Club Mojave

Club Mojave
Justine Norton-Kertson
| 13,000 words |

1

“Fire in the hole!” Sage tapped the comms band wrapped around their tattooed wrist. They ducked behind a sandstone outcropping and their mullet flopped against their shoulders as an explosion cracked across their little corner of the Mojave Desert. Sand erupted into the afternoon air, creating an acrid dust cloud that drifted east on scorching desert wind. Sage crinkled their freckled nose.

“All clear,” Riley yelled in her Texas drawl as she stood. She adjusted her patched up denim vest, then pulled a rag out from one of her beltpacks and smeared the dirt on the back of her neck. Her cheeks were pale and slightly sunburned.

Lux stepped out from behind another boulder. He was tall and fit and his long, braided afro hung down his back, collecting dust like everything else did. “That’s what, five today?”

“Six.” Sage yanked off their goggles and wiped away the sweat from their forehead.

“Fuck me.” 

Sage’s heartrate jumped when they heard that, and their cheeks grew flush. They turned their back to Lux, who was too busy staring out across the vast desert to notice. 

“E’ry time I think we finally makin’ a dent,” Lux observed, “we find another… what, dozen or so?”

“Look on the bright side, y’all.” Riley busied herself gathering up equipment. “At least the assholes who planted ’em are long dead ’n gone.”

“That’s really ya bright side?”

“Yeah. It’s a pretty fuckin’ good one, too if y’ask me.”

Sage laughed. 

The three of them had spent almost two weeks clearing out the abandoned military corridor to the east of Cottonwood Cove. It was real shit work, tedious and dangerous, but it was also absolutely necessary. Centuries after the Climate Wars, the Mojave was still littered with enough unexploded munitions to make walking through whole stretches of desert potentially fatal. Their ancestors had been incredibly inventive when it came to killing each other. Sage often wondered what the world might have looked like if all that ingenuity had actually gone into something useful.

“Hey, did y’all see that over yonder?” Riley pointed.

“What’s that?” Lux asked.

“Hold your horses, I’m fixin’ to find out.” She raised her field scope. Something metallic protruded from a low ridge several hundred feet beyond their marked work zone. The searing afternoon sunlight caught its curved surface and flashed silver under a crust of orange-red dust. The object was huge. What initially looked like a piece of discarded pipeline continued beneath the sand for hundreds of yards, so she adjusted the scope’s magnification. “Holy shit.”

“Oh my god what?” Lux pressed.

“I’m pretty sure that’s a fucking missile, y’all.”

Sage snatched the scope from her and lifted it to their eye. An old, corroded cylinder stuck out from the dune at an angle. Its surface was scarred and discolored, but beneath the centuries of accumulated sand, Sage could see the remnants of an old military symbol. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

Lux stepped closer.

“Don’t!” Riley snapped.

He stopped.

“We got no clue what else might be buried out there along with that thing,” Riley continued. “Nobody leaves the cleared route. Got it?” 

Everyone nodded as Sage lowered the scope. All around the missile, patches of exposed concrete and twisted steel interrupted the desolate desert floor. Whatever it was that they’d discovered, it definitely hadn’t been sitting out here alone.

“Think it’s a nuke?” Lux asked.

“Might could be.” Riley pulled up the regional hazard-response channel on her wrist. “We ain’t stickin’ ’round to find out though.”

Sage took one last look at the missile. It must have been magnificent once, in the most horrifying possible sense, of course. A towering monument to humanity’s unique ability to turn its greatest technological accomplishments into instruments of annihilation. Now it lay half-buried beneath a carpet of sand and creosotes.  Something about that struck Sage as funny. Then an idea began forming. 

“What if,” Sage said slowly, “we turned it into… a nightclub?”

Lux stared at them. “Jesus fucking Christ, Sage. We haven’t even figured out if that thing can kill us or not.”

“I’m just saying…”

“Course you are,” Lux’s lips curled upward into a crooked smile. He held Sage’s gaze for a moment longer than necessary before turning away.

Riley chuckled and shook her head, then resumed transmitting the report. Sage just grinned, lost in their thoughts and dreams.

Cottonwood Cove was a fairly small community—about a thousand people nestled on the banks of the Colorado River, right at the mouth of Lake Mohave. It used to be nothing more than a dusty little resort settlement. Now, it had grown into a thriving desert oasis. Adobe homes clustered together, tucked beneath sprawling canopies and narrow, shaded pathways that wound between lush gardens full of native plants, fruit trees, and drought-resistant veggies. Micro-drones flittered about taking soil and temperature readings. Solar panels and small wind turbines supplied the community’s energy, while recycled water and carefully managed irrigation systems ensured the gardens flourished without draining the surrounding desert. 

Along the riverbank, wetlands sheltered migrating waterfowl and other wildlife. A network of floating gardens grew food while providing habitat for fish and aquatic insects. Old highways had long since been converted into wildlife corridors and bike paths that connected neighborhoods to a bustling central commons complete with communal kitchens where folks gathered to share meals, trade stories, make music, and of course, argue about whatever ambitious new project someone had dreamed up that week. Beyond the settlement, the Mojave stretched out toward the mountains in the distance. That rugged beauty was carefully protected by generations of people who’d learned that thriving in the desert meant working with the land instead of trying to conquer it.

Being a small community meant that everyone in town knew about the missile by evening. In fact, word had already spread beyond Cottonwood Cove to the surrounding communities as well. The hazard-response co-op had already moved to restrict access to the area and scheduled a specialist assessment. At least until that happened, no one was going anywhere near the thing. 

Meanwhile, Sage had appropriated the common house’s large kitchen table, and now it was completely covered with sketches. “Okay, picture this—”

“No. Absolutely not.” Lux groaned. 

“Can you just fucking listen for a sec?”

Riley pulled up a chair and set a bowl of roasted vegetables on the table. “Y’all, are we really still talkin’ ’bout this?” She rolled her eyes.

Sage unrolled the largest of the drawings. On it, the missile stood upright, hollowed out insides glowing with phosphorescent paint. Solar lanterns dangled overhead. A circular dance floor completely surrounded a raised stage. Seating and garden terraces extended outward beneath the requisite shade canopies. “Imagine dancing the night away inside something that was literally built to destroy the fucking world.”

“Hmm…” Riley studied the drawing carefully. “That’s actually pretty fuckin’ badass.”

“Thank you!”

“I mean, assuming we don’t all die from radiation poisoning.”

“Or get our asses blown to fuckin’ pieces,” Lux said.

Sage closed their eyes and took in a breath. “Obviously we’d make it safe first.”

“How?”

Sage shrugged. “That’s why we have engineers.”

“You gotta couple a rough sketches and a death wish.”

“I have a vision.”

“You got heatstroke,” Lux countered.

Riley snorted into her vegetables. “Y’all, I’m tryin’ to eat here.”

Sage flicked hair away from their face and leaned over the table. “Look, all we ever do is clean up the old world’s shit. Mines, poisoned soil—every day we’re out there fixing something those assholes destroyed. What if we actually made something fun for once?”

“We make shit,” Lux said. “We grow food. Build houses. Restore ecosystems.”

“Exactly. Work, work, and more work. I said, ‘something fun.’”

“Some of us enjoy our work.”

“So do I!” Why was Lux trying so hard to disagree with them? “But wouldn’t you rather spend a Saturday night dancing than digging shrapnel out of the fucking sand?”

Lux looked at Sage and hesitated.

“Oh come on!” they teased. “You telling me you wouldn’t love the chance to get all dressed up and dance with someone.”

Lux smirked. “Depends on the someone I guess.”

Sage’s heart skipped a beat. “Oh yeah? Anybody in particular?”

“Maybe…”

Sage waited, but Lux just smiled and reached for another piece of roasted squash.

“That don’t mean I wanna party inside a goddamn nuke though,” He finally said.

Asshole.

Riley rotated the drawing ninety degrees. “Structurally, though, it might could work. Of course, that’ll depend on the material, its condition, whether or not there’s contamination, and if any of the parts can actually be salvaged.”

Sage beamed. “Now that’s what I’m talking about!”

“Don’t start. All I’m sayin’ is it’s worth considerin’, not that we’re gonna build the damn thing.”

Lux folded his arms. “And who decides if it’s worth doin’?”

Sage looked at him, genuinely confused. “We do.”

“Which we is that?”

“I mean, the community. Who else?”

“That’s funny cause I don’t remember anybody askin’ me.”

Sage opened their mouth, then closed it. They glanced at the drawings. “Fine. Then we’ll ask.”

As it turned out, asking wasn’t anywhere near as much fun as all the announcing had been. Sage had already posted their latest rendering to the community network, and by mid-morning, at least half the Cove was engaged in heated arguments about it.

