Jaded high-school best friends ditch their struggling hometown and set out to explore the modern American West in search of a better way.

The sun sank behind the smokestack. Despite his unease, Ben felt a cold thrill. That morning, they had been warehouse grunts. Tonight, they were explorers squatting on the ruins of another world.

The sun sank behind the smokestack. Despite his unease, Ben felt a cold thrill. That morning, they had been warehouse grunts. Tonight, they were explorers squatting on the ruins of another world.

Tyler rapped on the door, hard. It swung open almost immediately. A mixture of jazz, folk and hip-hop billowed out onto the porch behind a cloud of smoke. Laughter and chatter chased it. A middle-aged woman with loose dreadlocks was perched in the doorway. “Welcome to Blaze and Praise!” she effused.

If the devil were the sort of guy who needed weekend getaways, he’d have an upstairs apartment on Bourbon Street, Ben decided that night.

Sparse, dry air shimmered beneath the midday sun, blurring the border between a cloudless sky and the line of asphalt shooting straight ahead forever.

A shovel was thrust into a pile of three tires on the shoulder. A bleach-white skull hung on the shovel, and bones and beads hung on strings from the skull’s twisted horns. The address was scrawled in black paint across its forehead, and several letters stuck out of one of the eye sockets.