True Fiction by Goldberg Lee

Author:Goldberg, Lee
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781503949188
Publisher: Thomas & Mercer
Published: 2018-03-31T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

At the Nevada state line, the two-lane strip of highway through the vacant grasslands abruptly became an unpaved dirt-and-gravel road that stretched out over a low rise and then down into a long valley. A twisted and peeling roadside sign riddled with bullet holes announced that Ian and Margo were entering Washoe County, Nevada, that the road was not maintained, and that they were traveling at their own risk. As if that weren’t enough to dissuade them from venturing on, ahead were uninhabited places like Massacre Lake and Hell Creek, all named to underscore that this was a landscape more hospitable to death than a long, healthy life.

The old Mustang wasn’t built for rutted dirt roads so their journey wasn’t a pleasant one, the car bumping and rocking along as they delved deeper into the desolate expanse of rocks and sagebrush. Far across the dry valley, they could see the serrated edge of a long, barren mountain range that had doomed many settlers heading for Oregon.

Ian and Margo passed through Vya, a ghost town of three decrepit wooden buildings, but after that, they didn’t see any more structures. They also didn’t see any other vehicles or human beings. They were seemingly alone in the middle of a vast nowhere. Ian felt conflicting emotions: relief, because he was far away from civilization and all the spying technology that went along with it, and vulnerability, because he was completely out in the open, easy to spot and kill if anyone knew where to look. But he was fairly certain that nobody did.

Ian recognized some landmarks along the way from his last trip out here—a rock formation that resembled a skull, a dry lake bed with some bones scattered across it, and the rotting hulk of an old truck—that helped him know when to turn off one dirt road and down another. Eventually, he drove through a cleft between two rocky hills, what Ronnie called “Mother Nature’s Glorious Cleavage,” into a hidden clearing where a ramshackle compound had been built.

A cinder-block house with barred windows and an array of solar panels on the roof was at the center of the compound. Radiating out from the house were a greenhouse, a utility shed, a corral with goats, chickens, cows, and a surprisingly lush vegetable garden. A bulldozer, a tractor, and a pickup truck were scattered around like a child’s forgotten toys. There was a gasoline pump and tanks for water and propane. So while it was clear that somebody was living there, nobody was in sight. The air was still and it was eerily quiet.

Ian parked in front of the house and turned to Margo. “I’m sure that he saw us coming for miles and he doesn’t know who we are. Get out slowly with your hands in the air. We don’t want to get shot.”

“This is starting out well,” she said.

Ian got out of the car, his arms raised, which wasn’t easy with one arm in a cast. Margo got out with her arms up, too, looking around for signs of life besides the listless livestock.

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