Quote:
Originally Posted by Rhoopes73
"I figure the best places to find out what is happening are the police station, the fire department, the hospital, or the library. Any one else have any ideas?"
<insert response here>
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"If we wanna get to a library we oughtta consider Flagler college down King street. It ain't even a half mile from the Marina. Worked for a gal that got her environmental science degree there and it's a reeal naaice-lookin' campus. Ain't exactly in the direction of the Castillo, but it ain't far removed neither."
Clint entered the kitchen area and looked around between kitchenwares before finding and picking up the fillet knife. After a few practice stabs and swings, he wrapped a hand towel around it. Then he taped up the dishrag from the bolster of the knife to the tip, fidgeting the knife while taping to make sure it was tight enough, and taped the improvised sheath on the side of his belt.
He then came back to the deck and moved to the side of the boat toward the short before sitting down and gazing across the shoreline for a spell. Whatever was the cause of all this destruction couldn't have spread too far. Or at least it couldn't be going too far outside populated areas. No way it coulda reached Clint's house in the backwaters of Florida's oft-forgotten natural beauty. Harold was probably safe and sound at home, none-the-wiser of anything wrong in the world. Despite these logically-sound assumptions, Clint couldn't help but worry.
Clint went to bed early that night, but sour thoughts took their sweet time to settle before the sandman made his visit.