See, sleep is when the top part of your brain shuts down, and the bottom part can come out and get a little exercise. You know what I mean, all those things that you think about without really knowing that you're thinking about them build up, and they have to get out. If they don't, they can just about make you sick.

It's worse when you've got some really bad stuff in your bottom brain. It needs to get out, or it can sort of poison you, give your awake mind trouble. But it just hurts so much, and it's so scary to let it out. Sometimes, though, you don't have any choice.

That night, even while I was asleep, I managed to keep the lid clamped down on the monsters that were in my bottom brain. I was with Ray, I wanted to be happy. I wasn't lettin' 'em out. I didn't know that it was sort of like clamping the lid down on a pressure cooker and not venting the steam every now and then. You do that, you're headed for an explosion.

Sunlight was filtering through my blinds when I yawned and opened my eyes. I watched it flickering on the ceiling for a minute. I could feel Ray next to me, big and solid, and I wasn't in a hurry to move. I felt safe for pretty much the first time since Flagg had just appeared behind me in Henry's office.

I didn't want to wake Ray up, but I found out that wasn't a problem when he leaned over and kissed me on the forehead, whispering, "Morning, glory."

I stretched and rolled toward him, throwing an arm over his waist and resting my face on his bare chest. He was half sitting up, propped by his pillow. "How long you been awake?"

"Not long."

"Why didn't you get up? What've you been doing?"

"Just watching you sleep. You look about, oh, fourteen when you're asleep. Makes me feel positively wicked for the thoughts I have."

"Yeah?" I rubbed against his leg, and he laughed. I was hard.

"I would be flattered, but I think that's your bladder talking to you, son."

"I s'pose so. But after I pee..."

He kissed me again. "You'll go down to breakfast, and eat enough to make your mother happy. We'll see about later."

I sighed, rubbing against him one more time. "You don't want to?"

He caressed my throat, his eyes soft. "Baby, I always want to. But there are people stirring, and your Mom is going to be expecting us at the table in a little while. Be good."

"All right. If you kiss me."

He kissed me gently, touching his lips to mine with aching tenderness, then swatted me on the rump. "Go on."

I got into my robe and went to the bathroom. My hard-on did go away after I peed. Sometimes it's just nature's way of telling you it's time to take a leak. By the time I got back to the room, Ray was coming out, already dressed. "I kind of wanted to watch you get dressed," I complained.

He rubbed my head. "Couldn't risk it. It gets me too hot. Hurry up, slowpoke." He trotted down the stairs as I went into my room to dress. Mom, Ray, Honoria: everyone was in the kitchen when I came down. They all watched me as I poured myself a cup of coffee. It can be kind of disconcerting to be the focus of that much attention, even when it is loving.

I sat down and sipped, and finally said, "I'm not gonna faint or anything, you know."

They relaxed a little. Mom put a plate of food in front of me, and I dug in with the first real enthusiasm I'd shown since I came home. She almost glowed.

It was a lazy morning. We all just sat in the kitchen for a couple of hours after breakfast, talking. I didn't talk much, I just sat by Ray and let it wash over me. Every now and then he'd squeeze my knee under the table. If Mom and Honoria noticed, they didn't say anything.

I could tell that Mom and Ray liked each other, and I was so relieved. I was a little ashamed of myself for not telling her. I mean, I should have known that she'd be good about it, as much as she loves me. Finally Ray went to the bathroom, and Honoria went out to the hen yard to see if she could scrounge up some more eggs. She said she wanted to make something called a keesh, or something like that, for lunch.

I sat there across from Mom, not saying anything for a little while. Finally, not looking at her, I said, "Ray... Ray says that you know about him and me."

"Yes, dear."

"I'm sorry, Mom. I know you wanted grandkids, and all that."

"Walter, there are plenty of babies in this world for me to spoil. I'll be all right. I just want to know one thing: does he make you happy?"

