It only took thirty minutes to get to the exit that would take him to Royal Road which was thirty miles from the Wal-Mart. When he turned off of the exit, it only took him one minute to leave the paved road and begin the surreal journey down a dirt road into the desert.
The Bronco seemed to float over the dirt effortlessly leading Jay to think he should have paid more attention when buying it to what the shocks looked like but he may have seemed impressed too much. He had already noticed that the air filter was a K&N that was a little bit of an upgrade for the beast and he could see that so far the surprises were always good on the old truck. The sun had become unbearable and even though the wind was flowing straight through the Bronco now, it still felt as if he was sating in front of a heat exhaust fan. His new clothes were already soaked in sweat and his shirt was no longer tan but more like a watered down brown paper bag that just hung to him. He didn’t realize that six miles of dirt desert road could become so stressful but it had. Between the third level of Dante’s inferno heat and the stress of the situation, he felt like his mind was going to shut down and leak out of one of his ears. The heat was also quickly taking any chill from the six pack of sodas that Jay had bought. It seemed as if he was racing to try to drink them and the whiskey before they became too hot to tolerate. For some reason the Pandora was still picking up on his phone and it had switched from Nine Inch Nails radio to Kiss radio, which for some bizarre reason was playing the most insanely appropriate mix of old 70s rock for the situation. “When Don’t Fear the Reaper” by Blue Oyster Cult came on in his headphones he somehow knew that meant he was close and he pulled over to check the map on his phone. He could see the little green dot that showed where he was and he could see that the big weird junkyard he had seen was in the same frame as he on the phone screen; he was right on top of it. He pulled the Bronco a little farther into a bit of a ditch on the side of the road with it slightly angled so that it would be able to pull out even if there was a flash flood and every bit of the dirt world he was now in was turned to mud. He took a large swig of Maker’s out of the bottle and chased it with soda, it was already too fucking hot and the sensation of hot whiskey chased by hot soda made him want to slap someone. He placed the machete on his hip then the pocket knife in his front pocket and made sure the Glock was secure in its holster then put the smaller silver pistol in one of the bottom cargo pockets of his shorts and then the binoculars in the other bottom cargo pocket; he was just doing some recon he didn’t need to be armed to the teeth but it didn’t hurt. The plan was to slowly make it over to the junkyard and using the binoculars scout a complete circle around the entire place and see if there was anything that let him know that Grace was there.