Matt

"'Elevated on one side, flat enough for camp, good line of sight all around.

"'If the clouds cooperate, we'll get the Milky Way right over that mesa.'"

It really did look perfect on paper.

The landscape grew emptier the farther we went.

No power lines, no fence posts.

Just low sagebrush, scattered black brush, and the occasional twisted juniper.

The colors had that washed out late summer look, muted reds and yellows and grays, that always makes the sky look even bigger.

We passed a couple of side roads, two tracks leading off toward nothing in particular.

A few had old, sun-faded BLM signs leaning at odd angles.

Some had no signs at all.

At one of those unsigned junctions, Ryan slowed automatically, eyes flicking between the dashboard GPS and the physical map.

"'Which one?'

Miguel asked, leaning forward.

"'Left,' Ryan said.

The right one heads toward a dry lakebed that's basically a mud trap if it rains.

"'We took the left.'

As the truck bounced over a shallow wash, I caught sight of a rusted-out sedan half buried in sand off to our right.

It had no doors, no windows, and its roof was caved in.

A tumbleweed had claimed what used to be the back seat.

Something about it felt wrong, like it hadn't just been abandoned.