Chapter XVIII
illiam slept fitfully. He was remembering something of a note he held in his hand, placing it in a car, and the dream discontinued. Time and again, it got to that same point, then ran back to the beginning. He forced himself to stop, to look at it, to concentrate on it, to read it . . . set your house in order, the grim reaper cometh, an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth . . .
What in the world could it possibly mean? He awoke in darkness, yet, not the total darkness that could compare with what he'd experienced the last few days. Here, was sound, little lights everywhere, and a soft light coming from the room just off to the right. He heard humming, the voice of an angel, humming a tune they'd found just a year or so back. He closed his eyes and just listened to the beauty of it.
He wondered where he was, why he was so weak, and what was this on his head? He reached up and found a huge bandage up there, but could not remember how it came to be there. Finally, he saw the door to the room open slowly. The angel within that room had stopped humming, and was peeking out through the small opening.
What a gorgeous sight to behold. What a lovely angelic being standing there looking at him, the light from the restroom catching her hair, making it glow like what he thought an angel should look like. But to him, she was exactly that. His beautiful, lovely, wonderful, wife. What all had she been through? How had she escaped? How had she gotten to him?
These were all questions he would have answered in time, but right now, he just wanted to hold her, to hold her hand, to tell her how much she meant to him. He just had to tell her how much he loved her, and he wanted to apologize for the many negative things through which she'd been while in his acquaintance.
She sat down next to him after a sweet and hefty smack-attack, and just held his hand. Honey, you don't know how close you came to dying this night. He saw the tears form, and run down her cheeks. His heart was if it had been torn from his chest. He couldn't stand to see her cry like this. He couldn't stand to see her all torn up like this.
"Honey, what's the matter? Why are you weeping so? Please, tell me what is wrong?" William pleaded.
"Honey," she began. "Are we ever going to have peace from this thing? Are we ever going to be free from it? I just don't know if I can stand another ordeal such as this. As much as I love you, I just want this thing to be over, or . . ." She never finished the sentence.
William just lay there, stunned. Here was the apple of his eye, the joy of his life, the one and only person who had ever held any place in his life as she, and yet, she was having second thoughts. And no wonder! But still, it wasn't anything he could control. The only thing he could think of to tell her was "honey, I love you so much, but I understand. I want you to have everything that I own. It's yours. I'll walk away penniless just to give you everything.
They heard a commotion in the hall, and in walked her parents. After the hugs and kisses on Sharon, the weeping and tears of joy that she was indeed fine, they approached William. But, there wasn't the wonderful loving kindness and understanding as in previous times. Something had changed, something was definitely different.
Sharon told William she would be back as soon as she had a bite to eat with them, gave him a quick smack, then walked out of his life with her parents. She did not come back to the hospital. William was devastated. He lay there and wept until the tears soaked his pillow. A few minutes later, Lane Wardlow came in, sat down on the chair beside William, and said nothing.
Finally, William broke the silence. "Lane, thank you for all you've done for me. I want you to draw up the divorce papers, and I want to give Sharon everything that I own with the exception of the plane and my pickup. She can have everything. Just give me a power of attorney to sign, and you can take whatever salary you desire out of the proceedings.
Please do it quickly so she can get on with her life and not be hurt financially in any way. Although it tears my heart out, I love her so much, I can't stand to see her hurt any more than she already is. Can, and, will you do this for me?" he finished?
Lane sat there stoic as an old owl. Finally, a tear forced its way out of the corner of his eye, and down his cheek. He finally spoke. "William, for once, I do not have the words to say. To describe what's in my heart for you and Sharon, is beyond my vocabulary. The only thing I can say is, I'm sorry."
He paused for a full minute, then finished with "I will heed your every request. I just want you to know that I think very highly of you, and if there's anything you ever need, please, promise me, that you will not hesitate to ask."
He stood up, shook Williams hand, and walked out. William was left there in the room all alone, wondering where the merciful God was that he'd asked so faithfully to help him while he was in the cell. Later that afternoon, he had a couple of surprise visitors. Len Mathers and Melinda Pierce walked in.
