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CZM Book Club: The Barrow Will Send What it May, Chapter Three

It Could Happen Here

Sun Mar 23 2025

Summary

It Could Happen Here: CZM Book Club – The Barrow Will Send What it May, Chapter Three

Date: March 23, 2025
Podcast: It Could Happen Here (Cool Zone Media / iHeartPodcasts)

Overview

This episode is part of the CZM Book Club, where the hosts read and discuss The Barrow Will Send What it May, the second novel in the Danielle Cain series. In this session, the group delves into Chapter Three, blending a read-aloud session, literary analysis, and irreverent banter. The central theme is the group's investigation into a magical mystery circling around the peculiar town of Pendleton, Montana, as the protagonists follow leads involving resurrection, local punks, and potentially dangerous magic.

Key Discussion Points & Episode Breakdown

Book Club Vibes & Setting the Scene

The hosts set a casual, welcoming tone, riffing on the idea that “you don’t have to do the reading” because the narrator does it for you (03:20).
- “The only book club that you don’t have to do the reading for because I do the reading for you.” – Main Narrator (03:20)
Light-hearted sword talk and lore about John Brown’s era, relating to weapon-collecting book clubbers (03:44–05:15).

Chapter Three Recap – Magic, Mornings, and Community

The narrator launches into Chapter Three, placing listeners inside the perspective of the protagonist, who wakes up with Brynn—setting an intimate and atmospheric start (06:00).
Breakfast scene: Plans are laid out among the group—Vulture and Thursday taking the Bookmobile to Glacier, Doomsday and Vasilis researching at the library, while the narrator, Brynn, and Heather head into town (06:00–07:30).

Small-Town Dynamics & Punk Librarians

The characters traverse Pendleton on bikes, reflecting on local attitudes: the town tolerates its punks, especially as they run the library, but there's still a sense of outsider-ness and marginalization (07:35–09:00).
- “This town actually likes its punks?” (08:21)
- “We run the library. Vasilis and Asola are from here... People don’t really understand us, but they also don’t really mind that they don’t, if that makes sense.” (08:27)

The “Zombie’s Doorstep”: Meeting Asola

Arriving at Asola’s cottage, the protagonists confront the legendary “zombie” herself. The real Asola is tough, tattooed, and wields a claw hammer in each hand, humorously subverting expectations (14:54).
- “I don’t know why I expected her to look like a zombie... Asola didn’t look like a zombie. She looked instead like. Well, one of us.” (15:03)
Tense exchange: Asola warns them away, stressing the dangers of magic and the entity known as Barrow.
- “If I tell you where to look next, I am guessing you’ll die. Magic is too fucked up to be safe at all for anyone hunting down madmen with access to it. That’s worse. You really, really should just skip town and never look back.” – Asola (16:36)
Asola directs them (reluctantly) toward Sebastian Miller, “Gertrude’s ex-husband. He runs the gift shop on the east edge of town. With the dinosaurs” (17:24).

Breaking, Entering, and Dinosaur Hijinks

The group plans a stealth mission to Miller’s dino-adorned gift shop (18:37).
They encounter a massive, crumbling brontosaurus statue, leading to a spirited debate about dinosaur taxonomy (brontosaurus vs. apatosaurus vs. Pluto as a planet), mixed with personal anecdotes about lost childhood knowledge and questionable high school teachers (22:17–23:54).
- “I feel strongly this way about Brontosauruses because it’s one of the dinosaurs that I used to know. All of the dinosaurs, Margaret. When I was like a little 6 year old, I had an 800 page dinosaur encyclopedia.” – Co-host 1 (22:17)
Brynn makes a daring leap from the brontosaurus to a window, showcasing her punk cat burglar skills, much to the crew’s amazement (24:47).

