Peter settled in the Range Rover, turned over the engine, and waited for his wife to join him. When the engine was rumbling underneath him, it reminded him of the purr of a very large cat, which was something he didn't need to be reminded of. Nothing that happened in that house was in danger of being forgotten anytime soon. That fake house. The way that entire place shook. God, the way those kids had screamed. I may be facing that, again. Maybe even tonight.
He turned off the engine. It was starting to make him feel nervous. He couldn’t believe how on edge he was starting to get. He had been fine just a minute ago, then something had changed. He felt it happen. It was a tonal shift, like a cloud had settled all around him. It’s the Affinity. I’m feeling everything at a higher level. The bad stuff, too. I have to get it under control or I’m going to end up in a rubber room.
He was starting to get worked up again, just like when that vision had overtaken him in the kitchen. Panic was roiling inside him, but it wasn't just anxiety, it was very physical, like a shock of cold water on hot skin. He was fighting to keep it from owning him. There was no mystery as to what terrified him. The more you love, the more you worry. Peter couldn’t love Alyssa more, yet he could always worry more about her.
There were terrible things in his head. All those awful promises the Bunyine had made. The kind of promises that only a demon would keep. The things it would do to her. His wife. How could anything be that evil? How could anything want to hurt her? She’s the greatest thing on Earth. He couldn’t ever repeat those words it said out loud. They would never pass his lips. But he could never forget them. She didn’t know. She doesn’t know a damn thing because I’m too weak to tell her.
His breaths were getting heavy, so he opened the car door. The heat of the sun on his face didn’t calm him down. That huge, bragging sun, bigger and farther away than anything, was safe above all these terrible happenings on Earth. It had fooled him into thinking it hadn’t been real. That everything he'd experienced was a nightmare, nothing more. But that wasn't true. Everyone and everything he loved was in danger. It's not a damn nightmare, Peter! He was ashamed by how weak he felt. Peter felt something that was well beyond a state of confusion. It was vertigo. Dreams aren't dreams anymore, are they? And being awake isn't being awake, is it? It's starting to feel more like I'm in Sparkle-Wacko all the time. Perhaps the two worlds were converging. If that happened, what would his life become? What would he become?
Shivers peeled up his back. It's the Bunyine. It’s here. There's no escaping it. Peter could feel its presence in the car. His eyes darted all around, seeking the source of his terror. It was outside. It was inside. It was behind him. Beside him. Another vision seized him with a smack, and for a moment he was trapped there in it, staring transfixed at something in the distance. He was running. The Bunyine was giving chase. He started to pound his legs on the van's floor, as if he were fleeing for his life.
He was the wrong guy for all of this, and he knew it. He was pretty sure of that. He’d gotten Alyssa into this, and couldn’t get her out. She needs one of those big guys she used to see in college. Those gigantic guys that nerds like me stepped aside for. Those golden boys and pituitary specimens that stadiums of people cheered for. She doesn’t need a sharp wit, she needs a man like that to protect her. I’m a liability. I’m useless. I'm pathetic.
Peter was at a loss. These were all pretty new thoughts for him to have. He wasn't insecure like this. Not in this particular way, anyway. Not without being infused with a hefty dollop of humor. His insecurities were always about his talents or his intellect. This was new. If he'd ever asked her about any of the men she'd dated before they met, they both would have giggled through her entire answer. But he never did ask her. He'd never cared. But it was not like that now. Something was different. He was different. Is this the worst time in history to start developing my first masculinity issues, or what? Oh, my god. I’m losing it. But it wasn’t just an issue now, it was a problem. He was the problem. I'm a boy stuck in a man’s body.
And she was stuck with him.
“Okay,” Alyssa said as she slid in the car. Her warm weight filled up the passenger seat. “Let’s go.” Alyssa looked over at Peter, the state of him was surprising. He looked pale and sweaty, like he was sick, on the edge of collapsing. “Oh, my God. Are you, okay?” she asked.
He nodded. “Yeah, Lyssie. I’m fine.” He smiled, fully committing to it. He was convincing. He didn't think he could keep it up for more than a minute. It was like forcing down a torrent. Straining a weak muscle to failure.
"No. No, you aren't."
"No, really. I am."
A moment passed, Alyssa watched him with suspicion. "You want me to drive?” she asked, putting her hand on his shoulder.
“No, really,” he said, rubbing her wrist.