I looked up at her quickly. "Oh, yes, Mom! So happy."

"That's what matters. All I've ever wanted was for you to have someone to love you like you deserve to be loved. And Ray is a fine man. You two will take good care of each other."

I ducked my head again. "I don't know what we're gonna do. I've got the farm out here, and Ray's got a job in New York, and he really loves Boston."

"True love's course is seldom smooth, but things have a way of working out, Walter. Nothing has to be decided right now. You two just take your time and get reacquainted with each other. You get well, and then you can think about what you need to do."

Honoria came into the kitchen, her skirts cradling about a dozen eggs. "My those hens have out duh-done themselves. Walter, the cows were making an awful ruckus."

I jumped up. "Holy moley! I didn't milk them last night or this morning! They're gonna bust!"

"No, no. I did it, dear." Mom assured me. "Heaven's, as many years as I've lived on this farm, you don't think I'd let the poor beasts suffer, do you? But I expect they're hungry. The hay was getting pretty low in their mangers last night."

"I better go pitch some to them right away. Poor old girls. I should be ashamed of myself, neglecting them."

Ray had strolled through the door, and he cocked an eyebrow. "What's this about your neglecting girls?" He asked archly.

"Get that look off your face. Daisy, Henrietta, and Beulah."

Ray winced. "Ouch. I hope those are cows you're talking about, because I'd hate to think of some poor girls burdened with those names."

"Smart alec. Yeah, I gotta go pitch down some hay right now."

"Terrific. I'll come along. I've never seen a hay loft before."

As we went out, I said, "You're kidding, right? Never been in a hay loft?"

"I'm a city boy, Walter. My mother's idea of a rural vacation was going to a resort in the Catskills and enrolling me in tennis lessons."

"You'll like it."

Honoria was right, the cows really were making a ruckus. I could hear them lowing and bellowing a long way before we got to the barn. As we went in, their volume increased. "Okay, all right, I know, I know! I'm sorry. Breakfast right away, ladies. Over here, Ray."

I went up the ladder, and he followed right behind. We went through the hole in the barn ceiling, and emerged into the hay loft. It was a big room that spanned the entire area of the barn below us. The big doors in the front, where the bales of hay were loaded in, were closed, but there were a couple of glassless windows along the side left unshuttered to allow the breeze to blow through. The room was sort of half dim, the sunlight making a glow that showed off dancing dust motes. The air was thick with the sweet scent of good, dry hay.

Bales were stored around the walls. The neighbors and Uncle Ed had been doing all right in my absence: there was plenty of hay for the cows. A couple of the bales were already loosened into a big, fragrant pile. I got the pitchfork off the wall and started shoveling it down through the open spot in the floor. If I aimed carefully, I could dump it right into the manger that ran through each of the stalls, so I worked carefully. Almost at once the pitiful mooing stopped, and I could hear the stamp of hooves, and the muted chomping as the girls had breakfast.

Ray walked around while I worked, just checking things out. We had a lot of old hand tools for harvesting hanging on the wall. They aren't used now, what with John Deere and all that. Still, Uncle Ed kept them all in perfect shape. He said you never could tell when something was going to break down, and we might as well be prepared, so the scythe and the half-moon sickles hanging on the wall were all gleaming and razor sharp.

I finished and went to hang the pitchfork up near Ray, and he indicated the tools. "If we ever have a siege here, there are plenty of weapons."

I shuddered. "Ick! Don't even kid about that, Ray. I saw a guy slice his leg open with one of those once. He was just fooling around, and it slipped. He nearly lost his leg. Uncle Ed said that's what you get for playing around with tools."

"He sounds like he was a smart man. Wish I could have met him."

"You would have liked each other." I smiled in fond memory. "You ever bet on the horses, Ray? Uncle Ed liked that."

"I've been known to lay a wager or two."

"I used to help him pick horses."

"What was your method? Did you analyze their records, or did you go by their name?"

