Chapter 12
“Welcome to Bowie” the sign read. Once a gleaming testament to a thriving enclave, now a rusted dent of metal that heralded a crime-ridden town bereft of public services.
Trash tumbleweeded down Annapolis Road on its way to the parking lots of abandoned stores. The burned hull of a bus sat atop a downed bus shelter, as if the driver failed to slow to pick up the passengers but instead mowed them under.
Nicholle would have felt more comfortable coming in daylight, but things being what they were, she had no choice.
The enclaves had been self-contained towns that grew food and provided jobs for those within. The area’s answer to scarce gas and high prices. Anyone wanting to leave had to obtain authorization for extra gas. As a result, most family reunions, business deals, and
