Hektor threw a glance toward his companion. Up close, she was a pretty girl. Beneath bright blue eyes, a line of light brown freckles danced across her nose. Her dirty blond hair hung over her shoulders, covering her tiny buds of breasts. She did not return his tentative smile. Intensely, she gripped the dashboard and stared at the barren desert.

"We'll get to your friends, little missy," Hektor encouraged, reaching to pat her knee. Although he meant it as an encouraging gesture, he realized she did not wish to be touched.

"Greg's my brother," Gia stated, finally glancing toward her companion. "He's my twin brother."

"Was it his idea to take the shortcut?" the old man asked, keeping his eyes ahead of him.

"Yeah, dumb, huh?" the girl glumly responded. "He saw it on that map and thought it would save us time."

Silence prevailed in the wrecker. Then Hektor spoke again.

"Ain't no such place as Whispering Springs, girlie. Ain't no one ever lived there," the gas station attendant stated. "It's nothing but an old movie set. An unfilmed movie."

"You mean like one of those old Westerns my brothers used to watch at the double feature?" Gia asked, unsure if she were interested. "Like a John Wayne movie?"

"Something like that. Not sure if the Duke was going to star in it; maybe it was Jimmy Stewart. Can't rightly recall," Hektor explained.

"Oh, I see." The girl turned her eyes toward the older man then refocused ahead of her.

"Was supposed to be a tourist attraction after that," Hektor continued, "but that fell through too."

"Yeah, I get it. Cowboys and Indians. Stuff the kiddies love," Gia responded, still not entirely interested. "Now it's Nowhere, New Mexico."

"You got that right, girlie," Hektor chuckled. "Nowhere, New Mexico. That's a good one."

"Yeah, hilarious," the girl flatly agreed. "And I'm not girlie. My name is Gia Williams."

"That's a right pretty name, Gia." Her companion flashed another smile in her direction. "I'm Hektor Estevez. Pleased to meet you."

"My brother is Greg, and our friend is Tracey McMaster. He's hurt bad, mister. He might even be dead." Unable to hold them back, tears flowed down her cheeks and dripped off her chin. "I'm petrified, mister. Can't we get there any faster?"

"Now, don't you worry. We're nearly there," Hektor reassured. "Keep your eyes peeled straight ahead, and you'll see Whispering Springs on the horizon."

Without responding, Gia ogled the horizon. Tensely, she hitched herself forward and grasped the dashboard. Like her brother back in the ghost town, her mind was suddenly clear for the first time in ages. She knew they were deeply in trouble, just like she knew it was their stupidity that caused it. Like her twin, she realized they had to straighten up.

No more fooling around, the young hippie thought to herself. Peace and love were just fairy tales. In reality, people made mistakes, and mistakes caused people to get hurt. They're fooling around had injured Tracey. Perhaps, he lay dead on that mockery of a saloon floor. Damn people for putting up places like that then leaving them, Gia thought. Then: damn us for getting lost and getting stuck there. If they'd stayed on the main road, they would have gotten to someplace real.

Then, just as before, the signpost loomed out of the desert. This time, Hektor did not stop beside it. The wrecker trundled onward past the blacksmith shop. As soon as it stopped beside the saloon, Gia flung the door opened and dashed inside.

"How is he?" she questioned, squatting beside Tracey. Taking hold of his wrist, she searched for a pulse.

"He was awake about half an hour ago," Greg answered, kneeling beside his sister. Placing his hand on her shoulder, he continued: "He can't move from the neck down, sis."

Wide-eyed, Gia stared at her twin. Besides death, it was the worst news she could have expected. Tracey, who was once so active, would be permanently paralyzed.

"I radioed the state police," Hektor Estevez announced as he strode into the barroom. "They're sending a chopper to airlift your friend out."

"The Fuzz?" Gia and Greg both exclaimed in one voice. Regardless of their circumstance, both hippies feared authority.

"Ain't no choice, girlie," Hektor responded, digging his hands into his jeans pockets. "Your friend there needs medical attention. Gotta get him out somehow. He ain't fit for a ride in the wrecker."

"We ain't gonna get arrested for trespassing or anything like that, mister?" Greg asked. Standing up, he strolled toward their rescuer.

"Hell no," the old man chortled. "You three ain't the first to get stranded out here. Furthermore, you ain't gonna be the last neither."

"Yeah...yeah, okay, man," Greg tentatively stated, still unsure.

"You ain't trespassing, young man," Hektor soothed the nervous hippie. "Ain't nobody owns this place. It's just like your sister says: Nowhere, New Mexico."

"They should tear it down, Hektor," Gia indignantly announced. Joining the two men, she thrust her fists against her hips. "Why leave it standing when it endangers people who get lost?"

"That's a debate that's been going on for ages, young missy," their companion answered with a slight smile. "But you know the government, and they run slower than molasses flowing uphill in January. By the time we wait for them to decide, the whole place will have disintegrated into the desert."

Slowly, the young people nodded in agreement. They had spent most of their young lives protesting against authority and government to no avail. They had been part of the counterculture movement. They'd been to Woodstock and had decorated their bus with peace signs. They believed they had been part of a significant change in attitudes toward gays and blacks. However, looking back, they began to wonder if they had achieved anything at all.

Irresponsibly, they had drifted from place to place. A group of wanderers, they had no real destination and no real-life goal. Their search for peace and love had left them with little compassion for others. Like the amp fire in LA, they had carelessly left their mess behind. There were no consequences for their actions. It was always somebody else's problem.

Now, Tracey was their problem. They could no longer dodge responsibility. In the distance, the sound of the approaching chopper grew closer. The state troopers were coming. Silently, Greg and Gia exchanged glances. They both had the same idea. There was no escape. Therefore, they must face the situation head-on.