Tonight, along with all the regular attractions, specticles, and scandals, is going to be Atomic Drive:

http://www.nmelectronic.proboards42.com/index.cgi?board=events&action=display&thread=1184720750

http://deepprogressions.com/smf/index.php?topic=1120.0

Word has it that this will be hosted at the 3Sidedhole venue, so as always carpool, as the journey to the edge of rio rancho can be foreboding.  Zapper played some damn good tracks at the family ten year party; he’s not to be missed.

Vinal and Verses spin retro down at Burt’s tiki lounge. Get there early, its always crowded with New Mexico’s trendiest trendster setting hipsters.

Martini Grille has house, and OPM has Goth madness, so you can get your weekly pale s&m going.

I was knee deep in the fear.

Megatron. Invisible Bob. Fireworks. Oklahomans. Whales and their younglings. The mentally challenged hustling grilled cheese. Ripe soapy Jailbait. Skeleton Ferwerdatron and black and white Ronald Mcdonald Mittion. The world had gone mad, and I was the last outpost on the edge. Others were coming in, sitting outside the tent, with Emily on the cot or just kneeling down. I looked out of the tent window, across the void that separated the dry waterfall and us. Words can not describe, then, what I was comprehending, though I came to learn that it was a poi dancer, with a kind of set up that looked like five fingered fans on fire, one contraption on each hand.

It couldn’t be real. I what I saw were a bunch of, I wouldn’t say midgets, but, I would call them minions, small minions worshiping some kind of goddess. She flailed about, back and forth, as her small army produced various incantations before her on her alter that was positioned just above the edge of the falls. Justin looked back in on me.

“Deck!? Are you ok?”

About an entire book of words was in my mind, all I could mutter, half laughing, half crying was, “I don’t know what it is, but its illegal! Illegal things going on over there!”

They laughed. I was dead serious. These things shouldn’t be occurring, but they were. Right before me. Those outside watched on, entranced, being called to the goddess’s army. I looked out again. Fire sprites danced to and fro. Centaurs were in the mix of people. All I could see were bald heads over there.

Justin George entered the camp, and looked as if he had, at least in my mind, written a news paper while jogging. It was completely confusing. He was chatting it up with everyone. Then he asked me how I was.

“Lost!” was all I could mutter.

He talked to me about his website, and wordpress. I was totally confused. I didn’t know what the hell he was talking about. That was until he started talking about the vibe at andromeda. He was quite certain about the vibe he felt there. I could only remember that once, a very long time before this, I had written something somewhat negative about that party, about how there was something wrong there.. but I couldn’t remember. I had no clue. I only knew that he was unhappy, he disagreed. I didn’t want him to disagree. I wanted his as a friendly. What the fuck. What the hell do I do now? I was on the verge of crying, it was all very emotional for me, for some reason, I didn’t know what to say. I think, and I stress think, I said “yeah. Uh. I don’t remember” but im not even sure about that. Something in my brain was blocking me, keeping me away. I retreated back into the tent, away from the zippery door. I layed down. The voices subsided. I was again alone.

I got up, randomly, afraid that people would see me in there, and I zipped up the tent. It was this vast void of six by six by four feet of safety that I had control of, at least, one square foot, at any one time. I was still maintaining. I closed my eyes.

I was tingly now, and felt pretty good. The intensity of the colors was fading, as was the confusion. Now, I really can’t say exactly what this next part was about, as it is still confusing to me. All that I do know is that I found myself in some kind of golden palace. It was opulent to the extreme, the walls literally were glowing with gold. There was a goddess in there, with many arms, some kind of Hindu deity I took it to be, but I was unsure.

The deity was demanding sex. In exchange for sex I was to offer it something, but what I don’t know. I didn’t want this. Thanks, but I’ve seen enough crazy shit tonight, I really don’t need sex with some random deity, what if I pick up something from you.

The deity didn’t like this. Didn’t like that response one bit. I found myself sort of aroused but more confused than anything. I found myself laying on my back. I saw a sort of black shadow on top of me. It was trying to get in me, in my chest. Fuck that shit, I don’t need some random shadow thingy fucking up my conflict with the Oklahomans. I said no, but it kept wanting in. there was another one, trying to get into my head. Bah this shit. White light is what I needed, just like they say to do on art bell. So I summoned some white light. More, damn it, sprinkle that shit all over! The dark things kind of hissed and squealed, and disappeared.

