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Nathan Lee waited。 There had to be some mistake。The guards were gone。
He sniffed for the smoke of theirbidis。 He threw a pebble at the tower。 The monkey bared its teeth and turned its rump to him and vanished into the fog。 Now the guard tower stood pletely empty。
What could this mean？he wondered。 All winter； Kathmandu's power supply had been slowly dying。 For the last several weeks there had been no electricity at all。 The prison's loudspeakers no longer blared childlike Hindi songs。 At night the rusty lightbulbs didn't light。 The blackout spawned all kinds of theories。 Some claimed it was evidence of a change in government。 Others thought the rivers had run low。 The country bumpkins blamed a dearth of lightning bolts the preceding summer。
Nathan Lee took off his glasses and carefully wiped them。 He was thorough。 He rubbed his eyes and replaced the glasses； and it was the same。 The tower was empty。
There should have been two or three guards out there in the tower。 They had gotten used to Nathan Lee sitting in his window with the orange candle flame。 One fellow had made a morning ritual of aiming his rifle at the American cannibal。 Nathan Lee would press his palms together in greeting； a wordlessnamaste。 The guard would smile behind his iron sights。 Not this morning。 All were gone。
Nathan Lee swung his legs down and stood on the clay floor。 His limbs ached。 He slung hisjhola on one shoulder。 He didn't wake the lepers。 The fire could wait。 Barefoot； he stole down the wooden staircase。
The leper building had only one entrance。 He paused in the low doorway。 Going out without permission was forbidden。 But who would see him in this mist？
He took the chance and stepped from the building。 No one cried out。 He headed uphill； hopping wide across the ditch with grey water。 Two posts marked the volleyball court。 He limped across a million footprints pounded into the dirt。 The blue air smelled of ash and curry and urine。
A soft clapping noise came from behind。 He stopped。 It was only a prisoner in the distance； the slap…slap of his thongs fading out。 Nathan Lee went on； heading straight for the front gate。 Regular prisoners lived for the gate。 It was their eventual exit。 Through its bars； they visited their lawyers； business associates； and loved ones。 None of that applied to him； so he had avoided it。 Until now。
The mouth of a tunnel yawned just ahead。 Nathan Lee tried to remember what lay inside。 When they'd brought him here； he was almost catatonic with despair。 He remembered the clatter of chains being dropped and the heavy gate screeching on its hinges and an interval of darkness。 His heart was racing。 He entered。
The tunnel ran thirty feet； but seemed much longer。 It was pitch black inside； the arched walls greasy with human passage。 Nathan Lee reached the entrance。 The gate hung open。 Its iron straps were pitted with rust。 The chains lay at his feet like dead serpents。 He stopped。
Just ahead lay the world。 It was almost too much to believe。 The fog was thinning。 He could see buildings hanging in the distance。 Little shapes…people； dogs； cows？…roamed through the far mist。 There was not a guard in sight。
He hesitated。 Was this a trap？ A dream？ It seemed so close to one of his fairytales about a city that suddenly evaporated around a lone traveler。
Closing his eyes； Nathan Lee planted one bare foot outside the walls。 There was no gunfire； no alarm。 Mobs did not assemble。 Thunder did not crack the sky。 He let out a breath。 For months he had contemplated all sorts of harrowing escapes。 Now all he had to do was walk away？ The moment was surreal。 He began walking。
For the first few minutes； he didn't dare look over his shoulder； afraid a single glance might sweep him backwards into jail。 With every step he wanted to run through the streets； shout； throw his arms in the air。 He kept his arms close。 Thejhola with his book rapped against his hipbone。 He had no other possession in the world except the rags on his back。
A human figure surfaced to his left； giving him a start。 It was a goddess； her shrine built into the red brick wall。 Vermilion and ghee smeared her face and shoulders。 While he stood looking at the stone idol； a woman and her daughter approached。
Nathan Lee drew his elbows tighter to his ribs。 He was caught。 Surely they would cry out。 But the woman didn't waste a glance on him。 She was businesslike in her devotion； tossing a bit of rice； murmuring a prayer。 The little girl stared at him with huge black eyes。 Nathan Lee lowered his head and moved away。
