Insomnia

Waynesboro, Virginia Ronda Sandler was having trouble getting to sleep. The campground was simply too noisy. John had done most of the driving and, when he mentioned that he knew of a nice little camping area on Sherando Lake, she thought it was a good idea. He was positive that the campground was no more than twenty miles away. Ronda did not care where the place was located; she just wanted to get off the road and out of his truck. It was dangerously dark, and a heavy fog had moved in over the top of Afton Mountain-the route they had to take in order to cross over into Tennessee. Things had not changed; John refused to just duck off the road, get some sleep, and start fresh in the morning. In short, he was a male and to proud to stop and ask directions. Thus, they continued on.

The original plan was to travel through the night, switch drivers at every other rest area, and just keep moving until they were as far from Norfolk as possible. If John was right and Fox knew where she lived, it only made good sense not to be there when he showed up. That "original plan" though, lasted only until midnight. It had been a long day, for both of them.

Fortunately, John's memory was as stubborn as his personality. The Sherando Lake Campground was just where he said it was-give or take twenty or thirty miles.