"William Lynch"
by Michael Dell

CHAPTER SEVEN

Saturday, the first day of William and Meghan's self-imposed prohibition, was for the most part uneventful. Norm did call to say that his cousin confirmed the van availability for Sunday night, October 4. That gave them two weeks to prepare for the Big Boy. It was agreed that a meeting of the conspirators would be held the next night. William spent his remaining waking hours putting the finishing touches on the plan.

It was about eight o'clock Sunday night when his guests arrived.

"Billy!"

"What's up, fellas?"

Norm, Lou, Matthew, and Dom all showed up together, with Dom carrying a case of Rolling Rock. It was brewed in nearby Latrobe, so it was sort of the official beer of all college-aged punks on the dodge.

"We brought beverages," said Dom, lifting the case for approval.

"And sloe gin," added Matthew, hoisting a bottle.

"Cool, make yourselves at home."

Everyone spilled into the room and found their niche. The cardboard was ripped open and Dom began passing out the beer.

"Billy?"

"No, that's okay."

"Is anyone else gonna want any of this?" asked Matt as he opened up his friend.

"No, that's all you," said Wilson.

"Then I guess I don't need a glass." Matt took a hefty swig and slumped back into the couch.

"So, how's it goin', Billy?" asked Dom.

"It's goin' great. In fact, if it was goin' any better I don't think I'd be able to walk."

"Whoa," said Wilson, rubbing his chin. "Sounds like someone's gettin' a little action."

"You know I'm a monk," replied William. "But how was Toad's last week?"

"Gay," shot Wilson.

"Whatever," countered Dom. "It was awesome."

"You accidentally brush up against some chick and you think it's awesome," returned Wilson.

"That was no accident. She wanted it."

"Whatever."

"Did you talk to her?" asked William.

"Yeah, I talked to her. I could have closed the deal too if wasn't for these guys bein' all gay and wantin' to leave."

"Listen to him," laughed Wilson. "You didn't even get her name."

"Names aren't important. It's all in the eyes."

"And if I recall correctly," said Wilson, "her eyes were saying that you're a dork."

"Fuck you, dude."

"That's the story of your life, Dom. Chicks, chicks, chicks... more chicks. But what happened to Toni?" asked William. "Did you guys break up?"

"Yeah."

"What happened?"

"She fucked some guy in a cemetery!" declared Matthew, doing little to hide his delight. Norm and Wilson joined in the laughter.

"She slept with a dead guy?" questioned William with stunned disbelief.

"No!" said Dom.

"Oh, well that's a relief. How'd you find out?"

"She told me."

"Bright girl that Toni," quipped Wilson.

"She said she couldn't go back there with me anymore so I asked..."

"Wait a minute," interrupted William. "You guys used to go there all the time?"

"Yeah."

"You used to have sex in a cemetery?"

"Yeah," answered Dom, obviously not seeing anything wrong with the idea. "It's a really cool place."

"In a cemetery?"

"Yeah."

"Dude, you're fucked up!" shouted Wilson. Matt was turning red with laughter. A constant stream of merriment was emanating from Norm as well, but you really had to look at him to tell since he was sitting straight up and showing no other signs of life.

William continued the questioning.

"So, what? You did it on the tombstones?"

"No," answered Dom, as if it should have been a given. "In the grass."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm new to this whole swingin' cemetery scene. But, yeah, it does make much more sense to have sex right on top of the dead bodies."

"We weren't right on top of the bodies. We'd do it in between plots... mostly."

"Mostly?"

"There was one time when..."

William cut him off. "That's enough. I don't want to hear this."

"Toni Toni Toni has done it again!" laughed Matt, making a rare early 90s hip hop reference.

"That's what you get for dating your cousin," summarized Wilson.

"She's not my cousin!" countered Dom defensively.

"You always used to tell people she was your cousin before you started goin' together."

"We were just joking."

"Oh yeah, that old gag."

"Well at least I was gettin' some."

"It's not my fault I don't have any cousins," joked Wilson.

"All right, boys," cut William. "Settle down, settle down. Remember, we're a team here."

"With a mission," added Norm.

Dom stood his beer can up in the air, emptying its contents down his throat. He crumpled the aluminum in his hand and reached for another. "So what's the plan?"