All I could see out of the edges of my eyes was white light, it confused me so much that I thought it was sunrise, finally, so I looked up, but, it was not to be, it was still dark out. I got up and out of the tent, really confused but, my sense of reality was feeling a lot more steady now. I was able to walk all the way over to the trench. They all looked how I felt. I could still see some of everyone’s skeletons but it wasn’t too harsh now, except when someone with a bright ass light would come by. I was feeling a bit snippy and exchanged some lines with Roxy, who was trying to maintain her home as tidy as possible, not venturing far for fear of loss.

I soon wandered over to my car. Solid plastic and Detroit steel, that’s what I needed. I opened up the door, put up the sunshades, and, I think, passed into a deep sleep.

I got up, and wobbled a few feet forward. I heard voices, and walked towards them. There was Emily and Timm and Justin, talking, laughing. It was dark and was hard to make out their faces, but things began to distort every time I did. Timm became a black and white caricature of Ronald McDonald, hair curling, eyes becoming bigger and bigger. I looked over at Emily, only she became a skeleton, white skin turning to bone in the dark, eyes hallowing out, teeth grinning at me. Ryan grew fangs, and bone.

Maintain, I told myself, I knew this wasn’t real. Couldn’t be, I was seeing something, something there on the fringe. I stayed there for only a few minutes more, becoming more tense as the visions continued. I walked back to my tent, to a sleeping bag I knew was in there, waiting for me, to comfort me, to warm me, to keep me safe.

I fumbled with the zipper, not quite sure how to get the damned thing to work. Finally, after pushing and pulling to and fro I got it to open, slide down. I pushed my way in, a throbbing phallus seeking shelter inside the ovoid opening. The zipper couldn’t have gone up fast enough, there I was, safe, in my nylon hut, from Megatron and skeletons and bob. I got into my sleeping bag, wide awake, shivering. I couldn’t quite remember how to zip it back up. I twisted about flailing at points trying to make the zipper work its magic, suck me in, keep me safe. Again and again I tried, but to no use. My arms were feeling like my legs did before. The coordination was drifting away. I settled for what was acceptably warm, nestled my head inside the blanket, and closed my eyes.

This is where things became disjointed. I didn’t know where I was, how long I’d been there. A day? Seconds? A week? Were they searching for me? I was in the city, lost, and alone. My mind drifted through the streets, empty, just me. I started to see colors, vivid colors that consisted mostly of a bright, almost neon green, in shards arrayed like the spokes in a wheel. There were other colors too, almost like a hologram, moving about as I tried to focus on them.

I stood before a tower, a never ending pillar that grew farther and farther into the undescernable sky. On and on it went, and there were other towers, going on forever. I felt the size of a atom, and these were like some massively woven threads in a cloth that went on for miles. I looked about and saw them all moving and stretching and growing. I found myself, somehow, inside my own thread, my own line, it was communicated, again from the universe, this is you, as you stand, in relationship to everything else. This is your thread. See that hole over there, in your thread? All you have left to do is to go to it, swim through that hole, finish your thread. Become one with us.

The threads began to spin around me, and I around them, around we went to some kind of cadence I was unaware of.

I opened my eyes. It couldn’t have been more dark, but there was light, there, on the edges of my vision. I could hear footsteps of those attending, lights in their hands, broken bits of language. I dug deeper into my sleeping bag, hiding from the frightening things out there. Despair was setting in, I had no reference anymore to time, I knew there was things I needed to do the next day, and I begged for sunrise, the sunlight would tell me that all of this, this strange journey, was almost over, that I would return to myself and the safety of the herds and the green droppings and everything else. Tears were running from my eyes, my nose dripping. My face was wet, and I dried off on the bag.

I heard the zipper of the tent open. Youngalist Chris was there, and asked to get into the car. I fumbled for the keys, trying to maintain a sense of dignity about myself, feigning sleep and tiredness. I found the open button and pressed it, and, confused as to the location of my pockets, put the keys in with the sleeping bag. I was unsure of where or why I was where I was. I twisted and flopped about in the tent, looking for clues, but only became more disoriented. People, a ungodly amount of people seemed to always be walking by the tent, and I was unsure of them, and their motives.