The assembly gathered under the community commons canopy. Solar lamps hung from the support beams. They wouldn’t be needed for hours, but they were busy charging up in anticipation of sunset. A warm breeze carried the sagebrush through the open sides of the structure. Lux and Riley were seated on either side of Sage, who was busy watching people arrive. Salvador and Mika were among the first to walk in.

“Yo,” Mika dropped into the seat behind them, “that club design’s fucking fire Sage.”

“Right?” Sage turned around, grinning.

“I already got three bands asking to play opening night. What does that tell you?”

“Pfft,” Lux closed his eyes and tilted his head back. “There isn’t gonna be an openin’ night, Mika,” he muttered through his teeth.

“Don’t be such a fucking downer,” Salvador said.

“Bro, that thing’s prolly a nuke.”

“Yeah, but the acoustics would be dope as hell.”

Riley and Sage laughed as Lux rolled his eyes into the back of his bald head. 

The chatter tapered off when Imani stepped forward. She was broad-shouldered with closely cropped gray hair and fresh bags under her eyes. “Preliminary assessments confirm we’ve discovered a military missile associated with an old world weapons installation.” She yawned and said, “Pardon me.” Then she continued, “Its exact condition isn’t yet known. It very well may contain a nuclear warhead. We also have evidence of other buried military infrastructure in the area.”

A hushed murmur worked its way through the crowd.

“We’ve requested additional specialists and survey equipment. There might also be historical records up at the old Area 51 archive that can help us identify what we’re looking at there at the site.”

“Can we dismantle it?” a woman asked.

“That’s exactly what we’re currently trying to assess, Vicky. Either way, the site remains restricted.”

Sage raised their hand.

Imani sighed. “Yes, Sage. I’ve seen the pictures.”

A few people laughed.

Sage stood up from their chair. “Okay look, I know it sounds crazy, but—”

“Understatement a the century,” Lux whispered with enough volume that it wasn’t really a whisper.

“—but… come one, imagine what it would mean for us to take something built to kill millions of people and turn it into a place where… where folks can come together to just celebrate being alive.”

Several residents nodded. 

A woman seated near the front—her name was Camila—stood. “Mi abuela survived the bombing of Flagstaff. Spent the rest of her vida scared as all hella those things. Sorry, but I have no interest in dancing inside one of those evil things.” She spat on the floor.

Sage’s smile faded. “I understand that—”

“¿Sí? Do you?”

The question sat uncomfortably between them. Sage wasn’t entirely unsure what to say. Luckily, Terry, who was in town from down south in Old Miner’s Mill, raised his hand. 

“We could use a good gathering space in this part of the basin. But my question is, why does it have to be all the way out there? Just don’t seem very practical.”

“Because that’s where the missile is,” Sage replied.

Nita, who was a restoration specialist, shook her head. “Sage, can you see how that’s part of the problem we’ve got here?” She projected a site map that hovered above the assembly table, showing the missile sitting along a seasonal wash surrounded by fragile stretches of recovering desert flora. “That drainage there connects several different local habitats. If we were to bring in construction, increased traffic, lights, and noise now—all that will impact the ecosystem, destroy years of work our restoration teams have done. And on top of all that, we still don’t even know what’s buried under that missile.”

“That’s fine. It’s not a problem. We can just build elevated walkways,” Sage suggested.

“Maybe. But we still don’t have enough information to even know whether or not that’s appropriate.”

“Solar lighting. Wind power. No roads. We could, we could use gliders instead of—”

“Sage,” Nita’s voice was gentle but now firm enough that Sage stopped cold. “I understand that you’re excited, but you’re offering solutions before we’ve even finished identifying the problems.”

Muscles constricted in Sage’s neck and jaw. Making every effort to stay calm, they looked up and said, “We’re trying to create something beautiful here.”

“And I’m trying to keep us from destroying something beautiful that’s already there,” Nita said

Silence settled over the commons. Then, Imani stepped forward again. 

“The fact is that the weapon needs to be assessed and secured regardless of what happens regarding the nightclub proposal. That’s our responsibility. The matters of salvage and redevelopment are separate decisions.” She looked directly at Sage. “Under no circumstances can any construction plans move forward without environmental evaluation and a safe recovery plan, not to mention community approval.”

 Sage sank back into their chair as the collective murmuring started up again. Some nodded in vigorous agreement with Imani. Others looked at each other in frustration. Riley rested a hand on their shoulder. 

“Well,” she whispered, “least no one said absolutely not.”

Sage watched as Imani and Nita continued answering questions. They’d discovered a weapon that was capable of annihilating an entire city, probably more, and yet for some reason Sage couldn’t understand, convincing people to build a dance club around its remains was proving to be the harder part. Sage’s heart sank. For the first time since finding the missile, they wondered whether their beautiful idea would ever become anything more than drawings on the kitchen table. 

2

“You want us ta fly allaway to Area 51 for some dusty ass paperwork?” Lux stared at Imani across the table.

“Not just, ‘dusty ass paperwork.’ They’re valuable historical records,” Imani corrected. “I’m talking site surveys, inventories, environmental assessments, anything that might be able to tell us what else could be buried out there.”

“Still, that’s pretty far from here. Why can’t ya just download ’em?”

“From what?” Imani laughed. “The old internet that collapsed two hundred years ago?”

Lux sighed. “Aight, fair point.”

Imani threw a digital map across the table. The abandoned military installation faded into view. Surrounding it, the Groom Range’s jagged peaks. “We found some references to the site in surviving archives, but nothing detailed enough to help us understand what the potential surrounding hazards are likely to be. Area 51 housed records from installations across the Southwest. If anything survived, there’s a decent chance that’s where we’ll find it.”

Riley leaned forward. “Whadawe know ’bout the archive buildin’ itself?”

“An earlier expedition surveyed the administrative complex. No known contamination or unexploded ordnance in the accessible archive section. You’ll have their route and instructions. Be sure to stay inside the surveyed area. If anything looks wrong, get out of there.” Imani enlarged the map and highlighted a small structure sitting about half a mile from the old archival complex. “The last survey team also established a waystation here. It’s got a charging canopy, a battery bank, a sheltered camping area; they might have even left some ration packs behind. At the very least, you’ll be able to recharge your sunwings overnight.”

“Overnight?” Lux asked.

“It’s almost a hundred and fifty miles, Lux. By the time you get there, your batteries will have taken a pretty good hit. Even if you have enough time to top them off while you search the archives, I still don’t want you three trying to make a return trip of that distance after dark.”

“So we’re fixin’ to camp’s what your sayin’?” Riley asked.

“Unless you’d rather sleep in a two-hundred-year-old military bunker.”

“Oh hell no. I definitely ain’t doin’ that.”

“Riley still believes in ghosts,” Lux said, laughing.

“Cause I ain’t stupid like you idiots.”

Sage grinned and interjected, “Hey you two…”

“Sup?” Lux said.

“I smell a road trip!”

“Volunteer archival retrieval,” Imani said. “Not a treasure hunt.”

“Right. Very serious. No fun whatsoever. You can count on us.”

Imani looked at Lux. “You sure you want to go?”

He sighed. “Somebody gotta keep these two alive.”

The sunwings rested in launch cradles with their enormous wings stretched taut across lightweight composite spars. If you stood far enough away, they almost looked like oversized hang gliders, but the dark and glimmering fabric was something else entirely. Its flexible photovoltaic membrane converted sunlight into electricity. A series of fine copper-colored wires ran through the material like bloodveins connecting thousands of micro-solar cells to the battery packs tucked beneath each pilot’s harness. Behind the seats, small electric motors drove propellers that could launch the gliders under their own power, then shut down when the pilots hit a sweet thermal. On a clear afternoon with the sun beating down, an experienced pilot could travel for hours without drawing much power at all from the batteries.

“No fucking way.” Levi stood outside the sunwing hangar. He had his arms crossed and he watched Sage as they inspected a wing.

“Oh, come on!”

“Remember when you borrowed one last month?”

“We don’t need to go into all that, do we Levi?”

“And you brought it back with half a cactus stuck in the landing gear?”

“That was one time, just one time.”

“And the time before that?”

“Technically, that was a tumbleweed, not a cactus.”

Levi shook his head.

Riley stepped between them. “We got a legit job, Levi. Flight plans, emergency supplies, the works.” She handed Levi the expedition auth.

Levi studied the document and grumbled. “Fine. But you scratch my machines, you’re spending the next six months repairing them. Got it?”

Sage grinned wide. “Love you too, Levi.”

“Yeah, yeah. Get the fuck out of here.”

The three of friends spent the next twenty minutes or so running through their preflight checks. Each of them inspected their craft’s wing membranes for damage, tested the control surfaces, and made sure the batteries were fully charged. Riley pulled up the latest weather report while Lux mapped the path the three would take and marked several possible emergency landing sites along the route. Once everything checked out, they wheeled the sunwings out onto the launch strip.

