At the entrance, Jioni pushed the heavy vines that blocked the way. Frantic, she nearly got tangled in them. Once inside, there were just a couple of tapestries and rugs. They did not lay flat, curled up, and kicked over; none of the weapons showed; her van stood there dented and rusted more than before. Not even Hippie Girl was outside. Jioni’s stomach churned and in the eerie silence, she called out her name:
“Hippie Girl? Hippie Girl? Are you in the van?”
