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released twelve years ago had pushed most of it downriver.
    At points along the cliff edge, the sides had collapsed. This would have happened because the enormous force of water would have blasted away the canyon’s lower walls, leaving nothing to support the canyon’s upper reaches. This had another effect – the giant bridge that had once spanned the canyon now lay at the bottom of the gorge –broken, twisted, and useless. It was amazing what the people of the Old World had been able to construct. It was even more amazing how fast these intricately designed feats of engineering could be destroyed.
    To the north, where once stood Lake Mead, was a great, empty basin, dry, cracked, and lifeless. At the far western extreme of that depression would be the beginning of Vegas. It wasn’t only the cities downriver that the emptying of Lake Mead and the destruction of Hoover Dam had affected. Surely, that large lake had also been Vegas’s main source of water, even Post-Ragnarok – and without it, I couldn’t see how they survived, twelve years after the destruction of the dam.
    “There’s the path down to the rapids,” Marcus said, pointing. “It leads to the bridge.”
    At first, I couldn’t see what Marcus was talking about. Then, I saw it – a thin, crude bridge made from rope and planks that stretched across the river precariously. Below, the water of the mighty Colorado churned between rocks and ruins. If anyone were to slip and fall through one of the many gaps of that swinging bridge, it was sure death. At the far end stood two shapes, bearing rifles. Guards, most likely.
    “Our bikes can’t cross,” Marcus said. “We’ll have to use Odin . Take a few at a time, so as not to overburden it.”
    “Why can’t we do that now?” I asked.
    “We have to talk to them, first,” Marcus said, pointing to the guards. “They need to know who we are and why we’re here. Otherwise, there’ll be trouble.”
    “Marcus, Alex, and I will go down there,” Makara said, turning around to face the others. The rest of you, see to loading a few of the bikes into Odin’s galley. We’ll do six at a time.”
    Makara turned back to me, her hair caught in the wind. I didn’t know why she had asked me to accompany her. I put a hand on my Beretta, ready to help keep both her and Marcus secure, should the need arise.
    “Let’s go,” Marcus said.
    We marched down a trail that snaked down the cliff’s side. It was clear from the many rocks covering the trail that not too many people came from this side of the desert, which made sense, because no one really lived on this side. The guards would surely be surprised once they saw us, if they hadn’t spotted us already.
    As we neared the gorge bottom, its either side lined with red rock, the ferocity of the river became even more apparent. For so many years, all this water had been locked behind Hoover Dam. Just seeing the ruin of the dam, both up and downriver, made me wonder just what kind of force could have done this.
    “Was the bomb nuclear?” I asked.
    “I don’t know,” Marcus said. “It was powerful, so that could have been the case. They also could have used a lot of high-grade explosives. The U.S. developed some very dangerous toys during the Dark Decade. There are several military bases nearby. By now, I’m sure they are stripped clean, but at the time, maybe my brother had managed to find something there.”
    Makara said nothing, setting a quick pace down the trail. At last, we stood before the beginning of the bridge. On this side, the bridge was anchored to a piece of rock with a set of thick metal stakes. One of the guards held a rifle in one hand, and raised the other to indicate that we should remain where we were. Then the guard holstered the weapon on his back and began his long, torturous journey across the bridge to meet us. The bridge looked so fragile that it might snap at any moment.
    When the man reached the middle, the very bottom of the bridge