The Death of 1977 (Book 3)

"No, Dougie!" Lynnette screamed herself awake.

Breathing so heavy that she had to sit up on her mattress and catch her breath, the woman clutched her heaving chest and waited. The image of the little boy in her nightmare still remained, so much so that her own stomach began gurgling. Lynnette looked all over the tiny, dark space in which she was resting to find only herself. The instant she reclaimed her bearings she immediately dropped her body back down onto the sweaty mattress and laid there.

From her face all the way down to her naked toes she was layered in her own sweat. Lynnette couldn't stop breathing so rapidly. The dream was so intense and realistic that she had to shut her eyes repeatedly just to make sure she was still awake.

She rolled over onto her left side and reached for a wristwatch that was lying on the floor next to her bible. Lynnette held the watch up to the moonlight that was shining into her room to see the time that read 2:42 a.m.

From there she dropped the watch and laid back down again. With her eyes penetrating the ceiling above her she struggled with the thought of getting up, but her body had other reservations. It desired only to lie motionless on the clammy mattress and sulk. However, the longer Lynnette rested the more intense her ramblings seized her to the point where she had to actually force her own body to move from its quiet comfort zone.

She leaned over and reached for her bible that was lying next to her on the floor. There was a bookmark within the pages. With her flashlight she turned directly to Joshua 1:9 and read carefully before placing the book back onto the floor.

With as much energy and bravery that she could muster, the young woman got up, put on a white tank-top shirt, a pair of torn blue jean shorts and a pair of sandals. She walked over to the foot of the mattress and picked up a heavy duffle bag from off the floor before sneaking her way out of both her room and the shack altogether.

Making sure to shut the door behind her as quietly and securely as she could Lynnette turned and ventured down the steps only to inadvertently bump into a little boy who was already seated on the stairs.

Gasping for air, Lynnette looked down. "Leo, what are you doing out here, boy?" She sat down next to the child.

Leo couldn't have been any more than nine or ten years old. Even in the darkness Lynnette could see his shady image that appeared more troubled and bored than anything else.

"Are you going out again?" Leo asked with his head resting on his right arm.

run. What's the matter? Why are you

sighed before looking up

immediate right. Upon a usual night there were countless sounds. From that of Reggae music strumming from someone's nearby home, to a few vehicles tooling down the road. The reeking smell of Ganga was more belligerent after midnight than any other time of the day. But there was something keeping

just sighed before patting Leo on the back and saying, "Don't worry,

when he comes by." Leo hopelessly

the most sorrowful manner, as if she were in his shoes. "You know that your mother still and always will love you. Right now...she's just going through some things. Be patient

looked up at Lynnette. He began to sniff. The very last

and take

shook his head before Lynnette

be back before

"Do you promise?"

a bike leaning up against a wall. She then lanced her duffle bag on the bike's handle and got on. In the dark of night Lynnette rolled on down the lonesome highway for at least ten minutes or so before she eventually met up with

grinding halt right in the middle. The moon was half full that evening, but the moon's phases wasn't anything that interested her. All she did was stand and watch as the shimmering waves rolled in and out just a couple of yards from her. It was such a warm night; the humidity had all but diminished, as did the rain that had fallen upon the

sea. For that matter, before August, she had never been to a beach in her life. On most nights, all she would do was stare out at the water ever so endlessly. She would often wonder just where the sea would take a person had they ventured out into its great expanse. Or just what could have been

bag and pulled out both a piece of paper and her flashlight. She turned the light on

that resided before her, just ten yards forward. As soon as she put the paper back into her bag she rooted around until her hand connected with something warm

yet to become accustomed to neither her surroundings nor her duty, and as luck would have had it, as slowly as she was walking, the forest drew closer

fever grass. Lynnette kept glancing back at the forest's opening like it was an unshakable bad habit. She couldn't believe that she was actually skulking about in the dark with a shotgun