How many hours ago had he promised Judy to come 'right home?' Even though a little light appeared in the east, it was still too dark to cross the runway in the center of Adak's U-shaped main street. Instead he would have to walk down to the bottom of the U and then up to Bering Hill, a forty-five minute walk. The rain had stopped, the wind had died. Frank breathed the air deeply. It was clean, it was fresh, the air of freedom. When he passed the Officers' Club at the bottom of the U, he heard music and laughter even though it was 4:30 in the morning. A tiny thought nagged at him, that maybe it was good to hear music and laughter at 4:30 in the morning. But no - it was Gilmore. Frank stopped and stared at the club. There was so much right about the man, his opposition to racism, his leadership ability. Gilmore was the test case. If the Adak Island prison turned him around then the idea would be a success. Frank shook his head. It was a tall order. As he passed the Officers' Club he wondered if Latisha was there. Her image filled him. Her deep eyes, her soft brown skin, her shining black hair. He looked around at the stark hills just now being lit by the dawn. Desolate Adak provided a great backdrop for a woman of beauty. Poetry on the tundra.
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