Jack finally had dinner at a xican restaurant. The tacos and Sonoran hot dogs were alright, but he hadn't expected xicans to love cilantro so much besides chili peppers.
Considering that most of the Southern states bordered xico, he figured he'd be bombarded with cilantro for the rest of the night.
After a good night's sleep at the hotel, Jack extended his stay for another night and then drove to the northern suburbs of Tucson, where there was a peculiar complex of buildings, composed of several steel-frad glass structures of different shapes, resembling a giant glass greenhouse.
This was the so-called "Biosphere II," the experint to recreate Earth, touted by countless sensationalist novels and marketing accounts.
Like the world Jack ca from, this world's "Biosphere II" had also failed. It was now owned by the University of Arizona and used as an ecological research and teaching base, as well as a decent tourist attraction.
In his view, this 13,000-square-ter greenhouse was a rather aningful small "wonder," representing, in a sense, Arica's golden age, much like the moon landing program.
After spending two hours touring the artificial environnt inside Biosphere 2, Jack, having fulfilled his childhood fantasy, drove on to the southeastern suburbs of Tucson.
Next, he would fulfill his youthful dream: to see airplanes.
This was a massive 12-square-kiloter facility housing over 20,000 aircraft, from B-17 Flying Fortresses to F-117s and F-14s — the world's largest and only aircraft boneyard.
Jack spent the entire day there, thoroughly enjoying the spectacle, before reluctantly returning to Tucson at nightfall.
....
After leaving Tucson again, Jack spent a day traveling to Las Cruces, New xico. After resting for a night, he continued his journey, but this ti he left Interstate 10 and headed north onto Highway 54. Ahead lay Alamogordo, the site of the world's first nuclear weapon explosion.
Of course, Jack wasn't particularly interested in nuclear weapons and satellite program; he was taking Highway 54 through the Lincoln National Forest to Roswell, a small town famous for UFOs.
Actually, he wasn't particularly interested in aliens; it was more about fulfilling a childhood dream and bringing back so alien souvenirs for his friends in LA. After all, even those who love to vacation wouldn't usually co to a place like New xico.
Less than 20 minutes after leaving Alamogordo, they encountered a road hazard.
"Hey, buddy, what's going on up ahead?"
After waiting for almost an hour, impatient Jack got out of the car and walked a short distance to ask a truck driver also stuck in traffic. Most Arican trucks are equipped with radios for dispatching and chatting on long journeys, so they have relatively tily and detailed information about road conditions.
"A train derailed five kiloters ahead. Chemicals are spilled everywhere."
The driver looked helpless, but clearly used to it.
"Do you know how much longer we have to wait?"
Jack was getting a headache. There was no village or shop in sight, and Roswell was still almost 200 kiloters away. Did they have to turn back?
"At least a few hours. Are you in a hurry?"
The sowhat unkempt truck driver was surprisingly kind-hearted.
"Your car looks good. You can drive back about ten kiloters; there's a side road there that leads to Highway 380."
"Thanks, buddy." Jack went back to his car and grabbed two bottles of water, a small bag of bread, and so oranges, handing them to the truck driver.
"Be very careful going through the forest trails. I heard it's not safe there," the helpful truck driver shouted, leaning halfway out of the cab.
"Okay, thanks again." Jack waved, got back into his car, and turned back.
Sure enough, after driving back for a few minutes, he saw a dirt road appear before him. He stopped at the intersection, checked his phone's map — perfect, no cell phone signal, no network, even the GPS signal was barely there, and the side road wasn't marked on the offline map at all.
He'd truly experienced how terrible the infrastructure was along the way. Well Chingchong has it worse though, that's a consolation. Just the cell phone network — once you left a town, the signal quality was worse than in places where troublemakers were tearing down cell towers.
With a sigh, Jack put on the FK 7.5mm pistol he'd been hiding, along with the new holster Hannah had made for him, and barely concealed it with a thin jacket. He then tucked all three spare magazines into his belt, and after a mont's thought, stuffed two boxes of ammunition into his backpack in the back seat.
It wasn't that he was a coward (he is); although he was terrified of horror movies, Arican road horror films were just too nurous and famous. Browsing video websites inevitably led him to stumble upon a few movie clips, and if he happened to co across one, he had to be prepared to face the danger head-on.
Releasing the handbrake, Jack started the Firebird again, this ti keeping his speed around 45 kiloters per hour, careful not to go too fast, and cautiously observing his surroundings.
Five minutes later, a dilapidated tin shack appeared ahead, with an old trailer parked behind it. Jack stopped and looked to his right. This thing was probably, perhaps, a gas station?
Near the roadside was a gas pump so rusted it was almost unrecognizable. An old man, as dirty and dilapidated as the place itself, sat in the doorway of a tin shack, his mouth, with only a few rotten teeth, grinning eerily at him.
Jack didn't get out of the car; he just peeked out and continued on his way. His tank was full, and he had two cans of spare gas in the trunk — enough to get him from here to Texas.
After driving for another ten minutes or so, a fork in the road appeared before him. This place didn't even have a road sign. Jack got out and looked around. To be honest, at this point, he was already regretting taking the detour.
He wasn't worried about psychopathic killers or anything like that — a chainsaw maniac would be a piece of cake to take care of, and if that didn't work, he could just finish him off with another shot. His main concern was his damn aftereffects. What if he was so scared that he went into a frenzy?
The tire tracks on the dirt road to the left looked fresher. Jack decided to take the left as well; maybe he could run into soone and ask for directions.
Maintaining a low speed, Jack drove leisurely along the forest dirt road. As they ventured deeper into the forest, the dense canopy began to block the sunlight, and the surrounding temperature gradually dropped from the sweltering 30-40 degrees Celsius to the 20s. A cool mountain breeze blew through the woods, invigorating them.
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