Boiling Point

Boiling Point by Christopher Sly

Hero-Nation.com Copyright © 2005 by Christopher Sly

This eNovel is licensed under a Creative Commons License

You must give the original author credit. You may not use this work for commercial purposes. You may not alter, transform, or build upon this work. For any reuse or distribution, you must make clear to others the license terms of this work. No liability is assumed for damages resulting from the use of the information contain herein. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously.

"This country with its institutions belongs to the people who inhabit it. Whenever they should grow weary of the existing government, they can exercise their constitutional right of amending it, or their revolutionary right to dismember or overthrow it." Abraham Lincoln, First Inaugural

Prologue Nobody could prove Dr. Archibald Fox created The Virus. The Fox was America's premier scientist. Winner of the Nobel Prize for genetic research, he was on the staff of the University of Notre Dame Medical School where his ribald humor was a constant source of embarrassment to the Catholic administrators. He conducted his research in a private laboratory attached to a sprawling estate, paid for with the profits from over two hundred patents. Nobody knew what he was working on when he vanished, and there was no evidence to suggest the direction of his research. The Virus was like a medical magic wand, a sexually transmitted disease that made you well. It invaded the body and supercharged the human immune system like a form of Reverse-AIDS, and it left the infected person feeling obscenely healthy. The scientific community urged caution until the disease could be studied and understood, but the warning was often ignored, and in all honesty, it was much too late even then. It wasn't long before those who had contracted The Virus began to notice a disturbing side effect; they stopped having children. That, as it turned out, became something of a complication. Presented with an incurable sexual disease that caused infertility and robust health, there was no lack of confusion about how to deal with controlling the epidemic. The liberally minded began taking vigorous advantage of their new freedom from sexual roulette, and infertility wasn't always considered a disadvantage. As the tangled reaction intensified and The Virus spread, political turmoil churned Washington into a war zone. The birth rate began to drop and the medical community failed to come up with a cure. Slowly, the panic gained political momentum. It was Senator John Baylor who first gave direction to the battle. Twelve years into the epidemic he was able to forge a coalition from the turbulent and violent infighting among his fellow legislators. The problem was that the

human race was quickly fornicating itself into oblivion, and Senator Baylor's solution demonstrated a penetrating comprehension of the human psyche. His intent was to adapt, to transform a free society into one that might survive inevitable economic collapse. His method was a classic example of political manipulation. He went after the children... John Baylor went after those who were not old enough to vote, children who couldn't organize, children who couldn't politically resist. He concentrated the legislative efforts on preventing the incurable disease from spreading to the children who had yet to contract it. Naturally, the teenagers didn't share Senator Baylor's belief that they needed his protection. With the passage of the first of The Virus Laws, the children began to feel the walls closing in. Baylor had expected the teenagers to rebel, expected the gang violence and the fear that would follow, escalating the panic he would need to stop mankind from coming to a disastrously ironic demise. He didn't have time to wonder if, or why, Doctor Fox had created The Virus more than twelve years before. He didn't have time to wonder if The Virus was the only thing to emerge from The Fox's laboratory, or what, exactly, The Fox had been trying to accomplish. That, perhaps, was John Baylor's biggest mistake. After all, the children were such easy targets... Or were they? The Queen of Wands will light the blaze, The Knight of Cups will focus haze, The Queen of Pentacles will aim the sun, The Knight of Swords will see it done. The Fox's Notebook

Part I

The Queen of Wands will light the blaze, The Fox's Notebook

Chapter One The child had no face, only a mouth open to scream as he was torn in half by a brutal tug-of-war. Blood gushed from gaping holes where his arms were ripping loose from his shoulders. Boiling red waves poured down a body knotted with bursting muscles snapping under trembling skin. The two men battling for possession had no eyes or ears, their mouths sprayed bloody spit through sharpened grinning teeth. The flashlight went black and the paintbrush hung motionless in the midnight shadows. The stillness was filled with the murmur of breakers in the distance and crickets chirping somewhere in the warm summer night. Teresa crouched in the damp grass next to the wall of the church and waited. When the patrol car rounded the corner, headlights flashed through the chain link fence and across the playground. The car slowed and a searchlight probed the schoolyard. The light slid along the grass near the lunch tables, then across the elementary school windows and out into the parking lot. The searchlight cut off and the car sped up, following the road toward the beach. Detective Carlos Delvega stretched tired muscles and groaned in pain. He tightened his shoelaces and took a deep breath, then headed up the street at a slow jog. The Ventura neighborhood was quiet during the weekly ritual of sleeping off Friday night. Carlos picked up the pace down the empty street with his eyes taking in everything from long habit. Thirty minutes later he was sweating from every pore. He leaned into the corner and sprinted the last two hundred yards to Saint Michael's and the playground with a chin-up bar. By the time he eased into a fast walk he was

around the church. His eyes caught sight of the mural and he jerked to a stop. His first thought was that it couldn't possibly be real. Carlos walked to the painting and stopped ten feet away. There was a sickening clarity to the identities of the two men tearing the child in half. Senator Baylor and Congressman Ross would not be pleased. Carlos looked down at the signature signed with bold strokes and felt every muscle go rigid. Teresa Alverez. "Mongoose, you son of a bitch."

"It looks like they signed their name at the bottom, then changed their mind and painted over it. The punk almost made it easy." Kelly Numan pushed a cold cigar between clenched teeth and stared down at the mural on the side of the church. He was the Mayor of Ventura and by high noon both Baylor and Ross were going to be climbing his back wearing golf spikes. "The Pastor doesn't want to press charges, sir." Numan pulled his eyes from the mural and glared at Carlos. "Don't give me any crap about not having a case, Carlos. I want the kid who painted this." "What makes you so sure it was a kid, sir?" "Do you enjoy police work, Detective?" Numan waited but there was no response. "Let me put it this way. Neither Senator Baylor nor Congressman Ross will be amused. The photographers have already been here. Do you think there is a chance that something like this is not going to come to their attention?" It was the face of a sadist. It was the face of a man completely insane; a man who would squirm in pleasure as 7

he drove nails through a screaming child. It was the face of a drug addict far past caring, a man long past salvation. It was his face. Senator John Baylor first became aware of how tightly he was holding the photograph when pain crept up his arms to register behind his eyes. He loosened his grip and took a deep breath. "Extraordinary." "Senator, I don't think you understand..." "I understand perfectly. This mural is going to win me an election, Joseph. I want to see it on the front page of the Post." "Senator..." "Do it." Joseph wasn't pleased. "And Joseph..." Baylor's eyes went back to the photograph and stayed there. "Who was the artist?" The cat was just realizing he was in serious trouble. He stood furious on the kitchen table, his mouth and paws dripping bloody streaks over the cheap linoleum tabletop. How many mice had he killed? He had ripped them apart with needle sharp claws and crushed their soft bodies between his teeth until his fur was sticky with blood. It did no good. From under the cracks below the closed doors, mice squeezed into the kitchen and rushed the table. Out of holes chewed relentlessly through the baseboard and from ventilators high near the ceiling poured crazed mice. They covered the floor two feet thick, scrambling over each other and creating a seething ramp of hate straining toward the tabletop. There was no escape. Poised on a counter overlooking the kitchen was a rat. She was albino white and she stood frozen with glowing emerald eyes locked on the cat. The cat measured the distance between them... 8

Teresa heard her mother coming up the stairs and it was an angry sound. She set down the brush and stepped away from the painting. The door crashed open and her mother stood framed, almost filling the doorway from side to side. The muscles along her mother's jaw were twitching in spasms and her eyes were insane. "How dare you! How dare you disgrace me like a common criminal. You've done it this time, Teresa." Teresa kept silent and faced her mother. She had plenty of time to react when her mother took two angry steps and swung. She refused to budge. The slap hit so hard the crack echoed from her bedroom walls. Teresa's jaw felt like it had been hit with a hammer and there was blood in her mouth. She was trembling, shaking with fury that came boiling up and turned the room hazy red. She spit blood at her mother. "Carlos, are you on that mural case?" Carlos stopped the coffee cup halfway to his mouth. "There is no mural case." "You better go talk to this lady anyway. Mrs. Alverez, do you know her?" Carlos leaned back and the chair creaked ominously. "I've met her." "I have a message for you. She wants somebody over there and she wants them over there now." "She spit on me! That's what I get for bringing her into my home." "Calm down, Mrs. Alverez." "Calm down? You don't have children." Mrs. Alverez was not in a reasonable state of mind. Carlos followed her up the stairs and waited while she unlocked the bedroom door. Teresa Alverez was ready. She was nearly thirteen and she stood in the center of the room wearing a daypack and staring with fierce black eyes. Her 9

hair was the color of coal and her features were delicate, almost perfect. Carlos turned to Mrs. Alverez. "What happened to her?" He took a quick step and Mrs. Alverez was suddenly backing up. Carlos turned back to Teresa. Her jaw was swelling. It might even be broken and there was nothing he could do about it. "There are still laws against child abuse, Mrs. Alverez." The woman glared at him. Carlos glanced around the room and his gaze stopped on a painting propped on a homemade easel. It was a long time before he could pull his eyes away. "Teresa, are you all right? Does it hurt much?" The girl said nothing. "Why don't you go downstairs and wait in my car. It's parked right out front." She walked past her mother without a glance. Teresa opened the car door and climbed into the back seat. Her jaw had hurt terribly at first, but the pain had eased into a dull throb that was always at the edge of her consciousness. She would never see that woman again and she wasn't sorry. Her real mother wouldn't have acted that way. But Teresa couldn't remember her real mother. If she tried hard, she could call up the vague memory of a man she thought must be her father. Even that was uncertain. The policeman had been much nicer than she had expected. He had been mad at her mother. At least she still had her paints. She reached out and placed her hand on the pack and closed her eyes. When the front door of the house opened, she turned to watch the policeman walk toward the car. He was carrying her paintings. She tried to smile but it hurt and her mouth relaxed. He crossed to the door she was sitting beside and opened it. "Why don't you sit up front, Teresa?" 10

She nodded and climbed out, then watched him carefully stack the paintings on the floor of the back seat. She had told herself that jail couldn't be any worse than the way she lived. She was never allowed to play, never allowed outside by herself except to go straight to school and back. She wasn't the only one. The policeman climbed in and looked over at her, his face uncertain. "Don't worry." Teresa knew better. Carlos kept his voice lowered so Teresa wouldn't hear him in the examination room. Dr. Lewis was watching him and waiting. "You saw her jaw. Do you think it's broken?" There's a chance, Carlos. We won't know for sure until I see the x-rays. Do you want to tell me what happened?" "Another parent disciplining a deviant child." "Have you made an arrest?" "I don't think that's a good idea right now, Doc. Will you do me another favor?" Carlos came awake sitting up. A quick glance at the clock read 6:00 AM. He reached for the phone to shut it up. "Carlos." "Why aren't you out working, Detective?" The Mayor. What had he done to deserve this? "What do you want?" It came out harsher than he intended, but not as harsh as he felt. The Mayor was silent for several seconds and Carlos grinned. "Who was the artist?" "The artist is not wanted by the police." "The name, Carlos. Or kiss your ass goodbye..."