He was teasing me. I thought that maybe it was time to tell him about my... uh... what I can do. "I just knew, sometimes. Not all the time, though. I... I know things, sometimes."

"Yeah? Like what?"

"Like I always knew when the choppers with wounded were coming before anyone else could hear them. And I knew what Colonel Blake and Colonel Potter was going to want before they said it. I'm really good at finding things."

He studied me, his smile not exactly fading, just going thoughtful. "You mean this, don't you?"

I nodded. "It doesn't work all the time. I think maybe if it's too close to me, it makes it harder. Look how long it took me to realize you were interested in me."

Ray laughed. "Yeah. I had to practically climb on your lap and stick my tongue down your throat, didn't I?"

"I can show you, a little. You saw that tortoiseshell cat down in the barn? It was going out as we came in."

"Yeah, I saw it. Pretty cat, but kind of skinny."

"That was Molly, and she's skinny cause she just had babies. They're up here somewhere. Stand right here, and tell me if you can tell where they are."

Ray turned around slowly, eyes carefully scanning every inch of the loft. He took his time. Finally he turned back to me, shaking his head. "Impossible. Too many nooks and crannies, too dark."

"Now watch." I turned in a slow circle, ending up facing one of the piles of hay off in a far corner. I could almost feel the new life hidden there: small and bright. I walked directly to it, Ray trailing me. When I got to the pile, I walked around it once. Then I stepped into it carefully, two steps, the hay coming up over my knees. "C'mere, but be careful." He waded in and stood next to me. I started to reach down into the hay, hesitated, and moved over another foot, then carefully lifted an armload of hay away.

There was a little nest hollowed out in the hay, the soft strands packed down. Nestled in it were three tiny balls of fur. "Well, I'll be damned." Ray's voice was soft.

I reached down and stroked each kitten with my fingertip, running it along the beadwork of their spines, feeling how silky their fur was. "Their only about three days old. Two boys and a girl."

"Walter, how can you tell? You haven't even looked under their tails, and at that age it's not easy even for a vet to tell."

"I just know."

Ray was looking at me intently. "I'll be damned if I don't believe you. You're amazing, Walter."

I shrugged. "It's not so much. Like I said, it isn't all the time." My face darkened. "Sometimes it slips on real important stuff."

"Like your Uncle Ed?"

I'd been thinking about Flagg. Why hadn't my special senses warned me about him? Well, they HAD. I'd known from the moment I saw him that he was bad news, and I'd had a feeling that something bad was going to happen, but if it had just been a little more specific...

I couldn't tell Ray this, so I nodded. "Yeah, about Uncle Ed." I carefully covered the kittens up again. "Molly's a good cat, but she might get kinda nervous if she found us messing with her kittens." We waded back out of the hay, and started for the ladder.

We didn't make it there. We were passing another pile of hay, and Ray suddenly grabbed me around the waist and threw me into it bodily, then dived in after me. It was piled up loose, and I sank in it till I was almost covered. I fought my way back up, laughing. "What the heck are you doing?"

"I always wanted a roll in the hay." He pounced.

We rolled, and laughed, and wrestled. Ray had a little bit of an advantage, with his longer arms and legs, but I'm fast. He retaliated by finding a ticklish spot on my ribs, and I shrieked with laughter. He playfully clapped a hand over my mouth.

...and I lost it.

I'm not sure exactly what happened, but for a split second I wasn't in the loft anymore. I was on my cot in the radio room, and Flagg had his hand over my mouth and his knife against my face, and any moment know he was gonna start cutting my clothes away, and then...

I was screaming and thrashing, shoving at Ray in a panic. "No! I don't want to! Leave me alone!"

"Walter!" The voice was astonished, and somehow familiar. I didn't see the speaker, though. I didn't see much of anything. All I knew was that I was in danger, and I had to do something. "Calm down! What's wrong, babe?"

