“Like Reverend Grant always says, Wilson: some creatures only speak the language of the gunshot…”
“So what if it’s bad luck? I don’t have any mother to show my wedding dress to. It’s mostly for you, anyway, isn’t it? Oh, let’s do something nice on the last day before we’re married. Let’s have a picnic up at our old place in Mr. Starcher’s barn. I’ll bring the lantern, but this time you bring the picnic basket…”
Everything seemed to happen at once. Frank's dad was an important man in nearby Bastion Falls. He used his pull to get both Frank and I jobs at the local airfield. Frank was a natural-born pilot. I didn't have the money to get flight certified, so in the meantime I worked as a hangar mechanic, fixing up the crop-dusters and Frank's derby planes. Life was good, and I was feeling confident. I asked Amelia to marry me, and she said yes. She told her father that evening, expecting a fight. Strangely, Lawrence didn't say anything at all. He just went out to the field to work. We counted ourselves lucky. I should've known better.