They were not trying to stop me.

They were escorting me.

I pressed my foot down on the accelerator.

The engine roared as the truck sped up to eighty miles per hour.

The rain turned into a heavy, blinding downpour.

The signs for Alexandria passed by in a blur of green and white.

I turned off the highway onto a secondary state road.

The asphalt here was cracked, with deep puddles that sent sheets of water over the hood.

The GPS guided me deeper into the Virginia pine woods.

The trees grew thick and close to the road, blocking out what little light remained.

I turned off my headlights.

I drove by the dim glow of the dashboard lights and the faint gray of the wet road.

The escort vehicle behind me had disappeared.

They knew I was going to the gate.

I reached the perimeter fence thirty minutes later.

It was a ten-foot chain-link barrier topped with rusted razor wire.

A faded sign on the gate read: *U.S. Department of Agriculture – Experimental Station 4.*

There were no guards at the gate.