"Least once a week, I see folk drive through here in those whatchacallums. What's the Army using now instead of Jeeps?"

"Hummers," Lance supplied.

"Yeah, them things. Anyways, like I was saying, about once a week I see one of those drive by, then a few hours later drive back out again." Mooney paused to spit. "Got me thinking, 'why's someone driving a big ole thing like that up this way?' Now, I won't say that your little girl's involved in all that, but it makes a body wonder just the same."

Lance nodded. "We'll look into it." He turned to get back into the Jeep.

"Oh, and, Charger," Mooney added. "Don't let it be another dog's age before you come up here for a visit."

Lance nodded again, and waved before climbing back into the black 4x4. Bruenner climbed in shortly after, steam practically curling out of her ears.

"Just what the hell was that?" she snapped. "Football? Bullshit! If the old man ever coached a game, it was probably back in the Sixties, round about the time you were born."

Lance whirled to face her, glaring menacingly. "I said drop it," he growled.

Bruenner refused to be intimidated and instead petulantly crossed her arms and pointedly stared out the window. Lance twisted the key in the ignition, nearly breaking it in the process. Still angry, he jammed the Jeep into gear and turned down the road.

He ground his teeth as the Jeep bounced over a rock. "I wish you'd just trust me."

"Maybe if you'd quit lying to me, I would!"

Lance took a deep breath. He knew she was right, but he couldn't bring himself to tell her that he was damn near as old as Christ, had fought Celts and Huns, had once been a Knight of the Round Table, fought in the Crusades, the Hundred Years War, been a Captain in the Royal Navy, and worked alongside Ness, among other notables. Somehow he doubted she'd believe any of that. Instead of answering, he concentrated on trying not to roll the Jeep down the ravine.

The charged silence between them lasted for at least another half-hour before Bruenner finally spoke again. "What's for lunch?"

"Sandwiches," he replied tersely. "Better than fast food."

"Looks like there's a place to pull over just ahead," she offered. "We could eat by the creek."

He could hear the apology in her voice, but said nothing. The Jeep bounced and swayed a few more times before he pulled off the trail. Without a word, he got out of the 4x4 and grabbed the sack. Bruenner climbed out as well and followed him down to the creek. Granite boulders made for plentiful, if not painfully hard, sitting, as the water swirled and burbled its way downstream. The creek was probably twelve feet across and maybe two feet deep in places. The surrounding trees, lush with their new spring leaves, provided ample shade. It truly was an idyllic setting for an impromptu picnic. Lance dug in the bag and handed Brunner her sandwich.

"What was all that about anyway?" she asked, after taking a bite.

Lance sighed. It looked like it was time to either fish or cut bait about telling her about her own possible Immortality. He washed down a mouthful of his own sandwich with a drink from a bottle of water.