
        from FUGUE FOR AN OCTOBER AGE                             GHOSTS  2
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        problem is, we're liable to find ourselves adjusted right out of the
        picture."
             "Yes," she says. 
             It  soon  becomes  apparent that the road doesn't go where it's
        supposed to go.  After passing several  unmarked  forks, it  narrows
        and comes to a dead end.  I backtrack, try another one, only to find
        myself blocked by an untidy pile of oil drums.  For what seems hours,
        we  drive  up  and down and back and forth, seeing nothing but under-
        growth and mine tailings and little roads slanting off in all  direc-
        tions.  There  are  no signs anywhere and except for the tops of the
        hills, which glow brilliantly in the rays of  the  setting  sun, the
        daylight  is  almost  gone.  By now, I have forgotten about the mine
        and the railroad ties; the only thing I care about is to escape this
        impossible labyrinth and find our way back to civilization. 
             Twilight fades into dusk and dusk fades into night.   The  dark-
        ness  is  intense  and  it  is impossible to see anything beyond the
        immediate glare of the headlights.  Monotenously, the shine upon the
        relics of a remote and recent past: a  faded  Mail Pouch sign, a dis-
        emboweled mattress, a scattering of beer cans, the rusted carcass of
             
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