THE PANGEA CHRONICLES . BOOK 1.. 107.9°

108°

EPILOGUE
10 October, 2019

215 PM

Location Unknown

Summer wasn't letting go.

During a typical year, the hike up this old gravel trail would be pleasant. Autumn would have begun to explode on the mountainside, splashing it's colors from misty horizon to valley floor. Great stands of Beech, Maples, Poplars and Ash, offer up their leaves to the coming fall. Deep reds and vibrant yellows, and a million combinations of the two, made for a painted landscape that was unmatched in its beauty.

The air would tell tales of the end of summer, as temperatures moderated and the humidity dropped. Crisp. Clean.

Or so it was, during a typical year.

Pulling the hood down from his sweat covered head, the man shows his face to the camera hidden inside the Rose Cross above the door. Shifting a newspaper he's carrying to his other hand, he waits for the click of the lock, then opens the heavy steel door.

Inside is naught but a dank cave, musty and humid. A single passage, with barely enough height to stand, follows a steep grade downward. Opening in a massive chamber, the cramped passage gives way to vaulted ceilings adorned with tapestries that bear the same Cross as the door. Walking across the chamber, past the lines of tables and behind the pulpit, he opens the newspaper to the headline and drops it on the desk.

PANGEA CONFIRMED AS CAUSE OF DEATH FOR NEW ORLEANS TEENS.

“I told you Frater Lowen,” the man at the desk said as he scanned the news report, “Our evolution will prevail.”

*

*****

Across the mountainside, the leaves held their lush green hues, as the unseasonably hot air crested . It seemed that Summer was not yet letting go.

And though the CDC may have declared a victory in Birmingham, Pangea wasn't letting go either.