He takes the left on Chess Road, through a mass of oaks and maples on both sides of the road that make it look as if it’s a tunnel. The high beams on the Taurus are dim: yellow-white color mixes with the lush green of summertime. There’s more dirt and gravel that make up the road instead of asphalt. At first, he doesn’t see anyone while driving a quarter-mile along the sleepy and dark river. Slow. Very slow. A snail’s pace. In a matter of seconds, a figure appears on the dirt and rocky road in front of him. It’s a masculine figure in the distance that has stepped out from behind a clump of thick tree trunks and appears, thin, bald, stubble on his cheeks and chin. The stranger’s clothes are muddy and brown. He looks as if he’s been homeless for the last few months, un-bathed, needing food, water, and attention.