"Hey, look at you William!" Len said enthusiastically. But William really wasn't too happy to see him, although he was happy to see Melinda was doing well. He ignored Len and looked straight at Melinda and said "I sure am sorry you got tangled up in this mess. I'm also sorry you went through what you did because of me."
He stopped, then turned his head back straight with his body, and closed his eyes. He sighed a long sigh, then said "I am so tired . . ."
He hated to be so rude, but, Len had held a gun on him while he was shackled like a dog. Len had turned him over to Dr. Kny-pel, literally ending his happiness here on this earth. As far as he was concerned, he could go back to the FBI headquarters and play cop again, but leave him alone . . . Len sat the bag he carried in on the counter, and said "see ya pal."
He heard them as they walked out quietly. They never said another word. He'd heard footsteps coming down the hallway, and heard them stop just about the time Len and Melinda turned the corner at the door to walk down the hallway. He heard low voices, a low "oh no . . . no wonder." It got quiet for a moment, then the footsteps could be heard again, and Len and Melinda's steps disappeared down the hall.
"I wonder who could be coming in to bother me now?" William thought. "I wish I could just be left alone to die in peace."
He was still lying there with his eyes closed when he was interrupted by a soft "ahem, can I just check your bandages?"
It was the doctor, and he'd hadn't seen him as of yet. When they brought him in he was still under the influence of the drug, plus he'd lost a lot of blood. "Well, I think we can let you go in the morning Mr. Travis. You sure had some nasty bumps on your head. You've suffered a concussion and lost a lot of blood. Can you stand?"
"Sure," lied William. I feel fine, and I am asking you to release me. I want to get out of here and go home."
"Well, I won't release you without protest, but, I can't hold you. If you're so minded, I'll sign the papers for you to leave. I really do wish you'd stay at least one more night here and let us change that bandage and keep a watch on you."
"No, release me. I'll be ready to go as soon as you can get this I.V. out of my arm and I can get dressed. Thank you Doc."
Before the doctor left, the phone rang and his mom was on the phone. "William, are you OK? Is there anything you need? Is there anything we can do for you?"
"No mom. Listen, I just really feel bad. Can I call you back later?"
"Sure son, I'll wait for your call. I love you."
"Love you too mom. I'll call in a little while. Tell dad I said hi."
He felt bad about being rude, but he just didn't need all that right now.
He found the jumpsuit in which he was delivered to the hospital, and dressed. He'd taken the I.V. out of his arm himself, walked down to the nurses station, signed the release papers, and was wheeled out to the front door. He stood up, steadied himself on a post handy there, said thank you to the attendant, and watched as she pushed the wheel chair back inside.
He never felt so alone in his life. He was thankful for what was in the bag. He'd picked it up out of curiosity, and had looked inside. There was his wallet, pocket knife, fingernail clippers, watch, belt, pen and a necklace Sharon had given him. He'd put all the stuff in it's proper place with the exception of the little chain he'd worn since before they'd married. He just it left laying on the counter.
He hailed a cab and headed for a motel. Once in his room, he just lay down on the bed with the light off, and dozed off. The dreams came almost immediately. It was the dream about a death sentence on his head, one that had been there since birth, and one that would follow him to his grave.
He didn't know that he actually had two Death Sentences on him. Between the weight of the Death Sentence, the loneliness, the depression, the hopelessness he was feeling, he just wanted to die and get out of it all. He went down to the pharmacy and bought a package of sleeping pills. He then trudged back past the bar where he bought a fifth of vodka.
He went back to his room, took a couple of the pills, a good pull on the vodka, and lay down. Finally, sleep. Peaceful, blissful, wonderful undisturbed sleep. He hoped when he woke up, this would all just be a bad dream.
But William would learn it wasn't. It was all very real, and he was to experience a side of life many experience on a daily basis. Many are able to go no further, and die, never knowing again anything but misery, the life of a pauper, depression and the underside of life.
But William would learn a few things before the next sunset had occurred. And there was one thing for sure, he was not going to live like this much longer.
William didn't know it, but his life was headed downhill, and he would face death in a whole new way. The Death Sentence was very much a part of his life, and everywhere he looked, death was available. His ordeal with the Federal Government was certainly not over, not by a long shot! He would find that out very quickly!
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