A fence.
Holy God, a fence. And that meant a house or some other structure, surely—and yet it was not the sort of fence one might expect to find in the middle of the prairie, for it was built of cyclone mesh and topped with razor wire; although he could see even from here that parts of it were collapsed and would allow easy access.
And then he was up with what little strength he had left, delirious, dehydrated, his feet aching from the trek, and scrambling for the barrier, and it wasn’t until he was stepping over a downed section that he saw the sign, which was lying askew in a jumble of wire. A sign which read:
WARNING:
Restricted Area
Use of deadly force authorized.
Some kind of government facility, he thought, like the kind he’d found Ank in.
He hustled forward with only the moon
