Misplaced (123 page)

“I
think
it’s
safe
to
say
w
e’
v
e
officially
entered
the
Jornada
del Muerto,”
V
ictoria announced.

Khar
a
murmured
,
“Wha
t
coul
d
ha
v
e
cause
d
such
de
v
astation?”

“Volcanoes
.
Remember
?
Y
o
u
aske
d
abou
t
the
m
whil
e
you
w
er
e
thumbin
g
throug
h
th
e
encyclopedia
s
a
t
th
e
apartment.
This area
w
as once full of them.”

“Ther
e
i
s
a
morbi
d
majest
y
tha
t
on
e
canno
t
hel
p
bu
t
admire.
Is this a sacred place?”

“Hardly.”

“Incredible.
Surely
this
is
the
heart
of
what
you
refer
to
as
‘loca
l
superstition.
’
An
d
b
y
th
e
w
ay,
”
sh
e
continued
,
e
y
eing
V
ictori
a
wit
h
a
half-smile
,
“Celest
e
recounte
d
th
e
incident
a
t
Ros
w
el
l
i
n
it
s
entirety
.
I
t
seem
s
tha
t
yo
u
lef
t
a
grea
t
many
details out of your
v
ersion, counselor.

“What
,
th
e
attorne
y
ha
s
nothin
g
t
o
say?
”
sh
e
asked,
laughing
.
“Don’
t
yo
u
see
?
Eac
h
o
f
thes
e
coincidence
s
i
s
but
win
d
i
n
ou
r
sail
.
Y
o
u
wil
l
see
,
V
ictoria
.
A
t
Urrac
a
Mesa
,
the
great
spear
of
time
will
be
hurled
in
the
opposite
direction,
and
I
will
go
home.
W
ith
e
v
ery
day
that
passes,
I
am
more
certain
of it.”

I
t
w
a
s
useles
s
t
o
argue
.
V
ictori
a
concentrate
d
o
n
Khara’s
driving,
which
w
as
remarkable
to
the
point
of
being
irritating.
“How much farther to Santa Fe?”

“More than two hours.”
A
lone
drop
of
w
ater
crashed
on
the
windshield,
follo
w
ed
by
another.
A
gray
shadow
ho
v
ered
o
v
erhead
;
otherwise
,
th
e
sk
y
w
a
s
th
e
immorta
l
indig
o
o
f
the
South
w
ester
n
morning
.
V
ictori
a
rolle
d
u
p
th
e
windo
w
and
w
aited.
Soon,
deafening
spatters
hit
the
windshield.
Gripping
the wheel tightly, the muscles in Khara’s jaw tightened.

“There
will
be
more
cars
on
the
road
now.
I
’
ll
take
it
from
here.”

Quickly
,
Khar
a
relinquishe
d
th
e
wheel
;
V
ictori
a
coul
d
not
tel
l
i
f
sh
e
di
d
i
t
begrudgingl
y
o
r
not
.
Sh
e
wor
e
a
n
expressio
n
that told nothing.

The
y
go
t
a
s
fa
r
a
s
Mountainaire
.
There
,
V
ictori
a
trade
d
a
thi
n
stac
k
o
f
t
w
entie
s
fo
r
a
quie
t
plac
e
t
o
shu
t
ou
t
th
e
world
fo
r
a
while
.
I
n
a
mote
l
room
,
abou
t
whic
h
sh
e
woul
d
later
recal
l
nothing
,
sh
e
san
k
int
o
a
slee
p
o
f
tangle
d
images—Elias
standin
g
o
v
e
r
Celeste’
s
corpse
,
wipin
g
hi
s
bro
w
wit
h
a
linen
handkerchie
f
Mart
a
ha
d
embroidere
d
i
n
maroo
n
sil
k
thread.
H
e
sense
d
he
r
w
atchin
g
an
d
turne
d
t
o
laug
h
a
t
her
,
hi
s
e
y
es
the
color
of
quicksil
v
er,
as
expressionless
as
death.
She
awoke
frightened and confused.

Khar
a
w
a
s
s
it
t
in
g
i
n
fr
o
n
t
o
f
th
e
win
do
w
,
a
hal
o
o
f
blue-grey
ligh
t
illuminatin
g
he
r
blac
k
hai
r
an
d
s
w
eater
.
Sh
e
shifte
d
he
r
attentio
n
bet
w
ee
n
th
e
parkin
g
lo
t
an
d
th
e
television
,
th
e
volume
o
f
whic
h
w
a
s
turne
d
t
o
nea
r
silence
.
V
ictori
a
coul
d
barel
y
make
out a male, monotone voice.

“
Another science program?”

“Th
e
effect
s
o
f
atmospheri
c
an
d
barometri
c
pressur
e
on
w
eather.”

“Gripping. How long
w
as I asleep?”

“A
goo
d
par
t
o
f
th
e
day
.
Bette
r
kno
w
ledg
e
o
f
th
e
w
eather
insinuates
that
more
grain
could
be
produced
by
each
setat
of
land.
Reliable
food
is
at
the
root
of
a
nation’s
stability.
Excesses
coul
d
b
e
traded.
”
He
r
voic
e
fade
d
an
d
sh
e
di
d
no
t
tur
n
around.