I was sitting in the front passenger seat of a car. Two other fellows (one of whom looked like the actor Ryan Stiles) were in the car, one driving and one in the back seat. We were talking about a trip which we were planning to take together to northwestern Canada. We anticipated the trip would last for about a week. We planned to fly, but we were still uncertain how we would travel once we landed in Canada. We discussed hitchhiking, but I didn't like to hitchhike. I told the others that once we landed, we should simply rent a car. I said the rental car should only cost about $100 for a week; but I quickly revised the figure to $200. We might also visit Alaska. I visualized a map of the area, a map entirely different from any I had ever seen. I was intent on visiting the western side of the Rocky Mountains in Canada. I recalled that Donna Griffiths had recently visited this same area and that she had sent me a description of what she had seen; it sounded beautiful.

As I mused, I began eating some lettuce and tomatoes which I had with me. The food tasted delicious. I ate for a while before I realized I might be being impolite by eating in front of the other two. I quickly finished off the food.

We finally pulled up in front of a brick house where my mother lived. I had been staying with her for a while, but I hadn't planned on returning here today; I had already told her the day before that I was leaving. Nevertheless, I stepped out of the car and walked into the house while my two companions waited in the car. My mother and a couple children were inside. My mother looked as if she were around 40 years old; her hair was still brown.

I wanted to check out the house, which somehow seemed dangerous. I quickly headed upstairs. In my apprehension, I was now carrying a rifle. After only a moment in the upstairs, I returned back downstairs to my mother. She handed me a sack with some fried chicken. I pulled out a piece and ate it.

Suddenly one of my companions from the car walked into the house. Clearly agitated, almost belligerent, he also was carrying a rifle. He suspected that someone who wanted to hurt us might be upstairs. I told him I had been upstairs and no one was there. Nevertheless, he gingerly began ascending the stairs.

From downstairs, in my mind, I could see my companion reaching the upstairs and going from room to room. Suddenly, he encountered a stranger, a man (about 30 years old) who was also carrying a gun. I immediately knew that this stranger belonged to a brotherhood called "The Verst." At one time, 10,000 men had belonged to the brotherhood; but now, this man was the last member.

Suddenly, without warning, my companion shot the stranger. I wasn't surprised; but I was upset. When my companion came back downstairs, I told him that shooting the stranger had been unnecessary, that the stranger wouldn't have harmed us. But there was nothing I could do now: the last member of the Verst was dead. The Verst was now extinct.

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