Searching Sebastian’s Haunt

Inside, they find nothing immediately incriminating—mundane décor, nostalgic photos, a big TV, hunting rifle, and not even one hidden note (30:12–31:40).
Ethical musings: The narrator debates the morality of pinching a souvenir shot glass “from a bad man” (30:12).
- “That was terrible logic. That was state logic. A man wasn’t guilty just because he was being investigated. I put the shot glass back. I am pretty sure 18 year old me would have laughed at 28 year old me, but 18 year old me was kind of an asshole, so I didn’t really hold myself responsible to her.” (30:22)
The search intensifies as they break into the office, then stumble upon an ominous hallway with Greek lettering carved above a door: “tapota zontana den parasai” (34:00).
- The hosts and characters puzzle out the likely meaning and the emotional subtleties of Heather’s romantic history with Vasilis.
- “I just learned how to sound [Greek] out a couple years ago. Vasilis is Greek. I think I was trying to impress him.” – Heather (34:15)

Magic, Danger, and Cliffhanger

Opening the mysterious basement door, Heather is struck by a magical ward—green fire envelopes her arm, triggering panic and pain.
- “This time my perception of time slowed down. I saw her hand move and green light rippled out across something, like someone had strung an invisible window screen across the doorway. Her whole arm pierced that veil, and she screamed.” (36:45)
The narrator manages to pull Heather back, barely, as the chapter ends with her unconscious and the group deeply shaken.

Notable Quotes & Memorable Moments

On Book Clubs:
“The only book club that you don’t have to do the reading for because I do the reading for you…this is well in line with normal book club behavior, I think.” – Main Narrator (03:20)
On Outsider Punk Culture:
“People don’t really understand us, but they also don’t really mind that they don’t, if that makes sense.” – Heather (?) (08:27)
On Magic and Danger:
“Magic is too fucked up to be safe at all for anyone hunting down madmen with access to it. That’s worse. You really, really should just skip town and never look back.” – Asola (16:36)
On Morality and Aging:
“That was state logic. A man wasn’t guilty just because he was being investigated. I put the shot glass back. I am pretty sure 18 year old me would have laughed at 28 year old me, but 18 year old me was kind of an asshole, so I didn’t really hold myself responsible to her.” – Main Narrator (30:22)
On Nostalgia for Child Genius:
“I can name like four dinosaurs today. It’s like all the Latin I learned, it’s just gone. You know, as a teenager I was translating the fucking Aeneid into English and I have like four words now.” – Co-host 1 (22:34)
On Magical Consequences:
“Her whole arm pierced that veil, and she screamed…she fell on top of me. She stopped screaming. If she was breathing, it was too faint to hear.” – Main Narrator (36:45)

Episode Structure & Key Timestamps

03:20 — Book club camaraderie banter
06:00 — Reading of Chapter Three begins; morning, planning
07:35 — Biking through town and small-town dynamics
14:54 — Confrontation with Asola
17:24 — Lead on Sebastian Miller, the dinosaur gift shop
22:17 — Dinosaur debate and lost youth tangents
24:47 — Brynn’s bold break-in via brontosaurus
30:12 — Search inside gift shop; moral reflections
34:00 — Discovery of Greek-lettered door, emotional beat
36:45 — Magical trap springs; cliffhanger moment
38:46 — End-of-chapter reactions and outro

Tone and Style

The episode moves seamlessly between pulp fiction adventure, earnest social reflection, and characteristic irreverence. The hosts’ mix of comedic digression (dinosaurs, nostalgic teacher tales) and heartfelt thoughtfulness (“that was state logic… 18-year-old me was kind of an asshole”) keeps the tone lively and accessible while discussing heavy themes—community, marginalization, morality, and danger.

For Listeners Who Missed the Episode

This episode is a lively, engaging installment in the Danielle Cain series book club, blending plot-driven mystery, character introspection, and the book club’s trademark blend of humor and authenticity. It's perfect for fans of fantasy, found family, and punk DIY culture who appreciate deep dives into both story and social dynamics. The cliffhanger ending, with a magical ward gone wrong, promises high stakes and further misadventures next week.

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Transcript

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Co-host 1 (1:35)

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Ad Voiceover (Jacob Goldstein / Julian Edelman) (1:36)

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Co-host 1 (1:38)

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Main Narrator / Storyteller (1:41)

Nether regions because I read that you're.

