“Then what is the problem?” Ernst said.

“As I said, I’m sure he believed what he wrote, but some of it is simply not believable to me…not believable in a sense that I don’t see how it can be true. But if it is true…” Her expression turned bleak. “Then this world is not what we think it is.”

No one spoke for a few heartbeats until Slootjes said, “This is very generous of you, Grace. We will study it and store it safely in our archives.”

Ernst found his voice. “What…what happened to my grandfather?”

“It’s not clear, exactly,” she said, shaking her head. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, so I think it’s best you read it yourself. Good day, gentlemen.”

Without another word or a backward glance, she turned and scooted from the office.

After a long pause, Slootjes said, “Do you want me to review it first?”

Ernst could tell that the loremaster wanted nothing more in the world than just that. And Ernst had to admit that he wanted to grab the manuscript himself, shove Slootjes out the door, and pore over it. But his schedule was packed—so much going on all over the region—and he knew he wouldn’t be able to bestow the kind of attention it deserved.

“Yes. Do that. And while you’re at it, do some vetting of whatever facts you find. See if it’s worth my time or just the fever dream of some demented old Kauz.”

“Yes-yes!” Slootjes said as he hurried out. “Absolutely!”

Alone finally, Ernst stepped to the window and stared out at the busy street, full of people going about their everyday lives, completely unaware that the Change was imminent. And yet now, on the verge of the apocalypse, was he about to learn his grandfather’s fate? Were they somehow linked?

Mrs. Novak’s words echoed through his brain: You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, so I think it’s best you read it yourself…

Her ominous tone and bleak expression as she’d spoken those words had left Ernst with an unsettled feeling.

BARBARA

“Whoa!” Bess said when she saw what Ellie had been building. “Looks like we’ve got a budding Gaudi here.”

I have to confess I didn’t know what she was talking about. I knew she’d been taking artsy courses so I assumed he was a sculptor of weirdly shaped objects, because Ellie’s construction was very weird. Disturbingly so.

I’d called Bess last night and told her not to go to the hospital because Ellie was already gone. So she’d arrived at the apartment where we watched Ellie begin her “shelter.” She’d barely spoken while she worked at attaching her found objects to the wall, so Bess finally returned to her dorm.

Normally I wouldn’t let one of my daughters get away with that sort of rude behavior, but Ellie was not herself. Nor was I, not really. She’d been through a horrible ordeal and I wasn’t about to start an argument. For the time being she had carte blanche.