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Within ten minutes of escaping from the Angelinos, you are back on Highway 277 and heading south. Even so, you keep your foot firmly on the gas pedal until the South Concho River has disappeared from your rear-view mirror. Ahead, the highway crosses an especially bleak and barren landscape, seemingly devoid of even the hardiest flora and fauna. It looks more like a moonscape than a landscape, and were it not for the setting sun and the welcome cool of dusk, you could easily believe that somehow you had been transported to the surface of another world.
It is almost dark when the outline of a town appears on the horizon, its shattered buildings thrown into relief by the ashen moonlight. A battered sign reflects the glare of your headlights and announces your approach to the town of Eldorado.