11

"Her jaw is fine, Carlos. She looks much better this morning." Dr. William Lewis noted the haggard expression on his friend's face. This one was getting to him, but other cases had bothered Carlos in the past. For some reason, this one was different, and William had to know why. He had decided to make it a complete physical. He had run the lab tests himself after taking the little girl to his home and seeing her tucked into bed. He had examined her jaw and run the x-rays but there was nothing to indicate fracture. Just as he was finishing, he had turned around and it had taken him by surprise. The damn thing was healing so quickly he could almost see it happening. "Thanks, Doc." "What's this all about, Carlos? I need to know this girl's history and she won't answer a single question. Who are her parents?" Carlos barely flinched. He looked at William cautiously and then shrugged. "The father died three years ago. The mother is Catherine Alverez. Do you know her?" "No, but I would like to examine her. Teresa may be the most unusual case I've had in forty years of medicine." "Why?" "She heals incredibly fast, Carlos. You might even say impossibly fast." "Go on." William hesitated and glanced back at the house where the girl was eating breakfast. When he turned back to Carlos his friend's face was watchful. "She's healthy. She's so healthy it's scary. It's not due to The Virus, Carlos. Her eyes are different and her vision is phenomenal. There are other differences." Carlos had his eyes on the house; his face was a perfect mask. "Don't contact Mrs. Alverez. Yesterday she told me that she had taken Teresa in out of the goodness of her 12

heart." Teresa looked up between two bites of cereal and smiled. The swelling was gone and her jaw didn't hurt at all. The policeman grinned back, then stopped in amazement. He walked up to her and took a close look at her face and then turned to the doctor. The doctor just stared right back at the policeman and didn't say a word. "Well, you sure look better." She grinned and went back to eating. She didn't know what to expect but she felt wonderful, like everything was incredibly alive. She wanted to run and dance. The policeman hadn't taken her to jail after all and she didn't believe he was going to. He was a nice man, she could tell. She could always tell. Even the doctor was nice, although he had prodded and pushed and looked over every inch of her skin. She had been embarrassed at first but he was a nice man and he was trying to help. He must have been checking to see if she had The Virus, but she knew she didn't. She didn't want The Virus, she wanted children someday. The doctor had told her she was in perfect health and she knew he was telling the truth because she felt good, and besides, she would have known if he were lying. She finished eating and took the bowl over to the sink and washed it out. It was so different than being with her mother. She had never spent the night over at a friend's house, never even been to a friend's house. This was like on TV. She turned from the sink and they were watching her. Something was wrong. "Don't worry." The policeman smiled at her and she relaxed. "Are you ready to go?" "Teresa, do you remember your real parents?" Carlos had to get her talking. She was looking at him and waiting. He returned his eyes to the road. 13

What was he going to do? He had agreed to keep an eye on the little girl twelve years before to pay off a blood debt. What had Mongoose gotten him into? Carlos started to turn the corner to his street, then saw the squad car and jerked the steering wheel straight. Now the problem was more immediate. If Mrs. Alverez had called the station to check on her daughter, Carlos could be brought up on charges of kidnapping. "Teresa, do you know how I make a living? I find people. I'm pretty good at it. Maybe your real parents are still alive. Would you like me to look for them?" "Yes!" He turned to her and smiled. "What do you remember? How old were you when you were adopted? "I was one year old." Carlos tried to keep the frown from reaching his face. That put the adoption at just after he had accepted his position on the Ventura Police Force, fresh from ten years in military intelligence. Had Mongoose made him promise to keep an eye on the girl because Carlos happened to be in the same neighborhood? Or was she here because Carlos was here? He had to ask, even though he knew the answer. "Do you remember anything?" "I don't remember much. There was a man. He was a nice man and he made me laugh. I don't remember my mother at all, and I'm not sure the man I remember was my father." Mongoose, you son of a bitch. There were other possibilities. "I remember the others!" He turned and watched her. She was excited, big black eyes shining with hope. "What others?" "Hello, my name is Emily Carmichael. I'd like to speak to the detective in charge of locating the mural artist." 14

The police officer stared back. "He's not here." "Could you tell me when he will return, please?" "I don't think he's coming back, lady. He took off yesterday, and if I know Carlos, they're not going to catch him." Emily composed her face and kept her voice level. "Did he do something wrong?" "They want us to call it kidnapping, but that's not the way it is. Carlos Delvega is no kidnapper. If he'd brought the little girl in, neither Baylor or Ross would have rested until they had the poor kid boiled alive." Four questions later Emily turned from the policeman and was out the door and standing on the sidewalk watching the cars pass on the street before she realized she had moved. She was shaking so badly she had trouble keeping her knees from collapsing. After twelve years of tracing every possible clue… Teresa Alverez. What spell had the child cast on a police detective that made him take her and run? They would probably be found quickly, and when they were, Emily was going to be there. If possible, she was going to find them first. Emily was certain it was her. Where were the others?

15

The Knight of Cups will focus haze. The Fox's Notebook

Chapter Two "Find the bastard!" Antonio didn't bother to explain it was useless. Whoever was tipping off the Coast Guard had information that marked him as an insider. Things were coming apart very quickly as suspicion spread and the Cartel came unraveled. They were striking at themselves while surrounded by enemies closing in. And they weren't the only ones under attack. It was long past time to abandon Florida as a drug entrance point and seek safer avenues into the United States. "He has us chasing our tails while the sharks circle, picking us off one by one. I think you should consider holding up on all shipments into Florida until we find a more hospitable environment." "That's not the kind of advice I pay you for." "It is exactly the kind of advice you pay me for. Zorro has beaten us here and now. This isn't a holy war, it's a business. He has proven himself capable of uncovering any plans we make, no matter what caution we use. Concede this round and pull back like the others who have remained out of the American prisons. Then continue the search for the American vigilante until he is chased from cover." Antonio waited silently while the reaction settled in. The fist slammed down on the desk, scattering papers that floated to the rust colored shag carpet. "I will stake him to the ground and watch him eaten alive." Maybe, but Antonio wasn't willing to bet on it. The American was a very dangerous enemy, and obviously, he loved the game he was playing. Each move was a brilliant thrust straight for the throat. Zorro was strangling the drug 16

pipeline flowing into Florida more thoroughly than if the authorities had quadrupled their manpower. Antonio didn't intend to spend the rest of his life in a cell. He had received his warning, a letter postmarked from Miami bearing two words. "You're next." He wasn't what Jennifer had expected. She didn't frequent the bars along the Ft. Lauderdale strip and it was a safe bet he didn't either. It was a humid June afternoon on the Florida coast, but Jennifer was a native and she stood comfortably in a yellow summer dress at the patio bar, watching the man sitting alone at a table near the rail. He was in his late sixties, wearing blue jeans and a sweatshirt with the arms torn off. His bare feet were propped up on the patio table, and the chair was balanced backward on two legs rocking with the music drifting out of the bar. His eyes were behind sunglasses and he was wearing a blue baseball cap with the bill pulled low, shading his face. In his right hand was a bottle of Mexican beer and he tilted it casually, wiggling his toes as he drank. He lowered the bottle next to a book facedown on the table and watched the bikinis drift by on the sidewalk along the baking street. He didn't look like a cop. What did he want? She would never know unless she asked. Jennifer pushed herself away from the bar and wove through the empty tables. She stopped beside the chair just as it rocked down on four legs. The man stood and smiled, then offered her an empty seat. She sat down and leaned back, watching him examine her. "Thank you for coming, Miss Barton." "And your name?" "I'd rather not discuss that." He bore her scrutiny silently. "And what was it you wanted?" He sat back in the chair and took a swallow from the bottle. 17