“Okay,” she said, then sat back and waited. Peter didn't do anything, though. He remained still, only his chest moved with his erratic breaths. She turned her head, looked him over. “What is happening in your head, Peter?”
Peter looked over at her. “Maybe, I don’t want you to know what’s in my head,” he said. He'd said it playfully, keeping up the act.
“Why not, Peter?” she asked. Her tone had lightened. She'd fallen for his lie, she thought everything was better.
“Cuz it’s really bad stuff, Lyssie.”
Alyssa frowned. “Maybe, I can handle it. I wash your underwear, don’t I?”
“No, you don’t.”
“I could, though.”
Peter wanted to tell her everything, but he swore to himself he’d never repeat what the Bunyine said. Even if he wanted to, he could never say it. He had to tell her something, though. He owed that to her. “I saw it, Lyssie. I saw with my own eyes. I saw…” he said, getting emotional. His hands clenched, squeaking on the Range Rover’s steering wheel. The manner of the conversation darkened so suddenly, it was unsettling.
“Saw what, Peter?” Alyssa asked, and turned her body halfway at him. “What?”
“The Bunyine,” he said. “I saw it.”
“Where did you see the Bunyine?” She was still not a believer in that part of the story. She was not a believer in quite a bit of it, actually. To her, it felt like a joke that everyone was in on but her.
“I saw it. Okay?”
“In a dream, you mean?”
“Yes. No. Not a dream. It was real. I saw it for real. I saw what it can do.” Boy, did I ever. Honestly, even if I was a real man, I couldn’t do much against that thing. Nothing is as badass as that thing. Nothing. It’s got enough raw, animal muscle to boot the Denver Broncos over the International Space Station. Still. There are things a real man could do, probably. Brave things that I’d never be able to pull off. Indiana Jones stuff. That was a man.
“Peter, you said you didn't. Were you lying then or are you now?”
His head swiveled towards her, his eyes begging to be understood. She didn’t know anything about Sparkle-Wacko. It wasn’t important now, anyway. If they lived to tomorrow, he would tell her all about it. “I saw it, and it’s terrible, Lyssie. It’s so terrible. You have no idea.”
Alyssa started to get a little upset. “Peter! You’re starting to freak me out, okay? What are you trying to tell me? What is this really about? You couldn’t have seen it.”
He closed his eyes. Not knowing what to say next. “What I’m saying is…I can’t do anything about this,” he said. He was trembling even worse. “I can’t stop it. There’s nothing I…”
“Who says you have to stop it?” she asked, interrupting him. “You don’t have to do everything. This isn’t a movie. You don’t have to be a hero.”
“That’s good,” Peter said. “Cuz I’m not one, Lyssie. I’m not.” Peter’s face started to assume the look of a man being broken on the rack. There were too many hurtful thoughts now, in his head, so many that he couldn’t bear it. Maybe he never could. “You need to call one of those guys you used to date in college. One of those huge guys.”
Alyssa was shocked silent. This was so unexpected that she was speechless.
“That’s what you need. That’s who you need. One of those huge guys who could slam dunk. Or one of those football guys who blocks and stuff. I don’t remember what that’s called, but that’s what you need.”
She wasn't sure how to answer him, so she placated him. “No, it isn’t. That’s not what I need now, Peter. I have you. That’s what I need.”
“No, you don’t! You don’t need me. You never did. You’d be better if you were with a real man now. Someone who could protect you.”
Alyssa’s face took on a perplexed expression, as if she didn't recognize the man sitting right next to her. "What is wrong with you? This isn't you. You're having a fit of stupid, or something." She put her hand back on his shoulder and squeezed. She'd never seen him like this. This was strange and new. “I talked to Derek. His mom knows the town Deputy. Some guy named Gil Hallestrom. I’m gonna get them both to come to dinner. He’s a big guy, with a big gun. He can protect everybody.”
“No,” Peter said, shaking his head. “No. That’s fine for tonight. What about after?”
Alyssa started to get mad. Her lips curled up like apple rinds. She pulled her hand away. “I don’t want you to ever talk about me back then, again. Okay? Who I was when I was a kid. I don’t want you to ever bring that up, again.”