"Well," began William, "first we're all going to try our best to get the image of Dom having sex in a cemetery out of our heads. And that's the last time I make a cemetery reference, cross my heart and hope to die."

Wilson found humor in the cheap pun. "Just make sure they cremate you. You wouldn't want to be starin' up at Dom's ass someday."

"Is that all?" asked Dom, hoping to bring the ridicule to an end.

"Yeah, that's all," said William reassuringly. "Promise. Anyway, getting back to business, I think I've got a foolproof plan."

"You're gonna need one with Dom around," cracked Wilson.

"Fuck you, dude."

"Norm, did you tell 'em we scouted it out?" asked William, guiding things back on course.

Norm thought for a moment before answering.

"No."

"Okay, well, me and Norm went out last Sunday night and checked things out. It should be a milk run. The Big Boy isn't even tied down or anything."

"Did you guys try and pick it up?" asked Wilson.

"Yeah, it's light," replied Norm, showing some initiative.

"It's real light. It's kind of cumbersome, though, we'll have to be careful moving it, but it shouldn't be a problem."

"And you got the van?" questioned Dom.

Norm fielded another one. "Yeah. Sort of."

"What does that mean?" asked Wilson.

"He said we could have the van. But he's going to be needing it the next few weekends."

"So when can we get it?" pressed Wilson.

"October 4th."

"Then why are we here?"

"It's never too early to plan," Norm stated matter-of-factly.

"I drew a map somewhere," said William, surveying the apartment for the needed piece of paper. "It might be in the bedroom." He exited down the stump of a hallway into the room in question. "Didn't you used to have a card table?" called Wilson from the living room.

"Yeah, it's in the closet." William was searching through a pile of clothes on the mattress. He found the map underneath a mess of shirts a split second before he realized what he had just told Wilson. He made a dash for the hall closet. It was too late.

Lou had the card table leaning against his left leg and in his right hand he was holding the barrel of a shotgun that was standing on its stalk in front of him. He looked up at William as he stepped into the hall.

"Expecting trouble?" asked Wilson.

"What?" inquired Dom as he got to his feet. "Whoa, cool gun!" The word gun brought Matt and Norm running.

"No, that's not even mine," said William, casually taking the weapon by the barrel and placing it deep in the corner of the closet once more. "The guy that lived here before left it."

"Who leaves a shotgun when they move out?" asked Wilson.

William shut the closet door. "I don't know, but he did."

"You didn't tell the landlord?"

"What do I care? The guy obviously didn't want it or he wouldn't have left it. Set the table up over here," said William, directing them to the area where his easel usually stood.

"So a guy just leaves a gun?" asked Dom, going over old ground.

"Yes," echoed William as he flipped out the table legs and set it upright. "Don't ask me, dude. I didn't know the guy."

"And he never called or stopped by to pick it up?" asked Wilson.

"No."

"It just seems like that's the sort of thing you should report to somebody," said Dom.

"To who?" asked Matthew.

"I don't know."

"I'm with Billy. Fuck it. It's not his fault."

"Free gun," said Norm.

"I'll drink to that!" Matt took another hit of the gin.

"This way the Big Boy won't give us any lip," smiled Norm.

"Yeah, let's get back to business," said William, spreading the somewhat rumpled map on the table.

Wilson looked at the crudely constructed diagram. "I thought you were supposed to be an artist?"

"Hey, it'll do the job. But I guess before we get into this I should set the foundation. We'll be taking two cars. One to scout and one to actually clip the Big Boy."

"Who's going to do what?" asked Dom.

"Well, I think it's only fair that Norm and I ride in the van and do the actual theft, since it's our caper. Any problems with that?" He looked around the table and received no objections. "But we're going to need a driver. Any of you guys driven a van before?"

"I drove a U-Haul to Philly," said Wilson. "I should be able to handle a van."

"Okay." William looked to Dom and Matt. "That means you guys will be the scout team."

"That's cool," said Matt between sips.

"We're also going to need two cell phones."

All hands, save William's, reached for pockets. "Check."

"Cool. We want to hit Elby's at 4:08 AM Sunday night. So we'll meet here at around 3:30 AM to go over everything one final time. I realize it's a bit late, but it's for the best. Plus, Dom, you're used to working the graveyard shift."

Wilson took particular enjoyment in the joke. Dom even cracked a bit of a smile.

