บท 53: Chapter 53

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They missed the turn off on the first pass. Ken backed her truck up along the shoulder before continuing on their route. The dirt road was barely a hunters’ path. No name. Nothing to say if it were public or private. The third such passage since they made the ascent. But their destination—a shack nestled on what essentially amounted to an island, in a marsh, among trees—on top of a damn mountain—had to be somewhere down the line. The reports of mild tornadoes in this location, somewhat near White Haven, Pennsylvania, all centered around a point on this country trail. If the bad guy and his lackeys could be found anywhere in the U.S., it would be here.