But Peter couldn’t stop. He was starting to unravel. Those awful things it said. He couldn’t stop. We should drive away, right now. Forget Derek. Forget Miranda. Let them take care of themselves. Who do I love more? My wife, or a bunch of kids I barely know? My god, I’m an awful person. Awful. Those are kids, and they need me. No, they need better than me. “You don’t want to be reminded, right? Of when you were with real men, guys who could…”
Alyssa grabbed the back of his head and turned his face towards her own. Then they were close, their faces almost touching. “You don’t understand a goddamn thing! You’re a goddamn idiot!”
“What don’t I understand!” he yelped. They were close enough for lovemaking. “Look at me! I’m falling apart! I’m a freakin’ wimp!”
Her eyes were starting to tear up a little. Her voice trembled when she started to speak, again. “It hurts me so much that you think about that. Do you have any idea how much it hurts me?”
“Lyssie, I don’t know what to do, okay? I’m not…”
“Listen to me!” she yelled. “Why are you asking me this after four years? It's got nothing to do with you! That's none of your business!”
“I know! I didn’t say it was! This is about me, okay! Me! It’s about now! Now!”
“Shut up!” she screamed. “Just shut up! I can't believe this!”
Peter saw how emotional she was, and it made him feel even more horrible. He didn’t want to talk about back then. Didn’t she understand? He was talking about now. “Okay, Lyssie. That’s not what this is about, though. Sweetie, I didn’t…”
“What is wrong with you, you asshole?” She was quivering, almost crying, from anger now. “Am I wrong about you, Peter? Have I been wrong for years?”
“What do you mean, Alyssa? Wrong about what?”
“I thought we were perfect!”
“What?” he said. “What? Who’s perfect, Lyssie? Look at this!” Peter indicated his body with disdain. “I’m pretty far from perfect!”
Alyssa growled. “Not that you’re perfect, for Christ’s sake! Or I’m perfect! Us, Peter! Us! This!” Her hand was squeezing the back of his head still, and her eyes were fixed on his. She was breaking up now, her face was red and teary. “This, Peter! This! It’s perfect! It’s the only thing that is! In the history of the whole world, there’s never been anything like this! Like us! Like you and me! That’s how I feel! Why do I feel that and you don’t?”
Peter’s face fell. “I do feel that! I do. I feel it every second of the day. I really do! Don’t say I don’t feel that!”
“But that’s not what you’re saying! You’re saying something’s wrong! That something's wrong with us! That’s what you’re saying, Peter! Don’t you get that?”
“Alyssa. It’s always been the only thing I care about. It’s always been, for me it…”
“I don’t mean for you!” she yelled. “Why is it always about you!” She was overcome. She got quiet for a little bit. A trickle of sweat ran down her brow, into her right eye, which was all puffed up. A minute later, she was almost too quiet to even hear. “I thought we won the lottery that night we met. Me and you.”
“I’ve always felt that way,” he said. “It was the best thing that ever happened to me, Lyssie.”
“No, Peter! Not to you! You asshole! I don’t want you! I want us! That’s different, isn’t it? It’s different than everything else. Isn’t it? What we are? You and me? Don’t you think that? Everything else is shit, Peter! Everything is shit! This is the only thing that’s…”
“I’m sorry,” he said. He wanted to kiss her, so bad. “I’m sorry, Lyssie.”
She was not ready to forgive him, though. ”Don’t take this away from me, Peter. Don’t you do that to me. Don’t you do that. I thought you were back. You have no right. I deserve this. We both do. That’s the point, isn’t it? Isn’t that the point? That we deserve it?”
“Yeah, Lyssie. That’s the whole point. You’re right.”
Then they both were leaning in on each other, their heads resting on the other’s shoulder. A little maneuvering and they kissed. Just a little bit. Just little, forgiving pecks. It was just enough to make everything seem better. Resolved. For the moment, anyway. Then they pulled apart and settled back in their seats. There was a lot left that needed to be said, but it was not the time. Alyssa wiped her eyes and cleared her throat.
"Is it over, Peter? This fit of stupidity? Are you you, again?"
Peter nodded. His heart wasn't pounding, his head wasn't racing with horrible ideas. It was over. It had ended maybe a minute before. It had ended on its own, it had nothing to do with Alyssa. He'd felt it ease off like a light on a dimmer switch. Suddenly, he’d been normal, again, and that worried him. That meant he may not be able to control these fits. "Sorry. Just kick me in the head next time that happens."
Alyssa frowned "Next time? There's gonna be a next time?"
"I'd like to say no, but I really don't know. It will probably come and go. Best I can do."
