Men had come out of the bushes that, in two years, had grown up close to the highway. They were unshaven men, wearing dirty jeans, with rifles in their hands. There were two on one side of the highway, and an older man on the other.
Wales looked at their dusty faces. Then he cut the motor and got out of the car.
They took his weapons, and the older man said, "You can put your hands down now. And come along with us."
"Where?"
"You'll see."
One man remained, searching Wales' car. The other two, their rifles on the ready, walked beside Wales down the long winding hill highway into the old town.
"I thought all these towns were evacuated," said Wales.
"They were, a long time ago," said the older man.
"But you men—"
"We're not from here. Now anything more you want to know, you ask Sam Lanterman. He'll have some things to ask you."