"I have a proposition for you, Miss Barton. I happen to know you were fired from your last teaching position because you have The Virus. They have made it impossible for you to pursue a career in elementary education, and it's my understanding that you took your work very seriously. I can give it back to you." She sat forward too quickly, then took a deep breath and settled backward into the chair. She thought while he waited. "In return for?" "An act of prostitution, Miss Barton. There is a man who is deathly ill, and unless he contracts The Virus, he will not survive. I was a friend of his wife's before she died and I happen to know he will never seek medical attention. I want you to seduce him, to pass him the disease that makes you well." He wanted a whore! But there were a thousand whores within a mile of that particular bar. "Why me?" "Because I chose you. Because I think you'll do it, and because I think you'll be very glad you did. But most of all, because you are a teacher. Would you like a new life, Jennifer?" Was it so bad, after all? But there had to be more to it. The man reeked of hidden motives behind dark glasses. "If it were going to be easy, he'd have gone and caught The Virus for himself." He smiled at her, and it was a very winning smile. "For you, I would guess it will always be easy. In this case, it might be best to be subtle. I would rather he suspected nothing about our arrangement and I think I've come up with a way that can be accomplished. Dale Cooper lives deep in the Everglades with his twelve-year-old son. The boy is supposed to be in the seventh grade class you'll be taking over in the nearest town. The problem is, the boy never shows up for school. One of the few times he has, he 18

drove three teachers out of town inside of a week. He is a troublemaker, but he is my friend's son." The man smiled when he said it and it made her more curious. Obviously, she was supposed to get to Dale Cooper through his son. She was immediately more interested in her future student then his father. She couldn't see the man's eyes hidden behind the sunglasses, but she had the impression they were grinning. There was something about the boy... "What's the boy's name?" "His name is Kyle. Kyle Cooper..." The gator lashed his tail and tried to spin but he was no way quick enough. His jaws snapped closed on air and he nearly flipped on his back before he came thudding down throwing dust. The Gator Dog danced backward, then circled slowly to the left while the gator wobbled to follow, red eyes burning hatred and teeth gnashing. The gator charged and almost caught Kyle by surprise. With a quick move of his thumb, the remote control hovercraft shot out of reach and Kyle laughed in glee. The gator was getting mad now, rocking from side to side on his short stubby legs, his jaws opening wide to show rows of deadly teeth just itching to sink into the pesky thing herding him back into the swamp. The Gator Dog swung out of reach of the tail and started swooping from side to side, throwing dirt every which way with a high-pitched scream. The gator took one quick look back, then scrambled for the imagined safety of the swamp. Kyle jumped in a circle and whooped. "That'll teach you!" He pushed the control lever and the hovercraft screamed in a circle, then shot up the dirt road and dodged under a root and came screaming back. It pulled up at Kyle's feet and the engine shut down, dropping it into the dirt. Kyle grinned in the sudden silence, then turned toward the house surrounded by the Everglades. Kyle's smile faded. His dad was sitting on the porch swing, feet propped up on the 19

weathered railing. His eyes were closed and he looked like he was asleep but Kyle knew better. He waited while his dad took a couple of deep breaths and tried to hide the pain. Then the coughing started. It was the scariest sound Kyle had ever heard. He waited while his dad cleared his lungs and spit blood over the side of the porch. Before his dad straightened, Kyle had turned away, staring out over the swamp. "Had a visitor today while you were out fishing." "A visitor?" "Kyle boy, there's something we need to talk about. This habit of yours concerning missing school." "Come on, Dad! You know I don't need their stupid school. I could show them a thing or two." "You're going to get your chance, boy. Tomorrow you're going to school. I gave that new teacher my oath you'd be there, so don't you make me out to be a liar." "But Dad!" His dad went into another coughing spell and Kyle watched silently. Jennifer was going to do it. One look at Dale Cooper had convinced her of the man's illness. It was criminal to deprive the advantages of The Virus to those who needed it most, and Jennifer didn't feel a bit guilty about breaking that particular law. There was a very tense situation developing as John Baylor began his early moves toward the Presidency. He was the first to give focus to the danger of an incurable sexual disease that caused infertility. As the birth rate continued to plummet, his claims of imminent disaster gathered stronger support in the legislature. One result of the new laws was to cost Jennifer a career teaching children at a time when they needed teachers desperately. So here she was in Copeland, Florida, a little Everglades town very different from the city she had lived in 20

most of her 35 years. And here she was waiting to meet Kyle Cooper. Jennifer turned from where she stood at the schoolroom window and glanced at the clock over the door. Kyle had two minutes until he was late and she really didn't think he was going to make it. The students were watching her, not even trying to hide their smiles. Jennifer took her place at the front of the room and raised her hand to stop the whispering. Just when she was about to begin, a grinning boy pushed through the door. He stopped and surveyed the room as though he owned it. His wild red hair was shaggy and uncombed; his clothes torn and tattered; his feet bare. There was a great big wad of something in his left cheek and her eyes went wide when it looked as though he was about to spit tobacco juice out onto the classroom floor. "Don't you dare!” He grinned and swallowed, then belched nearly loud enough to rattle the windows. She was kind of pretty and Kyle got a touch of the guilts when her face turned red. But he had a reputation to uphold and he didn't want her getting used to having him around. Best thing would be to get kicked out right away and get on down the road. She recovered damn fast and she didn't look near as mad as he'd have preferred. The fact was, the way she was staring wasn't too comfortable. "What's the matter? Do I have snot on my face?" He wiped the back of his hand across his nose and checked it out. Everyone else thought it was funny, but she didn't even crack a smile. "If the show is over, Kyle, then go back outside, spit out the tobacco, and get right back in here and take your seat." "It's not tobacco, it's bubble gum." 21

Kyle proved it by blowing a bubble as big as his head that exploded at her. "I said spit it out." He admired the way she took right up and began scribbling fractions on the blackboard. It took considerable courage to turn her back just then, but Kyle was just warming up. By the time she turned around he was seated in the first row staring back. "Can you solve fractions, Kyle?" There was a strange light in the boy's blue eyes, like nothing Jennifer had ever seen before. It was spooky at first. He was a good-looking kid underneath what was obviously a disguise aimed at making her angry. He took his time answering and the expression on his face was probably the first honest one since he walked through the door. "Can you solve partial differentials? You're not going to make me sit through this, are you? I have something important to do. Something real important." The other kids were giggling. Why had he even come in? "Kyle, will you come with me, please?" Was she actually going to let him go? He followed her out the door and away from the classroom. She turned and faced him. "What's wrong, Kyle? Is it your father?" Kyle hesitated. She was smart and she looked it. Maybe too smart. "Yes, Ma'am. He's awful sick." "Why won't he go to a doctor?" "I don't know for sure, but he gets real mad whenever I try to convince him. I think it has something to do with the way Mom died." She was staring off over his head and thinking about something. When she swung her eyes back to him they were too intelligent for comfort. 22

"What are you planning on doing, Kyle?" He didn't answer, but he could see he didn't need to. "I want you to go home. Straight home. I'll drive out after school and give you your lessons. Don't go anywhere else, Kyle. Promise me." "He's dying!" "Trust me, Kyle. Go home. I'll see you after school, all right?" He was wasting a day and every day mattered. He wavered, watching her face, then reluctantly nodded agreement. "Good boy. Did you walk to school?" "Heck no." "Be careful. I'll see you this afternoon." Kyle turned in a hurry and headed for the scooter before she changed her mind. "Kyle?" He stopped with a silent curse. "Yes Ma'am?" "Can you solve partial differentials?" Dale Cooper sighed when he heard the scooter coming. He couldn't be mad at the boy because the rascal was right. Kyle needed school about as much as a gator needed eating lessons. Nobody had to force Kyle to learn. He spent hours every day staring at that computer of his that he had rigged up somehow. Dale had no idea how the darn thing worked and he had been amused when Kyle started constructing a radar dish out behind the house. Two days later they had a telephone and Kyle was talking to people all over the world using his new toy. No bills ever showed up and evidently nobody was the wiser. Kyle pulled up in the front yard and climbed off. "Didn't take long this time, boy." Kyle grinned and walked to the porch. 23

"You won't believe what happened, dad. That nice lady agreed I didn't need a classroom. She's coming by this afternoon after school and giving me homework." Dale leaned back and smiled. "I wouldn't blame you son, not one bit." They grinned together and Dale stood. "So where are you off to?" "I think I'll play with my computer." Jennifer Barton transferred from a Fort Lauderdale school district. Kyle sat down and lit up the computer. Three minutes later his code cracker pinged and he was in. The first thing he found was that she hadn't been teaching for five months, which was a good sign. It had been five months before that one of the Virus Laws went into effect barring people infected with the disease from occupations that required close contact with children. Kyle could see hard times on the way. He continued to scan her file and he smiled as he read it. She was apparently one of the best they'd had, so naturally, they had given her the boot. He scrolled forward to the end where he intended to rewrite history. When he got there, his fingers froze. He leaned back and tugged on his lower lip. Somebody had gotten there first. It must have been one of the school administrators, covering for a former colleague. It took another half hour before he found the hospital where her medical records were kept. Jennifer Barton had a clean bill off health. He sat back again, studying the screen. There were only two possibilities. The first was that he was wrong, that she didn't have The Virus and the records hadn't been tampered with. The second was much more interesting. No school administrator could crack into the hospital security and the high probability was that if both documents were altered, the job was done by the same person. Had she done it herself? 24

Kyle went after her college transcripts at Miami University. Her grades were excellent but there was nothing to indicate she would have the skills necessary to break in and alter secured records. So it wasn't her. A friend? Or maybe a pro she hired to clear her past? He sat with his feet up on his computer desk, drumming the fingers of his left hand to the rock and roll music coming from his stereo. The more he thought about it, the more suspicious he became. If the Colombians had somehow tripped over who was walling off Florida, he wouldn't even have time to dodge. But it couldn't be the Colombians. For one thing, it was much too subtle for them. They didn't have either the need or the ability to insert Jennifer Barton into his school, teaching the class he was supposed to be in. Kyle sat up and got busy. Forty-five minutes later he knew Jennifer Barton's history inside out. She was no Colombian, and if she was working for them, she probably didn't know it. More likely it was the Feds, something he hadn't expected. They would certainly love to get their grubby little hands on him, the thanks he got for turning off the foreign drug tap. Kyle spent another hour cruising their records, checking the traps to see if any had turned up something dangerous. They were all clean. So it probably wasn't the Feds. That left the most ludicrous of explanations. It must be a new player, a total unknown of uncertain motive and strength. But how had the guy found him? Even worse, how long had he been watching Kyle and what did he know? Jennifer Barton had jumped at the chance to come back out to the house. She knew his dad was sick and she had implied she was going to do something about it. From what Kyle had learned about her, it seemed a good bet she had agreed to trade sex to clear her record. That made her part a small one. For now... He shut the computer down and stood. "Just remember, you came at me. And you damn well should have known better." 25