After a while I heard voices, and it snapped me back. It was Ferwerdatron and Justin, searching for me, to see if I was ok. Justin opened the tent. I looked back, laughing, crying, and completely freaked the fuck out. He laughed. We were on the same plain. He knew, he understood. He was an ally, someone to be trusted. He sat down in front of the door, and Emily on the second cot we set up in front of the tent. They laughed more. I lied down. They asked if I was ok, I said I was.

BOOM!

There was a massive explosion. The god damned Oklahomans had found us. Terror. Where were the guns? The bayonets? We needed to form a defensive line. Oh my god, where were our men? I needed to organize something.

Light came from the sky. I quickly looked out, and saw a single huge firework dance down from some point onto us all. There was a roar from the hungry crowds. The music became louder. Undecernable communications came from Justin and Emily. We were all on the same wavelength, and all in our own worlds.

We quickly assimilated to our new home, along the front line, the border on which we chose to stand guard, and if we chose, that one night, to wash down the valley into the collective pool.

We had been watching, as we finished the hard labor of erecting our homes, a small speck spotted by someone in our camp of an almost spider like figure ascending the mesa.  Only discernible by our left over reptilian brains, the movement of the object was quite clear. Any time the person stopped, even though they were in direct sunlight and their blue jeans and white shirt were in contrast to the golden hue of the broken bedrock three hundred feet above, they quickly became invisible, only some shadow portion of the rock face above.   We were all in awe of the spectacle, in disbelief that anyone would be dumb enough, given the assumed skills of everyone there, to climb so high, in such a rugged and distant place.

The person made it all the way to the top. I watched in disbelief as they descended an hour or so later, as the sun began to set.  They did what very few were brave enough, or stupid enough, to do. They climbed down shear rock faces that looked smooth as glass from our position, and down boulders as big as houses, navigating land that had, though seen, likely never been transversed by human beings.

Jamie returned to our camp with a broken nose. She had fallen, somewhere, on her decent. She said it didn’t hurt, that it was the third time she’d done this, and that she was used to it. I was in disbelief, and amazement.   She showed me pictures of our camp below, the skyline above, and the animals grazing, calmly, on the green grass that grew on a large plain above.

Night was approaching fast and the anticipation was growing.   We went exploring several times, stretching the familiarity of the boundaries of this place…. This place is that all it was? Just another place?  Did we just drive three hundred and twenty miles for just another place to party?

Our camp was very close to the main stage, and the dry stream bed.  I walked up the main road that continued on past the main stage to find more people camped out, just beginning to rise for the night, the city began to grow with life.  Tired looking faces were sitting up right, talking with their chosen families of tales of the night before.

I was exhausted. I had been up for fourteen hours at this point, after five hours of sleep from the night before. I had driven three hundred miles and set up a fairly large camp in the middle of nowhere. I was at a point where I thought I could go no further. All I wanted was sleep.

The universe tends to itself. Things fall into line how it demands, not how we, necessarily, want. There was to be little rest for me this night.  Everyone had a growing sense of expectation about themselves, they could feel it, as if there were a slight electrical surge through the air.  They were responding to the call.   I drank the last of my energy drinks. I went to hang out with my crew, abandoning my failed camp for the alleyway that sat between the O’Brian and Mitton residences.

We drank beer and talked, and laughed, and mostly just calmed down, now that we could. There was a long night ahead.  Like the shore, the crowd at the respective camps grew and faded over the course of the next two hours. Adventures to neighboring camps were common, things were traded.

Andre was the first to hear the pipers tune.

We watched, curiously, as he could no longer stand. He found a place to rest inside my big blue canopy. There he lied for a time, before getting up and wandering off into the dark.

I ate some chocolate and decided to follow him. So did O’Brian. Emily ate a mint or juicy fruit, I was unsure, as it had been wraped in some kind of foil.  I wandered over to the canopy to see how Andre was doing.   He was lying there, on a cot, trying to be as comfortable as possible. I walked out and sat in a camp chair that faced just behind the main stage, towards the point where the two mesa tops seemed to merge.  I looked up at the sky. On an on it went. Planets and stars… galaxies, novae, interstellar gas.  The universe was all there, the sum total of everything, the big bang, the great attractors, the dark matter, the local group, clusters, superclusters. Endless in every direction. I felt small. Insignificant.  The deeper I looked the more I found of the same.  I had a sense for how big some of it was. But never all.  Andre walked up.  I commented on how much there was. He agreed, in a subdued but excited Andre fashion, and walked on back into the ether. 

