The pyramid of rocks they'd built two months ago was gone!
The crash brought Gen. Leslie Bowers (ret.) up out of bed--about two feet out of bed--old muscles tense, white mustache bristling.
Even at his age, the general was a man of action. He flipped the covers back, swung his feet out to the floor and grabbed the shotgun leaning against the wall.
Muttering, he blundered out of the bedroom, marched across the dining room and charged into the kitchen. There, beside the door, he snapped on the switch that turned on the floodlights. He practically took the door off its hinges getting to the stoop and he stood there, bare feet gripping the planks, nightshirt billowing in the wind, the shotgun poised and ready.
"What's going on out there?" he bellowed.
There was a tremendous pile of rocks resting where he'd parked his car. One crumpled fender and a drunken headlight peeped out of the rubble.
A man was clambering carefully down the jumbled stones, making a detour to dodge the battered fender.
The general pulled back the hammer of the gun and fought to control himself.
The man reached the bottom of the pile and turned around to face him. The general saw that he was hugging something tightly to his chest.
"Mister," the general told him, "your explanation better be a good one. That was a brand-new car. And this was the first time I was set for a night of sleep since my tooth quit aching."
"Who in thunder are you?" roared the general.
The man walked slowly forward. He stopped at the bottom of the stoop.
"My name is Wesley Adams," he said. "I'm--"
"Wesley Adams!" howled the general. "My God, man, where have you been all these years?"
"Well, I don't imagine you'll believe me, but the fact is...."
"We've been waiting for you. For twenty-five long years! Or, rather, _I've_ been waiting for you. Those other idiots gave up. I've waited right here for you, Adams, for the last three years, ever since they called off the guard."
Adams gulped. "I'm sorry about the car. You see, it was this way...."
The general, he saw, was beaming at him fondly.
He waved the shotgun by way of invitation. "Come on in. I have a call to make."
"Move!" the general ordered, shivering. "On the double! You want me to catch my death of cold out here?"