“The address you put in, it’s not showing up on my map—it’s just a dot in the desert.” The driver pivoted her body sideways toward Rainy, trying to see her where she sat wedged behind the driver’s seat.

“It’s the right place,” Rainy said. “Do you have an issue driving me that far out?”

“Nope, just wanted to make sure you know you’re asking to go somewhere I ain’t never been.”

Rainy turned toward the window then so she could look out as Riva pulled into traffic. The radio was playing a Johnny Cash song that made her think of Taured. No, it wasn’t just the song that made her think of him; it was all the dust, too, coating everything in film. She could feel it on her tongue, on her skin, and then suddenly she was somewhere else.

Friendship was a greasy spoon of a town meant to provide highway comforts to drivers before the desert swallowed them up. There was a post office, a diner called Nirvana that doubled as a bar in the evenings, a pharmacy named after its owner, Red, and a highway motel called Charlie’s Inn.

Rainy’s jaw ached from grinding her teeth for most of the drive, and now that the Jeep was almost there, she was unsure if she’d be able to get out of the car when it stopped. This was the place where her childhood had shriveled up and died. Her chest was tight as they idled at a stop sign; she wished she’d brought a bottle of water with her. She’d buy one at Red’s Pharmacy, if it was still there.

“Nice place,” Riva snorted, turning onto Main Street. “Would you like me to leave you at the pharmacy, the dollar store or what looks like a bar over there...”

The bar was new. The building was modern, and it looked funny standing amid all the old buildings that had been there since before Rainy’s time.

“Drop me at Red’s,” Rainy said. The Jeep made a sudden stop and her forehead bumped against the window. She poured out of the back seat and onto the sidewalk, already missing the air-conditioning.

“And how are you going to get back?” Riva looked over her sunglasses at Rainy, who had gotten out of the car and was standing by the driver’s-side window. She had one arm propped on the window, and as she waited for Rainy’s answer, she wiped her face with a yellow bandanna and then tossed it on the passenger seat.

“I don’t know yet,” she said. She looked over at the dollar store and wondered if Slav was still around; he owned the only taxi in a fifty-mile radius. She turned toward Riva. “I’ll figure it out.”

Riva rolled up her window and Rainy watched as the Jeep disappeared in a cloud of dust.