Co-host 1 (1:43)

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Main Narrator / Storyteller (1:45)

In your mouth but also in your other orifices.

Co-host 1 (1:48)

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Main Narrator / Storyteller (1:49)

Your hole into the sun? I did. That's crazy. Downward dog mooning the sun. I was gonna say. Is it cheeks open?

Co-host 1 (1:56)

It's cheeks open all the way wide.

Main Narrator / Storyteller (1:58)

Is it cheeks open? Uh huh. Who's holding them?

Main Narrator / Storyteller (6:00)

Chapter three Morning came too soon for my taste. I'd scarcely been asleep before the first birds announced their desire to herald the dawn. Brynn was spooning me, and the idea of staying there like that was a lot more interesting than getting up to go chase down what, A demon? A resurrectionist? Zombies? There'd be coffee, though, if I woke up. Sometimes I think I let myself get addicted to coffee. Not because I liked it, not because caffeine did me any favors, but because it takes the urge of a physical addiction to provide any kind of upside to getting out of bed in the morning. It didn't bother me thinking like that. Bryn liked coffee even more than I did. So as the dawn light came in through the window, I untangled myself from her and went off to figure out the kitchen. Vasilis was already there, chopping potatoes. He brought the blade down slowly with each cut, working silently so as to not wake the house. I found myself the coffee grinder. It would be fine. Waking up was fine. Over breakfast, we worked out our plans. Vulture and Thursday would take the library's car, actually the old Bookmobile, and head up to Glacier for the day, see what they could find. Doomsday and Vasilis were going to go through the library, see how much information they could dredge up about the Book of Barrow and Resurrection. The rest of us, Heather, Bryn, and myself would see what we could find out in town. Presumably, we'd start by talking to Isola and Gertrude. We'd reconvene at sunset or whenever the boys came back from Glacier. Now that I was awake, fed and caffeinated, I was actually fairly excited to get this thing figured out. Everyone likes a good puzzle. Turns out, a puzzle with magic in it is twice as interesting. Bryn, Heather, and I hopped on bicycles, janky old cruisers, perfect for a town as flat as Pendleton, and went off to find Asola. I had my travel pack with me, emptied in case we found anything. The few people we saw looked friendly enough outside the gas station, grocery store, diner combo, an older fellow waved at Heather, who waved back. The tattoo on her arm was fresh, a simplified Ouroboros. This town actually likes its punks? I asked. We run the library. Vasilis and Asola are from here, too. Well, Vasilis is from Greece, but He's been here 20 years. People don't really understand us, but they also don't really mind that they don't, if that makes sense. It did. I'd never really stayed put long enough to get that kind of feeling in a town, but I'd met a few folks who had over the years. It sounded nice. A bit lonely, though. Living in one place always sounded kind of lonely to me. It took us maybe 10 minutes to bike out to the western edge of town. It had been a tourist town that was easy to see, the gateway to the great outdoors or some shit. We must have been closer to Glacier than I realized. The last block of town held four bed and breakfasts in a row. One of them, the first we passed, even looked like it was probably still operational. The lawn was maintained, and a little fountain shot water up about a foot from some rocks in the front yard. The other three BBs, though, were boarded up and overgrown and to my eye at least, all the more beautiful for it. This one's it, heather said, parking her bike along the wrought iron fence of the last house on the block. The building itself was small, barely more than a cottage, but its yard was expansive and it backed onto forest. If I was rich, I would live somewhere like that. Or, you know, since I was poor, I'd squat someplace like that. It would be nice to live somewhere where you didn't have to worry about the cops kicking down your door, but the trade off of being law abiding didn't sound worth it. We didn't lock the bikes. We didn't even have bike locks. You two might want to go up there alone, heather told us. I think if Asola wanted to talk to me, she would have by now, you know. So Brynn and I opened the iron gate and started up the front walk. Never been on a zombie's doorstep, I said after I rang the doorbell. I figure it's more like Lazarus doorstep. The guy Jesus resurrected? That's the one. What's the story with him? I asked. Hell if I know. Just that Jesus brought him back from the dead. Why was he so special? Go away. This last bit came from inside the house, right on the other side of the door. Brynn and I looked at each other. We. We come in peace, I offered. And if you want to come in peace, you should bring a peace offering. A peace offering? Like the things that you can get.

