me to cut classes, but that wasn’t like him. If it was Andy who was talking that would have been a different story.

            Collin led me quickly into the student center. His face was ashen and he wasn’t talking anymore. All around me I saw students acting strangely. When we got to the building we found it crowded with hundreds of students standing against the walls watching the giant-screen TV. No one was saying much. It was the scariest thing I had ever seen.

            “What you are witnessing,” said the voice of the announcer “is a fire coming from BOTH of the world trade center towers. Let me repeat: this is live footage. Earlier this morning both towers were crashed into by 747s.  It is no longer believed that this was an accident.  It is clearly a terrorist attack. Our country is under attack.”

            I gasped as I saw the videos.  I was trying to take it all in.  “What happened?” I asked. No one wanted to answer. I heard someone mutter the word “Pentagon,” but I had no idea what he was talking about.

            “Oh my G–!” I heard a girl scream and then panic broke out in the newsroom. One of the towers was crumbling into pieces. It was like the special effects I had seen in so many movies. But this time it was real.

            It was that moment that I got that gut-wrenching feeling that made me want to throw up. You know the one I’m talking about. We all got it that day: every true-blooded American when he or she watched that footage. It was horrible.  It was the worst thing I’d ever seen. I knew I would never be the same.

            The rest of the day seems rather hazy to me now. I wandered around campus like a chicken with his head cut off from one TV to another. No one even talked about classes any more. Everyone’s attention was on New York, Pennsylvania, and the Pentagon.

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Brian paused as he finished telling his story.  The rosy tint returned to his whitened cheeks and his breathing became normal again as if he’d just let go of a heavy weight. He was able to smile now and acted like his old self.

            For the rest of the night I was mystified by the legend. Of course I knew he’d made it up, but I only wished I could prove it. If Brian had told me the story fifteen minutes earlier I could have ran back to the school and watched the statues just in time to make sure they weren’t alive. I’m assuming that’s why he waited until midnight to tell it. It made for a better story.

            Finally at two AM I staggered back across campus with Andy, the two of us pretending to be drunk on root beer.  There was no way for us to avoid the two statues standing motionless in the moonlight on the main lawn. They both stared out of cold, dark visors with drawn swords. It really didn’t look like they were fighting, though.

            The next day I didn’t get up until noon, and the day after that I spent all my time indoors playing computer games. When Monday finally rolled around, I was both tired and unprepared for classes. I walked past the statues on the dew soaked grass.  They looked different this time. Both of them had sheathed their swords and were kneeling with folded hands.

           It was September 10th, 2001.

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About a hundred years ago when the college was first being built, a group of excavators digging the foundations of the main hall were stopped unexpectedly by a large rock. What they first thought was bed-rock turned out instead to be a large meteorite. By the time they finished unearthing it they discovered it to be seventy-five feet in diameter. They were puzzled how it got there because there were no impact marks.

            The next day while trying to hoist it out with a crane, the meteor fell fifty feet to the ground  and split open. Inside they found fossilized human bodies along with the remains of a medieval sailing ship. Most of the wood had calcified, but some of it had not yet turned to stone. The experts were astonished. They had no way to explain how European knights from the 13th century aboard an Italian ship had landed in Northern Wisconsin inside a ball of rock. Most of the artifacts were sold to museums, but there was one object on the ship that the head of the college would not relinquish control of. It was a rolled up parchment scroll written in Byzantine Greek.

            For years this scroll lay in a secret vault, unopened because of its poor condition. Finally one day a classics professor managed to get it out of the case and began unrolling it one inch at a time. It took him five days to open it an entire foot. And everyday he kept opening it, something horrible happened.

            The first day a workman fell off the roof and broke his back. The second day two statues in the middle of campus depicting good and evil fell on each other and crumbled into dust. On the third day a faculty member died of a stroke, and on the fourth day a brand new building burned down. Finally, on the fifth day, the classics professor reluctantly closed the scroll back up and put it back in its case before sunset. He finished just in time to avert another disaster. That was the last of the tragedies.

            Once the scroll was rolled back up and restored to the vault things began to go well for the college. The student body tripled in size over the next three years, and the college president was elected to congress. The two statues in the center of the college were replaced with two brand-new ones, hewn out of the stone of the meteorite. They still depicted good and evil, but they were fashioned to look like the 13th century knights found in the stone.

            So every night at the stroke of midnight, the two statues begin to move and fight each other. Some people say it’s because the stones possess the souls of the two dead men. Other’s say it’s an optical illusion caused by the rare metals from outer space. What ever the case, everyone agrees that there’s something strange going on. They say that one day one of the statues is going to win their epic battle, and depending on which side triumphs, something wonderful or horrible will happen to the entire school, if not the entire world.

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My second week at Tree Point College went pretty well because we didn’t have any exams. I got along alright with my room-mate Collin who was studying philosophy, but my best friend was a kid down the hall named Andy Davis. He introduced himself to me the day after I blew the ceiling panels out of the chemistry lab. He informed me on the spot that he had an older sister who also went to school there and that I was welcome to start dating her anytime I wanted.

            By the Time Friday evening had come I was so anxious to get out of the dorm for the weekend that I had a backpack packed and ready to go. I asked my preppy room-mate Collin what he was planning to do.  He told me he was invited over to some professor’s home to discuss intellectual stuff. That sounded almost worse than studying, so I ran off to find Andy instead. He and his sister and some upper classmen friends were going to hide out in the woods and light an illegal bonfire while drinking root-beer out of the bottle and singing camp songs. This sounded like a much better plan, so I lit out with them and didn’t get back ‘til two AM.

            That night was the first time since I’d come to school that I really enjoyed myself. There were about a dozen other kids there, all juniors and seniors, and they had a lot of great stories to tell. Andy’s sister Rachel was a junior. She was cute but I could tell right away that she wasn’t interested in me. The two of them had an older brother named Brian who was of medium build and about two inches shorter than I was. He was a fun guy to hang out with and was a great story teller. Around midnight he became very serious for a little while and stopped talking. By this time the crickets down by the creek were chirping loudly as the sparks flew upwards toward the stars. I watched Brian very carefully.  Suddenly, with out warning, he stood up by the fire and started telling us another story….

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