Sage climbed into their harness and settled back into the suspended seat. They fastened and pulled the restraints snug. Then they adjusted the control bar and activated the propulsion system. Behind them, the propeller unfolded and began spinning with a soft electric whine.

Riley was the first to take off. Her sunwing shot off down the runway, enormous wings flexing gently as the air began flowing across them. Only a moment later, the wheels lifted free of the ground and she climbed into the brilliant morning sky.

Lux followed, then Sage who grinned and pushed the throttle forward. The little motor hummed behind them as their sunwing gathered speed. Wind rushed across their face and pressed against their chest. Then the wheels left the ground. Suddenly there was nothing beneath them but several hundred feet of wonderfully empty air.

“Woo-hoo! Fuck yeah!” Sage shouted into the interlink. “I never get tired of this!”

The Mojave stretched out beneath them in a patchwork of ochre hills and pale salt flats framed by twisting washes. Joshua trees dotted the landscape, casting tiny shadows across rocky soil. A herd of bighorn sheep moved along a ridge, indifferent to the strange mechanical birds passing overhead on a warm wind filled with the faint, resinous redolence of creosote bush and cracked, sunbaked earth. 

Sage smiled from ear to ear as they leaned into the steady pressure of the wind against their chest as it tugged at their clothes and slipped beneath the sleeves of their shirt. Up here among the scattered clouds, the remnants of the old world seemed ridiculously small. Broken highways disappeared beneath the sand and long-abandoned settlements blended into the landscape like a faded photograph. Even the great wounds humanity had carved into the Earth looked almost healed.

A soft chime sounded from Sage’s wrist display. Ahead of them, a cluster of circling hawks marked a rising column of warm air.

“We got ourselves a thermal at two o’clock,” Lux announced through the interlink.

“Already see it.” Sage banked toward the birds.

The sunwing shuddered as it penetrated the rising air and began climbing. Sage let off the throttle and shut the motor down. Behind them, the propeller blades folded up neatly, leaving only the whistling wind flowing over the wings. 

The three of them circled upward and gained several hundred feet of altitude without using any battery power. As sunlight washed across the photovoltaic membrane, Sage watched their charge indicator tick slowly upward.

“Goddamn, I love these things,” they said.

“Don’t get too hyped,” Lux replied. “We still gotta long waydago, and those batteries aren’t some kinda magic.”

“You always gotta ruin a perfectly good moment, don’t you?”

“It’s a gift.”

“Anybody else fixin’ to eat?” Riley cut through the interlink.

“We only been flyin’ for two hours bro,” Lux replied.

“Your point?”

“That you ate enough breakfast ta feed a family.”

“Yeah, well, flyin’s hard work.”

Sage laughed, scanning the horizon. Something moved against the distant mountains. At first, they thought it was a flock of birds, and it was. But then they noticed that the birds weren’t flying; they were being blown. “Crap.”

A sudden gust of wind smacked them all from behind. The impact sent Lux’s glider into a spiral. “Shit,” he screamed.

Sage looked back and watched as Lux worked his way out of the tumble and straightened out. “You okay, Lux?”

“Fine. Just fine.”

Riley checked the wind readings flashing across her display. “This air’s gettin’ ugly. There’s a surveyed landing shelf beyond that pass. Follow me, y’all. We’re headin’ down.”

“Riley, those walls lookin’ pretty damn close together,” Lux objected.

“Then keep your speed up and stay in the middle, dummy.”

They all descended, heading toward the broadest gap between two sandstone ridges, but the wind seemed to have other ideas. Gusts funneled in through the opening and hammered the hell out of them from different directions. The flexible wings trembled and then snapped taut as the pilots fought to stay in control. Sage gripped the control bar so tight their hands started to hurt as a sudden crosswind shoved them toward the canyon wall.

“Hard left! Hard left!” Riley shouted.

Sage shifted their weight as fast as they could. Their glider wing dipped and missed the rock by what felt like only inches as Riley led them along the sharp, winding route.

Lux’s voice crackled through the interlink. “Uh, I gotta lil’ problem here folks.”

A violent gust struck from the left. Sage watched Lux’s sunwing lurch sideways. Its right wingtip passed frighteningly close to a jagged sandstone outcrop. A brief scraping sound assaulted Sage’s ears through the interlink, followed by a fluttering noise as a strip of fabric tore loose from the trailing edge.

Sage glanced back. Lux’s right wing fluttered, its lower surface torn. “How little?”

“Little like I might fuckin’ die if we don’t land quick.”

“Keep your speed steady,” Riley instructed. “I see a flat ridge over yonder. We’re gonna land there, just stay with me.”

They all touched down hard. Lux stumbled and rolled away as his glider struck the ground and skidded across the gravel before collapsing onto its side.

Sage ran toward him. “You okay?”

Lux sat up, blinking. “Fuckin’ peachy.”

Sage dropped to their knees next to him and put their arm around him. “Fuck. You scared the everliving shit out of me.”

“Yeah, imagine how I felt.” He winced and snickered as he tried to sit up straighter.

Sage noticed a dark red stain spreading across the sleeve of his shirt. “Oh shit, Lux, you’re bleeding.”

He glanced down and saw a rip in his shirt just below his shoulder. The opening in the fabric exposed a nasty-looking cut where he must have scraped against a rock during the crash. “Awe fuck. Didn’t even notice.”

“Hold still.” Sage let go of his arm and scrambled over to their glider, and rummaged through their pack until they found the first aid kit. 

“It’s just a scratch,” Lux called after them. “I’ll be good.”

“Yeah? Well shut the fuck up and let me take a look at it.”

Riley walked over and knelt next to Lux’s sunwing. “Well, let’s see how bad you fucked this thing up.” She carefully inspected the torn material, running her fingers along the edges of the rip and checking the surrounding seams. “Lucky bastard,” she muttered. “You managed to barely miss the solar membrane and load-bearin’ seams. Looks like it’s just the outer fabric panel.”

“So you can fix it?” Lux asked.

“I’ve got some proper patches in my pack. But we’ll have to check the wing tension ’n run a full systems test before anybody’s flyin’ anywhere.”

Sage came back with the first aid kit in hand and knelt next to Lux. They carefully pulled the torn fabric away from his wound. The cut was several inches long, but thankfully it didn’t look like it was that deep. They dug a sterile saline rinse, gauze, and dressing from the first aid bag.

“This is gonna sting.”

“Great. Just what I need.” 

Sage began to flush the dirt and grit from the wound.

“Fuck!” Lux hissed through his teeth and grabbed Sage’s knee.

“Sorry! Sorry.” Sage paused. “ You okay?”

Lux cringed. “Fine. Keep goin’.”

Sage finished cleaning the cut, checking that no debris remained before pressing a sterile dressing over it. Lux’s hand stayed on their knee the whole time. Sage’s own heart was pounding hard enough to hurt. They kept imagining what might have happened if Lux struck the rocks a little differently.

“There.” Sage secured the dressing and sat back on their heels. “You should be okay. We’ll need to have someone check it properly when we get back to Cottonwood Cove.”

Lux inspected his damaged arm, then looked back at Sage. “See? Tolja I was fine.”

“Yeah, well, you coulda fooled me.”

He caught Sage’s hand before they could pull it away, and he gave it a gentle squeeze. “Hey. I’m all good, Sage. Really.”

Sage looked at his dusty face. A small scratch ran along his cheek, but he was smiling at them with those gorgeous eyes, and for a moment Sage couldn’t think of a single fucking thing to say.

“Thanks for patchin’ up my arm,” Lux added, looking right into their eyes. “And for worryin’ about me.”

Sage broke his gaze and abruptly stood, taking back their sweaty, shaky hand. “Don’t flatter yourself, asshole. I just don’t wanna have to explain to Levi why we brought home one less glider.”

“Which I just about got fixed up, by the way. You’re welcome,” Riley interjected.

Lux laughed. 

Sage smiled awkwardly, then turned and busied themself packing away the first aid kit, hoping he hadn’t noticed how red their cheeks had gotten.

Lux watched for a moment. “Ya know,” he said, “we coulda let Imani find another way ta get those stupid records.”

Sage started to answer, then stopped. He was right, after all. Nobody forced them to come on this errand. And it had nearly gotten him killed. “Yeah, you’re right.” Sage admitted. “We coulda.”

Lux looked surprised. “Holy shit. Write down that date e’rybody.”

“Fuck off,” Sage said. But they smiled weakly and stayed beside him.

Riley finished checking the wing’s tension and running through the flight controls. Then, finally, and only when she was a hundred percent satisfied that the repair would hold, they prepared to take off again.

Area 51 stuck out from the surrounding desert like the fossilized skeleton of an extinct animal. Collapsed hangars stood among crumbling concrete buildings. Windblown sand covered old roads and xerophilous vegetation sprouted from cracks in the pavement. Whatever secrets the installation might have once held, the desert had spent centuries working overtime to bury them.

