to the Dam. They can’t get to this old place, which we think they want to real badly. They can’t attack the Dam ’cause they’d never make it to the front door. But word is, they’ve got a bigger army somwheres out to the east. If that’s actually the case, then that’s a game changer as the old say. In the end, there just ain’t no way through that madhouse for you and your tank.”
There were no more ribs.
Kyle stared into the fire.
“Where is this ‘Island of Sanity’?” asked the Old Man.
Kyle sighed.
“Home. Our home. The Dam east of Vegas.”
“And so if we can make it there… to the Dam, then we might find some fuel if you had vehicles once.”
“Yeah, we gin up a little fuel that’s probably not the best, but it’ll get this hunk o’ metal a little farther down the road for you. Problem is, mister, you’re not makin’ the connection. We can’t get into the Dam. There’s an army between us and it. King Charlie’s got an advance force all dug in like a hornets’ nest.”
The Old Man looked at the tank waiting in the shadowy darkness beyond the firelight.
“Did you hear me, old man, when I said we also had a tank? How d’ya think we lost it? It’s in a ditch out in North Vegas. They knew we had vehicles so they booby-trapped the whole place. You try to go through Vegas, north or south, and you’ll lose your ride. Plain as day, there just ain’t no way through!”
Silence followed and the Old Man listened to the dry sticks within the fire crackle and pop. He watched the night wind carry sparks up and away from them.
“I don’t mean to be hard on you, mister,” said Kyle softly. “But you can’t make it. At least not that way. You’ll need to go off-road way out into the desert. If your ride’s in good shape, that won’t be a problem. Unless you get really stuck and then yer out in the sticks with their patrols.”
Silence.
Overhead, a comet streaked through the atmosphere and burned up in almost the same second it had appeared.
Life.
And death.
“We need to stick to the roads,” said the Old Man, thinking of the bad right tread.
“Well, you can’t,” whispered Kyle in disgust. Or fatigue. Or both.
The Old Man watched them all.
The girl, Trash, seemed somewhere else.
Grayson looked off into the night.
Kyle stared into the fire.
The Boy appeared to watch the night but the Old Man knew, or felt was more like it, that he was somewhere else, far from this fire and this night.
His granddaughter watched everyone.
And yet we must.
“We can make a way.” It was Grayson.
Grayson stared hard at Kyle who refused to return the look.
“We can make a way,” Grayson repeated. “Straight through, and it’s all on-road.”
Silence.
“Yeah, I figured you was gonna say that,” mumbled Kyle after an interval full of something electric. “I figured that already.”
Grayson looked at the Old Man and began to speak softly.
“We could go straight down the Strip where their lines are thinnest. Right where the bomb went off. The radiation’s not too bad. They say it was just a dirty bomb but I don’t know what that really means. The important thing is the road is mostly clear of booby traps between the old casinos because of the radiation. We can go that way. We can guide you. We can make a way through.”
“We,” said Kyle softly. “We,” he thundered at Grayson and began to laugh. “We.” He snorted finally. “There just ain’t no way of gettin’ through!”
No one spoke and the mad laughter of Kyle died away on the night’s breeze.
“Kyle?” said Grayson.
“Yeah,” mumbled Kyle.
“We.”
“Yeah. I figured that already.”
THE MORNING LIGHT shows an orange desert floor and a day turning into a forever blue. Hanging from the tank, riding in seats, or sitting atop the turret, they all depart the once-secret base.
There are still secrets buried in these sands.
Then let them stay buried, my friend. Let them stay buried forever.
Yes.
They travel south heading toward Vegas. The buckled road keeps straight, passing beneath toothy hills that guard a wide valley. An airfield rests in the center of it and buildings straddle the highway. Beyond and to the south lies a sea of rusting vehicles that stretch away to the indeterminate horizon.
Our Great Wreck seems small in comparison.
Yes.
“What happened here?” asks the Old Man leaning into Kyle’s ear as he shouts above the noise of the tank.
“Before my time,” yells Kyle above the wind and roar of the tank. “But they say that when the bomb went off, everyone in Vegas fled in two directions. Up here if you happened to be on the north side of town. If you were on the south side, then you might have gone out into Apache lands. My dad and mom were at the Dam on a ‘field trip’ when it happened. But most thought the Dam would be hit next so they just kept on moving. We never knew what really happened up here until we started coming to salvage parts years later.” He stopped, and then added, “It was like this when we got here. There hasn’t been anyone here for a long time.”
They drove down into the valley, passing the airfield where planes lay fallen and scattered. There were visible bullet holes in the walls of the buildings.
Later, in the large fields between the small mountains that bracketed the valley, they passed RVs formed into squares that had burned down to their axles and frames. Cars torn to pieces. Not in accidents, but methodically. All the tires on every vehicle were missing. They saw shreds of tent still hanging from poles, still flapping in the breeze of their passing. Ancient blue tarps lay dustily strung between the wrecks. Every imaginable possession seemed strewn about in the dirt and dust, some forever entrenched in the ancient mud of past rains.
I know the story of this place.
If I were going to salvage here, I could tell you their story.
But it would be a bad story.
And so, what is their story, my friend?
Somewhere, there will be a pit. Somewhere within all that wreckage, all those vehicles turned to shelters, there will be a pit. A pit of bones forty years gone.
Yes.
This bomb goes off in Las Vegas. Right in downtown. I must have heard the news of it then, but I have forgotten since. But it happened in those first early days. The bomb goes off and those who are not killed outright run.
As we ran.
As I ran.
Yes.
There is nothing but a desert to run into. The nearest cities are hundreds of miles away. And what good is it to go to those places, those cities? They too are targets. So the survivors stop here and begin to wait for help.
But there won’t be any.
