Nodding, Rogers said, “That’s what experimental physics is all about. You push the envelope until you run into a problem. Then you fix the problem and push some more.”

Jake nodded back at him. But in his mind he pictured Tim Younger pushing the envelope until the big rig blew up in a fiery, fatal explosion.

*   *   *

It was snowing hard by the time Rogers dropped Jake off at the campus. Dark clouds pressed low, blotting out the sunset, and a strong wind gusted between the university buildings. Bending against the wind, Jake mushed through a few inches of wet snow and slid into his Mustang. The wipers cleared most of the snow off his windshield; he let the car’s engine run for a few minutes, then turned the heater on to the defrost mode to finish the job.

By the time he got home, the university’s radio station was devoting itself completely to the impending blizzard. Jake got a vision of children all across the state leaping with glee at the thought of not going to school the next day.

Once in his apartment, Jake checked his phone machine. Nothing. He flipped open his cell phone and saw that there were no messages waiting for him there, either.

Tomlinson’s probably stranded somewhere out in the boonies, he thought. Shacked up with Amy in some roadside motel. He thought about phoning Amy again, decided against it, and went to bed, miserable and alone.

*   *   *

The phone woke him up. Groggily, Jake reached for it while squinting at his digital alarm clock: 7:32 A.M.

“Jake?” Amy’s voice.

He snapped awake. “Amy! Where are you?”

“At home. We got back last night.”

“Through the blizzard?”

“It wasn’t that bad. We had a state highway patrol escort. The roads were plowed pretty well.”

“That’s good.” He slowly pulled himself up to a sitting position. “I was worried about you.”

“Franklin wants to talk to you. How soon can you get over to his house?”

Jake thought swiftly. “I’ve got a class at ten. Don’t know how many will show up for it, though.”

“Come over for lunch, then.”

“Okay. I’ll be there between twelve and twelve thirty.”

“Good.”

*   *   *

The snowfall was much less than Jake had expected. Listening to the radio as he shaved and brushed his teeth, Jake heard that the dire warnings of the night before had been replaced by more sober forecasts: The storm had blown through quickly, now it was clear, with high temperatures in the teens, overnight low near zero. No announcements of school closings. The kids are disappointed this morning, Jake thought.

Both before and after the weather report the station played advertisements for Harmon Dant. “A vote for Dant is a vote for our traditional values. A vote for Dant is a vote for your own way of life.”

Jake shook his head and wondered why there weren’t any ads for Tomlinson.