“That doesn’t make linguistic sense,” Samm started, but Kira cut him off.

“It’s an expression,” she said, staring at the river. She sighed. “And one I agree with in this case.” The Missouri was thick and putrid, a gray-green river laced with streaks of yellow and pink. It smelled like burned detergent, and the air around it tasted strangely metallic. Kira shook her head. “It’s not as big as the last one, but it’s not one I exactly want to take any chances with, either. Where’s the nearest bridge?”

“I’m looking,” said Samm. He had found a new map in a bookstore, replacing the one they’d lost in the Mississippi crossing, and he stood now carefully unfolding it. Kira patted Bobo on the neck, soothing him gently, then moved to Oddjob and Afa. The big man was asleep, lolling precariously in the harness they’d rigged to keep him strapped to the saddle. He hadn’t fallen yet, but Kira checked the straps anyway, talking softly to Afa as she did. “You want to go north or south?” asked Samm, peering at the road map. “There’s a crossing north in Omaha and another south in Nebraska City, and we’re about halfway between them both.”

“Omaha will be bigger,” said Heron. “Better chance the bridges are still up.”

“It’s also out of our way,” said Kira, checking the bandage on Afa’s still-broken leg. “We need to get off the plains soon or Afa is going to die. We’re going to eventually have to turn south anyway, so I say we do it now.”

“If we don’t have time for a detour,” said Heron, “we don’t have time to head back north again when the bridge in Nebraska City turns out to be at the bottom of the river. We should go for the sure thing.”

“Heading north takes us across a second river,” said Samm, still looking at the map. “The Platte merges with the Missouri just a few miles north of here, and if we go to Omaha, we’ll have to cross them both.”

“All right, then we go south,” said Heron. “The second river can bite me.”

“I agree,” said Samm, refolding the map and looking up. “Nebraska City still looks pretty big, and if the bridges are gone, we can just head farther south to Kansas City. The bridges there were huge—they’re bound to be up.”

“Unless someone destroyed them in the Partial War,” said Kira. She ran her hands through her hair—far too greasy, after weeks of travel with no clean water to wash it in. She shrugged, too exhausted to think. “I just hope this wasteland doesn’t get any worse the farther south we go.”