Main Narrator / Storyteller (14:54)

And we're back. We're not cops or nothing, brynn added. Yeah, I didn't think the two crust punks at the door were cops, but I'm not trying to talk to anyone. Why not? I asked. That's a shitty question to ask, and I knew it. Sola wanted to be left alone. She'd made that clear in a thousand ways. Yet here we were, prying. I'm going to open the door, but only because I'm too tired to yell through it, asola said. You can't come in. All right, bryn agreed. The door swung open. I don't know why I expected her to look like a zombie or something. I mean, I'd met Gertrude already and she looked normal enough, but I legit assumed Asola was going to look like a zombie. Asola didn't look like a zombie. She looked instead like. Well, one of us. She wore a slip dress that showed off her full figure, and her hair was tied up in a loose bun, revealing tattoos across her neck, even though she probably wasn't a day over 22. She had a claw hammer in her hand. No, wait, both hands. She had a claw hammer in each hand. It's just that only one of the two was raised. Instant Friend Crush what are you doing here? She asked. You're going to get yourself killed on a long enough timeline, brynn agreed. She had her hand hovering near the folding baton on her belt. No, I mean if anyone sees me talking to you, I don't know what's going to happen. You might wind up dead. That's an argument for letting us inside, then, I offered. That's an argument for y' all leaving, she countered. True, I agreed. But we didn't go. Who would kill us? Barrow? I don't know. She thought about it. No, not Barrow. What happened to you and everyone up at Glacier? I asked. She put the hammer down and met my gaze, unflinching. Somehow this was even more intimidating than when she had the weapon raised. We all died, okay? That's all I'm going to say about it. Okay? I waited for her to tell me more anyway. Look, you're wasting your time talking to me. Who should we talk to, then? I asked. Gertrude. What's she got to do with it? No, no, Gertrude's innocent. I don't think she knows anything. Isola sighed, then set the hammers down on a table near the door. Look, if I tell you where to look next, I am guessing you'll die. Magic is too fucked up to be safe at all for anyone hunting down madmen with access to it. That's worse. You really, really should just skip town and never look back. Forget the name Barrow. Forget the name Pendleton. Forget me. Forget Gertrude. Ain't gonna happen, though, bren said. You want to know what's going on? You want a man named Sebastian Miller, Gertrude's husband? Ex husband, asola said. He runs the gift shop on the east edge of town. With the dinosaurs? I asked. With the dinosaurs. Don't confront him. Don't let him know you're investigating him. Don't let him know you exist. Don't tell him I talk to you. Thank you, I said. She started to close the door. Wait, I said. I still have so many questions to ask. Yeah, well, I've got about three more seasons of Xena I plan to watch while I pretend like I don't exist. So I'm afraid I'm too busy for questions. I'm sorry, brynn said as the door was closing. I'm sorry about whatever happened to you. The door hesitated. Thank you. The door closed. We reconvened with Heather out by the street and told her what we'd learned. Hey, that's more than I've gotten out of her, heather said. And we used to live together, so. Sebastian Miller, I said. I bet he's at Dawson's right now. The diner or grocery store or whatever. He's there most weekdays only, opens the gift shop on the weekends. Do we go to Dawson's or the gift shop? I asked. Are you kidding? Bryn asked. Isola is pretty clear about that. We'll go to his place now while he's not home. And just break in? Heather asked. Yeah, bryn said. Heather seemed to think that over for a minute. All right. We had to bike down side streets to avoid Dawson's, but it still didn't take us longer than maybe 10 minutes. Everyone we passed looked friendly, but riding through town during the day you could tell that the town was poor, destitute. Maybe about a third of the houses were abandoned and most of the rest were poorly maintained. Every road but the main one was full of potholes. They were probably maintaining the main road for the sake of tourists. If one day the tourists came back. Or maybe they were maintaining the main road for their own sake, for their own dignity. It was hard to tell. We cut through an alley, the small town kind that goes between backyards instead of brick buildings to approach the gift shop from the back, it was easy to pick out the right place. A 20 foot tall brontosaurus with purple paint chipping off its concrete kept watch over the backyard. How will we get in? Heather asked. What are we looking for? I asked. Don't know and don't know, bryn said. We'll know it when we see it. They're both questions. The building was a plain cube, two stories tall, and peppered with windows. I went to the closest one, popped the screen out and tried to lift the glass. Locked. I put the screen back in and went to the next one. You get much crime in Pendleton? Bryn asked. No, not really, heather answered. No cops in town either. Sometimes the county sheriff comes in to handle something, but we're pretty much on our own. People usually lock their windows? I asked. The next window was locked, too. No, heather said. Astle has something to hide, bren said. I mean, we are trying to break in, I said. Kind of justifies his paranoia. Help me up this Apatosaurus, bryn said. It was deceptively hard to get a hold of since the ridge of its back was just out of reach from the ground and the whole belly of the thing was round. I think it's a brontosaurus, I said. I gave her a boost with my good arm and she straddled the beast like she was riding it. Vulture would have wanted a photo for his Instagram. Hell, I wanted a photo because Bryn looked awesome as a crosspunk dino riding cowboy. But you know you're not supposed to take pictures of yourself at the scene of any given crime in progress. I thought Brontos weren't real, Bren said. I thought they were all Apatosauruses now. Nope. My youngest niece had been obsessed with dinosaurs. Last time I'd gone to see her in Illinois, she'd schooled me good when I tried to say that Brontos weren't real. They count as real dinosaurs again. This, by the way, unrelated is how I feel about Pluto.