He grabbed his fishing pole on his way out the door. Jennifer closed the history book and smiled. "That's all for today." The classroom was empty ten seconds later. Jennifer packed her materials and headed for the small house she was renting on the outskirts of town. It was a scary thing she was contemplating. Dale Cooper was not a bad looking man. He was large man and had probably been very strong in his younger days, but whatever he had was eating him away. As she walked she tried to think up ways to approach him, but her mind kept drifting back to Kyle. He intrigued her enormously. She opened the door of her cottage and went straight to the bookshelves lining one wall of the cramped living room. She found the book the man had given her and pulled it from the shelf. It certainly wasn't a grade school textbook. What had she landed in the middle of? She retreated to the bedroom and found a dress that would make it nearly impossible for Dale to say no. Then she stripped and climbed into the shower. She was standing under the scalding water when she remembered Raston Imri, a mathematics professor at Miami U. He had made it clear on more then one occasion that it was their duty to watch for the exceptional minds. He was the head of Florida's Gifted Children Program and he had asked them to refer any exceptional children in their classes directly to him. How intelligent was Kyle? Dale Cooper turned the oven down to warm, then opened the oven door and checked the goose. Kyle was probably the best shot in the glades. They lived off the land mostly, except for the spare cash Kyle turned up with once in a while from one of the investment schemes he was so secretive about. Dale figured it was probably something illegal, but he didn't pry. Legal or illegal, Dale knew Kyle 26

wouldn't do anything outright dishonest, or at least, nothing he would get caught at. Why had Miss Barton turned Kyle loose? The fact was, the boy sounded sort of pleased. Dale wasn't so far gone that he didn't recognize a good thing when he saw it. He wasn't going to live forever, that got clearer every day. He wasn't sure what the boy was up to but he had every intention of giving Miss Barton the chance to get to know Kyle better. If anything happened to Dale, somebody was going to needed to watch out for Kyle. And her being a teacher, that just made it better. He heard the car coming and shut the oven. His hand started to reach for the beeper gizmo Kyle had cooked up but it relaxed before he triggered it. Dale walked out onto the porch and smiled when she got out of the car. Dale was standing on the weathered porch and looking at her very much like a man who hadn't lost the urge. Jennifer left the books in the trunk and strolled to the bottom of the steps. "Evening, Dale." "Evening, Miss Barton. I must say, you look a picture standing there like that. "Please, call me Jennifer." "I hope you're not in a hurry, Jennifer. Kyle is out on the flats fishing; he'll be along. Have you eaten yet?" He grinned at her and she smiled back, and then took a seat beside him on the porch swing. They sat in silence for several seconds while Jennifer looked around. Civilization felt about a million miles away. "Dale, can I ask you a question about Kyle?" "I reckoned you'd be curious once you met him. He's about the most curious kid alive. Hope he didn't make it too hard on you this morning, Jennifer. He's naturally allergic to classrooms." "I noticed that." Dale gave her a look that was hard to interpret. 27

"He's a good boy. I don't know how I would have carried on without him. Once you get past the smart-alecky, he's got a gentle soul. You believe that, Kyle wouldn't hurt a fly. Might scare him a bit." How long would Kyle be gone? Now that Jennifer was here, she was nervous. She turned to look at Dale and he stared right back. There was a fire blazing away behind those laughing eyes. "Did Kyle tell you why I'm here, Dale?" The man actually blushed, then turned away when he started to cough. It was a frightening sound the way his body racked to clear his lungs. He looked frantic, then swallowed. Jennifer reached up and put a hand on his forehead. His body went rigid. "Don't worry about me, Jennifer. I'll get along." "But I am worried. You live pretty far away from everything out here. If something happened to you, what would Kyle do?" "Same as everybody else, I reckon, only better." "You know what I mean. He's lost one parent, Dale, he can't afford to lose another." Dale closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His face was relaxed, but Jennifer had the impression that underneath the deceptive calm he was frightened. She reached down and took his hand. "I have The Virus, Dale. Does that bother you?" He was surprised. Understanding crossed his face in a flash of crimson. "I don't remember hearing that it ever killed anybody, Jennifer." "No, it doesn't kill them. It makes them well. It makes them feel wonderful and alive." Dale was looking from her face to her hand in total disbelief. "If you'll let me, Dale, I'd like to share it with you."

28

Kyle shoved a chunk of goose in his mouth before the grin broke out again. He'd never seen his dad so uncomfortable and fidgety and all fired pleased with himself all at once. Miss Barton had no problems at all. She looked like she belonged sitting there at the table, like she'd been sitting there her whole life and everything was just as normal as could be. When they were done Kyle sent them out on the porch and began clearing the table. He was whistling something or another and just feeling about as happy as he could ever remember. Everything had come out peachy and his face kept grinning until it hurt. About twenty minutes later his dad came in and leaned against the door jam. "She's heading back to town, boy. She said to send you out so she could give you your school books." He grinned at his dad and his dad tried to swallow a smile. Kyle dried his hands and headed out to Miss Barton's car. She stood with the trunk open and was bending over, reaching inside. "Miss Barton?" She stood straight and met his eyes. "I brought some books for you to read, Superboy. I'm not convinced you don't need to be sitting in a classroom with other children your age, but it seems unlikely I'd be able to make you." "I learn better by myself." "We'll see. Don't let me down, Kyle. You're going to have to prove yourself." "I'm not going to let you down, Miss Barton. You have a friend for life. You remember that." She smiled but he didn't think she quite got the point. He glanced down at the books in the trunk and his eyes blinked as his hand reached. It came up holding a book on artificial intelligence. He looked up at Miss Barton and her mouth was open in surprise. "You take this one back. You tell him I said only a fool would think anything was going to come from their 29

moronic theories. You tell him I said they should quit wasting their time chasing ghosts with a pitchfork." She was watching him in total astonishment. Then she smiled and chuckled. "And I thought it was so clever the way things worked out. I get my career back and your father gets The Virus. But that wasn't it at all, was it, Kyle? The whole time it was you, not your father. What's going on here, Kyle?" Kyle looked down at the book in his hand. "I don't know, Miss Barton. But somebody's after me, and it's giving me the willies. You just agreed to give my dad The Virus?" "That was it, Kyle. But he asked me if I would see to your education. He seemed genuinely concerned that it wasn't broad enough." Meaning Kyle wasn't wasting his time studying boring crap. Something very strange was going on. The guy's actions seemed to indicate he wanted Kyle prepared for some use. Somebody knew what he could do and the book on artificial intelligence was a hint to what the man was after. He wanted Kyle to create it, and it was obvious the guy wanted it for a private reason. But how tricky was the bastard? Did he really think Kyle was going to read the stupid book and suddenly decide to give it a shot? Unlikely. So it was a goad... "I don't suppose you got his name?" "No. He said he would contact me occasionally to see how I was getting along. What does he want with you, Kyle?" Kyle turned and heaved the book into the swamp, waiting until he heard the splash. He collected the rest of the books, an assortment of college textbooks stacked nearly two feet high, then looked at Miss Barton around the side of the stack. "He wants to use me to do something that nobody else can. The thing is, I can't either. If this guy calls, you tell him I said to back off." 30

Kyle turned to the house and smiled at his dad standing on the porch watching Miss Barton. Kyle stopped and swung back to her when he was ten feet away. She was still standing there, watching him with veiled eyes. "You remember what I said, Miss Barton, Kyle Cooper is your friend. If anybody bothers you, you let me know." Jennifer Barton didn't know it yet but she had just become a double agent. There was something fascinating in the way this situation had started to unravel and Kyle intended to keep pulling until he reached center. It didn't seem possible that someone was on to him because he had been extremely careful in covering his trail. Was it possible the man hadn't needed to trip over a loose end? Kyle was immediately positive. It was just possible that the man wasn't a bad guy at all, that he didn't have a clue as to what Kyle was up to and he was some mysterious apparition appearing out of Kyle's mysterious past. It was no trick for Kyle to figure out his biological parents weren't the average American couple, not considering the way he had turned out. He might be square in the middle of a major mess that could blow at any time. He wiggled his toes on the Persian carpet in his room and itemized his finances. Now that the last of the foreign competition had been trampled, it was time to expand his growth and distribution network. The Everglades were the perfect setting for his numerous small farms hidden deep in the swamp. Kyle was already a multimillionaire and his various international investments were all scrubbing and multiplying his net worth. But money was just money. It was an excellent tool but there were things it couldn't do, one of which was something Kyle couldn't stop himself from wanting so badly he drooled. How had the guy known Kyle's personal devil? Kyle lived to create. He couldn't explain how it took hold of him and burned through him when he came up with 31