By the time they finally reached the old base, the sun hung low over the western mountains. The sunwings had performed beautifully, but the long flight and unexpected turbulence had taken their toll on the batteries. Sage’s display showed less than half a charge remaining.

The three pilots followed the approved approach toward the small waystation that had been established by the earlier survey teams. A broad photovoltaic canopy stood beside a cleared landing strip, its panels feeding a bank of stationary batteries housed within a weatherproof shelter.

Riley landed first, followed by Lux and Sage. Once they’d secured the wings, they each connected their sunwings to one of the charging ports.

“There we go,” Riley said as green lights began blinking along the charging cables. “Should be plenty of stored juice to get us topped off by mornin’.”

Sage glanced over toward the old military complex. “And we don’t have to sit around waiting for the sun to come back up?”

“Nope. These batteries have been collectin’ good ol’ sunshine ever since they were last used. That’s the beauty of energy storage, dumbass.”

Lux carefully rotated his injured shoulder. “Good cause I’m definitely not flyin’ another hundred and fifty miles tonight.”

“None of us is,” Riley said. “Now let’s go ’n find them records ’fore we run outta daylight.”

Following the survey route Imani provided, the trio entered the archival complex. Most of the building was empty. Shelves had collapsed. Scattered documents lay buried beneath layers of dust and cobwebs. But a storage room deep in the facility had survived surprisingly well. Inside, sealed cabinets protected stacks of printed records and piles of obsolete data cartridges.

Riley whistled. “Somebody really didn’t want to lose this shit.”

“Shame they weren’t as careful with the planet,” Lux said.

They sorted through acquisition orders, inventories, maps, and environmental assessments for hours, digitizing documents and collecting authorized copies. Eventually, Riley found what they’d come looking for. An installation diagram matched the missile’s location. Nearby symbols marked buried maintenance infrastructure plus chemical-storage and disposal sites. 

“Jesus,” she whispered. “There’s a whole damn complex fulla toxic shit under there.”

Lux studied the map. “And we thought the missile was the problem.”

Sage barely heard them. They’d found a thin folder containing personal accounts from civilian workers assigned to the installation back during the Climate Wars. One of those workers described watching families as they evacuated the nearby settlements when conventional weapons turned to chemical warfare. Another mentioned remembering all the little kids crying inside overcrowded transports as their parents tried to hold gas masks over their small sooty faces. The final page ended mid-sentence. Sage turned it over, but that was it. 

They’d spent weeks imagining the missile as some relic of a monstrous past that could be emptied of its evil purpose and filled with joyful music. But the people who’d lived beneath its shadow, they hadn’t been symbols… they’d been real human beings. 

“Hey.” Lux appeared beside them. “You okay there?”

Sage handed him the folder. He read through the pages, his expression growing serious.

“Fuck,” he whispered.

“Yeah.” 

They just stood there quietly for a while before Sage looked at him and asked, “You think I’m being stupid?”

“About what?”

“The club. All of it.”

Lux shook his head. “Nah. I think you see possibilities the restus miss sometimes.”

Sage looked at him.

“Don’t gimme wrong. That don’t mean all your ideas are good,” he added with a crooked smile.

“Ah, there he is.”

Lux nudged their shoulder. “But I like thataboutchyou.”

Sage snatched the folder back and closed it. They looked over toward the window where the setting sun stained the ruins of the military base. For the first time, the thought of a hundred people dancing beneath that missile felt complicated. Don’t be mistaken, Sage still wanted to build a badass nightclub. They just weren’t so certain anymore about what it would mean if they did. 

The desert had gone dark by the time they returned to the waystation. Above them, the Milky Way stretched across the sky in a glittery river of stars, interrupted only by the occasional streak of a meteor. The sunwings rested beneath the charging canopy with their dark wings folded closed for the night. Small green indicator lights continued to blink along the battery connections as stored solar energy flowed silently into their depleted power packs.

Riley had disappeared into the equipment shelter to check up on the charging systems. Sage and Lux sat outside on a low retaining wall, eating the last of their packed dinner. A cool breeze carried the smell of creosote and sage brush across the desert.

“How’s your arm?” Sage asked.

Lux pulled back his torn sleeve and glanced down at the dressing. “Still attached.”

“Really fucking funny.”

“I thought so.”

Sage reached for his arm. “Lemme see.”

Lux extended it without arguing. Sage carefully peeled back the edge of the dressing and checked his wound. It looked clean. The surrounding skin was beginning to bruise.

“Still looks okay.” They secured a fresh dressing. “You should probably keep an eye on it.”

“Sure thing doc.”

“Fuck off.”

Lux laughed and stretched his legs out in front of him. For a while, they sat quietly together, watching the stars.

“You know,” Sage finally said, “when your glider went down today, I thought—” They stopped.

“Thought what?”

Sage picked at some loose threads on their pants. “I don’t know. For a second there, I thought I was gonna lose you.”

Lux’s expression softened. “Hey.”

Sage shook their head. “I know, I know. You’re fine. I’m fine, Riley’s fine. I’m just saying.”

“I was pretty fuckin’ scared too ya know.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Mostly cause I knew you’d prolly do somethin’ completely ridiculous tryin’ to help me.”

Sage laughed. “Like what?”

“Like crash your own sunwing tryinda catch mine?”

“Please. I’dve found a much more spectacular way to get us both killed than that.”

“I know. That’s what worries me.”

Sage nudged him with their shoulder.

Lux smiled but didn’t look away. “Seriously, though,” he said. “I’m real glad you were there.”

Something warm and gooey twisted in Sage’s stomach. “Yeah. Me too.”

Their shoulders rested against each other and Sage could feel the warmth of his body through the thin fabric of their shirts. They wanted to reach for his hand. Actually, they wanted to do a whole lot more than that. But instead, they just stared up at the stars and tried very hard not to think about how close he was sitting to them.

Lux shifted. His hand settled on the wall between them. His pinky finger brushed Sage’s. Neither of them pulled away.

“Hey, Sage?”

“What’s up?”

“For whatever it’s worth, I think Club Mojave’s gonna be dope.”

Sage turned toward him. “Even after everything we found today?”

“Especially after e’rerything we found.” Lux looked toward the distant ruins. “Maybe people oughta have somethin’ good ta remember that thing for.”

Sage smiled. “Thanks, Lux.”

They both sat there together until the night grew too cold. When Sage finally climbed into their bedroll, they could still feel the ghost of Lux’s fingers against their hand. And they couldn’t stop smiling.

By the time morning arrived, the sunwings were fully charged and ready for the long journey home. Riley ran through another inspection of Lux’s repaired wing while Sage packed the recovered records safely away in their flight bag.

“Looks like everything checks out,” Riley announced. “But we’re keepin’ our eyes on that patch. If the wind starts actin’ up again, we’re puttin’ down right away. No arguments.”

Lux raised his injured arm. “Ya won’t hear any from me.”

The three launched shortly after sunrise. Fortunately, the desert winds were gentle and predictable. They climbed on broad thermals rising from sun-warmed rocks, shutting down their motors whenever the air offered enough lift to carry them forward. As they flew south, the photovoltaic membranes gathered sunlight, easing the drain on their batteries. By the time the green gardens of Cottonwood Cove appeared along the Colorado River, Sage was beginning to feel almost disappointed that the flight was over. But Lux still needed someone to check that cut on his shoulder, and Sage intended to make damn sure he followed through.

3

The missile looked significantly smaller without the warhead. Sage wasn’t entirely sure exactly how that was even possible. The enormous cylinder was still half-buried beneath the shifting sands. But something had changed, Sage was sure of it even if they couldn’t put their finger on it. It might have been the recovery equipment or the techs moving around in their protective gear. Whatever the reason, Sage felt vaguely disappointed. They’d imagined a spectacular recovery with giant machines flinging sparks, maybe even a dramatic countdown. Instead, a dozen different specialists had spent weeks surveying the site and checking equipment. They argued over data constantly. Twice, no, three times the whole operation had ground completely to a standstill while additional assessments were conducted.

“It’s like watching a cactus grow,” Sage complained.

Lux glanced up from the environmental readings on his tablet. “Except a cactus won’t irradiate half the fuckin’ valley.”

“Way to keep things cheerful, bro.”

“You’re welcome, as always.”

The two of them sat at a designated observation zone watching a transport depart along the temporary access route. Riley had spent the past two weeks helping out the recovery co-op doing equipment maintenance around the hazardous area. She told the two of them that she was learning more about radiation monitoring and environmental containment than she’d ever expected to know. Mostly, she’d learned how much she didn’t know. 

“Hey,” she called to them from the temporary operations shelter. “Imani’s askin’ for us.”

Sage got up and was moving before she finished speaking.

Inside, Imani stood next to Nita studying a holographic projection of the buried installation. “Good news first,” Imani announced as Sage and Riley approached.

Sage grinned. “My favorite kind.”

