The Last Handful of Clover - Book 2: Gifts Both Light and Dark

2.63 A Dark Room Full of Snakes

June 15, 11:30 am

 

Keith had been awake for an hour. But he'd just been lying there, alternately writing in his journal and staring up at the ceiling.

 

Why am I so tired? he wondered. When I'm not sleeping, my mind's full of fog. I wonder if that's just the way grief works.

 

He hoped that was the case, but in the back of his mind, he had to wonder. He had a nagging fear all the time now that the darkness he was in was just getting deeper. It was a feeling that he could not easily dismiss as the remnants of grief. What he was feeling was more pervasive. And it wasn't just in his mind. It had to do with Howard Gunderson, and the warning that he had brought to them. A warning he said was from Richard.

 

Why am I so certain that what Gunderson said is true? he wondered. But no matter how he tried to dissect it logically, he knew that yes, he did believe it. Absolutely. Something horrible was about to happen in Salt Lake City. And somehow, Richard was a part of it.

 

The feeling of comfort that he got from Richard's presence had not returned overnight, as he had hoped and prayed that it would. He'd tried to will that feeling into his hand, open on the pillow next to him. If Richard really was out there and watching over him, why couldn't he feel it?

 

I had been so sure... Why am I now so full of doubt?

 

For the past hour Keith had been jotting thoughts like these in his notebook, and as he looked over them, he thought that the hen scratchings looked more like the handiwork of a madman than the calm, introspective, confident guy that he liked to think he was.

 

Michelle and Pil were downstairs, and he could hear them moving about. They had stayed with him the whole night, sleeping in the guest bedroom. He didn't know if it was because they wanted to make sure he was okay, or because there was still a cop stationed outside, making sure they didn't venture too far. Michelle had come up to check on him as soon as she heard him stirring, which he had known she would, and now he could hear the low hum of the TV from the living room.

 

The clock on the bedside table read 11:35. He forced himself to get up, thus claiming the minor victory of being able to say that he didn't stay in bed until noon. He took a quick shower and dressed. When he was done, the clock said 11:51. He crossed the threshold of the bedroom, seeing his ability to walk straight this morning as another minor victory.

 

He found Michelle downstairs in the living room, watching the TV, with the volume low. He half expected her to pop up from the couch with a chipper remark, such as, "Well, it's about time, sleepyhead!" But to his surprise, she barely acknowledged him as he plopped down beside her on the couch. When she looked at him, he had the impression that she may have been crying. At the very least, the bags under her eyes told him that she had gotten little sleep.

 

"So. Do we still have our escort outside?" Keith asked.

 

"Last I checked," Michelle said, and took his hand. He felt her lean hard against his right arm.

 

He sighed. "Yesterday seems so surreal now. I'm still not sure it really happened."