an idea he had to see made real or die trying. By far the most seductive of the temptations was artificial intelligence. With it, he could do the most extraordinary things... He swore and jumped to his feet. He didn't care how long they kept trying to program thought into a machine, it just wasn't going to work the way Kyle would need it to. He needed real intelligence, not some stupid knee jerk response. Not artificial, but real. He pushed the frustration away again and glanced over the textbooks Miss Barton had brought, looking for something that would get his mind off the impossible. Not a math book in the bunch. His eyes fell on the biology book and his hand was reaching for it before he told it to move. Half an hour later, his head began to sweat. The pressure built slowly and he felt it coming on, getting warmer and warmer as his brain shifted into high. Shivers ran up and down his arms and legs, leaving goose bumps crawling over his flesh. The muscles along his jaw bunched and his eyes went misty, and then turned blind. Kyle closed his eyes and let it burn. The solution might take years to complete and it was too hopelessly complicated for his own computer to handle. That didn't bother him a bit. He was going to steal computer time; steal it right out from under their silly academic butts. There was a path. He didn't know exactly where yet, but he would. Nothing was going to get in Kyle Cooper's way. He was going to create life... Dr. Isaac Cass placed his hands on the heartbeat of the NSF supercomputer center at Miami University and closed his eyes. He had been the first of his West Point class to make General. He had been assigned to work with the Pentagon as an analyst, but the situation he had desired so much blew up in his face. They had been glad to have him in the beginning; his credentials were certainly adequate. They had read his dissertation and claimed to be impressed. Then they had 32

immediately put him to work and demanded he produce evidence that his dissertation was garbage. Isaac had refused. Everyone was so pleased with the peace that had broken out they hadn't wanted to hear predictions of disaster due to overpopulation that might be centuries away. They were fools hiding their heads in the sand from evidence all around them, too politically careful to propose programs that would only ignite bitter ethical and religious disagreement. Their decision was to wait and hope the problems went away. It had become obvious that there was no room for Isaac Cass and his crazy theories. He resigned his commission and returned to school at the University of Notre Dame to pursue another doctorate, this time in operations research. His goal was a working model of the world economy that could be used to locate the stress points and avoid upheavals before they occurred. The University had accepted him into the program and persuaded him to teach a graduate class in international economics. That was where he had met The Fox. Dr. Archibald Fox had received the Nobel Prize for genetic research before he turned forty. He was acknowledged as the greatest mind the century had produced. The Fox would sit for hours over a beer and listen attentively to anything Isaac cared to say. When Isaac slowed down, The Fox would prompt him with a scenario and Isaac would be off again. Isaac reached for his wallet and removed the photograph The Fox had mailed to him just after Isaac had accepted his position at Miami University. The picture showed four children about a year old playing on the grass. The little redhead had hair the exact shade as The Fox himself and Isaac grinned, thinking of the little Fox raising hell in the world. As always, his eyes stopped on the blonde child, the one sitting separate from the others and staring resolutely at the camera... 33

The Queen of Pentacles will aim the sun. The Fox's Notebook

Chapter Three She was a cute little girl with long blonde hair stretching halfway down her back and tied with a bright pink bow. Her dress was white and lacy and her shoes were shiny black leather with a thin strap across pink socks. She sat in the first row beside her mother... watching him. Her face was composed and expressionless, but her emerald green eyes were focused and clear. Senator Baylor tore his attention away from the little girl and looked out over the auditorium full of parents from the Pennsylvania town. "Are there any questions?" Baylor smiled at the sudden silence and noted the tentatively raised hands. He pointed. "The gentleman in the brown jacket." The man stood and faced the podium. "Senator Baylor, I want to thank you for agreeing to come here this evening, and I think I speak for all of us when I say I'm relieved that a man like you is doing something about the epidemic. I have a teenage boy at home, and I'm sure many of you can appreciate the difficulty of convincing him that girls are bad for his health. If boys and girls are kept separate, how are they ever going to find somebody with whom to form a family? It would seem that isolating them from each other would produce the same results as if they caught the sterility virus." Baylor let the murmurs die down and addressed his answer to the audience. "Your sons and daughters represent mankind's last hope for survival. I can't tell you how torn I am over what I must attempt to prevent, and what I know this will cost them. The problem is serious and I don't claim to have a perfect 34

solution. The truth is, we must prevent the spread of the epidemic. Keeping boys and girls apart yet ensuring they form happy unions is not a new problem in the history of our race. There is an equally old solution. Parents must help them. You must take the initiative in arranging controlled courtship and matrimony. It is a custom that has worked in many places over many centuries. It is a custom that is tried and proven; and that's what we need now more than anything else. We need something we know will work." Baylor noted the startled reactions across the auditorium. His eyes never stopped while he analyzed and evaluated. When the crowd quieted down he pointed to another raised hand. "The lady in the red dress." She smiled and stood. "Senator Baylor, I have a teenage daughter and sometimes I think she doesn't hear a word I say. I tell her not to do something and she ignores me or answers with some sarcastic remark. It frightens me. We're trying but we can't make her understand. How can we protect ourselves from prison over a situation out of our control?" Baylor watched the parents exchange glances. The law he had narrowly pressed through legislature naming parents responsible for their children's contraction of The Virus had been the first step. "Believe me, I understand your fears. We all know that children don't always listen to their parents. If they did, there would be no crisis. But someone must take responsibility or the spread of the epidemic will never be halted. I agree with you completely, it is unfair to prosecute parents who have done their best. But without prosecution, we cannot stop this disease. Our species will perish." They didn't like it. There was panic in some of their eyes. When they began to turn on him, he raised both his hands requesting silence. The noise died away until the auditorium was quiet and the tension peaked. "But there is a solution... 35

"Being a parent is an awesome responsibility, and possibly, the hardest task any adult will ever face. Despite our best efforts, despite our guidance and our love and our firm discipline, some children will refuse to act responsibly. We all know this. "But we can not give up. We cannot surrender to this menace; we cannot allow our children to destroy their lives and futures. Someone must take responsibility… "I am currently in the process of drafting new legislation. It involves a project of mine I have titled: Safe Schools. Working with the states, the national government will implement and oversee the creation of a new educational system designed precisely for the difficult child. Students will live on the premises under constant supervision in an environment closely styled after a boarding school approach. They will learn to earn their privileges with mature behavior and be counseled and educated by some of the best minds in teaching and the best minds in the field of child psychology. It will be an environment that is expressly designed to allow problem children to grow to a level of maturity and responsibility needed to contribute to the solution, not the problem. "With love and discipline, we will help them to abandon their destructive impulses; to find what is the best inside of them. All problem children will be eligible. As parents, it will be your decision to enroll your child, or accept the responsibility yourself. It is your right." There was a mixed reaction. The little girl in the front row never took her eyes from his face, never showed any emotion that he could see. He wanted a child's reaction, but apparently, she didn't have one. It didn't make sense and he was beginning to feel uncomfortable with her stare. There were more hands raised but Baylor was through. He grasped the podium between both hands. "Senator Baylor, may I ask a question?" It was the little girl, and a curious hush fell over the auditorium. She was standing twenty feet away with the 36

most properly polite expression on her face that he had ever seen. Baylor smiled down at her. "What is it you would like to know, miss?" "I've lived in this town my whole life and I think I know every single person here. I could go up and down every row and tell you each of their names and where they live. All except those two." She turned and pointed with both hands, then spun and stared at him with a strange light in her green eyes. "Do they work for you? Did you tell them what questions to ask?" Sandra Tucker sat on her back lawn sweating through the first day of July and staring longingly at the swimming pool. It was just another example of her mother's behavior that baffled Sandy completely. The swimming pool was there, clean and cool and inviting. She was never allowed to use it. Nobody ever used it. She had asked her mother once if she was adopted and her mother had lied. Sandy remembered. Sandy remembered everything. She even remembered the moment she started remembering. There was an old man sitting in front of her. He had sparkling blue eyes and wild red hair streaked with gray. There was the most curious smile on his face, like something was terribly funny but nobody got the joke. It was the first face, and it had a special place in her memory. "Do you know me?" It had been an odd thing for someone to say to a oneyear-old child. Sandy lived the moment over and over and came to the same conclusion every time. She should have known him. He had sent her with another man, a large black man, and they had come to a different big house. The black man had left with money and she had stayed behind with her new parents. Then her new parents had moved here. Someday she 37

was going to find the man who had stolen her memories of before. And then what? "You just wait and see. I'll find you, then you'll be sorry." "Sandra? Are you all right?" "Yes, mother. I was just... thinking." "Get up off the lawn. You are going to stain your dress." Sandy stood and brushed the back of her dress. Her mother crossed the yard and turned her by the shoulder. "Sandra, you must be more careful. A lady must be aware of her appearance at all times. I just hope it isn't totally ruined." Her mother continued to look at Sandy until Sandy put a proper expression on her face. Her mother hadn't known what to say after the events of the night before. It had been a calculated risk and Sandy knew there would be trouble. It was her father's fault, in a way. Though Sandy rarely saw him anymore he was always sending her books to read. He had told her all too often that the world was undergoing changes and she better understand them because she was going to have to live with the consequences. Why did she get the feeling that he expected her to do something about it? "Now come over here and sit down in a chair on the patio. There's something we need to talk about." Another lecture. Sandy crossed the lawn and took the seat, clasping her hands in her lap. "Sandra, you will be thirteen on the Fourth of July. You are a young lady and soon you will be attracting the attention of boys. There are things you must know." Sandy composed her face and waited. "Sandra, there are things a lady will not do. You must be strong. Someday you will be a wife and your husband has the right to know he is the only man of your life. Marriage is a Sacrament." 38

"What if I never get married, mother?" "Of course you'll get married! Really Sandra, I do worry about you sometimes. It is your duty to God to bear children... if you can." Her mother faltered and looked quickly aside. "If you scorn the laws of God you will be punished, Sandra. The disease is no accident. I know they have explained it to you in school, but you must remember, the infertility virus is God's way of punishing the wicked. Do not question God, Sandra. His wrath will fall upon you and destroy your life. I don't want to see that happen." There was a long pause. "Are you listening to me, Sandra Tucker?" "Yes, mother." Her mother looked back doubtfully. "Sandra, it is evil." "Isn't it fun?" Her mother's lips curled back in angry disgust. "Don't believe what you hear, Sandra. Most men are animals and they will say anything to weaken your resolve. Listen to me. Someday you will be married and your duty will be clear. Endure it as a lady." Jeffrey Lassen put down the Department of Motor Vehicle report and grinned. He had been standing near the door listening to the end of Senator Baylor's powwow and getting ready to be gone before the parking lot became a war zone. After Sandra Tucker's question, the meeting had quickly become a much more interesting event. The questioners had sat at nearly opposite sides of the room, but they had left in the same car. Had Sandra Tucker been telling the truth about knowing the name of everyone there? And where they lived? The Tucker's were a prominent family in town, but everybody? She could have asked any question. She could have asked about any of the laws or about The Virus or about 39