“As you know, the nuclear warhead’s been recovered, and we’ve removed the chemical weapons that had been abandoned in the buried remains of the complex. The site still requires significant environmental remediation, but the immediate weapons hazard is under control.”

“Fuck yes!”

“And we’ve just identified a section of the missile’s outer structure that’s probably suitable for salvage.”

Sage’s grin widened. “Double fuck yes!”

“Probably,” Imani repeated. “That means maybe. It’s passed the preliminary contamination screening, but we’ve still got a decent amount of material testing and structural certification ahead of us.”

“Right. Absolutely. Certifications, don’t even get me started. And testing? I love testing.”

Imani’s eyes narrowed, “I suspect that is a lie.”

“What a wild accusation!”

Riley leaned over the projection. “How much of it d’ya think we can save?”

Imani highlighted a section of the cylindrical structure. “Approximately forty-five feet of the outer body. The rest of it is either too damaged or otherwise unsuitable for reuse. Assuming the final evaluations go well, that’s what we’ll be able to release for reclamation.”

Sage studied the glowing outline. Forty-five feet. They could work with that. A raised stage at one end. Lights suspended inside the shell’s curvature. Maybe even a second level, if the supporting structure could handle the weight. Their mind raced. “Okay. We can totally do this.”

“Hold on. There’s something else,” Nita said. 

“Oh yeah, the inevitable bad news,” Sage huffed. 

“That’s a matter of perspective.” Nita switched up the display. The missile was replaced by a topographical map stretching over several miles of desert. Blue lines marked seasonal drainage channels. Green patches identified new vegetation. Nita pointed to the installation.“The original site sits right next to a seasonal wash. As you can see, we’ve found viable seed banks in areas surrounding the old concrete foundations. There are recovering native plant communities here. And aside from flora, the wash also connects several wildlife corridors vital to the area.”

“Well, but, that’s good though, right?” Sage asked.

“It’s excellent. But building a nightclub there would produce light pollution. It would mean bringing in heavy equipment to modify the terrain and create regular transportation access for—”

“I already said we’d build elevated walkways.”

“Those still require construction, Sage.”

“…and low intensity solar lighting. Red lights.”

“Light is hardly the only concern here.”

“But what if we—”

“Sage.” Nita’s voice boomed as she folded her arms and shifted her weight to one leg. Then she continued more softly, “You’ve got an answer for everything except the actual question.”

“Which is?”

“Why does the nightclub have to be right there? Why can’t it be somewhere, anywhere else.”

Sage stared at her blankly. “I—well… cause that’s where we found the missile.”

Nita waited long enough that Sage got fidgety before saying, “So what?”

“So what? So what? I mean, That’s the whole fucking point, Nita.”

“No,” Lux interjected. “The point was turnin’ the missile into somethin’ good.”

Sage looked at him. “Same diff.”

“Not really.” Nita returned to the map. “If we remove the dangerous materials, we can stabilize the damaged ground and allow the desert to recover. We can restore the whole area. We even have evidence that some of these plant communities are growing again for the first time in generations.” She looked back to Sage. “Or if you’d really prefer, we can go ahead and disturb them again to build a nightclub.”

Sage’s stomach tightened. For weeks they’d been imagining the club rising up from the desert, shining against the dark mountains, with people dancing where the old world had once prepared to destroy itself. They definitely hadn’t dreamed of those people trampling a recovering ecosystem to get there. “So what? We’re just gonna throw away the whole idea?”

“No one said that, Sage.”

“Sure feels a helluva lot like somebody did.”

The regional assembly gathered three days later, which to Sage seemed like forever. But in that short time the discovery had become the subject of heated discussions across the entire basin. So folks came not just from Cottonwood Cove, but from Searchlight to the east, and from as far south as Bullhead and Mojave City. People showed up from several of the smaller towns too like Gremlin Cove and even as far away as Oatman. There was even a contingent that came down from Vegas up north.  

Sage stood next to a projection of their latest nightclub design. “I’ve incorporated the environmental recommendations provided by the committee,” they explained, “including restricted access, low-impact lighting, and a transportation system using pre-existing routes in order to minimize construction disturbances to the surrounding area.”

Nita sat near the front, studying the plans. She raised her brow as she tilted her head and nodded. “The design is certainly an improvement.”

Sage brightened. 

“But it doesn’t eliminate all the impacts.” 

Their shoulders slumped. “Of course it doesn’t.”

A woman named Tomica raised her hand. From Gremlin, she was seated near the back of the crowd. Her yellow blouse shifted as she stood. 

“Who’s gonna build this?” she asked bluntly. “Who’s gonna maintain it? You know we’re already short on skilled labor for the western irrigation expansion.”

“We’ll organize volunteers,” Sage replied. “Do you know any other folks from Gremlin or nearby towns who might have the capacity to help out?”

“For construction, maybe. But what about ten years from now?” Tomica pressed.

Terry stood then. “We do need a gathering space. But I think if we’re gonna put that much labor and material into something, we need to consider a spot that’s closer to the communities using it, not way out in the middle of nothing.”

Sage shook their head. “Then we lose the whole significance of it.”

“Do we though?” Terry asked. “Or do we keep the missile and move the party?”

Several people laughed. Sage didn’t.

Across the room, Salvador argued that people needed art and music and places to celebrate. There were plenty of others who agreed. A woman from Searchlight pointed out that she supported the club but doubted she’d travel that far into the desert after dark. A number of people wanted the missile dismantled entirely.

Then the older woman who’d spoken at the first assembly, Camila, stood again. “I’ve been thinking about this a lot,” she said. “I’m not gonna lie, I still hate the idea of celebrating inside something like that. But I do understand why some of you want to. So I’m not asking you to abandon it.” She glanced toward the projected plans. “I am asking you to consider that the land deserves something better than being turned into another attraction for our amusement.”

Sage opened their mouth. Nothing came out.

The discussion continued for nearly two hours. When the facilitator finally called for a vote on the proposed location, Sage scanned the crowd, searching for familiar faces. Mika raised their hand in support. Salvador followed. Then a handful of others joined them. But not enough. Not anywhere near enough. Lux didn’t even raise his hand.

Sage’s stomach dropped like a bag of bricks. Of everyone in the room, Lux was the one person whose support they cared about the most. Not because he always agreed with them; god knows he didn’t. But because somewhere along the way—they weren’t exactly sure where or when—his opinion had started to matter to them more than anyone else’s, and now they couldn’t help wondering whether Lux saw them the same way, or if he saw them as nothing more than an impulsive idiot with a collection of spectacularly shitty ideas. 

Sage turned sharply toward him. “What the fuck?”

He kept his eyes on the facilitator. “I support the club, Sage. You know I think it’s a beautiful idea. But I’m sorry. I don’t support buildin’ it there.”

Sage stared at him.

Lux continued. “Look, we’ve spent years clearin’ this desert a shit our ancestors left behind, just like you said. Now that we finally got a chance to give some a that land back, I don’t think we should turn around an’ build somethin’ on top of it just cause we found a cool-looking piece a metal.”

The proposal failed. Not overwhelmingly. There was a lot of genuine support for the nightclub and the community agreed to continue considering alternative construction sites. But the decision was definitely clear. There would be no club at the original missile site.

Sage left before the meeting ended. Lux found them sitting outside the glider hangar, throwing pebbles into the deep desert darkness.

“Hey.”

Sage didn’t look up. “Fuck off.”

“Aight,” he said as he sat beside them. 

The two of them listened to the wind moving through the nearby creosote bushes.

“You coulda told me,” Sage finally said.

“I did.”

“Not that you were gonna vote against me.”

“I wasn’t votin’ against you.”

“Sure fucking looked like you did.”

Lux rubbed his face. “You know what your problem is? Aside from bein’ an asshole, I mean.”

“Oh, please. Do enlighten me.”

“You gone off and decided that e’ryone who disagree with you secretly hates ya idea.”

Sage hurled another pebble. “I thought you understood what I was trying to do.”

“I do.”

“Then why the fu—”

“Cause understandin’ don’t mean agreein’ with e’ry stupid decision ya make, Sage.”

They turned toward him. “Ah, so you do think it’s stupid.”

“I think buildin’ a nightclub in the middle of a fragile, recovering ecosystem is real goddamn stupid, yeah, I do. I also think turnin’ the missile into somethin’ useful’s absolutely fuckin’ brilliant.”

“That’s a pretty convenient distinction you’ve made for yourself there.”

“It’s an important fuckin’ distinction.”

Sage turned their head away. 

Lux looked at them for a moment, his expression softening. He shifted closer and started to reach for Sage’s hand, then seemed to think better of it and stopped.

Sage noticed. Of course they fucking noticed, and for one ridiculous second they wanted nothing more than to reach across the space between them and take his hand. But they were still angry and hurt, and neither of them seemed to know quite what to say.

