(Based on characters in The Lightning in the Collied Night)

August 15, 2137

The afternoon sun blazed high above the West Texas prairie as the white solar-powered panel van moved slowly westward down Interstate 20 toward Colorado City, dodging the many ruts and potholes in the forlorn highway that hadn’t been maintained for almost 80 years.

Myrt Reinhart gazed out the front passenger window at the native sagebrush, grasses and cacti dotting the desolate brown landscape. She was thinking about the people in the two towns she and her teammate Linda Shen-Martin had just visited: eleven families in Roscoe and six in Loraine. Although it had been three years since the last checkup visits in West Texas, everyone had told the two women they were doing “just fine” and didn’t need any help. Typical proud, self-reliant Texans, Myrt thought. But she and Linda had been able to get the townspeople to agree to medical checks, and Myrt had convinced the adults to allow her to bring the vaccinations of their children up to date. Some of the adults had agreed to the inoculations also.

Linda, who was driving, was thinking about the families they’d met in Roscoe and Loraine also. It must be a hard life. But they seemed happy, despite their hardships. And at least their families aren’t spread across thousands of miles. She turned her head toward her teammate. Myrt’s given name was Marie, but when she was a child her grandfather had started calling her Myrt, and it had stuck. “Hey, how are your mum and dad doing?”

Myrt turned toward Linda. “The last time I talked with them, about a week ago, they said were doing good. But I know they miss me. They didn’t expect their only child to start gallivanting all over the world right after finishing nursing school.” Myrt wished she could talk with her parents more often, but international phone service was sporadic at best.

“I wouldn’t call what you’re doing ‘gallivanting’,” Linda replied with a smile. She was old enough to be Myrt’s mother. And as she’d worked with Myrt in the field over the past few months, she’d sometimes thought of her as the daughter she’d never had.

Myrt grinned at Linda. “How’s the ‘Master Builder’ doing?”

Linda smiled at Myrt’s use of her husband’s nickname. “He’s still in Perth, overseeing the construction of those two bridges he designed. He’ll be there a few months yet.”

“Those are the replacements for the Matagarup and Narrows bridges, right?”

“Fair dinkum! I was hoping to take a short holiday and see him before my next assignment, but I’m not sure I’ll be able to do that.”

“That’s a shame,” Myrt replied sadly. “Do you know where you’re going after we finish the checkups in Texas?”

“I’m trying to decide between Alberta and Northern California—the Sacramento Valley. I’m leaning toward California. How about you?”

“I’ve put in for Spain. I’ve always wanted to go there. It’ll be the first Peace Corps initiative on the Continent.”

“That sounds bonzer! And quite a challenge. I’m so proud of you, Myrt.”

“Thanks,” Myrt blushed. “I need to brush up on my Spanish, though.”

“Oh, no worries. You’ll do great.”

It WILL be a challenge, Myrt thought as she returned her gaze to the prairie rushing by her side window. But I guess that’s what I signed up for. Then she noticed something odd off in the distance on her right, just ahead of them. It looked like a long, low building, barely visible through the native vegetation. “Linda… what do you suppose that is?” Myrt said as she pointed toward the shape.

Linda squinted through the windshield. “Hmm… a warehouse, maybe?”

Myrt looked down at the pad on her lap. “But according to the map, there’s nothing there.”

“Crikey. Maybe we should check it out—see if anyone’s home.” Myrt nodded in agreement, and Linda turned the van onto a badly rutted road that appeared to lead to the mysterious structure.

After about a mile, the road ended at what looked like a guard station. But it was obvious to the two women that it hadn’t been used for a long time. Its paint was almost worn away from years of sun and wind, its windows were broken, and the entrance gate arm was lying in pieces on the ground. Linda stopped the van to check out the guard station, then carefully drove around the broken gate arm toward the big, boxy, gray metal building. She noticed there was no signage or lettering on the building; there was only a number in one corner of the building, near the top: 7. She stopped the van close to what looked like the main entrance, and she and Myrt climbed out and walked up to the door.

“Locked,” Myrt said as she tugged on the handle of the steel door. Then she peered through a small window in the door. “Looks like a reception area. But I don’t think anyone’s been in there for a while.”

Linda looked over the outside of the building. “Let’s try the other end.”

“Okay,” Myrt agreed, and they walked around the huge structure, avoiding overgrown shrubs and windblown tumbleweeds.

When they reached the other end of the building, they saw a huge sliding double door. Myrt inspected the padlock securing the door and noticed it was badly rusted. She picked up a softball-sized rock from the ground and looked at Linda.

“’Breaking and Entering’?” Linda asked.

Myrt looked around them. “I don’t see anyone to report it,” she replied with a sly smile. She whacked the rock on the padlock three times, and it fell away to the dirt. She opened the latch and tried to push one of the doors open. It refused to budge. Linda joined her in pushing on the door, to no avail. Then they tried the other side of the door and were rewarded by a loud squeak as the door moved an inch.

“Maybe if we try the Mak’tar Chant of Strength?” Linda joked.

Myrt’s face scrunched into a puzzled expression, “Huh?”

Linda laughed, “Never mind. Let’s try it again.”

They both put their shoulders into the door and pushed with all their might, and the door shuddered open a few more inches—just enough for them to squeeze through.

Inside the warehouse, they blinked as their eyes adjusted to the low light. In a few seconds, they could see well enough to make out a huge shape taking up most of the warehouse space: an immense semi-trailer, with the tractor truck at the far end of the warehouse. The trailer’s and truck’s gigantic tires were flat, and lying atop the trailer was what appeared to be a huge cylindrical tank, strapped down and covered in tattered black fabric.

“That trailer must be at least 25 meters long!” Linda exclaimed, looking at Myrt. “I wonder what’s on it?”

Myrt smiled as she pulled her Swiss Army Knife, a gift from her grandfather, out of a pants pocket. “Let’s find out!” She found an access ladder on the right side of the trailer, climbed up, and started cutting the frayed ties on the black tarp with the saw blade on her knife. The ties were in such bad condition that it didn’t take long to cut one side of the black fabric away. She looked down at Linda, “Give me a hand, please?”

Linda climbed part way up the access ladder on the left side of the trailer and started pulling on the tarp. Soon the section of tarp that was covering the back of the cylindrical shape fell away. Myrt and Linda climbed down and looked up in disbelief at their discovery, then looked at each other.

“What the heck is a rocket doing in the middle of nowhere?” Myrt said incredulously.

Linda shook her head. I have no idea! But then she suddenly remembered something her husband An had told her many years ago, and her face lit up with excitement.

“I think I know what this is!”