Baylor's intention to run for President, all of which Baylor would have answered in a way that made him sound like God. But she hadn't. She had asked the exact question that would prove most embarrassing for Baylor to answer. How had she known? Jeffrey turned on his word processor and began writing an article about Baylor getting caught with his pants down by a little girl in a white dress. After three false starts, he shut the machine off and stared at it. There had to be more to it. Sandra Tucker was a cute kid and she had made a fool out of a man who cut his teeth on hardball politics. Lots of people would want to know more about her. Lots of people. "Hey, Slash? You hear about that Tucker kid who made Baylor look like an asshole last night?" Slash took a jump shot from fifteen feet and watched it pass through the hoop in a clean swish. Clubber was sitting on his ass against a tree and sucking on a beer. "What the hell do you think you're doing? Down that shit and trash the can before some jerk gets the cops out here." "Fuck'em. They ain't going to catch the Clubber." "I said down it." Clubber looked annoyed, but downed the beer and started to toss the can. "Throw it in the trash, you moron. And stick it in a bag or something. What's your problem?" "What's my problem? What's your problem? Your mom on the rampage again?" Slash walked to the ball and started to pick it up. Instead, he kicked it. Sure, he'd heard about the little rich girl living up on the hill in the fancy house with all the fancy things. She could afford to talk. Nobody was going to throw her in juvie, not with the piles of money her folks had. 40

He'd heard more about the meeting up on the hill last night than about Sandra Tucker. He'd heard that they were going to turn schools into prisons and lock kids up for no reason except their folks were sick of looking at them. He'd be the first one in. "Where did you get that beer?" Clubber grinned and wiped his palms on the front of his jeans. "Pop has a whole case in the fridge. He told me half were mine if I waxed his pile of shit car." "What are we waiting for?" Clubber headed for the parking lot and his dad's car that he was always putting down, but drove every chance he got. Slash went after the basketball sitting against the chain link fence. He picked it up and glanced up the hill on the other side. There were too many trees in the way to see much of the houses; almost like they planted the forest there just to keep the poor kids from seeing how much the rich folks had and sneaking up to steal it. He was still standing there, staring up through the trees, when Clubber leaned on the horn. Slash turned and spit, wishing it had landed right in the middle of Baylor's smiling face. Jeffrey Lassen looked the Tucker's house over. It was enormous. George Tucker owned a textile mill, a steel company, a mining company and who knew what else. He was the town's wealthiest citizen. Jeffrey made his way to the door and pressed the bell. Seconds later the door swung open. The butler was an old man with a suspicious face. He stood and waited, looking Jeffrey up and down. "My name is Jeffrey Lassen. I'd like to speak to Mr. Tucker." "Mr. Tucker is a busy man, Mr. Lassen. Perhaps if you made an appointment at a more convenient time."

41

"I'm sorry about not calling first, but I don't have much time before the deadline and I thought I'd just try to catch him. You read the Herald?" The old man didn't even flinch. The door was shutting in Jeffrey's face when a woman spoke. "Steven? What is it?" "It is a reporter, Mrs. Tucker." The door swung back open and he was facing Mrs. Tucker. She was an attractive woman in her own way. Jeffrey smiled and she frowned. "My name is Jeffrey Lassen, Mrs. Tucker. That was quite a commotion your daughter caused last night. I'm writing a story on the incident and I thought I'd come over and ask a few questions, so I don't print anything that might embarrass you or your husband by mistake." Mrs. Tucker was startled. "A story? Whatever for?" "It's my job, Mrs. Tucker. I have to write something and I wanted to make sure I had all the facts. For example, how did your daughter know that those two people weren't from around here? She said she knew everyone else, but I find that difficult to believe. There were nearly five hundred people in that auditorium. And what made her suspicious that the questioners worked for Baylor? Just because she never saw them before? I have to ask, you understand. When I write the story I'm going to have to ask those questions. I think it would work out best, for all of us, if I also knew the answers. Did somebody put her up to it? People are going to wonder, and I'm sorry to say, the answer they'll come up with is that her parents told her to ask. I'm not saying that's true, Mrs. Tucker. I'm just saying that's what people are going to think. Unless there's another explanation?" She was turning pale and pressing a perfectly manicured hand to the base of her throat. "That's a totally outrageous lie!" "I'm sure it was all completely innocent. I'm sure that once your daughter explains this will all clear up and there 42

won't be any trouble. The explanation is probably so simple that it won't even be worth writing the story at all." Piece of cake. Mrs. Tucker practically fled up the stairs. Almost immediately, they were coming down. The little girl looked as confused as the mother. There was a blank expression in Sandra's eyes and her mouth was quivering slightly like she was trying not to cry. She stopped several paces away and her head swung nervously from Jeffrey to her mother and back. "Sandra, I want you to tell this man how you knew those two people were working for Senator Baylor." Mrs. Tucker was standing behind the girl or Jeffrey thought the little girl might turn and run. Was this the girl who had embarrassed one of the most powerful men in the country? "Do I have to, mother?" "Sandra..." The little girl turned back to him. "I... I just didn't know them, that's all. I thought maybe they were friends of his, so I asked. I didn't mean to make him angry." "Don't be scared, Sandra, nothing is going to happen to you. You aren't in any trouble. Just relax." She tried, but she couldn't. Was that all there was to it? "Sandra, you said you could name every person in the room and where they lived. Was that true? Do you know all those people?" "I... Well, I guess I don't know all of them. But I've seen them all, I think." "You think?" "I mean I know. Sure, I've seen all of them at sometime or another. They live here, don't they? What's so strange about me seeing all of them?" He watched her face and began to get suspicious. She was lying about something and the thought brought a surge of adrenaline. 43

"Nothing too strange, I guess." He smiled and she smiled tentatively in return. "Can I ask you something else? I was standing in the back of the auditorium but you were sitting in the front row beside your mother. Your back was to the rest of the people there, and even if you turned around, I don't think you would have been able to see everyone." She was scared again, this time much worse. He let the words sink in and waited until she was nearly terrified. "So even if you have seen all of them at one time or another, you couldn't really be sure who was there. That wasn't really how you knew those people worked for Senator Baylor. Somebody told you they did and they told you to ask that question at that time. Isn't that right?" She changed so quickly he almost stepped back. Her eyes were anything but dull and lifeless; they were blazing emerald daggers stabbing hatred at Jeffrey. "You leave me alone! You can't throw me in jail for asking a question!" "Who was it, Sandra?" "I don't have to tell! You're always picking on him! Always trying to catch him doing something so you can throw him in jail. All you adults just don't like him because we kids do. You'll see, he's going to get Baylor and make you all stop picking on us. He's going to cut Baylor's stupid laws into shreds!" "I don't know what you're talking about, mister. I haven't even met her." "Come on, Slash, how did you know? That was a pretty neat trick you pulled, getting Sandra Tucker to keelhaul Baylor with one simple question. I'm very impressed." Apparently Slash wasn't. He leaned against the door jam and smiled, then spit, missing Jeffrey's pant leg by two inches. This kid was another story, he wasn't going to get rattled the way Sandra Tucker had. Slash had a reputation 44

with the local authorities that went back several years. Despite their best efforts, they couldn't seem to catch him at anything. This wasn't going to be any different. "Come on, Slash, you're not in any trouble. As Miss Tucker pointed out, quiet vehemently I might add, there's no law against asking questions. I just want to know how you found out. I won't print any names, I promise." "Print this. Fuck off." The door slammed in Jeffrey's face. He turned back to his car and smiled. He hadn't really expected much, but it didn't matter. Sandra's words could be printed and people could decide for themselves. He would probably never know how Slash had found out about Baylor's deception. Slash had done him a favor. Jeffrey was going to do one in return. He was going to make him famous. "Sandra Tucker, you are never to see that horrible boy again." "I'm sorry, mother." Her mother was furious, wringing her hands and blinking back tears. "How could you do this to me? Talk will be all over town by tomorrow and everywhere I go people will be whispering behind my back and saying I'm not a proper mother." "No they won't, mother. They'll say I'm not a proper daughter." Her mother paused and her shoulders relaxed slightly, her eyes far away. Sandy knew that by morning her mother would have the performance down pat, the injured parent. It would work because Sandy hadn't done anything really scandalous. The blame was going to fall on Slash. "You get up to your room and you stay there. You hear me, young lady? You stay there." "Yes, mother"

