Evening stroll
He spent most of the past four days reading up on everything that he could find about the island and its history. Unfortunately, 'everything he could find' was a paltry amount. He'd barely learned anything more through his research than Charlie and Eden had already told him when he'd first arrived. Most of it was urban mythology and psychological madness. It seemed liked the only option left to him was interrogating more islanders.
He'd yet to see anyone he'd recognized in his daily trips to wherever he could find documents, but this hardly bothered him. He was not exactly a people person...and he was quite well versed in people leaving his life. As it was, he had to enjoy the anonymity this island offered, and the freedom it so blithely extended. It was a nice change of pace from coffins and cells--as long as it stayed simply a vacation from the life he had to settle.
The denizens that he'd encountered hadn't been all that bad, either. Not one of them had bothered him about his katana sword just yet. He wasn't certain what to make of that just yet.
The so-called Compound had been nothing but annoying. The one bookcase he had found had been stocked with nothing but bad Shakespearian poetry. He hadn't liked them when they first came out. Nothing short of inane children's books would have been less helpful to him. And the make-shift sleeping quarters he'd been shown to were barely a step above the cell he'd been staying in for the past thirty years.
That would not do.
Night had fallen on the island after another day of fruitless research, and Adam was restless. Counting the ceiling tiles was one hobby he did not feel like renewing. Perhaps if he took a walk through the quiet halls of the Compound and out into the cool night air, he could clear his head and gather his thoughts.
There were answers to be found for this island. It was simply a matter of looking in the right place for them.
He'd yet to see anyone he'd recognized in his daily trips to wherever he could find documents, but this hardly bothered him. He was not exactly a people person...and he was quite well versed in people leaving his life. As it was, he had to enjoy the anonymity this island offered, and the freedom it so blithely extended. It was a nice change of pace from coffins and cells--as long as it stayed simply a vacation from the life he had to settle.
The denizens that he'd encountered hadn't been all that bad, either. Not one of them had bothered him about his katana sword just yet. He wasn't certain what to make of that just yet.
The so-called Compound had been nothing but annoying. The one bookcase he had found had been stocked with nothing but bad Shakespearian poetry. He hadn't liked them when they first came out. Nothing short of inane children's books would have been less helpful to him. And the make-shift sleeping quarters he'd been shown to were barely a step above the cell he'd been staying in for the past thirty years.
That would not do.
Night had fallen on the island after another day of fruitless research, and Adam was restless. Counting the ceiling tiles was one hobby he did not feel like renewing. Perhaps if he took a walk through the quiet halls of the Compound and out into the cool night air, he could clear his head and gather his thoughts.
There were answers to be found for this island. It was simply a matter of looking in the right place for them.