Alyssa took a deep breath. “Can we just get back to the monster stuff, now?" she asked, getting herself straightened out. "I've had enough of whatever this was.”
Peter turned the key and the loud engine roared underneath them. It didn't scare him now. “You heard the lady.” He hit the gas and grinned. “Whatever the lady wants.”
A short time later, Peter and Alyssa pulled up to what was, once, the antique furniture store owned by Rose Windward. Rose was still standing out front, speaking with a very thickset man that could only have been her childhood friend Deputy Gil Hallestrom. Alyssa fell out of the car and rushed to Rose.
“Oh, my God, Rose!” Alyssa moaned.
“Everything’s fine, sweetheart. Really,” Rose said.
“Is it really all gone?” Alyssa asked.
Rose threw up her hands and exhaled dramatically. She was truly exhausted, having been out here all day. “Well,” she said sagely. “Not all, but a lot. Not everything, but enough.”
Peter popped the Range Rover’s door and had not set even one foot out when his cell phone rang. It hadn’t been doing that much, lately. It was a nice mundane thing on a rather strange day. At least, Peter thought it was mundane.
“Hello?” he said.
“Peter Huffy?” a voice said. It was the voice of an abysmally old man. “It’s Walt Kiplinger.” It took Peter a few seconds to place the name, and then he was all the more confused. “Uh...Walt Kiplinger?”
This is Peter Huffy, right?”
“Yeah.”
“The one from the attic?”
Peter’s face screwed up, quizzically. “Yeah. Walt? The kid Walt?”
”Shut your gut bucket and listen up! There’s a whole lot to say, and I’m an old, old man. So don’t waste my goddamn time with a lot of questions, okay? I could be dead any goddamn minute, and that’s if I was a luckier man than I know I am!”
Peter was a little shocked. He didn’t know what was going on. “Okay, Walt. Whatever you want.”
“I’m not gonna pretend like nothing has changed, you hear? Last time I saw you, I was a little boy. Now, you’re the young one, and young people are stupid as hell.”
Peter sighed. He was already annoyed with whoever this was, and the conversation hadn’t even really started. “Okay, what is going on? What are you talking about? A day ago…”
“A day! Ha!” Walt exalted. Peter imagined that he was tossing his head back, wherever he was, laughing like an evil villain. “A day! Holy hell, are you off. That was a day ago for you. For me, that was nigh on ninety years back. Ha!”
“What?” Peter yelped. He really was shocked. “How could…? What?”
“You don’t have the faintest idea what’s going on, do you?” Walt said with a chuckle. “You’re like a babe in the woods. A dumb woods!”
“All right! All right! You don’t just expect me to accept this, do you? How dumb do you think I am?”
“Are you really lookin’ for an answer to that question? Cuz I got all kinds of answers to that question.”
“Just tell me how you can be an old man.”
“I ain’t got all day! You got all day?”
“No, I don’t! But you gotta tell me something.”
Walter, suddenly, settled down. “Well, I suppose you’re right. You see, time in that place isn’t what you’d call sensible.”
“Not sensible?”
“That’s right. While all that rigmarole was going on for you in the present, I was having those experiences back when I was a boy. I don’t even remember what year, exactly.”
“Jeez. That’s…why is…?”
“That girl, too. Geli. She was from an even earlier time. Don’t know what happened to her. Not exactly. Have some thoughts on it. She was living back when that Windward fella was living. Loved playin’ with my crutches, that’s for sure.”
“You mean Geli is…um…?”
“Dead as a doornail. Yup.”
Peter winced. “Walter! Just…”
“Well, she is! Death ain’t so scary when you’re pushing a hundred.”
“I get it. Just…come on. Jeez.” Peter was overwhelmed.
“Well, let’s see…” said Walter. Peter thought he could hear the old man changing tactics. Affinity worked over the phone. “Shouldn’t have brought her up. Let’s just forget it. Truth is, I never found out what happened to her, actually. Disappeared. I’m only assuming she’s dead, cuz she’s dead.”
“Disappeared? Wait. Someone said something to me about a girl who disappeared. It was…”
“There’s just no sayin’. Just up and vanished one day. As the story goes. Only heard about it a lot later. Children’s hogwash, mostly. But she really did vanish. Just gone. Was an orphan, I think. No records documenting this sort of thing back in those days. Not out there, in Sparkle, anyways. I did see a picture of her, once, in that town library. Problem is, that was in the 40s.”
