The foaming river tumbled over vast rounded boulders, in a flurry of ceaseless, busy foam. The rumbling noise seemed to fill the canyon.
“Running water always make me want to take a leak,” Mildred said.
“Nobody stopping you, my dear lady,” Doc stated. “You have a thousand miles of back country to choose from.”
“I’ll wait awhile. Good training for the muscles. May be a rest area just around the corner.”
THEY CAME ACROSS a rest area, less than a quarter mile around the next bend. It was off to the right, set back into a wide recess under the cliffs, across the highway from the river.
A central area housed the rest rooms, as well as a number of shaded tables and benches. The rusting remains of barbecue units were visible here and there among the coarse grasses.
Ryan glanced sideways at Krysty, the silent question visible in his eye. She paused a moment, then shook her head. “Nothing human or mutie, though I get the feeling there are animals close by here.”
“Likely coyotes?”
“Could be.”
Ryan swallowed hard. “Feel thirsty, lover. Going to take a drink from the river.”
Krysty watched him cross the deserted highway, the steepling sun throwing his shadow around his ankles. She glanced down at her own booted feet, seeing one of the Deathlands daisies, white and yellow, growing from the dusty soil. She stepped carefully around it, joining the others by the concrete block at the center of the rest area.
They were looking at a notice board. It was around seven feet high, double sided, with a brown metal frame that was covered in break-resistant, transparent plastic, scratched and weathered over the years.
“Tourist information,” Doc said, peering at the faded writing.
One notice warned about the dangers of wild animals such as bears, snakes and panthers, stressing that they weren’t tamed and feeding them was totally forbidden under park regulations.
Next to it was a warning about back country hiking, making the point that hikers should always register any planned hike and sign on and off with rangers at approved places, marked on the small map on the board.
But what interested Krysty and the others were the crudely hand-lettered, unattributed notices that had been stuck beneath the plastic covers, obscuring some of the original, official messages.
Ryan had rejoined the others, wiping his mouth from his drink, and he read them over Krysty’s shoulders.
“War is here. This region is under martial control. Leave now and return to your homes. No photography or videos. Trespassers are likely to be shot on sight.”
“Must’ve gone up in the last hours before the state slipped into the Cific,” J.B. said.
“Look on the wall of the John,” Mildred said. “Paint’s almost gone, but you can read the message. Short and sweet. ‘Go home or get shot.’ Within a day virtually everyone in the whole country was dead or dying.”
They stood in silence, each of them locked into his or her private thoughts, trying to imagine what those last moments before the skies were filled with missiles had to have been like, the chilling awareness of impending doom.
Ryan whistled softly. “Spooky to see a reminder like this. Hardly ever see anything anywhere that was so close to those final hours.”
Mildred patted J.B. on the arm. “Got to go use the facilities, John, or I’ll burst.”
“Take care.” He returned her touch. “Remember you might find spiders or snakes or scorpions in an abandoned building like that. Looks as if the roofs been torn open on the far side there. Watch out.”
“I’ll be fine. Back in a minute.”
The outer door had lost all of its paint from a hundred years of weathering, and there were deep scratches down its surface, leaving raw sprinters of white wood. The brass handle was covered in a thick coating of green verdigris. Mildred turned it, finding it seized up solid. She put more of her weight behind it, and it creaked stiffly, then jerked inward.
Mildred could see dazzling sunlight spearing through the damaged roof, and a pile of dried leaves scuffed around her boots. She sniffed, wrinkling her nose at the hot, acrid smell of stale urine that filled the place, surprising after such a long time.