That’s when Riley appeared, carrying three bottles of coldpressed prickly pear juice. Lux snatched his hand back into his lap. 

Sage quickly looked up at Riley, “Hey!”

“Figured you jackasses would be out here.” Riley handed them each a bottle and sat down, forcing herself between them. 

Sage scooted over a bit. They appreciated the cool, wet glass against their skin, which still buzzed. It temporarily staved off at least a bit of the oppressive evening heat, not to mention the frustrated confusion.

“Welp,” Riley said, “that sucked. Am I right?”

“Thank you,” Sage muttered. “Finally, a little fucking support.”

“Don’t get too excited there buddy. I ain’t on your side.”

Sage groaned. “Jesus. Is everyone taking turns shitting on me tonight?”

Riley took a drink. “I got carried away too. The engineering challenge sounded amazing. Take a nuclear missile, rip its guts out, and build something awesome? But just because we can do something doesn’t mean we should.”

“So what, we quit?”

“No.” Riley shrugged. “We find another way.”

Sage stared at the bottle of red juice in their hands. Beyond the hangar, the desert stretched beneath a sky crowded with winking stars. Somewhere not too far north, the missile lay surrounded by machinery, waiting for the last remnants of its terrible history to be cleared away. They still wanted the club. They wanted it so badly their chest hurt. “I just wanted to make something beautiful,” Sage whispered.

Lux leaned back on his hands. “Then let’s do it. Let’s make somethin’ beautiful.”

Sage gave him a sideways glance. “I thought you voted against that.”

“I voted against puttin’ it there.” 

Riley raised her bottle. “There’s a difference, dumbass. That’s what we’ve been tryin’ to get through your thick-ass skull.”

Sage almost smiled. Instead, they took a drink and stared into the dark. They were still angry enough to throw something. But for the first time, they started to wonder if the others might actually be right.

4

The old freight depot reeked of sunbaked metal and something that had probably died under the floorboards. 

“Jesus Christ, Terry.” Sage wrinkled their nose. “You bring me here to show me a building or a fucking crime scene?”

“Little of both.” Terry kicked an empty can across the concrete and it rattled its way beneath an abandoned loading platform. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“This dump? It smells like ass.”

“I like to think of it as a dump with potential.”

Sage looked around. The depot was on the outskirts of Cottonwood Cove where the old highways met a network of newer bicycle paths and public transit routes. Its roof sagged in a few places. Vines crept through cracks in the adobe walls. Centuries old freight equipment littered the loading bays, which themselves were half-buried beneath generations of windblown sand and debris. But the building was gigantic. Sunlight poured through broken clerestory windows, illuminating a central space that was easily big enough for a dance floor. Rusting steel beams stretched overhead. A wide loading dock opened up toward the majestic mountains.

They tried not to look impressed. “So why are we here?” Sage asked.

Terry gestured around them. “I’ve been trying to get this place fixed up for years. We need a regional commons—somewhere for organizing, community meals, distributing supplies, and stuff like that. But you know how it goes; there’s always something more important that needs fixing.”

“Like a water pump?”

“Usually a water pump, yeah.”

Sage ran a hand across a dusty concrete pillar. “And you think this would work for a nightclub?”

“I think it could work for lots of things. Including a nightclub.”

“It’s not exactly the missile.”

“No it isn’t,” Terry agreed. “But maybe that’s a good thing.”

Sage sighed. “Everybody keeps saying that.”

“Interesting. You ever stop and think that maybe everybody’s onto something?”

Before Sage could respond, Riley’s voice echoed from the entrance. “Holy fucking shit y’all!” She came striding inside, Lux following behind her.

Sage turned. “What?”

Riley stood in the middle of the depot, slowly rotating as she surveyed the ceiling. “Look at this place!”

“That’s what I said,” Terry replied.

“No, you don’t get it.” Riley pointed toward the overhead beams. “We could suspend lighting from there and reinforce the roof. We’ll reclaim the old ventilation shafts, replace these windows with solar glazing—” She stopped a mischievous grin spread across her face.

“Oh, fuck me.” Lux groaned. “I know that look.”

Riley turned to Sage. “The missile.”

Sage frowned. “What about it?”

“We don’t need the whole fuckin’ thing. We can mount the salvaged section right above the stage like a canopy. The original shell can be the centerpiece, and we’ll build everythin’ else ’round it.”

Sage looked over to the far end of the building. Forty-five feet of curved metal suspended above a performance space. Phosphorescent lighting illuminating the interior. Music rumbling and people dancing under a relic of humanity’s worst, most violent impulses. 

They could almost see it.

Lux studied the building carefully. “We’d definitely need acoustic treatment. Proper entrances and accessible pathways, too.”

“Of course,” Sage said absently.

“And drainage. It looks like that loadin’ dock’s practically a flood channel.”

“Sure, yeah.”

“And—”

“Lux.”

“What?”

Sage turned toward him. “You’re doing it again.”

He opened his mouth, then caught the expression on their face. “Doin’ what?”

Sage smiled. “Making it better.”

Lux’s surprised expression slowly became a sweet smile. “Well, somebody gotta keep you from killin’ yourself with one a your brilliant ideas.”

“And you do such a wonderful job.”

“It’s pretty exhaustin’, actually.”

Sage laughed and for a moment, they simply looked at each other. Sage was suddenly and acutely aware of how close he stood to them, of the warmth in his eyes, of how much they’d missed laughing with him without some stupid fucking argument hanging out in the space between them.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Sage said.

Lux’s smile softened. “Me too.”

Their first planning workshop attracted fifty-three people, six dogs, and a pair of bearded goats that munched on grass and, apparently, didn’t belong to anybody. By the second hour, Sage was beginning to understand why ancient civilizations had occasionally experimented with authoritarianism.

“No way, we are not putting the kitchen next to the bathrooms!” Sage insisted

“Why not? The plumbing’s already right there. It’s the easiest solution.”

“Because that’s fucking disgusting, Salvador!” Mika said.

“It’s a wall. Walls exist for a reason.”

Riley was on the other side of the room arguing with a group of musicians about the acoustics. Lux had taken over a couple tables and was busy covering them with various environmental-impact reports. Someone wanted a rooftop garden, and so of course, someone else wanted an indoor garden. There was a person from Searchlight who even thought the entire nightclub should be outdoors. Sage leaned against a pillar and rubbed their temples. They could smell the mugs of mint tea Terry carried before he appeared beside them.

“Having fun?” he asked.

“This is an absolute nightmare.”

“Democracy usually is my friend.”

“I miss when everyone just told me my idea was fucking stupid.”

Terry laughed and handed them a mug. “Come on. Folks want to talk about wheelchair access.”

Sage straightened. That was important, after all. “Right. Okay. Let’s do it”

They spent the next hour listening to ideas. A retired machinist explained how the loading platforms could be converted into accessible entrances. A local musician who used a wheelchair pointed out that accessibility meant a whole lot more than simply getting through the front door. They had some good suggestions about the height of the bar, as well as the setup for tables and seating. Performers would need to be able to reach the stage, equipment, and rehearsal spaces in the back of the building, too. One parent suggested a quieter gathering room, somewhere kids and sensory-sensitive folks could hang out if the music and crowds got overwhelming. An older person wearing an old-world-style baseball hat wanted a schedule that wouldn’t make the spot inaccessible to people who didn’t enjoy loud music. Salvador insisted they could easily create movable partitions so the performance space could be reconfigured for different events and needs. That’s when Nita arrived with a proposal for restoring the surrounding grounds using native desert plants. 

“Are you going to tell us we can’t build here either?” Sage asked.

“Not unless you insist on paving the entire property.”

“Well damn. There goes my lifelong dream of being the proud owner of a six-acre parking lot.”

Nita smiled and the discussion continued into the late afternoon. Eventually, Terry called everyone together to review the proposal that had emerged from their long meeting. What they had come up with was a club that would have a performance space and dance floor, a shared kitchen, storage for mutual-aid supplies, meeting and rehearsal rooms. The entire proposal was designed with accessibility in mind. Solar panels and battery storage would supply the bulk of its energy needs, with a series of small wind turbines acting as a supplemental source. Exterior lighting would be shielded. Large events would be required to create and implement transportation plans to reduce any potential disturbance to nearby residents and wildlife. The whole building would be managed through a community cooperative rather than by Sage or any other single person. There’d be a maintenance fund, rotating responsibilities, a public schedule—the works. And nobody would install the missile section until independent inspectors had a chance to certify it as safe for public use.

Sage studied the drawings spread across the table. Almost none of it looked like their original design. They’d wanted an isolated desert nightclub. That’s not what this was. This was a community center with a nightclub inside it. 

Strangely, that idea didn’t disappoint them.

Tomica raised her hand. “I know I’ve brought this up before. But what about the other projects we’ve already committed to?”

Terry nodded. “Essential infrastructure takes priority. We guarantee it, Tomica. Construction on the club will only happen when people and equipment are available.”

