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She was fifteen and he was forty-two but he was eight years younger than her husband.

A ruggedly handsome man, Chet was very kind, a trait her husband never had.

While she waited in the cab he went to the supermarket in Earle where he bought a loaf of bread, some fruit and juice.

Bursts of white steam exploded from her mouth as she ran toward the highway. “Dear Lord,” she whispered, “Let it be one of those big trucks.” As it neared she saw that it was a semi pulling a forty foot trailer.

Closing her eyes she heard the squeal of juddering tires and smelled the smoke of hot rubber.

Then, as she felt the heat from the truck’s radiator she heard the truck’s engine ease to a slow idle.

She had sneaked out of the second story room where they were keeping her by tying her sheet to the bed, tossing it out the window and sliding down before dropping the last five feet to the ground.

She had no idea of time but knew that everybody in the house was sleeping. She knew she had to find a way to put more distance between the cult and herself before they woke up if she had any chance of being successful in her escape. Edging up the small embankment she peeked down the straight road.

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