I managed to throw the weight that was pressing me down off. This time I wasn't going to just lay there and take it. This time I was going to kill either him or myself rather than let it happen again. I sensed something nearby I could use to defend myself. I'd never held a weapon before, aside from hunting quail with Uncle Ed, and doing target practice in the army, but I went for the deadliest thing withing reach. I snatched one of the half-moon sickles off it's hook and turned, slamming my back against the wall and raising it, ready to defend myself.

The room got very still and quiet. "Walter." He hadn't called me Walter. It was always O'Reilly or Corporal or Soldier. The voice came again. "Baby, put that down before you hurt yourself." It was very calm and controlled.

I shook my head, but that cleared it somewhat. I blinked, and looked around. Not night, not the radio room. I looked at the man standing before me. Not Flagg. Ray was watching me with apprehension, but it was almost overwhelmed by concern. Again he said quietly, "Walter, put it down. It's just me, you don't need that. I won't touch you if you don't want me to."

I looked down, and saw my hands fisted around the handle of the sickle, knuckles bleached white with strain. The dim sunlight glinted along the curve of the blade. It was beautiful, in a lethal sort of way. I looked back at Ray, and started to tremble. I could have killed him.

I carefully loosened my grip, and tossed the blade to the side, as far as I could without worrying about the throw going wild. Then I slowly slid down the wall till I was sitting against it. "I'm sorry."

He stepped toward me cautiously, then squatted in front of me. "Walter, sweetheart, you have to know that if you ever need me to stop, all you have to do is say so. I'd never touch you if you didn't want me to."

"It's not that, Ray. It's not you. I... He..." I held out my arms. "I need you to touch me."

Ray sat beside me, quickly pulling me into his arms, and I burrowed against his chest. I didn't cry, I just pressed there, shaking, letting him hold me.

Ray stroked my back soothingly. After a bit, he said, "You said 'he', Walter." I pretended like I didn't hear him, but I should have known that Ray wasn't going to let me get away with that. "You said 'he'. Someone did something to you, didn't they? What happened, baby? What did 'he' do to you?"

"Doesn't matter. It's over."

"I just had proof that it's damn sure not over. Tell me, Walter. Something is eating you alive. I love you, and I have a right to know, so I can help you fight it."

I couldn't tell him all of it, but I had to tell him something. "Korea, at the 4077th. It was after you went home. Somebody broke into my room one night." I fell silent, hoping it would be enough.

It wasn't. "Just a break in wouldn't scare you this much, kid. I know what a tough little rooster you can be. Wait a minute..." He put his hand under my chin, pushing my face up so he could look at me. His finger touched the faint pink line on my cheek, and his eyes darkened. "He cut you, didn't he? The son-of-a-bitch cut you!"

"It's okay. It probably won't even leave a scar." I was relieved. Let him believe it was the injury that had me in this state.

But Ray is a perceptive man. He continued to look into my eyes, and said softly. "What else did he do to you, Walter?" I could tell all the blood was draining out of my face, because I could feel it getting cold. I jerked my head away from Ray's grip, then buried my face against him again. Ray gripped me tight, starting to rock me, and he moaned, "Walter! What did he do?"

That's when I started to cry. "I didn't want to, Ray, I swear. I should've fought harder, but it hurt so bad." I could feel Ray trembling, his entire big body shaking, and I clung even tighter, babbling to explain, lest he think I was in any way comparing our love making to what had happened. "Not like with you. Only with you, I only ever want to do it with you. But he had a knife. I couldn't stop him. I wanted to, but I couldn't..."

Ray clutched me so tightly it was hard to breathe. He threw his head back, tears streaming down his face, and howled. In that moment, he wasn't the well-bred Boston Brahmin, he wasn't the sophisticated New Yorker, he wasn't even the crisp, efficient soldier. He was every savage who'd ever seen the one he loved hurt, humiliated, and violated, and he was screaming for blood.