Spencerville

The Bend and asked Billy about it.
    Billy replied, “Yeah, bridge is still there. Got some sort of weight limit, but if I gun it, we’ll be across before it falls.”
    Keith wasn’t sure about Billy’s understanding of applied physics, but it was worth a look at the bridge.
    They approached the small trestle bridge, and before Keith could see a weight limit sign or evaluate the structure, Billy was racing across the narrow span, and within ten seconds they’d crossed the Maumee. Keith said, “I think that bridge was closed to motor vehicle traffic.”
    “Yeah? Looked okay.”
    Keith shrugged.
    They drove through The Bend, which took slightly less time than the river crossing and picked up U.S. Route 127 at a village called Sherwood. Keith noted it was two P.M. , and it was about thirty-five miles to the Michigan state line, then another two hundred fifty miles or more to Grey Lake.
    Route 127 went through Bryan, Ohio, but they skirted around the small city and returned to the highway some miles north of the town. That was the last major town in Ohio, and, in fact, after Lansing in southern Michigan, there were no major towns along Route 127 all the way up to the tip of the peninsula. Twenty minutes later, a sign welcomed them to Michigan, “The Land of Lakes.” Keith was only interested in one of them.
    There were no great differences in terrain or topography between northern Ohio and southern Michigan, Keith noted, but there were those subtle differences in signage, blacktop, and land surveys which, if you hadn’t seen the Michigan sign, you might not notice. More important, Keith thought, whatever residual interest the state of Ohio had in him most probably didn’t extend beyond that sign. This border crossing wasn’t the heart-stopping equivalent of the old East to West border crossings in Europe, but he did feel a sense of relief, and he relaxed a bit.
    They drove on for another half hour, and the terrain started to change from flat farmland to rolling green hills and small valleys. There were large stands of trees now, mostly oak, hickory, beech, and maple, and the autumn colors were further along than in Ohio. Keith hadn’t been in Michigan since he and Annie used to drive up to see the Ohio State–Michigan game in Ann Arbor, or to see Bowling Green play Eastern Michigan in Ypsilanti. Those had been magic weekends, he recalled, a break not only from classes but from the war and the turmoil on the campus, a time-warp weekend without dissent or demonstrations, as if everyone agreed to dress, act, and look normal for a traditional Saturday afternoon football game.
    He let his mind drift into thoughts about Annie, then realized this wasn’t good or productive. The objective was Grey Lake, the mission was to settle the score with Cliff Baxter, not just for himself, but for Annie as well, and thinking about her meant he wasn’t concentrating on the problem.
    Billy asked, “Where in northern Michigan we goin’, exactly?”
    “Don’t know exactly.”
    “Then how we gonna get there?”
    “We’ll manage. Hey, remember that old Army expression? I don’t know where we are—”
    “Yeah.” Billy smiled and recited, “I don’t know where we are, or what we’re doin’, but we’re makin’ really good time.” He laughed.
    Keith thought that seemed to satisfy Billy, but a few minutes later, Billy asked, “Is Baxter alone?”
    Keith thought a moment, then replied, “I don’t think he has any other men with him.”
    Billy mulled this over a minute, then asked, “Where is Mrs. Baxter?”
    “Why do you ask that?”
    “Well… I mean, I heard about the kidnappin’ on the radio.” Billy glanced at Keith and added, “The radio said you kidnapped her.”
    “What do you think?”
    “Well, it’s plain as day that you two ran off together. The whole town knows that.”
    Keith didn’t reply.
    Billy went on, “What I can’t figure out is what happened next.”
    “What do you think happened?”
    “Well… I guess he caught up with you. That explains them cuts and bruises on your face. But that don’t explain why one of you ain’t dead.”
    Keith replied, “We tried.”
    Billy laughed and said, “I bet you did. This is like round two, I guess.”
    “Two, maybe three, four, or five. But who’s counting?”
    “And I guess this is the last round.”
    “I’m sure it is.”
    “You gonna kill him?”
    Keith thought a moment, then replied, “I’d rather not.”
    “Why not?”
    “That’s