In reply to Smoker Nix (msg # 193):
They saddled up, eager to head out in pursuit of Kargo and the fiends that destroyed the waster town. It seemed possible that their meeting here was deliberate and not accidental, that Kargo had arranged to meet them here. But why?
The Humvee with Marcela acting as guide was in the lead, followed by the technical and then the rig. The road out the west gate turned to head southwest through the deep forest. Kudzu-smothered and Spanish moss-draped trees and lush bushes crowded the crumbling roadway, overgrowing the soft shoulder.
After a mile or so they passed a sign that announmced:
ARK-LA-TEX SPEEDWAY
NEXT LEFT
Soon they came to a wide open area where space for a large-ish oval racetrack of red dirt surrounded by safety fencing sat next to a small lake. There were some small portable style prefab buildings lining the pit area. Beside that sat a small uncovered grandstand. Ads for long-gone auto-related products and businesses (STP, PENNZOIL, HELLSTROMME MOTORSPORTS, BIG TEXAS AUTO PARTS, THRUSH FILTERS, etc.) were plastered to most surfaces. This had been a real rural racetrack where backwoods racers with high-octane fuel in their veins battled it out on dirt tracks for purses not worth much more than a few months rent. Aside from adverts for hover racing every Thursday this track probably hadn't changed much in a hundred years.
Unlike the countless burned-out ruins they had passed this seemed to be relatively well-maintained. While the buildings could use a coat of paint they were free of the clutches of the relentless Kudzu vines and Spanish moss that festooned everything in Louisiana that remained motionless for more than a week. Vandals, salvagers and looters had not stripped the place and then set it on fire as often happened to abandoned postwar structures.
The parking lot between the road and track was more red dirt, and strewn across it in a line were several well-maintained looking muscle and racing cars, nose-to-tail.