The sun had risen and the salt air filled his lungs as his long gait ate up

ground. He passed homes on the waterfront. The largest residence of all had been

reserved for the four-stars who had lived at Fort Monroe. Next to it were

slightly smaller homes where three- and two-star generals had dwelled.

 

The street was quiet, tree-lined, and filled on both sides with large (at least

for military quarters) two-story brick homes with porches that ran the full

length of their fronts.

 

He found the one he was looking for, on a corner. It had a large backyard and

the grass was neatly cut. The house looked well maintained, but didn’t look

occupied.

 

Puller walked around the perimeter of the property until he reached the rear

yard. He came to a spot pretty much in the center of the yard and thought back

to that day.

 

He’d been outside playing. A ball and a glove.

 

His brother had been somewhere else, probably at the library reading a book.

 

His father was, as usual, gone.

 

So he’d been playing catch with himself. He had spent a lot of time by himself.

His brother was intellectually advanced far beyond his age. He liked to think,