I feel safer this way.” “Stay in the truck then, and cover us,” Fred quickly inserted. Grace looked to him, then nodded and got into the rear passenger seat. She closed the door and rolled down the window, setting the barrel of her rifle on the door frame. Her eyes were darting all around her. Norman, Fred, and Michelle began walking down the dirt driveway to the cluster of houses, each holding their hands outward to signify to whomever was watching them that they were unarmed. No one was outside that they could see. They walked cautiously up to the first house which had a long wooden front porch. From inside the house, an older man’s gravelly voice called to them, “That’s far enough!” They stopped in their tracks. Norman and Fred stood side by side in front of Michelle. “Who are you? What do you want?” the voiced called. The sound of someone stirring inside the house was heard. “It’s Fred Mason from down the road,” Fred said in a voice loud enough for the person to hear, but careful to not sound threatening. “Norman Boyce is with me, and so is Michelle Russell. Her daughter Grace is in the truck. We just want to talk.” “Talk about what?” the voice asked, sounding somewhat