“She turned, seeing that Paul had the tent up, its rib-domed hemisphere blending with the rock walls of the fissure. Paul stepped past her, lifting his binoculars. He adjusted their internal pressure with a quick twist, focused the oil lenses on the other cliff, lifting golden tan in morning light across open sand.
Jessica watched as he studied that apocalyptic landscape, his eyes probing into sand rivers and canyons.
“There are growing things over there,” he said.
Jessica found the spare binoculars in the pack beside the tent, moved up beside Paul.
“There,” he said, holding the binoculars with one hand and pointing with the other.
She looked where he pointed.”