"Sorry, last one. Anyway, you and Matt will leave here at approximately 3:50 and make your way to Elby's through South Hadleyville." William followed the route on the map with his index finger. "You'll turn off Covington and head back into town on I-79. The point of this is to just make sure everything's cool and that no cops are sitting anywhere. You'll take I-79 into town and then loop around and make your way back to Elby's."

William paused a moment to make sure everyone was still following along without any trouble before continuing.

"Okay. Once you guys do your first loop through, you'll call us on Norm's phone and let us know what's up. If it's all clear, the three of us will then head out in the van. You'll stay on the phone the rest of the way giving us updates."

"You think we should talk the whole time? What if someone picks up our conversation on a scanner or something?" asked Wilson.

"Is that even possible?" questioned William. "I thought companies took security against that."

"It's possible," assured Dom, as if he actually knew what he was talking about.

"Well, I think things should be pretty safe at four in the morning, but we can take precautions," said William.

"We could use code," offered Dom.

"I was thinking more Pig Latin than anything, but really I don't think we'll need a code," said William. "We'll only talk when absolutely necessary. Like if you see a cop let us know. Otherwise keep quiet. Cool?"

"Cool."

"Okay, once you call and say it's clear..."

Matt spoke up. "What if it's not clear on the first run through, do we keep circling back?"

"Yeah."

"Won't that look suspicious if any cops are just sitting down there?"

"If they get suspicious they'll probably follow you into town, which would open up the back door for us. But we're going to work on the assumption that the scene will eventually clear."

"Okay." Matt lifted the bottle again.

"So they call and say everything's clear. Then what?" questioned Lou.

"Then we leave and follow the same South Hadleyville route to Elby's. While we're on our way, Dom and Matt will make the circuit back through South Hadleyville and down Covington onto I- 79. Except this time they'll turn left and head out of town. Dom, you'll keep truckin' until you get to the used car lot. Matt, that's where you jump ship. You take the phone and wait by the road while Dom turns around and heads back the other way on I-79. Matt, it's your job to monitor any traffic coming into town. Give us a holler on the horn if you see any rollers."

"I can handle that."

"Dom, you shoot back past Elby's by a good 200 feet and pull over. Put your flashers on and get out of the car. If you see any cops coming your way heading out of town, lay on the horn to warn us, and then flag 'em down and ask for help."

"Maybe I should pretend I'm changing a tire?"

"If you want, but you really don't have to."

"No, I think it would be good. It would give me an excuse to ask for help."

"Whatever. It's your call. Once you and Matt are in position that means two of the three routes to Elby's will be secured. The only other way a cop could get there would be from Covington, and that's the way we're coming so we should be able to keep an eye on it."

William looked around the table for any signs of confusion, but everyone seemed to be on board. All four of them were studying the map with a great deal of intensity, almost too much intensity. The scene just reminded William how lame his life really was.

"In order to avoid any other non-cop cars, we'll take the auxiliary road off Covington that runs behind Elby's. This will also give us better visibility back into South Hadleyville in case the man happens to show. The Big Boy is positioned here at the front left corner of the restaurant. Lou, you'll take the van in the back entrance, pull in tight to the side curb and then peel off so the van is headed to the front exit while the back doors are lined up with the Big Boy. Got it?"

"So I'll swing in and make like a half circle?"

"Exactly. Norm and I will then exit the van and approach the target. Norm, you hop out the back of the van and get those doors open while I come from the passenger side."

"Sweet," confirmed Norm.

"We then gently slide the Big Boy in, you hop in the back, and I shut the doors and bolt back to the passenger side. We're all in and secure and Wilson calmly leaves the parking lot. No big thing. We're there 30 seconds tops."

"I could see that," said Matt.

"Norm, the main thing is that we have to be careful with the Big Boy when we're loading him in the van. We don't want to bang him around. If we damage him, it will seem more like a crime than a joke, so we can't mess him up."

Norm provided his assurance with a simple "Yeah."

"Once we exit the parking lot we'll proceed on I-79 back into town. Dom, when you see us pass that's your cue to go back and pick up Matt."

"Got it."

"While you're doing that, we'll be getting into position to make the drop at the Court House. We'll go slow to give you time to catch up."

"Which way are we gonna go?" asked Wilson.

William flipped the paper over to reveal another map, this one of the downtown area. "We'll turn right where Big Lots used to be and go past the old lumberyard."

