Copyright © 2012 by James Hampton
All rights reserved.
Cover Image © Maruba/Fotolia
That’s him, Drew Addison thought. I know it’s him.
Drew was standing on the beach: a broad swath of damp, firmly packed sand along a barrier island off the coast of Georgia. Behind him were gently rippling white dunes studded with sea oats, and the humble wooden boardwalk over which he had crossed just minutes ago was the only prominent sign of Man’s intrusion here; otherwise, there were only scattered twinkling lights to indicate any link to the modern world: those that illuminated the balconies and decks of the large houses behind the dunes; those of lonesome buoys clanging mournfully out at sea; those of shrimp boats and other fishing vessels headed for the vast but slowly receding darkness.
And because the night was in retreat, here moments before dawn, he was able to see the figure of the man he had longed to meet again since childhood; a man moving along the shore at a leisurely pace, who occasionally glanced up at the disappearing stars before quickly looking down at the ground, no doubt to make sure he wasn’t about to trip over something.