The light at the end of the tunnel got bigger and bigger as we ran. At least I knew I was still alive. Wouldn’t expect to be seein’ that if I weren’t. The Old Man raced out of the tunnel and to the right. I just hoped we weren’t runnin’ from one firefight directly into another. The bullets pingin’ at the other end of the tunnel weren’t slowin’ down. So I followed him out. We were inside Andersonville. I felt a shiver up my spine. Never thought I’d make it here. Not certain I wanted to. The Old Man was half talkin’ to himself or to me, I don’t know. He was countin’ as he walked. He stopped and looked over at the fence line and traced a line in the air with his finger from a post, across the top of the mountain in the distance, over to a tree next to an old power pole and what was left of some shack. He walked up to the tree, slapped it and looked up at the top, almost marvelin’ at it, then dropped to his knees and started diggin’ in a rotted hole between the exposed roots. Wasn’t long before he started pulling at some plastic and pulled out something wrapped up in duct tape and garbage bags. He sat down with his back against the tree and looked up at me. Between heavin’ breaths, he said somethin’ about his Justin Case, and how this seemed like that time.