Peter leaned back against the Range Rover. “Well. Maybe, I can find out something now. Maybe, I can…”
“You’re in shinola, pal! You’ve got no time. Listen up. That thing we saw. The Bunyine. I’m gonna assume you know what I’m talking about.”
“Yes, I remember. Do you?”
“Of course, I remember! I remember it better than breakfast! That whole thing is fresh as a daisy.”
Peter sighed. “Glad to hear it, Walt.” He was still thinking about Geli. She was just a child. It didn’t matter if she lived a hundred years ago. Was he getting emotional again? Can he stop it?
“It’s coming for you. Do you even know why?”
Peter took a deep breath and moved on. “Something’s under the house, right? There’s something under there.”
“It’s not just under the house, it’s in that other place, too.”
“What do you mean?”
“Whatever’s under the house, let’s call it a package, it does something in both worlds. Whatever it was that Windward put under there, it creates some sort of adjacency in the other place. It’s a doorway to something. I don’t know what, is all. The Bunyine can't get at it in the next world, so I've gathered.”
“How do you know all of this?”
“I was listening. Douglas and that cat-thing had it out. We were right there.”
“I didn’t hear anything.”
“You were bellyachin’ over your wife. You went all stiff in a hell of a hurry. It took me a few minutes. I sat there listenin’. It was a strange little powwow, they had. I’ve been mulling it over these ninety years. One thing I know for certain is that it's angry, and it's coming for you and yours. It promised it would destroy the Garden. Whatever that means. And I think it’s probably not the lying kind of evil. It’s the killing kind.”
“And what did you come up with, Walt, when you were mulling?”
“To be completely honest, I haven’t thought about it much, lately. Yes sir, I was quite captivated with the whole thing when I was a young man. Wrote about it. Filled up notebooks with my thoughts. Don’t remember all that much of that. That part of it ain’t so daisy. I’ve gone decades without it crossing my mind, to be honest. Got distracted, I suppose, by life.”
“Just tell me what you remember, Walt. That will have to do.”
“Well, let’s see,” the old man answered. “The door, wherever it goes, is delicate. If that beast tries to force its way in, it just might collapse the whole caboodle. Which is what it wants, I think.”
“Why do you think that?”
“I can't say with absolute certainty. I do have an opinion on it.”
“Okay,” Peter cut in. “Whatever. Maybe it doesn’t matter why.”
“I should say it does! Knowing why is essential. It tells you how far something is willing to go to get what it wants.”
“Well, you’ve had ninety years. What do you think? You said you had an opinion on it.”
Walter hummed and smacked his lips. “I think I got an idea. A couple ideas. The thing’s not just huge. It’s old. Probably damn old. Older even than me.”
“Eight-thousand years.”
Walt snorted. It pulled him out of whatever ponderous state of thought he was drifting into. “Eight-thousand years? Where the hell’d you get that from? There’s no point in making things up. It’s not helpful.”
Peter shook his head. Not that the old man could see. “I’m not making it up. I don’t know if it said that number, but that’s what Derek said. Something about a flood. Eight thousand years ago, more or less. The creature told Derek everything.”
The old man grunted. He was furious. “Told him? It just told him? Why the hell did it do that?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who the hell does this kid think he is, anyway? It just tells him everything!”
“What’s the problem, Walt?”
“The problem is that I been at this ninety years! On and off! What the hell’s that?”
“Let’s move on.”
“Why would it do that? I betcha it just…”
“Walt!”
“Dammit, what!”
“I’m sorry the Bunyine didn’t think it could confide in you, okay? Can we get back on track?”
“Aw, hell! If it is that old, then I think I know what it wants. That kind of sheds light on this whole thing, actually. I wonder if…”
“Just tell me, Walt! I don’t have ninety years, I don’t eat right.”
“All right, dammit! Listen up!”
“I’m doing that!”
Walter cleared his throat, again. It took him nearly a minute. “I think it wants to die. Can’t say I blame it. If I was eight-thousand, I’d want the same damn thing. It goes through that door, that thing collapses. It hopes that will do the job. It doesn’t know what else to try. Nothing earthly can kill it. The world’s getting’ too small for something so big, anyway. That might be why it’s shooting its mouth all over the place. It wants someone to know the real story before it croaks. It’s setting things straight, getting its affairs in order. It has an ego and it doesn’t like being forgotten, but there’s not much else it can do, really, about that. There are people who know about it, actually. Well, there were. Not too many, but there were some.”