45

Sandy turned and headed up the stairs. So far, everything was working out perfectly. "It doesn't surprise me one bit, you hoodlum! Big bad Slash is going to take on Senator Baylor. You just keep it up, young man, and you're going to spend your life behind bars. Senator Baylor is trying to help and he's not going to be stopped by a gnat named Slash." Slash turned away from his mother before he said something stupid. He bounced the basketball a couple of times, then grabbed it and almost threw it down the street. Why did all the adults hate him so much? He'd never done anything to them except tell them to leave him the fuck alone when they hassled him for no reason. Sometimes it seemed that every adult in town would like nothing better then to see him in prison, getting the crap beat out of him every time he opened his mouth. He dribbled down the street at a slow jog, getting his muscles loosened up. If they really wanted to screw him they should take away his basketball. Rounding the corner, he passed through the gate and headed for the elementary school court. When he cleared the school building and the court came into sight, he saw her. She was sitting on the grass against a tree in the same spot Clubber had been yesterday. She was wearing a white dress neatly folded over crossed legs, and she was watching him. It made him mad at first because he'd have rather been alone, but when he got closer, he became curious. She was just a kid, maybe thirteen, but she was fine looking and had the most incredible head of long blonde hair. Slash dribbled up the court not even pretending he wasn't looking. She stared straight back with a funny smile on her face. Suddenly he stopped and the ball bounced away. "You! I ought to kick your ass, you little bitch." She smiled and stood, walking toward him. When she was two steps away, she stopped. "Go ahead." 46

"Sure. Sure, that's exactly what you want. Then you can run home to mommy and tell her that Slash beat you up because you told on him. I'd be in jail before dark." "I'm not going to tell my mother. Last night she said to never come near you again, and I'm not supposed to be down here anyway." "Again! You lying little..." But she never stopped smiling. He started to take a step forward then realized what he was doing and instead took two steps back. "Get out of here. Somebody sees us talking and I'm in trouble. What the hell did I ever do to you?" "Nothing." She took another couple of steps forward, and this time she was in arms reach. "Can I talk to you, Slash? Will you listen?" He stared down into her green eyes and almost bit his tongue. "Go ahead." "Not here." Slash looked around quickly, and then nodded. Her smile spread. "Follow me." She turned and headed across the grass toward the fence twice as tall as she was. She reached the fence and two seconds later she had climbed it like a monkey and stood waiting on the other side. "Are you coming?" They must have walked for an hour up into the forest, scrambling over deadfalls and jumping a couple of creeks. He stayed behind her and let her lead because she seemed to know where she was going and he liked the way she moved. Who would have thought the little rich girl in a white dress could scramble like a cat? She jumped another creek that must have been ten feet across. "You some sort of gymnast?" 47

"Wade it." "Bullshit!" He backed up, took a running start, and almost made it. She turned and followed the creek up the hill through the trees while he tried to figure out what was with this chick. Ten minutes later they came to a small dam made by fallen trees and boulders. Behind it was a pool about thirty feet across and deep enough. She was standing beside a bolder and waiting for him. "What do you think, Slash?" "I think we're a hell of a long way from town." "Want to go swimming?" "Swimming?" "I haven't been swimming since last summer." "You? You live up the hill and your old man's the richest person in town. You telling me you don't have a swimming pool?" "I'm not allowed to use it." "Can't you swim?" "My mother say's it's not ladylike to wear a bathing suit. She won't even buy me one." "That's retarded. How are you going to go swimming without a suit?" She grinned and before he had time to blink, she just reached down and yanked that damn white dress up over her head and pulled it free. She was wearing underpants, but she wasn't wearing a bra even though she was close to needing one. Slash just stared open mouthed. She might be young but she was getting there fast and she looked fine with her hair spilling around her like yellow gold. She laid the dress carefully across a boulder, then bent over and pulled her shoes and socks off. "What do you think you're doing?" She turned to face him and grinned, then reached to her waist and just pushed her drawers down like he wasn't even there. "What are you waiting for?" 48

It took some effort, but he looked up at her smiling face. "What do you mean?" "Aren't you going to take your clothes off?" "Are you crazy? Do you know how much trouble we can both get in for this?" She didn't listen. She walked toward him until she was standing chest to chest. "Aren't you curious?" "I'm not sure curious is the right word. You better get dressed quick. This isn't funny any more." "Sure it is." She stuck her hands out and slid her palms up under his shirt. They were warm and soft and creating a terrible tension in his jeans. "Why are you doing this? Aren't you scared I might have The Virus or that you might get pregnant?" "I'm not scared of The Virus and I'm not old enough to have kids." Her hands slid down to his crotch and he jumped. "You sure as hell are old enough to have kids." Her hands were undoing the buttons on his fly and reaching inside. "Trust me." Sandy slid against him in the last of the summer sun. At least there was one question answered, she definitely wasn't frigid. "Slash? You aren't mad at me, are you?" He opened his eyes and she rubbed against him again. "Stop that. We better get out of here." Sandy stood and walked to her dress and slid it on. When she turned around, Slash was just pulling up his jeans. "I have to tell you why I did it. Every kid in school thinks you're the coolest because of the way you tell all the grownups off. Baylor doesn't care who caught him, just that 49

he got caught. But the kids will care. Because they think you did it, they're going to be more willing." He finished buttoning his jeans and looked up at her. "More willing for what?" "More willing to listen to you when the time is right." She could see he was curious. "What are you talking about?" "You're going to help me stop it." It didn't go over well. He was laughing at her and reaching for his shirt. "I can't stop Baylor. Maybe when you're older and you have all your old man's money, you could do something, but then it won't matter. I'm just a poor kid who's going to go to jail for running his mouth." "Maybe. But whether you like it or not the other kids look up to you, both the ones who live on the hill and the ones who live below. Now even more kids are going to look up to you and listen to you." He stopped in the middle of tying his sneakers. "That's why you laid it on me? So the other kids will listen? And what am I supposed to tell them?" "I'm not sure yet. But things are going to get worse. Kids are going to get angry. They're going to want to fight back. You're going to tell them how." "You trying to start a war?" "I'm trying to stop one." "You're crazy." He didn't understand. Sandy wasn't sure that even she understood. She was smart enough to know what he said was right. If she just behaved, someday she would be rich and she wouldn't have to worry about anything. But she was worried, and she wasn't sure why. When she closed her eyes she could see the future rushing in like a real thing, like it was getting smaller and smaller until there was nothing but a point left to squeeze through. She couldn't explain how things came together from every corner of her mind until they made a picture that felt 50

so real she thought she could touch it. It was only lately that she had tried to change the pictures, to push and prod and see what happened. Sandy had to find two things that were equally impossible. The first was a cure for the infertility, and she couldn't stop the machine in her head from evaluating the probability of success. The second might be even more impossible. Slash was just the beginning. She was going to need to find someone that could command the respect and trust of both sides, someone whose honor and courage were of mythical proportions, someone that would make Sir Galahad look like a wimpy sniveling cur. Sandy needed a hero...

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The Knight of Swords will see it done. The Fox's Notebook.

Chapter Four

Something bad was going to happen. Joshua Stone wasn't sure what was wrong but there was an itch coming on. Through the soles of his bare feet he felt the uneasy rhythm of the North Pacific as it pounded against the rock face of the cliff. There was salt and spray kicked up from the sea fifty feet below and the smells of the forest drifting at his back. To the north, sea gulls screamed as they fought over crabs during their morning feed. And to the south... There was death on the wind. There was a savage taste filling his head and a fierce tension in the muscles knotting at the base of his spine. Joshua closed his eyes and felt the dawn, then went perfectly still. The Dragon was awake. He scrambled back from the cliff and stopped beneath a giant redwood. His pa said that when the Dragon struck you could smell the stink just before his jaws closed. Joshua didn't believe in dragons much, but something sure stunk, and something always seemed to happen when it started stinking like that. Sweat popped out of his skin like spit, soaking his shirt and making it smell a thousand times worse. Socrates started barking and growling and throwing a fit. Soc jumped to his feet and stared at Joshua like he didn't even know him, then began spinning in circles and snapping at air. Everything was pumping and jumping, the Dragon getting louder and louder and nearer and nearer until Joshua could feel him there in the woods all around. Joshua spun just like Socrates, knowing that he had to get someplace but 52

not knowing where. It was worse this time, worse then it ever had been before. The Dragon roared... Rebecca Damon had risen early to watch the sunrise. She stood with bare feet in the wet sand and walked the wave line north toward the cliffs. The wind out of the south tossed shoulder-length blonde hair across a face full of apprehension. In a way, she missed the city already. Parked up beside the highway was a loaded pickup truck pulling a UHaul trailer. Somewhere in the dunes to the east, her 12year-old scientist-daughter had ambled off in search of specimens. Rebecca had worked incredibly hard to get where she was, then watched it vanish with an apologetic expression on a physician's face. Her home was in San Francisco. Her parents, her job, her past, everything was gone except a small trailer filled with luggage and a truck full of boxes of books she couldn't seem to leave behind. Rebecca needed time alone to think. She didn't know where she was headed; she found it difficult to care. All she had ever wanted to do was teach. She stopped and faced the western horizon and tried to fight the despair that was strangling her life. Sarah needed her now more than ever. The thought of her inquisitive child made her smile briefly, but the smile turned quickly back to pain. She forced it away and began to consider her options. Before the scream had ended she was running, pushing through deep sand out into the dunes. She was running blindly and terrified. "Sarahhh!" Sarah Damon stopped at the crest of each and every dune and examined her surroundings. Gone were the stinking crowded streets and wailing sirens and blaring car horns. Gone were the throngs of people and the choking air and the 53

tension that seemed to rumble up and down the city streets full of rushing people. Her mother hadn't told her why they had picked up and moved from the small apartment Sarah rarely left. Sarah wondered and kept silent. Her mother had changed. Sarah was intensely curious, but cautious. Leaving the city had been her dream since she was old enough to play out on the streets she had come to hate. Whatever was wrong couldn't be all bad, because she was here. She stood on top of the last dune before sand turned to forest and wondered if the incredible trees reaching up and up and up were still growing. She wondered if they would ever stop or just keep reaching higher and higher until the sun set them on fire. She wondered why the forest had chosen this place to begin and the sand to end. But mostly, she wondered where the thing was that had left the tracks she had been following. Her mother had told her to be careful, not to go too far. Sarah had decided that "too far" meant something different here than it had in the city. When she had come across tracks in the windswept sand, she had knelt down and examined them. They were no more then shapeless depressions, but they were large and spaced far enough apart for her to know the thing that had made them was big. Once she started following, she never considered stopping. The tracks led down the last dune and up the hill into the forest. Sarah smiled and started down the slope, sliding in deep sand with every step. When she reached the edge of the dunes she stopped and stared down at the first clear print. It was wider then both her hands and the toes ended in sharply pointed claws. Her eyes followed the tracks. Instead of heading up the hill like she had guessed, they curved inland along the edge of the sand. She stood on tiptoes and strained her eyes. Were they curving back into the dunes? She jumped, startled by the howl of some beast up the forest slope. With her eyes on the trees covering the hill, 54

