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CHAPTER ONE - Page 8
Omens Of Tragedy
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Dawn arrived almost immediately and we all four agreed to
have supper in the lounge, where a National Hockey League game was playing on
TV: Edmonton Oilers versus the Calgary Flames, one of those classic
rivalries that turn up in professional sports. The game didn't mean much to the
Flames, who now figured out of the playoff picture, but for the Oilers, it
meant plenty. From where I sat, I could chat with the others while keeping
one eye on the game -- a perfect arrangement considering that my mind was
still in turmoil. I didn't know why, but I felt incapable of carrying on a
meaningful conversation.
Shortly after we sat down, Dawn reminded me that we were
supposed to phone the children at the Quonset hut -- a separate building at
home in which I had my office and where the kids usually came to play video
games or use the VCR. Shortly after seven o'clock we phoned but got no answer.
That seemed odd: the kids should have finished their supper and have
started their movie. At seven-thirty we phoned again -- both the Quonset
hut and our home. No answer. Eight o'clock we phoned: no answer.
Eight-thirty: no answer. Nine o'clock: still no answer.
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Our whole crew played STARS basketball.
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