“We buried it,” she whispers; this is all she repeats.

         Her voice sounds as sweet as any mother sounds to a child as she tucks him in. She arrived out of nowhere at just the right time. How that happened is anyone’s guess. This is the first and last time he will ever speak to her. He begins to realize that those background sounds are ambulance and police sirens. He hears some doors now being slammed shut in an angry sounding way. He also realizes those lights flashing are from those vehicles, but right now and these past couple nanoseconds it is her flashlight that just made it to his face.                                                                                                                                                              

       Tony and Bondo are down. They know something just happened, but beyond this, they are seeing and understanding not anything really, just the look overhead of millions of stars in the Nevada sky. Remarkably they recover. Some time passes, years. Some of their children are now grown up. And it is then that this story from somewhat distant state lines finds its mark in a small college town community with the autism spectrum shining a light for readers to see.                   

       This terrain is the same everywhere in this lower half of this huge state of Nevada. Scattered about are also cactus, sagebrush, and boulders large and small, but nothing else. Nothing else other than empty bottles or pints. Several cans flew out of the windows along with these two teenagers. The couple of other cans are from other drivers who tossed them earlier in the evening while speeding through this 50-mile gap of emptiness between Indian Springs and this town of maybe 1,200 just up the road. Here there is no speed limit and no one to bother anyone who is drinking beer and listening to Robert Plant sing. And driving well past 70.  

ON THE GROUND and lying in the dirt outside of his rolled '74 Nova a dozen miles south of Beatty, is Bondo. And one of his two best GI friends, Tony, is lying in pain a few yards away. This is the area where there are beautiful wild horses wandering and grazing and running in the distance along with the uncountable jackrabbits. This is the very dry and protected southwest. But laying here is not recommended. The rattlesnakes and scorpions are the other natives near this highway on any given day or night in this desert area; along with those who are in or contracted to the military industrial complex.            

In Thru The Ohio Wilderness