"The old lumberyard?" asked Dom.

"Yeah, you know, behind Offitt Field," explained William, referring to the football field used by the local high school. Interesting little fact about Offitt Field: the Homestead Grays of the Negro League actually played some games there back in the day. The immortal Josh Gibson even cracked a titanic clout clear out of Offitt and onto the roof of the lumberyard. There wasn't even a plaque to commemorate it or anything. If William's grandfather hadn't told him the story it still wouldn't exist. Yes, Hadleyville is rich with history. It's just too bad none of its citizens know about it or even care.

"That used to be a lumberyard?" asked Dom again.

"Yeah, don't you remember the big fire down there a couple years ago?" asked William.

"That was more than a couple years ago," stated Lou with some confidence, since his house was a mere stone's throw away. "It was more like 12."

"No shit?" said a stunned William.

"I was in like the fifth grade when it happened."

"Well I'll be damned," said William. "Time sure flies when you're insignificant. Anyway, that's the road we'll take and then we'll come out and go up past CoGo's and turn left onto Otterman."

Norm threw William a glance.

"I looked it up, it's Otterman."

Norm seemed somewhat disappointed.

"Wouldn't it be quicker to just stay on Main?" questioned Wilson.

"Yeah, it would, but we're trying to wait for Dom and Matt to catch up and I think it would be best to stay off Main since we'd have to drive right past City Hall."

"So which way do we go?" asked Dom.

"You guys will just follow I-79 right into town and onto Main. Matt, once you guys get there let us know and we'll start to get into position. The ideal situation would to have you guys at the far end and able to see us as we cross on Otterman. You'll be able to get a lock on all of Main and be able to warn us if you see any cops. Then we'll pull over on the downhill side of Otterman, unload the Big Boy, and split."

"Where you gonna put him?" asked Matt.

"If we think we have time, we might run him over by the main entrance," said William. "But more than likely we'll plant him on the corner so all the passing traffic can get a good look at him."

"Then what?" asked Wilson.

"We get rid of the van. We can meet back here. We'll all get into Dom's car and take a few victory laps around town, see how long it takes before someone finds him."

"We should probably bring a camera," said Dom.

"I don't know, dude. You'll probably get a shot of us unloading him or something and then the crank at Foto-Mat will turn us in," cautioned William.

"No, I'll just take a few shots of him at the Court House once we've dropped off the van. No law against taking a picture of a Big Boy at the Court House."

"Just be careful," warned William with complete fear that Dom would somehow screw it up.

"I will."

"And that's pretty much it," continued William. "Does anybody see any problems with the plan? Any questions?"

Matthew contemplated things for a moment and then voiced an idea. "Think we should maybe leave a note?"

"Like a ransom note?" asked William.

"No. Like maybe write a letter from the Big Boy saying that he just got tired of standing around all day and wanted to see the town."

"I don't know, that could be pretty funny. What do you guys think?"

"It would just be another way they could track things back to us," warned Wilson.

"How?" asked Dom with a little "you're-a-jackass" tone in his voice.

"Fingerprints, handwriting, type of paper..."

William stepped in. "I don't think they're really going to call the FBI in on this one. A note might be a nice touch. Norm?"

"Sounds good to me."

"All right," conceded Wilson," but if it turns out we get caught because of the note I'll kick all your asses."

"Matt, you want to write it?"

"Sure."

"Once we load the Big Boy, I'll just slap it on the front window on my way back to the van. No big thing. Anything else?"

"I got an idea..." said Dom.

"First one's always the hardest," snapped Wilson.

"Why don't we dress Lou up as the Big Boy. Then once you guys snag the real one, he can take his place and just stand there until they open in the morning."

"Fuck you."

"They'd never know the difference. Then you can just walk away when no one's lookin'..."

William placed his hand on Wilson's shoulder and acted as if he thought the idea had some merit. "Lou?"

Wilson just shot back a fiery stare.

"I'll take that as a no. Any other ideas? Anybody see any flaws in the plan?"

"No, I think it'll work," supported Matt.

"Norm?"

"It's all good."

"It'll work as long as Dom doesn't fuck it up," sneered Wilson.

"You don't worry about me, jerky. I've got the goods."

