As the bedraggled duo trudged along, sipping from their water bottles, Liz, the writer, thought of a great metaphor for the endless road. She and her traveling companion could never begin to imagine what this journey held for them. Liz felt as if they were both attempting to find balance on a very long writhing gray serpent with black splotches and a school bus yellow stripe going down its spine.

Earlier, they had been cruising along in the 2010 Honda Hatchback Fit fine until a thick fog closed in. The density dampening the car's solenoid, the battery dying and there they sat with no cell reception. The only option was to strike out searching for civilization and a car service garage.

They hoped this trance-like walk would take them away like Calgon, to the comfortable hotel room they'd slept in just two nights ago. Two nights ago felt like eons ago. And with those thoughts, a little foggy-headed, herself, Liz realized darkness was falling fast. They would have to find someplace to bed down for the night. For the second time that strange day, they both had the same vision through the darkening mist.

Because they'd both seen it, there was credibility in the tiny light off in the distance. Hurrying their pace and out of breath, they got close enough to see that it was indeed a dingy light bulb on the small front porch of a tiny house. They were just about to dart down the slight hill to the driveway when the front door opened. They stopped mid-air in their next step.

With suspended foot, spinning around they made it in time to a bush that safely concealed them. Lighting a cigarette, the smoker appeared to have raised her head and looked in the exact spot they had just been standing. It wasn't Linda's or Liz's shyness or politeness that was preventing their feet from continuing their trek down the slanting slope.

No, it was what the slight of build woman had in her hand as she came through the doorway and which was now leaning against the knicked-up faded Shaker shingle clapboards.

They didn't know what they were going to do. Their feet wanted to keep walking as far away from this spot as possible and as fast as they could move. But their hearts kept them there. Something just did not feel right. An AKA-40 was not for hunting unless they were expecting a sleuth of snarling brown bears.

They forgot all about their need for searching out a place to sleep or rest. The only problem galloping through their minds was how they could get closer to the house to peek inside. Achy and cramped they waited long, for a break so they could move.

A new replacement guard was seated with a cigarette in one hand and a liquor bottle in the other. An identical rifle rested against the house. A guard so strongly armed with such a gun was definitely protecting something very important, either drugs, guns or people. Or all three.

Their window of opportunity providentially opened up when the guy on the porch started coughing so seriously, he lurched back and forth and finally stood up. Turning his back to them, the wretching silhouette leaned way over the railing. When they heard violent vomiting, they knew this might be their only chance.

Aiming for the closest bush, there was, fortunately, an extended hedge along-side the driveway with grass cushioning to creep and crawl along. The growth was thick enough to give coverage and thin enough to keep track of whoever was on the porch.

Stealthily moving along they reached the end of the hedge and the back of the house. The thicket was filled in enough so they could avoid detection. Facing the corner of the building where there were no windows, they could remain until they figured out their next move.

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Before moving from their safe place of hiding to a fully exposed area, they thought they should scope things out. That was when, thankfully, Linda spotted something that made the situation worse. How would they ever be able to make it across with the motion detector light on the corner near the eaves?

They had to think further along. From where they were crouching, they could see there were bars on the windows to either keep people out or to keep someone captive. This was getting creepier by the moment. They speculated there would be no need for a room guard if the windows were obstructed by metal grating.

Getting over there safely was the next dilemma racing through their minds was, How much risk would they be taking to look in the window to see the reason for securing them. They had to solve how to outsmart that darned motion detector.

Because they both had one, they knew the area affected had something to do with where the detector was pointed and at what angle. This reminded Liz she had over-corrected hers and Linda agreed that she was planning to ask her son to tweak theirs. With all of this knowledge, what could they learn about the one they were needing to outwit and avoid at all costs?

One of those losses was going to be knees and elbows. Together, they assessed the aim of the detector to be quite low, they could elude it by crawling like a reptile across the pointy pebble-studded driveway. By the time they had slowly made their way across, some of the smaller pebbles would have become embedded in their bloody knees and elbows. They took three deep breaths for courage and began.

Sure Linda was praying all the way across, Liz distracted herself with the remembrance of when she was learning about teaching reading. At that time, there a new study by a group called Doman-Delacato.

They were researching the theory and developed a program that treated people who had had trouble reading, even into adulthood. It was believed that some people did better reading after practicing crawling and creeping, in that order.

The study told of poorly skilled readers who had never crawled but had only crept. They believed that there was a relationship between crawling and creeping and the level of ability to read. It was reported that after patients had done a regimen of these activities in the correct order their ability to read increased.

Liz wondered if the two of them would be able to read better now. Although sadly, they had crept before they had crawled, so maybe it was all for naught in that department.

Safely across the eternal driveway, each admitted that she had felt like one of the ducks in a county fair game where they float in a little stream for the fairgoers to shoot at. They did not know if at any time that light would come on alerting the gun wielders there were intruders in the back.

The light never came on even though they had sneaked many peeks at it under its seeing eyes. Those eyes which burned into their very souls fortunately never set off any alarm.

Once across, they knew they had to get a look into the house. The window was too high even on tiptoes. As they surveyed the area, they noticed a large dumpster directly across from them. Both of them were hesitant to go over there and lift the lid for several reasons.

One, being, they'd watched too much TV. They were worried there might be a dead body in there, the dumpster acting as a metal casket with an unceremonious burial. The other was they didn't want to be labeled "dumpster divers". They quietly laughed realizing that they were the only ones around. There was probably no need to worry that anyone would ever hear of their garbage grabbing adventures. Somberness hit them as they glanced in the direction of the barred window.