FIVE

 

 

Moscow, Idaho

October 21, 2035

 

This would be my last trip into the dead city. It seemed sort of obvious that I should make this trip on the anniversary of the date Carol and I found the second entrance to the mine.

I plan on leaving the government van just inside the edge of what is not so laughingly called the Dead Zone and walk the rest of the way. I should be able to cover my tracks enough that it will never occur to anyone to trace me to my parents’ old home. Besides, as long as they get the van back, no one is going to waste much time on an old man like me. Not after all these years.

Carol would have laughed at this as being stupid. But Carol died of cancer years ago. I always blamed the mountain for her death. I suppose now it is responsible for mine. But I am old and don’t have much time left anyway. If she were still alive she would have known where I would have gone. She would have tried to stop me. But she is no longer with me. Has not been for years. Now I would rather just be left alone.

I think she would have understood that.

I park the van near the road beside what had been an old gas station. The bright yellow of the van stands out against the dull gray of the dust. They will have no problem finding it.

I leave tracks into the gas station and then out the other side, letting my prints blend into others I have made over the years. Then I move out onto the road and start walking toward town, staying within the tracks the van has left during my hundreds of visits. My footprints will never show.

I walk slow, taking my time. I am old and the hills around this little city are steep. Besides, I am in no hurry.