"You know, I've heard that about you," said William. "But don't worry, I'm sure a little penicillin will clear it right up. So listen, I guess we're done then. I think we should try a practice run next Sunday night. Go at 4:08 as planned and recreate everything exactly, except without the van. That way we'll be good to go when the time comes."

While there were a few complaints about having to be up at that late hour for nothing more than a rehearsal, everyone gave their consent. The plan was finalized.

They sat around and drank a bit more. Things eventually broke up around 12:30 or so.

The apartment was quiet. It was always kind of depressing when he'd have his friends over. One minute everything was all laughs and the next he was alone in his own world again, his own never changing world.

As is usually the case on Sunday nights, he watched "The Dick Van Dyke Show" at 1:00. It was one of the classic flashback episodes of the series, with Rob recalling how he and Laura were once held up in an elevator by a crook named Lyle Francis Delp, portrayed oh so beautifully by the caustic Don Rickles. That's good stuff. William enjoyed it immensely. Once the curtain fell on the comedic gem, William decided to go for a walk. He went for a lot of walks the next few nights.

Meanwhile, Meghan was coping with things in her own way. She worked Saturday, Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday, even pulling a double shift on two occasions. She figured the work would keep her mind off her problems. It worked, to an extent.

But by Monday evening it was clear she had another concern to add to the list. Her writer's block had returned. There was just nothing there. She hadn't formed a single sentence since she last spoke to William. By Tuesday night she feared there might be a connection.

She got home from work at 6:30 in the evening. She wasn't hungry. She went straight to the computer. The glowing blue screen filled with her work in progress. She read the final chapter she had written in order to get a running start into the infinite void below. Nothing happened. She sat and waited. The stagnant cursor seemed to taunt her with each pulsating blink. She would periodically flick the arrow keys back and forth in order to keep the screen saver from kicking in. It was the only time she touched the keyboard.

Her frustration mounted for the next two hours. She finally lashed out, blasting angrily from the chair and venting a short scream of disgust. She didn't know what to do. Should she go see William? It had only been three days. He'd probably think she didn't have any character at all. Then again, he did say that he was suffering through his own creative drought, so maybe he'd understand? Her hand was on the doorknob before she decided she didn't want to take the chance. Thankfully, she had a Plan B, and a phone.

"Hi, what are you doing? ... You feel like coming over? ... I just want to see you ... I know you have to work ... I know ... But you can stay here tonight ... Yeah ... Okay ... Hurry."

She sat in silence, her back to the computer, staring at the door. Mark arrived shortly before 10:00. She pulled him inside before he could even say hello. She kissed him.

"Is everything okay?" he asked with concern.

She started to force him backwards towards the hall while she unbuttoned his shirt. "Yeah, everything's great." She kissed him again.

Mark grabbed her by the arms and pulled back. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing. Why? Do you think there's something wrong with me?"

"I'm not sure. I don't know what it is, but I like it."

"Good." She took him by the wrist. "C'mon, let's go."

She strong-armed him into the bedroom and basically attacked him. They proceeded to make love with more intensity than they had in months. When it was over, Meghan was lying on her back staring at the ceiling. Mark was lying on his left side, propping his head up with his arm, just gazing in wonder at the girl before him.

"That was incredible."

She didn't even turn to look at him. "Yeah."

"What got into you tonight?"

She didn't hear the question. She was trying to sort things out in her head. She didn't feel any different. She didn't feel much of anything. He kissed her on the cheek and rolled over to his back. He folded his hands on his chest and closed his eyes, still being the proud owner of a contented grin.

"Mark?"

"Yeah."

"What did you think about when you heard they were tearing my building down?"

"Why?" He sat up again. "Don't you like it here? You know I wanted you to move in with me."

"I know, it's not that. I just want to know what your first thought was?"

"Why?"

"I'm just curious about stuff like that. What was your first thought?"

"When I heard your building was being torn down?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I wanted to make sure you had another place to stay and that you'd be safe."

"After that."

"I guess I thought about all the other people that lived there and hoped that they'd all find new homes. Is that the right answer?"

"What about deaf people?"

"What?"

"What do you think when you see a deaf person?"

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I've just been reading this book..."

"Deaf people?"

She turned to look at him. "Yeah."

After giving the subject some brief consideration, he attempted a response. "Well, I guess it makes me realize how lucky I truly am that I can take something like that for granted."

Meghan looked back at the ceiling.

