Lexicon

street signs shone, wind-scrubbed. SULPHIDE STREET. OPEN CUT MINE #3. It was like they’d wanted to be the site of a toxic catastrophe. Except that hadn’t happened. That was just the story. Something tugged at him, inside his mind. Some memory. “Where’s your word?”
    “Hospital,” Eliot said.
    He glanced at him. “You want the hospital, now?”
    “Word. Is in hospital. Emergency room.”
    “How do you know that?”
    “Just do,” Eliot said.
    He slowed further, because the road was littered with bones now; there was really no option, and he drove over a gray lump with a sound like splintering tree branches and winced. He saw a library with its steps converted to a ramp by a year and a half of windblown sand. It was hard to believe the skeletons were people. He knew but didn’t. He peered ahead for signs to a hospital. On the right, a fire truck sat embedded in a storefront. Whatever happened out here hadn’t happened quickly. People had had time to flee. Or try. He rolled the car up and down blocks. Some of the skeletons had things. He didn’t want to notice this but it was unavoidable. Flesh rotted but things didn’t. He caught glints of light from rings on finger bones, and belt buckles, and gold hoops, bracelets, earrings. He saw a skull on the sidewalk, a small one. He didn’t want to be here. The feeling rose very suddenly, from somewhere primal.
    He saw a café and a real estate office, both of which felt familiar in a far-off, muddied way. He convinced himself to stop avoiding Oxide Street and rolled the Valiant over a thicket of bone. What if a femur splintered and gashed the tires? It probably didn’t matter. The car was near death. Like Eliot. Like himself. They were all very fucking close to death at the moment. It was on all sides.
    He saw a blue sign with a white cross. “Eliot! I found it. Stay with me.” The street was a snarl of vehicles, which he threaded the Valiant through. The damage here was worse, every window broken, the bones like snow. Whatever kind of building had been across the road from the hospital was a charred ruin, and this was increasingly the case farther down the street: Maybe half of the little business district had burned. “You say the word is in the emergency room, right?” He was. He didn’t need Eliot to tell him that. He was just trying to keep talking. He saw a sign for EMERGENCY and squeezed the Valiant between two burned-out pickups. A white paramedic van lay splayed across the curb. Beyond it, he could see wide glass double doors and a red sign. He yanked on the hand brake. Before he could euthanize the car, it burbled and died. “Eliot. We’re here.”
    Eliot’s head bobbed. “Good.”
    “You want me to help you inside?” He shook his head. “I forgot. You have to stay here. I’ll go look for the word.”
    “Don’t . . .”
    “Don’t tell you anything about it. Got it.” Eliot nodded. He had been forced to take Wil’s advice: He had loosened up. He had relaxed control. Eliot was no longer in charge. “I’ll be right back.” Wil climbed out.
    • • •
    He wasn’t prepared for the silence. He shut the car door and the sound evaporated. His shoes crunched sand. Hot air closed around him like a fist.
    He circumnavigated the paramedic van. The glass emergency room doors were a strange kind of black. Not painted. Stained. He slowed without knowing why. Well. He did know. It was because he was not incredibly keen to face whatever had reduced three thousand human beings to belt buckles and bones. The paramedic van’s rear doors were open. He glanced inside. A flatbed trolley, cloth straps, equipment, little bottles; nothing he wouldn’t expect. But it made his brain crawl. He felt another tickle of familiarity. He hesitated, thinking. Eliot could benefit from some of these supplies. He could use some water. Wil climbed into the van. He gathered anything that looked medicinal and returned to the Valiant with his arms full of supplies. Eliot’s eyes were closed. “Eliot!”
    His eyes popped open.
    “Stay awake.” He dumped his load of bottles onto Eliot’s lap. “I got this stuff for you.”
    Eliot stared.
    “Some medicine. And water. You should drink the water.”
    “What . . .”
    “You know, I think you’re right. I did live here. It’s starting to feel familiar.”
    “The fuck,” said Eliot. “Word.”
    “I haven’t gone in yet. I thought you could use this stuff.” Eliot’s eyes bulged. “All right! I’m