Jack Beale 00 - Killer Run

wondered if he had gone too far. He hastily continued, “What I mean is that even though we just met, we’ll always be there for you. I mean …” He stopped again, now a bit embarrassed, feeling like he was digging a hole that he couldn’t get out of.
    Polly must have sensed his unease because she stopped him. “Jack, I understand what you are saying. In my head, on one level, I know that eventually everything will work out. But right now …” Now it was her turn to fumble for words, and a tear rolled down her cheek.
    He stepped toward her and held out his arms. She came to him and leaned against him limply, with her arms at her side. He wrapped his arms around her and held her. She began sobbing uncontrollably. While they stood there, he too began to cry as memories and feelings long dormant surfaced.
    “Are you two all right?” Max’s voice broke the silence.
    Her voice might as well have been a cannon going off in the room from its impact. Polly instantly straightened and Jack released his hold on her. Before turning toward Max’s voice, Polly pulled a tissue from her pocket and dabbed at her eyes, and Jack turned slightly away and wiped his cheek with his hand.
    Now Polly looked at Max. Her eyes were still red and puffy from crying. She said, “I’m sorry. We were just talking about Malcom and …”
    Her voice began to crack, but before she could say anything else, Max said, “Polly, it’s okay. I understand. Anything you need, just let us know.”
    Polly sniffled, looked back and forth between Max and Jack, and said in a stronger voice. “Thank you. Now, I’m hungry. How about omelets?”
    “Sounds perfect,” said Jack.

CHAPTER 91
    ALFRED AWOKE WITH THE SUN , his mind racing as he remembered the fiasco of the previous night. As the events replayed in his mind, he resolved that they wouldn’t happen again. The voices remained quiet, but he knew that it was just a matter of time before they would begin again, asking, demanding―no, commanding―that he complete his mission. His eyes closed and he slipped back into a deep sleep and another time. This time, he moved into the pages of the book, watching Christine on the ship.
    * * *
Christine could sense a change in the crew the closer to port they came. She felt it too, but for different reasons. Some on the crew were looking forward to seeing their families again, but most were in high spirits anticipating drink and women, not necessarily in that order. They had been away for several months and now they would be home. Christine, her anxiety easily disguised as excitement, went out of her way to remain in the Captain’s good graces, and she must have been successful judging from his civility toward her. Each night, in the safety of her cabin, she worked on her quilt, using needle and thread to record the contents of that letter in much the same way one would use pen on paper.
    * * *
    It wasn’t until after noon that Alfred reawakened. A shaft of light streamed in from the edge of the window curtain, so he pulled the curtain aside to look out. The sun was just past its peak, but as clear and bright as it was outside, he could tell that it was going to be chilly. With hunger beginning to gnaw at him, he needed to find something to eat.
    Outside it was cooler than he had expected. He climbed into his truck, started the motor, and set the heater on full blast. Waiting for the heat to kick in, he shivered and pulled out of the lot.
    The fast-food places near his motel did not appeal to him, so he drove east toward the ocean again. The pub had been too unsettling, so when he reached the ocean he turned north and continued his quest. Many of the homes he passed were already boarded up for the winter. Most summer businesses were also closed, and it was nearly an hour before he found a place still open where he could get something to eat.
    Ordering his food “to go,” he returned to his truck and continued driving. He needed time to think. With the heater full on, his cab was now toasty warm, and he nibbled on the French fries in the bag on the seat beside him as he drove. They were salty, hot, and delicious, and it didn’t take too many miles before they were gone. He was groping around in the bag, hoping to find one last fry, when he saw a sign for a closed summer camp, the kind that parents send their kids to for weeks at a time, maybe even the whole summer. It was something that he had never experienced, although he had had friends who had