339

You raise the heavy Zeiss binoculars to your eyes and slowly scan the ruins. There is little to confirm your suspicions: rolling tumbleweed and the shimmering heat of early afternoon are the only movements you observe among the derelict remains of Denton. Then something catches your eye at the entrance to an alley near the centre of the town. Your pulse quickens when you recognize it. It is a haze of oily blue smoke—the exhaust fumes of a motorcycle.

If you wish to enter Denton and take a closer look, turn to 298.

If you decide to return to the convoy and warn them to avoid Denton, turn to 198.