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rain pelted his face, but he held on.
    Dirty water and debris gushed from the cave. Billy struggled to his feet and stood in the calf-deep wash, clutching his knees and coughing violently. He spat out a mouthful of water, then a plume of steam. As he gasped for breath, his lungs gurgled, forcing him to cough again. After three cycles of coughing and gasping, he finally straightened his body and drew in a deep, cleansing breath, then swiveled his head, searching for any sign of Walter and Hambone.
    He spotted something moving near the cave entrance and dashed toward it. Hambone paddled furiously across the raging current. Clutching Walter’s coat in his teeth, the dog barely kept the boy’s head above water. Billy waded through the flow, yanked Walter upright, and hugged his drenched body. Hambone, now free of his burden, swam easily to the side of the river and shook a spray of droplets from his coat.
    Billy trudged out of the current and laid Walter gently on the leaf-matted slope next to his canine rescuer. As the downpour sprayed Walter’s forehead, Billy patted his friend’s cheeks with his frigid hands. “C’mon buddy! Wake up!”
    Gaunt and pale, Walter coughed and spat out a stream of thin saliva. Sitting up slowly, he wagged his head back and forth before looking up at Billy. With a feeble grin and a trembling voice, he said, “I dreamed I was surfing in a washing machine.”
    “Pretty close,” Billy said, bracing Walter’s back. “That rinse cycle was nearly a killer.”
    Walter rubbed his neck. “And a long-sleeved shirt with sharp teeth grabbed me and wouldn’t let go!”
    Billy scratched Hambone’s floppy ear and laughed. “And it’s a good thing, or you’d be all washed up!”
    Walter bent his neck from side to side, grimacing as loud pops sounded from his vertebrae. He motioned for Billy to let him lie down. Once his head rested on the ground again, he took a deep breath, his eyes closed. “So what now? Chase that Watcher creep?”
    Billy unfastened his coat and pulled out Fama Regis . Water had drenched the cover, but the inner pages seemed dry enough. “We have to find Arlo and see if he survived, and Excalibur’s still gotta be around here somewhere.” He tucked the book under his coat again. “I put it in your hands to keep a dome around you, but I guess you let it go.”
    Walter flashed a weak smile. “I guess it was the beach umbrella I was holding in my dream. I couldn’t surf with it, so I dropped it in the spin cycle.”
    Billy stepped back into the flow of water, now abating to a gentle stream. “After we find them, we have to figure out a way to contact Mom and Prof.”
    Walter shivered in the cool breeze, his eyes still closed. “Give me a minute, and I’ll help. My arms and legs are tingling.”
    “Hey! Maybe Arlo carries a cell phone with him.”
    “Yeah, right,” Walter said, a broad smile spreading across his wincing face. “The hillbilly wireless network.” He put an imaginary phone to his ear, his voice still quiet and pained. “Izzat yew, Agnes? Lemme talk at my hound dawg fer a minnit. I want to—”
    “That’s purty close,” a voice interrupted.
    Billy spun around. Arlo, drenched and dirty, held out a cell phone. “My sister’s named Agnes, but I don’t never call Hambone on a cell phone.” The old hillbilly grinned. “He uses e-mail.”

Chapter 3
    A New Hostiam
    Shelly gasped at the amazing sights hundreds of feet below—fields and farms laid out in green and brown checkerboards, highways and rivers lining the mountain creases like gray and blue ribbons decorating a royal garden, tiny houses with even tinier people rushing in and out pointing at the sky.
    Shelly laughed at their antics. No wonder they were frightened! Her smooth limo ride had turned into a flight in the arms of an angel! Here she was, soaring through the air, embraced by powerful, yet tender arms and shielded from the driving rain by a shimmering, transparent dome. The angel,