“And if that means it takes a year?” she asked.

“Well then it takes a year.”

Sage felt their heart speed up. They almost objected. A fucking year? But they caught themselves. “Yeah,” they said. “Then it takes a year.”

Riley leaned over the plans, holding her hands up to frame the stage. “Mojave,” she announced.

Everybody looked over at her.

“What?”

“The name. Club Mojave.”

Sage smiled. “Shit. That’s fucking perfect.”

This time, the proposal was easily approved along with a schedule of continuing inspections and community reviews. Not everyone supported every part of the plan. Several residents remained staunchly opposed to incorporating the missile itself. But there were enough willing hands to begin the project. And that’s all they needed.

Three months later, Sage had developed an intimate relationship with the inside of the depot’s ventilation system. That’s to say, they hated it. Every muscle in their body ached. Their clothes were stained with orange and red dust. Some kind of spider had bitten them beneath the left shoulder blade and it itched like all bloody hell. They’d spent the whole morning scraping ancient insulation from metal panels and now it felt like someone was hammering three-inch nails into the back of their skull.

“Please remind me why we’re doing this?” they shouted down to Lux.

“Cause you wanted a nightclub!”

“Oh yeah, right. Fucking idiot.”

“Those are your words, sib, not mine!” 

What the fuck? Sib? Was he serious? Was that all they were, friends?

Lux handed them a bottle of cold water. 

“Awe. And here I was hoping you’d find me irresistible all covered in dust and spider bites.”

Lux looked them up and down. “I seen worse.”

Sage snorted. “Wow. Be still my fucking heart.”

Lux laughed, seemingly oblivious, then leaned against the wall beside the two of them. “Ya know, when we finally get this place open, you owe me a dance.”

Sage turned toward him with a derisive chortle. “Since when do you dance?”

“Since I found someone worth dancin’ with.”

Sage rolled their eyes, but internally they were engaged in a series of cartwheels. It was hard for them to stay in the moment though when progress on construction came in such small increments. ‘Irritated’ didn’t even begin to describe Sage’s mood, not to mention confused and distracted. Still, the roof had been repaired, the old electrical systems were gutted and replaced, reclaimed timber lined the interior, Salvador’s artists had even begun painting murals along the southern wall. Outside, Nita’s restoration crew had planted native shrubs around the property. Riley had all but moved into the depot. They were always busy coordinating equipment deliveries and supervising the project’s structural work. Some days, Sage couldn’t believe how much they’d actually accomplished. Other days, they were absolutely certain that they’d never finish.

Then the storm came. Thunderclouds rolled across the basin during the middle of the night and a furious wall of rain transformed dry washes into raging flash floods. By the time the sun had creeped over the eastern horizon, a critical water-distribution line that served multiple communities had been severely damaged. One of the heavy-transport crawlers was needed to haul replacement pipe and repair equipment into the affected area. Of course, it was the same crawler that was scheduled to deliver the reclaimed missile section.

Sage stared down at the message on their wrist. “Fuck.”

Riley looked up from the construction plans. “What?”

“They’re taking our transport.”

She read the notice over Sage’s shoulder. “Oh.”

“That’s it? Just, oh? It doesn’t bother you?”

“What do you want me to say, Sage?”

“We’ve been waiting for six goddamn weeks!”

“Yeah, and a few hundred people are waiting for their water. Try to get a little bit of perspective.”

That made them feel like shit. Sage looked away. They’d already announced an opening date. Musicians were prepping. Salvaged furnishings were arriving any day now from three different communities. If the missile section couldn’t be installed on schedule, the entire project would be delayed yet again.

Terry arrived a few minutes later. He looked utterly exhausted. “We’re meeting over at the commons. Anyone who’s got experience repairing water infrastructure should come.”

Sage stared at the construction plans. They knew there were plenty of volunteers who could handle the water repairs. Plenty of others would show up. 

The thought embarrassed them almost as soon as it formed. They looked around the depot. Every beam, every repaired window, every single solitary inch of polished flooring represented work somebody had chosen to do. There were folks who could have spent their time on other projects, but who’d supported Sage’s ridiculous dream because they’d believed it was worth it. 

And now, another community needed help.

Sage opened the project’s comm channel. “Hey, everybody. Club Mojave’s opening is officially postponed.”

A chorus of frustrated responses filled the air.

“Yeah, yeah. I know. I’m pissed about it too. But you know what? There’s a water line busted out east and a community in trouble. They need hands. Anyone who can help with hauling, supplies, general labor, or anything else, meet me over at the commons in five.”

The work took four days. Sage spent just about all of the first forty-eight hours—minus short, sporadic naps—setting up temp shelters and passing out water from the emergency reserves. Repairs on the damaged pipeline were completed by crews who actually knew what they were doing. Lux helped coordinate equipment and supplies. Riley assisted with the interim pumping systems.

The second night, Lux found Sage. He sat down next to them and handed them a cup of tea. “You look absolutely fuckin’ miserable,” he said.

“I’m pretty sure every muscle in my body’s filing a formal complaint.”

“Need me to carry ya home?”

Sage gave him an awkward sideways glance. “You offering?”

“Maybe,” he said.

Sage couldn’t read his tone for the life of them. Was he just playing around and being flirty, or was he serious? They sat together watching the repair crews working beneath portable floodlights.

“You know,” Sage said, “just a few months ago, I probably woulda argued a lot more that we needed that crawler.”

“Yeah, you prolly woulda.”

“Damn, you didn’t have to agree so fucking fast.”

Lux chuckled and nudged Sage’s knee with his.

“I’m glad we did this,” Sage said.

“Me too.”

Sage rested their head against his shoulder. Lux didn’t move away.

By day three the sun had baked Sage’s shoulders raw. Both of their hands sported bubbling blisters. They were pretty sure they’d never been so tired in their life. They’d also never seen so many people working together toward something as important as this—lack of water in the desert is obviously nothing to joke about. So when the pumps finally resumed operation, a cheer erupted across the repair camp. Sage was sitting on a supply crate eating a bowl of lukewarm rice and beans with peppers.

Riley stumbled over and dropped down beside them. “Water’s flowin’ again.”

“Fuck yeah it is.”

“Crawlers should be available again next week.”

Sage nodded. They sat quietly for a moment.

“You know, there’s somethin’ satisfyin’ ’bout watchin’ a bunch of people fixin’ somethin’ that actually matters.”

Sage glanced at her. “Are you trying to say our club doesn’t matter?”

“No, dumbass. I’m sayin’ this is important too.”

Sage looked out across the camp. Someone began strumming a guitar and a concertina picked up the melody. Kids danced barefoot in the dusty shade of a temp shelter. Nobody needed a nightclub for that.

Sage smiled. “Yeah,” they said, “it is.”

The reclaimed section of the nuke finally arrived seventeen days later. It rolled in strapped to a reinforced transport frame, accompanied by Riley, Imani, and a crew of structural engineers. All kinds of folks gathered outside the depot to watch. From where it was, suspended above the transport cradle, the enormous curved section looked almost delicate. Remnants of military markings still streaked its weathered surface.

Sage stood next to Lux as the crew prepared to unload it. “Looks smaller than I remember,” they said as the corners of their lips turned downward.

“That’s cause the last time you saw it you were imagining a whole-ass nightclub inside of it.”

“I still say it coulda worked.”

“Sure.”

“Maybe with a second floor,” Sage said and they both laughed.

Installation took several more days. Finally, they mounted the certified section of the missile’s shell on a custom structural frame above the stage. Engineers inspected the connections and tested all the load-bearing supports. Sage, of course, fretted over every note they scribbled into their tablets. But in the end, they signed off on the completed assembly.

That’s when the artists went to work. A lot of residents wanted to cover the old military markings entirely. Others argued that if they erased them it would diminish the significance of the transformation. The final compromise left a portion of the original exterior exposed, surrounded by murals. An exhibition documenting the missile’s history, the Climate Wars, and the reclamation project was installed next to the stage.

One afternoon, Sage found Camila, who’d opposed the original nightclub proposal, standing beneath the structure. She studied the markings for a long time. 

Sage approached cautiously. “What do you think?”

Camila didn’t answer immediately. “Abuela would have hated este tontería.”

Sage swallowed. “Yeah, she probably would have.”

“Pero, ella would have loved la música.” Camila winked at Sage and they both chuckled. She looked around the space. “I’m still not so sure quiero bailar under it though.”

“You don’t have to dance under it. I promise.”

“I know, mije.” She patted Sage’s arm and looked toward the kitchen where other volunteers were busy cooking for the opening celebration. 

A large bearded guy covered in flour pointed at Camila with a rolling pin. “We could always use more help here girl.”

Sage watched her go.