I got back up and walked to the trench, where I found everyone chatting, excitedly, as if they were on vacation at Disneyland, each one was trying to think of which ride they were going to go on.

The music became louder. My body began to tingle. I needed to get up, I needed to go and hang out with the music. I declared, quickly, that I needed to find a warp zone. I needed to get to the tune, let it take me off to another place.

I got up and began to walk to the main stage. This was no small feat, as my legs were having trouble conveying me to their destination.  There was a breeze and I put my hands inside the pouch on my hoodie. I saw a movement out of the side of my eye. There was someone there, but not there. I knew him but I was the only one who could see him.  His name, I believe, was something like Bob. He was a large man, taller than me wearing blue jeans and some kind of green shirt. He walked with me, between me and the dry waterfall, to the dance floor. Some kind of colorful music was flowing from the vicinity of the dj’s.  There were people dancing, some sitting and observing.  All of them before some kind of alter, giving their invocations in movement.  I tried to move, my arms flowed to a rhythm, my legs stood together, closed, as my hips moved.  My fingers trailed off, feeling like ropes.   I wandered through the maze of people several times.  O’brian and Ferwerdatron materialized and dematerialized several times.  I wandered back and forth between camps and the dance floor, unsure if I was supposed to be leaving the green droppings, or grazing, or what.

Finally I found myself back at my canopy, sitting in the chair just outside. Andre was still gone. I was all alone. I looked back up at the sky. I was in good spirits. I thought back to what Andre and I had talked to just a while before, about the vastness of it all. I began to wonder what it was all about.  The earth, the sky, the stars, the universe.

As I stared into the center of the galaxy, the stars and dust began to take a shape. It was strange, not quite human face, but still had two eyes, undecernable,  circles within circles.

“SPEAK!”

The universe bellowed out at me.

“WHAT IS IT YOU WANT TO KNOW?”

Woah, I thought, neat, the universe looks just like Megatron.

“WELL, WHAT IS IT?”

And he sounded just like the architect from the matrix.

“I, um, I’m not quite sure.  What the hell is this all about, anyways?”

“YOU ARE ENTROPY!”

I closed my eyes, almost involuntarily, yet, not, a sort of agreement that I should close them at that time with the universe.

I saw the big bang. I was there, at the beginning. The universe was holding out on me. There was a glimpse, and only, I stress, a glimpse, of something beforehand, something undescribable, huge, endless. Like the edge of God.

There was an explosion. An explosion of white. White all around me. Like a giant geyser of steam from some hole in the ground, only this was something like gas, and molasses at the same time. White. White all around, shadows of white defined more streams of energy.

I was on the leading edge of an explosion, a vast endless explosion. 

I heard the Megaverse’s voice again.  Only it wasn’t quite a voice, more of a thought of a voice, like a recording.

“THERE, THAT IS WHAT YOU ARE. YOU ARE ENERGY, THE LEADING EDGE, ON THE FOREFRONT..”

I opened my eyes again.   Megatron, the universe, faded into the stars, I knew he was still there, though, watching.

“Wait!”  There was another question still hanging on my mind, something I needed to know.

“How do I make five million dollars?”

There was no response. The universe didn’t have time to be dealing with such silly questions.

A star grew bright. Brighter and brighter, so bright it began to make my eyes water.  It was my star.  It was communicated that this, you dumb human, is how. Follow that star. Don’t let anything distract you. Follow that light. That bright, burning white light. Don’t look away. Follow.

It was becoming cold outside, and I was feeling tingly. It was very hard for me to stand, at this point. I stumbled into the canopy and lied down for a time. I was unsure of for how long, it felt like an hour but I’m sure it was a lot less than that. I heard voices of other people. Insects were being drawn to the lights I had set up in the canopy. It grew colder still. Footsteps and voices, going to and fro, could be heard outside.  I needed to get warm. I got up and went to my tent.

and as always if you have any events you want to get the word out about, drop me a line and i’ll post them up as soon as possible.

