There's nothing to do but keep walking, you have to be ready for everything and I am as I follow behind Father down out of the trees, around a puddle, to the fence of the salvage yard. It's night. "Caroline," Father says, holding open a tear in the fence. "You come through here." He begins to sort and scavenge. He wants rebar, metal to support our roof. I watch the road, the gate and also behind us where we came through. Cars and big trucks rush and rattle past on the highway, the people inside staring straight ahead and thinking about where they are going and what will happen next and probably things they've done before but they're not thinking of or looking at us. There are no houses near the salvage yard. An electrical station humming inside its own fences and then on the other side Fat Cobra Video, which Father says is a snake store but I don't think it is. In the window are pictures of ladies with their shirts off, holding their breasts in their hands. Now he is pulling out the long thin metal bars, setting the scraps of sheet metal aside.