The day before opening night, Sage stood alone in the middle of Club Mojave. Sunlight beat down through the solar-glazed windows, illuminating the newly polished floor and generating energy that was stored for later that night in a new micro sodium-ion battery. Tables made from recycled wood lined the walls beneath colorful handmade tapestries. Snapdragons and canyon beans climbed trellises around the quiet gathering spaces. Above the stage, the hollowed out missile glowed softly beneath newly installed lights that twinkled in shades of violet and green.

Sage thought back to their original drawing—a dance floor in the desert. A giant metal cylinder with music blaring loud enough to wake up the dead. They laughed. What a fucking ridiculous idea that had been. 

Behind them, footsteps echoed across the floor. Salvador and Mika appeared. Each of them carried boxes full of decorations.

“Hey!” Mika called. “You just gonna stand there looking pretty, or are you gonna help?”

Sage turned. “That depends on what’s in the boxes.”

“We got flowers, more lights, and about a thousand things nobody remembered to bring yesterday.”

Salvador set his box on a table and looked around. “Damn. Hard to believe this place was such a wreck just a few months ago.”

“Still is a wreck,” Sage said. “Just a prettier one.”

Mika climbed up onto the stage and raised both of their arms up above their head. “Friends, neighbors, and everyone who knows better!” Their voice echoed through the empty hall. “Welcome to Club fucking Mojave!”

Sage burst out laughing.

Salvador shook his head. “We’re gonna need a much better opening announcement than that.”

“Absolutely not,” Sage said. “That one’s absolutely perfect.”

Outside, a breeze stirred the newly planted desert shrubs. Somewhere beyond the club, people were working on last minute preparations for the next day’s festivities. Tomorrow, this place would be packed full of music and laughter. But right now, there were more lights to hang, the floors needed to be swept again, and a hundred tiny other things still waited to be done.

Mika jumped down from the stage in dramatic fashion, and flashed Sage an enormous grin. “Ready to party?”

Sage grabbed a box of decorations.

“Hell fucking yes.”

5

The sun dipped behind the distant purple mountains, casting the desert in shades of molten gold and crimson. From the entrance of Club Mojave, Sage watched public transports roll down the old access road. Bicycles crowded newly installed racks. People arrived carrying instruments, flowers, and enough excitement to make the air spark.

Somewhere inside, a speaker crackled. “Testing. Testing. One, two—” Riley said into a microphone and an ear-splitting screech ripped through the building, giving everyone half a heart attack. “FUCK!”

Sage winced. “Riley?”

“I’M WORKIN’ ON IT,” they yelled with rising intonation.

A few people outside laughed. Sage turned back toward the road and watched as more and more people arrived. Some from communities they’d never even visited. Children raced toward the building while their parents called after them to stay close. An elderly couple walked arm in arm. Sage recognized Tomica, and behind her was Camila. The fact that she came even though she was against the proposal meant the world to them.

She approached slowly, studying the building. “Buenas noches, Sage.”

“Hey! Glad you made it.”

“I figured I might as well see what all this fuss is about. Besides, if you think I’m missing out on that comida I helped make—”

“I would never!” Sage said. “Fair warning though. The sound system’s trying to murder people.”

Camila scoffed. “I survived the aftermath of the Climate Wars so I’m pretty sure I can handle un poco de música.”

Sage smiled and held open the door for her and a host of others surrounding them. Inside, Club Mojave glowed fantastic. They watched Camila study the shell of a nuke hanging above from the ceiling. Then she read the historical display next to the stage before making her way toward the quieter seating area. Sage knew she hadn’t changed her mind about the missile. They were thrilled she’d come anyway.

By the time DJ Desert Dawn stepped onto the stage, the club was packed. “COTTONWOOD COVE!”

The crowd roared.

“BULLHEAD!”

Another cheer.

“SEARCHLIGHT! GREMLIN! EVERYBODY WHO CAME ALL THE FUCKING WAY OUT HERE!”

The noise became deafening. Sage stood near the back, momentarily overwhelmed both sensorily and emotionally. They saw Salvador hanging decorations above the refreshment tables. Mika helped a group of kids find seats. Imani stood with Nita examining the finished installation with an expression that suggested they were conducting one final, unofficial inspection. Terry was laughing with a group of visiting organizers. Everywhere Sage looked people wore big, happy smiles.

A deep bass note vibrated through the floor. The place erupted in cheers. Then another bass note as music burst from the speakers. Brilliant swirls of light danced across the curved metal overhead. Crowds of people surged onto the dance floor. Some jumped and spun around. Others swayed back and forth with partners, rolled onto the floor in mobility chairs, or simply nodded along to the beat from their seats. A group of teenagers formed a ridiculous synchronized dance line that collapsed into guttural laughter.

Sage felt their throat tighten and their vision blur as they wiped tears from their eyes. 

“Not bad Sage, not bad at all.” Lux appeared beside them, holding two glasses of prickly pear cider.

Sage accepted one. “You said it was a terrible idea.”

“It was.” Lux surveyed the crowd. “But this one isn’t.”

Sage nudged him with their shoulder. “You getting all sentimental on me?”

Lux put a finger to their lips. “Shh. Don’t tell anybody.” He lowered his hand, but didn’t step away.

Sage looked into his brown eyes. They stood so close to each other that Sage could feel the warmth of his breath against their face. His lips parted into the most beautiful smile.

“What?” Sage whispered.

“You still owe me that dance.”

“You planning to collect, or what?”

Lux winked. “Eventually.”

Sage’s heart hammered against their ribcage. They glanced at his lips, then back into his sparkling eyes. Finally, she said, “Well, you gonna kiss me or what?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Lux kissed them. Electricity zapped through their body. Sage could’ve sworn they were floating until a sudden crash came from behind the stage, bringing the music to a harsh halt and startling Sage out of their perfect moment.

“GODDAMMIT!” Riley emerged carrying a loose cable and wearing an expression of murderous exhaustion. “Somebody plugged the fuckin’ decorative fountain into my backup audio circuit!”

“And that’s bad?” Sage asked as them and Lux laughed raspberries through pursed lips.

“Real funny y’all.” Riley stared at them. “I’m gonna pretend like you didn’t just ask me that.” She disappeared again back behind the stage. Only a moment later the lights flickered, then steadied. The music resumed to more cheers. Riley then reappeared, wiping sweat from her forehead. “That’s it. I swear to god y’all, I’m officially off duty. If anything else breaks…” 

Sage and Lux burst out into another fit of laughter.

“…someone else can deal with it. I’m fixin’ to get shit-faced drunk.”

Sage grabbed her hand. “Come dance!”

“I smell like hot wirin’ and old socks.”

“Perfect. You’ll fit right in.”

Lux followed as Sage dragged Riley toward the crowd. Salvador and Mika were there along with Terry, Tomica, Camila, Imani, Nita, and dozens of other folks from all over their community. Beneath the hollow remains of a weapon of mass destruction, a relic that had once existed for the singular purpose of threatening millions of lives, the three friends danced until their legs ached and their shirts clung to their sweat-drenched bodies. Sage threw back their head and laughed. For once, they weren’t checking whether everything had come together the way they imagined. They were just having a fucking fantastic time.

By the time the sun came up, entirely too early the next morning, Club Mojave looked like a tornado had ransacked a flower shop. Decor littered the floor. Empty mugs crowded tables. Someone had abandoned one of their boots under the stage. Riley slept in a cushioned chair with a half-eaten breakfast burrito resting precariously on her stomach. Sage and Lux moved between the tables gathering dishes and making ridiculously mushy faces at each other.

“Whose boot?” Lux asked.

“Not a fucking clue.”

“Think they’ll come back?”

“For the boot? I mean, hopefully.”

A transport stopped outside and Terry stumbled in carrying a crate of preserved vegetables. He was followed by several volunteers hauling clothing, medical supplies, and repair equipment.

“Good morning degenerates.”

Sage looked up. 

“Party’s over?” Terry glanced at the sleeping Riley. “Apparently.” They set down the crate. “Good cause we’ve got lotsa work to do.”

Within minutes, folding tables emerged from compartments in the walls. Equipment cases were stacked in the storage room. Salvador and Mika helped arrange supplies while visiting organizers prepared for the day’s mutual-aid gathering. The dance floor gradually transformed into a bustling community workspace.

Riley woke when someone moved her chair. “Who the fuck—” She jerked up and looked around, blinking. She reached for her burrito just before it fell. “Oh. Mornin’ everyone.”

Sage stepped outside where the sun was still climbing its way over the eastern mountains. They stretched their aching back. A roadrunner darted between patches of sagebrush, stopped beneath a young mesquite tree, and vanished around the corner of the building. 

Their wrist comm chimed. It was a message from Nita showing the restored missile site. Recent rains had left the seasonal wash damp, and tiny green shoots dotted the desert floor. Sage smiled. 

Behind them, someone shouted from inside. “Hey, Sage, we need another pair of hands over here!”

“Coming!” Sage turned and walked back into Club Mojave.