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heard John say how he always seemed to let out a big sigh whenever they crossed over into Vermont. She’d just thought he was imagining it, but this time she felt it herself. She looked at John, his face silhouetted by the lights from the cluster. He was staring ahead, watching the road intently, but for the first time since they began their journey, he seemed relaxed. The little lines in the corners of his eyes were less pronounced. Sara smiled.
    They passed the first exit to Brattleboro without slowing. At exit two, John pulled the Volvo off the highway, and turned right towards West Brattleboro. The streets were deserted.
    After several minutes, they turned up Green Pond road, and drove until the pavement ended. At last, they passed through the tight pass through the ledges that had been blasted in the rock decades ago to allow passage in to the small valley the Masons lived in. As they passed through the ledges, the valley opened up and John could see the little pond down on the valley floor glittering in the moonlight, along with the few little houses surrounding the pond and the fields beside it. John looked across to the other end of the valley, where the road wound up and out of sight through the only other entrance, through another set of ledges, before joining with another paved road and heading south. The two houses on the other side of the valley, where the Masons’ neighbors, the Culicos and the Kensingtons lived, were both lit up. Down at the pond, both John’s parents and his aunt and uncle, May and Patrick Mason’s house were lit up as well. The little cabin behind them was dark except for the small porch light.
    “Dad must have turned the light on for us.” John mused aloud.
    “Nice of him. I’m kind of sick of the dark right now.”
    “I know, babe. We’ll be inside and cozy in a few minutes.”
    They pulled in to the driveway a few minutes later. John’s father, Harold Mason was standing on the little porch of the cabin as they got out of the car.
    “You’re mother put some coffee on and made a pie. Don’t look at me like that, just come eat some and pretend to like it. She’s worried.” He nodded to them as John opened up the back door of the Volvo and let Princess out. She ran excitedly over to the elder Mason, flopping down on her back as she reached him. The old man bent down and gave the pup the obligatory scratch on the belly before walking off toward his own house. John noted in passing the old man was wearing his old Ruger Blackhawk on his hip.
    “Go on inside, sweetheart. Get some lights on and open some windows. I’m just going to bring a few things in. We’ll get the rest in the morning. I don’t want to keep my folks waiting,” John said as he pulled a duffel bag out of the car.
    Sara nodded and followed Princess inside. Turning around back onto the porch, she addressed her husband, “Hey, John? Speaking of open windows, are we sure this thing isn’t airborne?”
    “Well, it doesn’t seem like any body’s sure of anything. But I don’t think so,” he said.
    Sara looked pensive for a moment, and then turned around and headed back in the cabin.
    John came a few minutes later, dumping two large, green canvas duffel bags on the floor inside the door. He took his AR 15 off his shoulder and set it down, leaning it against the wall. He made another trip, bringing in two more bags as well as the tactical rifle case he’d taken from the dead State Trooper’s car. Sara was taking stock of the items they had left in the cabinets from their last weekend away, pasta, soup, a bottle of white zinfandel. She smiled as she remembered the two of them wading in the pond and visiting the farmer’s market. It was a shame this time wouldn’t be as restful.
    “That’s enough for now,” John said, breaking Sara from her reverie. “I’ll get the rest in the morning. Let’s go see my parents.”
    “Alright. Let’s get this over with.” She gave John a smile that almost looked