The Game Room 07, Tunguska

Greg and Roni were at the Meteor Crater RV Park in northeastern Arizona. Arizona was Roni's home state, so she had the grand tour duty. This was her turf. Greg usually had that duty in the Washington, D. C. area. They had rented a motorhome, and on the agenda were Meteor Crater, the Grand Canyon, and a houseboat on Lake Powell with friends.

They were heading to the bathhouse for showers when Roni stopped to read a sign on the bulletin board:

.

LOST DOG

KOMONDOR or

HUNGARIAN SHEEPDOG

LOST ON THURSDAY AT METEOR CRATER

LARGE WHITE DOG WITH LONG

CURLY COAT. PROTECTIVE,

MAY BE WARY.

ANSWERS TO "MOPPSEY"

Phone 484-555-1470

.

"Thursday, that's yesterday," Roni said. "I hope they find their dog."

They went into the bathhouse and took care of business. On the way back to the camper, Greg said, "Nice campground—nice level campsites, no jacks or levelers needed. We just drive away." They secured their gear and did just that—drove away. Greg said, "What, five or six miles to Meteor Crater?"

Roni said, "Just follow the signs, Greg. Drive."

It was mid-morning when they arrived at Meteor Crater. It was already very hot—it was August in Arizona after all. Greg and Roni parked, and got out of the motorhome. The parking lot was fairly full, with a good number of buses. Greg and Roni approached the visitors' center. Taped to the door was another sign:

.

LOST DOG...

.

"Poor Moppsey!" Roni said, then, "Greg, I am going to take the rim tour, I watched the educational films inside years ago."

Greg said, "I think I'll stay inside, I'll get enough hot weather on this trip. I'll look at the crater over the rim, then we'll drive around it after the visit."

They went inside the visitor's center and bought their respective tickets. They went outside to wait for their show or tour to begin. Greg said, "Let's check the tire pressure on the camper while we're out here."

Roni said, "I got it, Greg." She opened the camper and found the gauge in the glove compartment. She started with the spare tire, always a good move, she had learned. She went around and checked all the other tires then. "All good," she told Greg as she finished the last tire. As she went to stand up, she lost her balance and stumbled backwards—right into a passing bus. It was one of those buses that looked like a wall of black mirrors. She did not get run over by the bus; she did not bounce off the bus; she disappeared into the bus!

Greg watched as this happened and could not believe his eyes. Roni had just disappeared! He chased after the bus, but could not keep up. He took pencil and paper out of his pocket to write down the license number, but it was too late, the bus was too far away to see the numbers. He stopped and thought for a moment and came to one conclusion—the Daughters of Jerusalem! They had the ability to execute such magic. But where was Roni? Had she disappeared into the belly of the bus, or elsewhere? Greg could only think of one way to find out.

He took the keys and placed them in the ignition of the motorhome: no sense in risking losing them! Then he walked to the edge of the parking lot and waited. Car, car, truck, minivan, bus—wrong kind. Car, truck—here it came, a bus with the giant black mirror sides. Greg got a running start, and dove into the side of the bus—and disappeared into it.