We were greeted by the gatekeeper, who was also the key master. Her long blonde hair was easily visible from down the road. We knew her; it was Shaylin.  My name was on her list, though she didn’t know it yet.  I came to a stop slightly ahead of the green poles that held up a sort of shanty shack she was underneath. We had just been greeted by an older man, grey beard and hair, who directed us forward. He introduced himself as BuddhaBomb.  We climbed out of our respective seats, glad to be off that damned dusty road.  Red dust fell out of the cracks between the door panels. We were all in good spirits, having finally made it just outside of the front line. She had a table before her with a grey box and a list of names.  We all went forward to make whatever deal we had arranged happen so that we could gain entry. I had paid twenty dollars online a week before, and was assured that my name would be on a will call list. Ferwerdatron had won a contest, after following a routine of sign ups for lists along with my girlfriend, and was told that she could enter for free if she were to yell some kind of password.  She was worried that she would forget the password, and rituals assigned, but I doubted if Shaylin was the type to make her perform them.

It was interesting to note that aside from younglist chris, I was the only other one in the caravan who had to pay.  Timm is a dj and on the list, along with his girlfriend, as was Justin and Andre. Andre put Ryan on as his guest, as did Justin with Jamie. There was also another list, a death waver, one waving responsibility if you were to die or be bitten by a polar bear or be shot and consumed by a Oklahoman.  I stood next to the table as everyone got their wristband; Shaylin was surprised to find my real name on one of the presale wristbands. I’ve got one of those nondescript European faces; I could be from anywhere in the Americas, France, Spain, Italy, or other southern European or middle eastern countries. My pale skin and dark hair ensures a type of non specific ethnicity that allows me to blend in with most people, aside from the really white northern Europeans, Asians, and Africans. 

We were told to go forward about half a mile. Do not drive over the dance floor. Park anywhere, just not on the roads. Have fun.  The excitement was here, we were all awake and on edge, unsure of what we would find. Pony rides? Crucified Texans? Drunken teens?

We got into the car and started forward. The road became rougher; we were bottoming out over every dip.  This didn’t freak me out too much although I was worried about snapping the trailer hitch.  Just a half an hour earlier we squeezed by the one lane road next to a thirty foot cliff and another car exiting the venue.  It was possibly the worst place we could have passed each other, but we made it, with only two inches to spare.  Forward we went, up and down and around several corners.  Then we saw it.  A massive dry stream bed, solid earth, a beige white color bleached by the torrential rains, and a dry water fall, another twenty or thirty foot drop, dried up this time of year, with pools of water below. There was some kind of platforms some people were sitting on, along with tiki torches above small pyramids of rocks. A massive booth was on one side of the dry stream bead, a tower of civilization in one of the last empty corners of the American west.  I requested everyone to get out, worried about bottoming out on the many channels that had been dug into the dance floor. They did, happily, ready to see what conditions were here to deal with.  I shouted at Ferwerdatron to scout for a spot, someplace for us to call home for a night.

Although it was still early evening, around four or five, I was worried about the light, we were nesseled in a sort of v shape between two massive mesas.  The tops of the mesas could be seen covered in the short junipers common in the area. From the top down about 50 to 75 feet there was a shear cliff, broken bedrock thrust hundreds of feet into the air. Someplace below that there was a natural line where debris fell down, forming the slanting pyramid shape down to the valley below.   The rocks above varied from red to beige and everything in between. The sky had its usual blue but there were clouds forming over head, enough to worry me about a passing downpour.  We found an open area not to far from where we had turned into past the main stage, right along the cliff edge defining widening stream gorge.  I chose to start the set up of my camp as about twenty feet from the edge of the gorge, and right next to a juniper that stood about ten feet tall.   I was eager to begin the set up of my camp. This was to be a test of the instructions I had found online detailing the myriad of ways one can turn PVC, tarps, and two foot long stakes into a shelter. I chose to set up my ninety dollar walmart pop up canopy first, knowing it would be better to have shelter that works before experimenting with something new. Across the road timm and roxy and Justin were setting up their respective camps. 

This caused, not a division, but a bit of a separation between our homes for the night, one that didn’t bother me too much, although its always more fun to have your stuff all together, forming a closer community. Looking back, I am glad it ended up how it did, for reasons I will get into later. I had the pop up premade shelter ready. Now it was time to start with my hand made domes. The wind was beginning to blow a bit harder, I tried not to let it bother me. I had Ferwerdatron seting up a small tent that was to later become a giggle patty, a place one could find shelter from the dissilousins of the mind later in the night.

It had been a year since I pounded anything meaningful into the ground, and I was unused to the labor involved and had problems getting the sledge hammer I acquired in Las Vegas to get the stake into the ground.  Andre saw my difficulty and offered to help, which I was quite eager to take advantage of.  Away he pounded, comparing himself to John Henry, and in the stakes went.

