In Bender Springs, Drake trades the woods for a white-knuckle summer dodging unexploded ordinances and drug smugglers to inventory the deserts’ tinajas.
“We reach another bad stretch of road and I try to thread the needle on a section washed out from the recent monsoons. Instead the truck slides abruptly to the right as the sand and rock collapse under the tires. Just as quickly, the truck lurches to the left as a fountain of rocks and soil erupt skyward. Time slows, but not before I hear a sharp intake of air from Jordan and I try to make sense of what – on this former bombing range littered with unexploded ordinances – what could possibly have gone wrong this time.”