The Star Group by Christopher Pike Page A

to ask myself why I didn't go up to the mountains more often. The city was thick third density. When the sun went down that night I knew I would feel closer to the heavens than ever. Stars no longer spooked me. They were like old friends since Mentor had appeared.
    Ten minutes into my walk I came across an old man who looked like Santa Claus after a macrobiotic diet. He stood tall and erect, with a white beard that reached almost to his belt. Although it was warm, he wore a thick red Pendleton shirt and what appeared to be heavy wool pants. He looked healthy enough, but instinctively I felt that if I had met him a year earlier he would have been much more vital. His eyes were clear, but tired looking. The lines that fanned out from them had been eroded into furrows by hard times. Father Time was catching up with him, and when he nodded to me and opened his mouth to say hi I noticed he was missing a few teeth. Still, I felt drawn to him as I watched him standing on the shore with a fishing pole in hand.

“Catch anything interesting?” I asked as I came near.
    He shook his head. “Naah. Just a few miserable bass. I threw them back.”
    “How big do they have to be for you to keep them?”
    “At least a foot. You don't want to bite into the young'ns. All you get are bones stuck in your teeth for your trouble.”
    “Don't you take the bones out before you cook them?”
    He spat near the lake. “Nope. Don't cook them much, either.”
    “You're a sushi lover. I should have known by looking at you.”
    He appreciated my comment; he wasn't a bad guy. He nodded across the lake toward our cabin. “I saw you drive in. How long you planning to stay?”
    “Just till Monday.” I sighed as I glanced around. “But it’s so peaceful here, I wish we could stay a week.”
    He nodded at the water. “It wasn't so peaceful here last January.”
    “Why? What happened then?”
    “The Donner family always came up here during the winter. They loved to ski and hike. They owned the cabin you're renting – they might still own it for all I know. Anyway, they were here last winter from Christmas to the middle of January. As you might imagine, this lake is pretty darn solid by then. David Donner – he was their young boy – loved to go ice skating every afternoon. But I warned him and his dad to stay away from the lake because we'd had several warm days in a row, with the sun shining hard on the ice. It looked none too strong to me – I wouldn't walk out on it.”
    “What happened?” I asked.
    The old man began to reel in a fish.
    “It was January tenth, twelve-thirty in the afternoon, when David was out on the lake skating and the ice broke beneath him. I saw him fall in from my place over yonder. I had been watching him closely because I was worried when neither him nor his dad heeded my warning. But Mr. Donner was a brave man, and when his son crashed through the ice and disappeared he ran out on to the lake to rescue him. I ran out of my cabin and got to Mrs. Donner in time to stop her.” He shook his old head. “I'm glad I was able to save her at least.”
    “Did they both die?”
    “Darn shootin' they did. They both went into the frigid water, and once the ice started to break all around them there was no way anyone could get to them. We could see them both thrashing in the cold, it was a terrible sight. Mrs. Donner couldn't stop crying. I wrenched my back trying to hold her on shore. We weren't alone; there were others around that afternoon. But not one of us could rescue them and they were only a hundred feet out at most.” He nodded to the lake. “We never did find their bodies.”
    “Even after the ice thawed?”
    “Nope. The lake was dragged and them steel hooks grabbed nothing but mud and empty beer cans. They’re both still down there somewhere. I just hope one day I don't catch one of their eyeballs with my hook and reel it in. That would make me sick to my stomach, it would. But I suppose the fish have already