The walk was long, but manageable, without water. Highpoint was even smaller than Redcourse and it did not take long to aquaint himself with the layout. There was a boarded up corner shop, "Margerie's," where the center must have been at some point. Most of the homes had no glass in their windows. They gaped, gouged eye sockets. Very little stirred. Some of the homes had fallen in. Where two story establishment should have been were piles of rubble and sink holes. There was the splash of graffiti here and there, but chronic sand squalls had stripped much of the towns identity away decades before. Nothing grew. No one stirred. Everything reflected the tan hue of the thin sand that had worked its way into Haver's every pore. He lit a 100 Black and took a short breath of the pine tar taste. It was foul enough to purge the oceanless beach head that had gathered on the back of his tongue on the long walk
