At last he heard a noise off to his right, a sigh or a moan in the blackness. He wallowed through the wet sand, stumbling and staggering toward the sound. Suddenly a flash of lightening illuminated the crouched figure of Cynthia Byrne several yards away. Once again in darkness, Dean made his way toward the form, his arms outstretched before him. She was sobbing uncontrollably and he pulled her soaked frame up to him, trying to wrap his raincoat around her shaking body.
"I had to see it. I had to see it. I had to see it." She kept repeating the words over and over.
Dean lifted her in his arms and slowly picked his way up the beach in the direction from which he'd come, half staggering through the soft sand. It was an arduous trip. He made two or three false starts before he located the elusive narrow path through the thorny brush that separated the beach from the road beyond it. Emergency lights were now on outside the motel, making the return trip easier once he reached the road. Dean could now see Cynthia Byrne was unconscious though her arms remained tightly about his neck. Her added weight, though slight, caused the parking lot gravel to cut even deeper into his aching feet. She was drenched to the skin and rivulets of water ran down her shivering body. He quickened his step and his breath came in spurts as he gingerly climbed the stairs toward their rooms.
The room key was in his raincoat pocket and he managed to pull it out with two fingers and fit it into the lock, pushing the door open with his shoulder. The power remained out so the only light in the room came from the outside emergency fixture through the open door. Gently laying Cynthia on his bed, he tried to revive her but it was obvious she would be in the land of dreams for quite some time.
Dean opened his connecting door and found to his relief she had not locked her side. Her blinds remained open and he could see the room key on the nightstand. He pulled down her bed covers, felt around the darker bathroom for all the towels and opened her small overnight bag. The bag contained a dress, a slip, underwear and a two-piece pajama set but no robe or flannel running suit or anything dry and warm.
Returning to his room, he closed his door and opened the shades just enough to see. He shrugged off the raincoat and stepped out of the wet trousers, using one of his smaller towels to partially dry off before slipping on pajama bottoms and a long-sleeved shirt. He then carried Cynthia Byrne's limp but still drenched and shivering body through the connecting door to her bed and laid her on one of the towels.