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there being somethin' under that pile of rubble." |
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"Dead?" Carlos mumbled, "Who?" |
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Gleason shrugged his shoulders. "Well, it ain't a dog or a cat or a gull; they don't smell like that." |
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Carlos wrinkled his nose. "I can't tell the difference. The whole damn island smells bad." |
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The sheriff turned to Merle Chesterton. "You know what we gotta do," he said soberly. The deputy nodded. |
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The dozers and diggers were pulled off of their highway clearing assignment at the entrance to the park. Two dozers and seven men, already bone weary and sweat-soaked from their earlier task, arrived at the scene in the late afternoon. Gleason and Carlos had each been called out on other matters during the course of the day, each time leaving Chesterton with the grim, solitary sentinel over the remains of the Gull House. |
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Each time Gleason checked in with the disaster recovery unit and the civil defense people. Each time the answer was the same; no one had had any contact with either the doctor or the deputy since the day of the storm. With the second confirmation, Gleason's hopes had begun to sink. Both had had ample time to get back to the island, or, at |
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