“Yes it is.” Hendricks set his lips tightly. “I don’t think we’re going to go very far.”
They began to walk. The early sun cast a little warmth down on them. The land was flat and barren, stretching out gray and lifeless as far as they could see. A few birds sailed silently, far above them, circling slowly.
“See anything?” Hendricks said. “Any claws?”
“No. Not yet.”
They passed through some ruins, upright concrete and bricks. A cement foundation. Rats scuttled away. Tasso jumped back warily.
“This used to be a town,” Hendricks said. “A village. Provincial village. This was all grape country, once. Where we are now.”
They came onto a ruined street, weeds and cracks criss-crossing it. Over to the right a stone chimney stuck up.
“Be careful,” he warned her.
A pit yawned, an open basement. Ragged ends of pipes jutted up, twisted and bent. They passed part of a house, a bathtub turned on its side. A broken chair. A few spoons and bits of china dishes. In the center of the street the ground had sunk away. The depression was filled with weeds and debris and bones.
“Over here,” Hendricks murmured.