Peter took a long drag of air. “But that Onk thing won’t let it. It has to protect that whatever-it-is.”
“Yeah. That “whatever-it-is” is damn important. It must go somewhere that’s a pretty nice place to be. Heaven? Who the hell knows? Might just be a lot better than Philadelphia. Sick to hell o’ this town.”
“My wife, Walt. How do I protect my wife? Tell me what to do.”
There was a brief, thoughtful silence. “Hmm. I’ve had this thought, and I don’t know if it’s true. Hell, I don’t know whether I had this thought first today, or in nineteen-forty. I’m thinkin’ that maybe the reason this door is ready to fall apart is because that package ain’t whole.”
“What do you mean? Windward took some of it?”
“I’m not saying it’s so, but I spent a lot of time in that house. Had a lot of strange inspirations. Once I started painting, I just couldn’t stop. I just kept on going. Something about that attic, in particular. A kind of mysticism. Spent a lot of time up there.”
“So you were the one who did the murals.”
Walter snorted, again. “Right on top of things, as usual. I never quite understood what all was going on there, though. Don’t even know where some of those images came from. Livin’ there does something to your brain. Well, something does something to your brain. Might not be the same for everyone. Never painted before I stayed there. Never even drew. Didn’t know how to.”
“You drew Dickon, though. You know about him.”
In Philadelphia, old Walter rattled his old head back and forth. “No, sir. Never heard o’ no Dickon.”
“But you drew him.”
“That don’t change the fact that I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. I might have once known. I’ve got a problem, or two, in the noggin. Old fart’s disease.”
“Alzheimer’s.”
“Naw. A touch of Korsakoff’s.”
This piqued Peter’s curiosity. “Korsakoff’s Syndrome? I just heard about that today. Douglas had it, too. Is that a coincidence?”
Walt grunted. “Aren’t a lot of coincidences in my life.”
“Me, neither.”
“Anyhow, it’s responded to treatment. Not reversed, but halted. Not that it matters, I’m so damn old, but my fleet’s lost a few good ships, unfortunately. I know enough, though. You’re damn lucky.”
“Oh, man. Am I gonna get it, too? Dammit! I don’t need this.”
“Can you feel sorry for yourself on someone else’s time? Or find someone who’s interested in your problems?”
“All right. All right. Why would Douglas take some? That sounds irresponsible. Doesn’t sound like him.”
“Well, he was just a man. He made mistakes. He was a young man, you got to remember that. Passionate. Prone to flights of fancy, most likely. You never know what a guy like that is thinkin’.”
“Okay. What about the Bunyine? Is it coming?”
“You betch your ass it’s coming. That’s why I called. Got the word there’d been a sale a short while back, have some feelers around out there, in real estate. I’m rich as shit. I knew it was you. That house hadn’t had a lot of owners over the years. Sounds like I caught you in the nick of time. That young lady named Velma set me up.”
Peter rolled his eyes. “Young lady. Right.” Peter was starting to feel upset. So far, Walt’s call hadn’t exactly yielded a lot of helpful information. Just information. Interesting, but not anything that will help them survive the night. “What about the Bunyine, Walt?”
“It left that talk with Windward in a huff. Tore the place up. It was fixin’ to kill something. You, maybe. It’s probably waiting for the right time. That thing’s probably a pretty good waiter, if it’s eight-thousand years young. That’s not all, though. It said something about destroying a garden. I think that means the package. If it can’t get through the gate, it’s just gonna destroy it. It’s gonna dig that damn house up.”
“What do I do? How do I kill it back?”
“Thought about that, too.”
“Yeah?”
“Ayup.”
“And?”
“Well,” Walt said, and then he coughed, or choked. He then cleared his throat, quite thoroughly, for the ninth or tenth time. This one was impressive. It took a while. Peter was half out of his mind when the old man started talking again. “If Windward did take something from that package, and I ain’t sayin’ that’s so, but if he did, chances are he didn’t just play fetch with it. He put it to use. Guy like that, he’d use it for something.”
A thought, suddenly, rocked Peter like a thunderhead. Revelation bloomed across his face. “Walt! I know where it is!” he almost shouted.
Walt coughed and spat, then cleared his throat, grunting with satisfaction. “You know something, huh? First time?”