Main Narrator / Storyteller (30:12)

So with the story, I wonder what was going through the head of the person who decided that the world needed hundreds of shot glasses with the words Pendleton, Montana emblazoned on the side. Because I didn't share that particular opinion. But what do I know? Maybe they'd moved thousands of them already. I pocketed one, then spent a full minute having an ethical argument with myself. I don't have any particular issue justifying theft of necessities or from big box stores, but a shot glass wasn't food and this wasn't exactly a Walmart. The store looked like any roadside bullshit gift store anywhere. On the other hand, the guy who owned the place was probably a bad man. Isn't that why we'd broken into his place? That was terrible logic. That was state logic. A man wasn't guilty just because he was being investigated. I put the shot glass back. I am pretty sure 18 year old me would have laughed at 28 year old me, but 18 year old me was kind of an asshole, so I didn't really hold myself responsible to her. I also didn't need a shot glass. There wasn't much we could imagine him hiding inside the store itself. So after the briefest of searches, we went up the stairs to his apartment. Heather took watch by the front window since she knew what the guy looked like and the truck he drove. Bryn and I combed through the apartment, careful to set everything back into its right place. Since we weren't wearing gloves, we absolutely should have been wearing gloves. We wanted to make sure he never even suspected we were there. It was frustrating, anxious work. One slip up could land us in prison. Even the natural joy of snooping was diminished by how careful we had to be. There were two photos framed on the wall. One of Gertrude and a man who must be Sebastian, holding hands on a mountaintop with a valley and a river in the distance below. He was an unremarkable old white man, hard to distinguish from any other. The other photo was of a younger couple in the same place. Probably the two of them 30 years earlier, younger. He looked happy and handsome. The difference between the two made Me sad, happy old couples give me a sort of hope, but judging by these photos, the happiness had been gone for decades. There were glaciers in the background of the older photo, but they had melted by the time the newer one had been taken. More sadness. Why should the march of time be inherently melancholic? It didn't seem fair. I opened the frames carefully. No hidden notes, not even a date written on the corner to sate my curiosity. I hadn't done snooping like this more than a handful of times. The first time a couple of us had robbed some rich asshole's house and sold his stuff for food. I was young, reckless, and I'd never been to jail, so it was just kind of fun. The second time, the whole affair had been deadly serious. My friend's mother had been trapped in an abusive relationship, so we'd broken into the man's summer home for blackmail to hold over his head so that she could leave him in comparative safety. That time the stakes were too epic for it to be thrilling, but righteousness imparts a kind of high of its own. Both of those men had had entertaining secrets, like embarrassingly crass porn collections or a false bottom drawer with cheesy ninja weapons hidden inside. Sebastian Miller had an easy chair, a bed, a bookshelf full of mediocre but not embarrassing books, and a fuck off big tv, a mounted deer, nothing impressive, and a run of the mill hunting rifle hung on the wall. My pack stayed empty. There a basement? I asked at last, after I checked every damn horror book on his shelf for a hidden compartment. Maybe through the office downstairs. Heather said, okay, office, basement, and then I give up. We'll find something, Heather said. What's he like? I asked. He