Our first casualty happened then. There was a cactus, the kind with the thin arms flailing into the air two feet tall, and inch long barbs along its spine. Ferwerdatron backed straight into it, setting up the tent. I winced, knowing the pain she was in. I could hear fear in her quivering voice, pain shooting up her leg as I came over to help her. A dozen or so barbs had gone straight through her jeans and into her leg. She was lucky.  I had done the same thing three years earlier at a junebug that was held on an Indian reservation some thirty miles west of Albuquerque, it was a pain that was only tempered by the ten beers I had in me at the time.  I still have a dozen or so red marks that cover bits of barbs I couldn’t dig out.

She was on the verge of crying. I tried to reassure her. I told her to hold onto my shoulder, and that what I was about to do was going to hurt. I yanked, as hard as I could, the bottom of her jeans from her leg, removing all of the barbs as possible in one swoop. Small pinpricks of blood could be seen. Several of the larger barbs were in her leg. I pulled them out by hand. I asked her to change, she didn’t bring another pair of pants. I told her to roll her leg up to her knee, knowing that it would keep any more barbs from getting on her. I told her to go sit down and pull any others out. She went off, the first causality of the night. Younglist Chris got trash bags and rocks and covered up the remains of the cactus, marking it as the cursed earth it was.

I continued on with my domes. The labor was hard. There were people on the dry waterfall watching, wondering what we were doing. Timm and Justin’s separate tents went up, their homes secure for the night. Finally I had erected my structures, proud that they worked but sad that they would not be used. I tied a large twenty foot long tarp to the top, forming a bit of shade and space that was marked as communal.

There we were, we had built a home, out of what had been empty land, in less than two hours. Only one of us was hurt. We were all tired. People began bringing out beers and chips.  The sun was getting low, and people, tired from the nights before, had begun coming out, ready for the night ahead.

“The Oklahomans! They can invade from here!”

Terror, deep down, was racing quickly through the caravan. Justin was one of the first to express his apprehension at being so close to Oklahoma; they were, along with the rest of the Midwest and Texas some of the biggest whales in the country. They could smell outsiders in an instant. We were in uncharted territory.  There were free roaming whales all about. Unconstrained from the regular herds, they foraged alone, in the wilderness.  I made the choice to stop, somewhere just past a bridge that crossed a stream, for a pit stop. We were close, right on the edge of the lost city.

Not two hours before we had departed Raton, fueled, and cranky with anticipation. I called up the directions on my cell.  Thirty five miles to our first turn, then another thirty seven miles to another. We were going deep in. None of us had ventured out that far before, but we were ready. The drive was pleasant, passing burnt out volcanoes and more plains and plateaus that stretched on for what seemed, ever. On and on they went, guiding us, surrounding us, determining every direction the street was to go. The pavement ended. We were on dirt now, and the plume from our vessel coated Timm’s sleek green ride.  He began to slow down, give us some distance until we could find civilized road again. The road had been smooth the entire time, being regularly, or, recently at least, smoothed.

A radio from Timm’s ride suggested we find a place to stop, to relive bladders, and we did, out on that bridge, the dividing line there separating us from whatever lay ahead.

The plateaus went on, and on. Flat mesas ended violently in ancient granite shards. Red earth fell to the sides, giving them the appearance of red Mayan pyramids from a distance, with us at the bottom, looking up towards the sacrificial slabs that must adorn the tops.  Who knows how many had been slain up there to appease the gods.

We were looking for a town called Betchel. I had tried, unsuccessfully earlier in the week to use Google to find the town from space. It was not listed on any service. Thirty nine miles past, which was alarming as the directions stated 37.5.   Finally, we see a farm. Two or three rural homes were there two. Was this it?  A sign on a tree, drawn by hand, clearly stated Betchel. Below the declaration of town hood was a mileage marker, also written by hand; 2 more miles to the final turn. A sense of relief swept through the caravan, with me especially, knowing that I had not gotten us lost on some god forsaken road in the middle of nowhere.

We continued down the road. It was now more than six hours since we had left Emily’s home, all our homes, for this line in the sand, this lost city, a new, temporary home where a battle was being fought, not one of physical might and monetary strength, rather, a much more difficult battle, one deeper through the looking glass.  It was to be a battle for our very minds and souls. It had been raging for three days now. What would we find?  Would there be survivors?  Casualties?  We would soon find out.