Welcome to Brentville

As Sara drove down Route 3, the sun gently touched the leaves. Soft color filtered through the trees. It was like looking into the kaleidoscope on her coffee table back in Harleysville — a breathtakingly beautiful reminder that fall was upon her. Where has summer gone? she thought. So many things left undone. As soon as I get home, I'll make a list and follow it through.

Now that David, Debbie, and Susan were out on their own, Sara and Jim were enjoying a second honeymoon, a time when they could be alone to rediscover and enjoy each other. Sara still worked outside their home, so her life was very full — sometimes even hectic. Jim, a lawyer, worked at home. This plan had worked well when the children were young and still did, now that they were empty nesters. Jim still prepared most meals, which was a tremendous help to Sara.

Paying attention now to the highway exits, she wished she'd filled the tank earlier, when she'd been near a more populated area. It seemed more rural with every mile, and she decided she'd take the next exit she saw.

Okay, what's this? Looks like an exit coming up. Doesn't seem to be any sign in sight, but it's getting dark. I'll take that little winding road. If I can't find a gas station, maybe I'll at least find a house. I've never thought that Wisconsin was this uninhabited.

After driving for a few minutes, Sara realized she was on a dirt road. Because of all the flying stones and dust, she slowed the car to a crawl.

I'm lucky to have a mobile phone in my car; not many people do yet. Jim wants me to have everything available, to make sure I'm safe. He paid a lot of money to get me this newfangled mobile car phone. I guess I'd better be careful — the signal here is weak. Don't want to be uselessly calling for help.

Panic was setting in as she realized her situation. This road is so narrow, I could never get the car turned around. Complete darkness now.

The pitch-black woods and the tall, thick brush along the road were closing in on her. For the first time in her forty-five years, Sara was really afraid. She stopped the car to call Jim, but it was too late. No reception.

I should have flown to the medical convention.

Sara's fear of airplanes had dissuaded her from flying, and it made driving the miles from Harleysville, Pennsylvania, to Minneapolis, Minnesota, seem like a good idea. She had always wanted to see Minnesota and Wisconsin. With a two-week vacation, she could do so. The drive to Minneapolis had been a breeze. The return trip was turning out to be a little more complicated. Right now, my options are few. I'll keep driving.

After what seemed like many more miles, although the odometer said that it had been only fifteen since she'd left the highway, Sara decided to keep going. At about twenty-five miles, she thought she could see a dim light off in the distance. Maybe it's just my imagination — wishful thinking. No, it's getting brighter.

Sara could tell the road hadn't been used for years. The trees and bushes were getting closer to the edge, making it almost impossible to drive.

God was not someone Sara knew or thought much about. She was pretty self-sufficient; she had always taken care of things herself. But she found herself thinking that if she did have a higher power, this would be a good time to ask for help.

The light ahead was getting brighter. Sara was beginning to feel more relaxed. She could almost see where the narrow dirt road was leading her. It looks like the Florida gated community where we lived for a few years.

The first thing Sara came to was a very high concrete wall. I don't see an entrance. As she drove up to the high wall, an opening appeared, as if by magic. When she drove through the gap, she found the gatehouse just beyond the opening.

That's odd. In Florida, a gatehouse usually comes first, followed by a gate. As soon as she had driven through the opening in the big wall, it closed as magically as it had opened.

Sara was excited to have found some people, some light, and — she hoped — a town or village. Maybe now I'll find some gas, some food, and someone to help me get my phone working.

Stopping at the gatehouse, she rolled down the window of her new, light-blue Mercedes-Benz convertible. A nice-looking young man said hello through the gatehouse window. She could see his badge and "Walter Brent" on his nametag. As he rose to come to her car, she noticed his gun.

"Welcome to Brentville," he said with a warm smile. Sara observed that he was eyeing her brand-new vehicle.

"What are my chances of getting some gas, some food, and maybe even lodging for the night?" she asked. She was feeling somewhat shaky. The thought of a nice bed was definitely appealing.

He seemed delighted she had come.

He probably doesn't have many visitors at this time of night.

"Follow this road for around fifteen miles, and it will take you right into the center of Brentville. Stay on Main Street, and you will find everything you need, ma'am."

After taking her name, he gave her a ticket for the car window and motioned her on. Sara was relieved to see the road was paved. It should be smooth sailing from here on.

Again Sara could see nothing but trees and darkness. However, the guard had said she would find Brentville by staying on the road, so she did.

Funny, the radio station I've been listening to is no longer coming in. She tried looking for another station but could find...