Thunder Well

There was a crispness in the air, here above the tree line. It smacked of fall and an early winter. If there had been broad leaf trees this high up they would have turned color and started to shed their summer wares. Still, you could smell the dampness that came with the on-set of fall. As it was you could see your breath and if you inhaled sharply enough you could stick your nostrils together. Snow had come to the peaks and it wouldn't be long before Simons perch would be to icy to be safe. As he headed back to the ten inch thick steel door that was carved into the cliff face behind him, Simon reflected on a day forty years earlier where in this same spot, he had set off an explosion that in its time seemed horrifying in its intensity but now would only be the catalyst to set something in motion insane in intention and mankind's last hope for redemption.