"Any more questions, professor, or can I go to sleep? I've got an early morning tomorrow."

"No, that's all."

He pulled her right hand up to his lips and kissed it. "Good night."

"Good night."

The room was still. After a few moments Meghan began to get out of bed.

"Where are you going?" asked Mark.

"I suddenly have this craving for a grilled cheese sandwich."

She pulled on some semblance of clothes and wandered out into the kitchen. She placed a lone slice of white bread with a piece of soy cheese in the toaster oven and turned the knob to dark. She watched the top of the crust as it gradually began to succumb to the heat. The sudden clang didn't even produce a flinch. She unplugged the toaster, dropped the slightly burned product on a small plate, and took a seat at her desk.

A slight bump of the mouse brought her book back to the screen. But there was still no creative energy found in her bones. The flashing cursor seemed all the more intimidating. She slowly turned her chair away from the monitor. The front door was her new point of interest. She took a bite of toast.

Tuesday night proved to be quite the revelation for William, as well. He had heard Mark knock on her door. He watched through the peephole as she yanked him inside. He didn't really know how to feel. The whole point of this week apart was so that she could think about their relationship. William didn't really expect Mark to stay away for an entire week; after all he didn't even know what was going on. But seeing him pay a late night visit made William wonder if Meghan had come to a decision.

It was still just ten o'clock. It was too early to go for a walk. There was nothing on TV. And he didn't feel like watching Columbo. He just sat there alone in a quiet room contemplating nothing. Then it happened. His inspiration returned.

He calmly walked to the waiting canvas and began to load his palette with fresh paints. His cold, routine actions made the past few months of inactivity seem like a lie. As he packed the thick bristles of his chosen brush with black paint, his eyes ravaged the space before him. He started to get that feeling again, the tingling feeling that warmed the right side of his body when his art consumed him. Whether physiological or imagined, the sensation was unmistakable. And it had been missed.

He began to paint. He set out to cloak the entire surface in darkness. At first the strokes were quick and free but they soon became more deliberate, more punishing. He battered the canvas with chilling malice, forcing his will upon it. He went over its entire surface again and again, heaping blackness in thick coats of hostility.

Feeling that the victim had suffered enough, he dropped his weapon into a cup of thinner and stepped back to inspect the damage. He wanted to give the blood time to dry. He studied the carnage. Each heavy-handed brush stroke was visible, having left rugged scars to prove its path. The work was pure in its emotion. It seemed to scream for solace. It received another beating.

This time the bruises were left in dark blue. He pounded his way around the outer edge of the frame, allowing the fluids to mix and swirl beneath the violence.

Taking a finer brush to task, he began to add touches of morbid greys and browns. His focus would become so intense that he'd actually lose sight from time to time. It didn't matter. His hand was now being guided by some natural instinct beyond his control. He slashed his way across the canvas with each seemingly reckless slice finding its intended destination and adding to the growing monstrosity.

By now the sun had risen on a new day. William failed to notice. His adrenaline was surging. He wasn't aware of his need for sleep. And the act of painting itself was all the nourishment needed. He didn't falter. He unknowingly endured. It was time for more black.

It was shortly after noon when he put some distance between himself and his creation. It was a melancholy collage of disappointment and depression. The black overpowered the senses and forced the other colors into minor roles. Nearly the entire work was bathed in an unrepentant gloom of despair. Its mere sight stirred a painful realization in his gut. But he wasn't done.

He selected the smallest brush at his disposal. He made sure its bristles were clean and rubbed them between his fingertips to give them body. The brush was tapped carefully into the yellow of the palette. Some orange was added. The two colors were intertwined until a rich, golden hue was formed.

The previous fourteen hours had led up to this very moment. He lifted the brush and placed one solitary speck of color in the upper left quarter of the piece. While its presence was not easily apparent at first, it was there. Even if not seen at all, it was there. It served as a meaningful, if minute, ray of hope in an otherwise disturbing wasteland. The painting was complete.

Coming off such a long layoff, William found the creative process to be quite draining. He backpedaled his way to the couch, not once taking his eyes off the fruits of his labor, and crumpled into a heap on the aged foam cushions. He laid there a few moments with his attention still glued to the exquisite particle of light that dared to brave the ominous landscape. His eyes shut, but its radiance remained. He slowly drifted off to sleep, still considering its power and wondering what right he had to claim her.