The bridge to Nebraska City was indeed still standing, and Kira made a silent prayer of thanks as they trudged toward it. A sort of levee to the south had become clogged with debris, and the river below the bridge had swelled to create a small lake, stinking of chemicals and topped with a layer of stagnant foam, like an ice cream float. It hurt just to breathe the air above it, and Kira tied a spare shirt across her mouth—and another across Afa’s—to try to filter the worst of it. Halfway across they found themselves trapped by a cluster of cars, crashed into a snarl that completely blocked the road. Kira and Samm strained to shift them out of the way while Heron scouted ahead, and by the time they cleared a hole wide enough for the horses to pass through, Heron was back, reporting that portions of the bridge were unstable, corroded by the river or the rain until pieces had started to slough off. They proceeded carefully, controlling their breathing; at one point Kira could look down through the cracks by her feet and see the multicolored water drifting lazily below them, iridescent in the pale sunlight. She kept a firm hand on Oddjob’s reins, hoping no more cracks appeared until they were safely across. They reached the far side after nearly half an hour, and if the ground hadn’t been poisonous, Kira would have kissed it.

The land west of the river was, if possible, even more featureless than the land east of it. They followed the map to rejoin I-80 in a town called Lincoln, and made good time on a stretch of highway so remarkably straight it didn’t deviate more than an inch for days. They hit the Platte, but they didn’t have to cross it, and when the road curved north to follow the river, they plunged south instead, eventually rejoining Highway 34 on the banks of the Republican. They kept between these two rivers, traveling in a wide corridor through bleached fields and corroded cities. During the day the sun baked the toxic chemicals on the ground, and acrid smoke and steam rose up in wisps like ghosts in the fields. At night the land was eerily silent, stripped of crickets and birds and howling wolves until nothing remained but the wind, rippling through the pallid grasses and sighing through the shattered windows of the houses they camped in. Kira kept her eye on the rain, thinking of Buddy and Afa’s blistered face.