weird or anything? I never thought twice about him until Gertrude came back. Heather said, he drives a 1950s truck. That's about the most interesting thing about him. He used to come by the library sometimes, check out thrillers for himself. Romance for Gertrude. Called her Gertie. He was the only one in town who called her that. I don't think she liked it. The office door behind the checkout counter of the gift shop was locked with a deadbolt. I got out my tools. I keep a tension wrench and a basic rake and a hidden pouch on the waist belt of my pack, usually to break into dumpsters for food and set to work. Who the hell are you people? Heather asked, climbing into second story windows, busting out lock picks like it's nothing. Brynn laughed in that out of character giggle of hers. We told you we're demon hunters. We should get a crew name, I said. The Ulyxians, brynn said without hesitating. We can't name ourselves after a demon we banished, I said. No, no. Think about it, brynn said. Uliksei wasn't bad because of what he did, stopping those who wield power over others. He was bad because he was a single manifestation of that ideal. We could do the same work, but as people. Not omnipotent. It doesn't really roll off the tongue, heather said. Fine, brynn said. Fine. The tension wrench gave way in my hand. The lock turned over, and I opened the door. Just an office. Well, an office straight out of the 80s or 90s or whatever. Big ugly monitor on a big ugly desk, and the carpet was about twice as thick as could be reasonably justified. There were two other doors on the far wall. One of you a hacker, too? Heather asked. I shrugged. Sure, brynn said. Vulture is. We went through the drawers. Found nothing but business receipts and junk mail. To be honest, I don't think we'll find anything on the computer either, I said. I think this whole thing is a bust. I opened one of the two doors, a closet with cleaning supplies and office supplies. I opened the other door. Now here was something interesting. The door led to a short hallway, about 10ft long, with another door at the other end. Above the door someone had crudely carved in Greek letters, tapota zontana den parasai. Bryn and I stared blankly. Uh, heather said, squinting. Tapota zatanna den per tha parasai. What does that mean? I asked. No clue. I can't really speak Greek. I just learned how to sound it out a couple years ago. Bacillus is Greek. I think I was trying to impress him. How long have you and him? Bryn started to ask. I don't know if she trailed off because she was shy to ask me around, or she realized it wasn't the time and place. Five years, heather said. It's good. Mostly. She opened the door. A set of plain wooden steps led down into darkness. I sometimes wish. I don't know, heather said. I wish things were easier between us. More relaxed. He's not controlling. But somehow I just. I wish I felt more free. She took a step through the doorway. This time my perception of time slowed down. I saw her hand move and green light rippled out across something, like someone had strung an invisible window screen across the doorway. Her whole arm pierced that veil, and she screamed. She didn't have time to stop. Momentum carried her forward, every bit of her. On the far side of the doorway glowed with green fire. I grabbed for her the fingers of my hand. My goat bitten hand went right through the doorway and it tingled. My wrist though passed through and it hurt like fire. While most of the times I've gotten burned, fire only hurt later, once the nerve endings started growing back or whatever. This time it hurt immediately like how fire hurts later. I got a hold of her jacket and yanked back. She fell on top of me. She stopped screaming. If she was breathing, it was too faint to hear. Dun dun dun woo. That's the end of chapter three.