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Once you are safely across the bridge, you keep your foot on the gas pedal until the town of Christoval disappears 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 you had been transferred 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 headlamps and announces your approach to the town of Eldorado.