His previous escapes had been nothing but wild； mindless gallops。 This time； he vowed； would be different。 He wanted to bolt from the city。 But for the moment； his best ruse would be to mingle with other Westerners in the tourist district。 Even there； Nathan Lee knew he would stick out。 In jail； he'd weighed himself by the hook scale used for sacks of rice。 He had shrunk to forty…six kilos。 At six feet two； he weighed less than Miss America。
In the fabled hippie days； world travelers used to show up looking much like he did now； thin as skeletons； draped with rags； unwashed； impure； hair long。 That was then。 Nowadays tourists came sporting North Face and Nike brands； with designer sunglasses and thousand…dollar video cameras。 Perhaps they would mistake him for asaddhu and give him some money。 That would be a start。 He could beg for clothes。 Shoes were a priority。 And socks。 And food。 And a backpack。 His thoughts tumbled。 Maybe some climbers would take him in。 Maybe he could even arrange a passport。 For the time being； the American embassy was out； however。 The police would surely be watching it for him soon。
The mist bled pink； then burned to white。 Nathan Lee felt like a vampire； desperate to get off the streets。 Clutching hisjhola； he reached the main road； Kanti Path； and it was strangely silent。 By now there should have been a stream of traffic with honking horns and the jingle of bicycle bells。 Instead； two farmers were trying to push a cart piled with grass between scores of taxis and autorickshaws and buses。。。all of them abandoned。 Some stood parked in the middle of the street； others had pulled onto the sidewalk。 Judging by the flat tires and missing seats； they had been sitting here for weeks or months。
Astonished； he spoke to the two farmers。 〃Why are the cars like this？〃 he asked in Nepali。
〃Bhote；〃one said to the other； indicating Nathan Lee。 With his bad accent and dumb question； they took him for a mountain yokel。
〃Do you think a car uses water？〃 the other said to Nathan Lee。
Fuel；he meant。There was no fuel。 Now Nathan Lee saw the strangle weeds growing everywhere from cracks in the asphalt。 He looked around； and the post office was in similar condition； its doors lolling open； creepers growing up the concrete。 Telephone cables hung down the sides； slit open for their wires。 Wood smoke came from broken windows。 Squatters had taken residence in there。 No fuel； no postal service； no police； no electricity； no phone。 The infrastructure had vanished。 〃What happened？〃 asked Nathan Lee。
〃Mahakala；〃one farmer responded。Mahakala was a wrathful deity。 He was black and ferocious； with a sword of flames to cut down the demons of ignorance。
〃The world is ing to an end；〃 said the other farmer。
〃Was there a war？〃 asked Nathan Lee。
〃No； I just told you。 It just is so。〃 The man shrugged。〃Ke garne？〃 What to do？
They returned to pushing their cart。 The morning fog opened wider。 Sunlight glinted on Swayambunath； the hilltop temple to the west。 People surfaced from their homes。 Freshly paintedtikas on their foreheads were bright and precise like bullseyes。 Men wore tiny devotional flower petals in their hair。 Shopkeepers opened their shutters and peasants laid their winter vegetables in neat rows for sale。 As if the odor of raw meat weren't enough； bright orange goat heads…rubbed with tumeric to keep away flies…advertised a butcher shop。 Chinese bicycles； deathless clunkers； clattered back and forth； bells jingling。
And no one paid the slightest attention to him！Penniless； weak； and bewildered； he began to relax。 Maybe this was a dream； after all。 Maybe he was still lying asleep on his straw mat。
Kathmandu had always been a vortex of centuries swirling upon themselves； the medieval and the modern。 Electric lines threaded among thirteen…tiered temples。 Ancient stone gods peered up from shafts in the asphalt。 What he saw this morning was mostly the medieval。 Video and fax shops； Indian boutiques； carpet andthangka stores： all were closed； their signs ripped away。 The air was rich with spices； smoke； dung； meat； wood shavings； incense。。。everything but the city's infamous smog。 The dinosaur blaring of taxi horns was extinguished。 Time had slowed down。 The world had slipped a cog。
Nathan Lee couldn't shake the feeling of fantasia。 His stomach rumbled。 Kathmandu was huge。 Its temples loomed。 What really threw him was the shift in human scale。 Nepalis had always seemed to him slight and undernourished。 But this morning everyone looked lush and muscular。 His norm had bee emaciated prisoners。
The plaza of Durbar Marg was packed so tightly with cars and buses that it looked like solid metal。 Vehicles had been pus