she edged sideways toward where the ocean lay several hundred yards away. The howl came again, closer, much closer. In panic, she turned to run back into the dunes, but before she could take move, she went rigid with fear. Coming down the sand was the biggest bear that had ever lived. Sarah did the only thing she could think of. Screaming, she turned back to the forest and began to run. One glance over her shoulder told her it was too late. The bear was thirty yards behind her and he was coming a lot faster then she could ever flee. She gasped when the howl from the slope snapped her head around. A gray wolf was charging down out of the trees and there was death in every long powerful stride. Sarah had nowhere to go. It happened so quickly she didn't have time to close her eyes. The wolf crossed the distance between them in two bounds. Sarah screamed and fell backwards, clawing at sand. The wolf's muscles bunched and pushed, sending him flying over her head into the teeth of the bear. Scrambling to her feet, Sarah ran for the forest and the first of the large trees. Twenty yards up the slope she stopped beside a giant redwood, looking for a handhold. There was nothing she could grab, nowhere she could go. Her eyes turned to the furious battle waging in the sand. The wolf was hurt, there was blood all over and his side was badly torn open. He didn't seem to notice. He was snapping and... barking? It was a dog! The bear was huge. He swayed from side to side and roared at the dog poised in front of him looking for an opening. The dog's muscles were bunching, preparing to spring, when a boy lunged past her. "Back! Back off!" The dog growled low in his throat and began to ease backward. The dog and the boy stopped side by side and faced the enraged bear. The bear rose on two legs and roared, then began to shuffle forward. He was so incredibly big. The boy's dog was falling and still trying to stand and the boy was crouched like a coiled snake. Time seemed to freeze and 55

the picture burned into her mind, the dog dying on his feet while struggling to fight, the boy poised fearlessly as though he was about to attack and somehow looking even more dangerous than the huge bear. The bear stopped as if momentarily confused. His head swung back and forth with his nose in the air, then centered on the boy. The bear seemed suddenly uncertain, then dropped to all fours and lumbered east, away from the coast. Sarah's eyes followed unbelieving as the he moved up into the trees and disappeared. Her eyes returned to the boy. Tears burned down his face. Joshua knelt in the sand and carefully took Socrates' head into his lap, arms locked around his bloody neck. Socrates whimpered softly and looked up into his eyes. "Hang on, Soc. Come on boy, don't give up." Socrates became suddenly quiet, yellow eyes looking intently into his. "No you don't, damn you! Don't you give up! Come on, Soc!" Joshua's body was shaking and everything was turning gray. His eyes traced down Socrates' side to the wound and his jaw clenched in pain. Half of the stomach lay open and his bloody insides were sticking out and pouring his life into the sand. "Soc? Come on, please." Joshua was crying hard. His arms tightened around Socrates' neck and he lowered his face to press it against the gray fur sticky with blood. Socrates whimpered again and Joshua lifted his head to look into the dull yellow eyes. "Soc?" The dog shuddered in his arms. Joshua's insides hurt so badly his muscles convulsed. His arms tightened around his friend and he pressed his face against Socrates' neck, eyes clenched shut. 56

Rebecca collapsed again on top of the dune. Her eyes were on her daughter standing awkwardly behind a boy bent over an animal in the sand. Until that moment, she hadn't realized how meaningless everything was compared to Sarah's safety. Relief flooded over her and shook her body with uncontrollable spasms. She did nothing except breath and watch. There was a frightening silence to the scene below her. Rebecca pushed herself weakly to her feet and stumbled down the dune. Sarah was crying quietly, eyes on the boy and his pet. Her daughter sank to her knees behind the boy with a helpless expression on her face. Rebecca slowed her steps as she approached and Sarah looked up. Rebecca wasn't sure what to do, didn't understand what could possibly have happened. She crossed the last few steps and lowered herself into the sand across from the boy huddled over the animal. Gently, she reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. The boy jerked upward so quickly Rebecca flinched. His face was slick with blood and his clothes were soaked in it. There was a wild intensity in his gray eyes. "Are you all right? Have you been hurt?" He didn't answer, he just continued to stare and clench the dog’s neck in his arms. How had this happened? Her eyes moved down to the dog’s side and her stomach lurched. "He saved my life." Rebecca's eyes jerked up to her daughter. Sarah was staring down at the dog, tears dripping down her cheeks. "It was a bear. He was the bravest dog that ever lived." Rebecca's eyes searched through the trees on the slope. "Little boy, are you all right? We can't stay here, the bear might come back." "He ain't coming back." 57

The boy's eyes moved from the dog back up to her and she felt a chill down her spine. "You can't know that for sure. Do you live near here? We can go to your house and get your father. I think we're going to have to leave your dog until we can get somebody to come back for him." "I'm not leaving him!" "Do you think you can carry him?" The dog was almost bigger than the boy, there was no way a child could carry him. Maybe, if they all helped, they could get him up to the highway and put him in the back of the truck. The boy ignored her. He released the dog and rolled him on his back, then pushed his arms under him. She watched with futility while he strained to lift the huge animal. Incredibly, he struggled awkwardly to his feet. He stood with his legs braced, swaying slightly. Rebecca reached to help. "No!" He jerked away, almost falling. It seemed impossible, but he was doing it. He turned and headed step by step up the side of the hill. Sarah met Rebecca's eyes, then rose and caught up, walking in silence beside him. Rebecca followed them up the hill with her eyes searching the forest for any sign of the bear. Sarah knew her guilt was crazy, but it was real enough. She had wandered off, let her curiosity overcome her common sense. The dog had paid the price. She glanced at the boy she walked beside and he ignored her in silence. How he could possibly carry the dog she had no idea, but she was glad he could. It seemed right that the boy should carry him home. The way he had chased the bear away came back vividly. She was terribly sorry, horribly angry with herself. But her curiosity had no conscience. 58

She tried to watch him without staring but she knew he could tell. That was all right. She had no doubt about what drew her towards him, he was an unnatural phenomena. Her mother would laugh, but Sarah knew. Kids don't scare off bears that are about to eat you. Kids aren't strong enough to carry a dog that size up a hill. Oh, he was straining, and had stopped for a few seconds to get a better grip several times. He was certainly tired, whether he tried to hide it or not. His feet stumbled and he caught himself and continued upward. Sarah thought it was wonderful. He stopped at the top of the hill and took several deep breaths. Shifting the dog, he continued into the trees. She walked in silence by his side and strained her eyes through the trees looking for the place he was headed. Minutes later, she spotted the house. They passed the last of the trees and moved into the clearing. The house was huge. It was two stories high and looked like a hunting lodge with a bright yellow wooden porch stretching across the front. At the top of the steps stood a giant black man, and he was the scariest looking person Sarah had ever seen. His pa came back with a shovel. Socrates had loved the forest. Since he was a pup he had been a tracker, following the animals that lived in the woods. From the beginning Socrates had led him. Joshua pushed the shovel into the dirt. He dug while the others stood and watched but he didn't pay any attention to them. His pa knelt down and placed a hand on Socrates wound then looked up at Joshua. Joshua didn't say anything because it was clear enough to see. When the hole was large enough, he leaned the shovel against the tree. His pa lifted Socrates' front legs while Joshua held the back two. They lowered him gently down into the grave. Joshua stepped back and looked his pa in the eye and there were tears on his face. "I made him do it, Pa. I killed him." 59

"You must deal with the present and learn. What has Socrates taught you?" "He taught me to track." "Is that all?" Socrates had been his best friend. He was a real forward moving dog, always ready to chase after something or maybe just running off to see the other side of the hill. Mostly he lived to hound-dog and he had a damn fine nose. Socrates never gave up. "I reckon not." His pa was staring hard right into his eyes. "Today is the Fourth of July and today you are thirteen. At dusk we will go to the dunes and build the fire. Prepare yourself. There is a decision you must make." His pa kept looking at him, waiting for him to say something. Everything was coming too fast. "Spend some time with your friend and remember him." Then his pa motioned to the others and a couple seconds later they were headed over to the house. When they were gone, Joshua lowered himself to the dirt. It was almost too difficult to believe. Rebecca followed the huge black man toward the house with her daughter beside her. He was bare to the waist, his hips wrapped in a brightly printed sarong, and in his left ear, a gold hoop earring sparkled in the summer sun. He was completely bald. Rebecca crossed the yard watching the easy strides. His age was impossible to guess, but he was older then her 32 years, probably a lot older. The house was enormous. It rose up and out and around, giving the impression of massive depth. Across the front, a wooden porch was freshly painted and everything seemed well taken care of. She stepped through the door and stopped. He stood with his hands on his hips, watching her in a way she found disquieting. She jerked her eyes away and swung them around the room. 60

"You have a beautiful place." "Welcome. I am Mongoose." "My name is Rebecca Damon and this is my daughter Sarah. Your dog saved my daughter's life. I can't even begin to say how grateful I am." "He was a valued friend." His voice rolled like the tide with an island cadence. It was smooth and deep, hypnotic in intensity. His eyes were on the door and Rebecca shifted her gaze to follow. Outside, the boy was filling in the dog's grave. "He carried him all the way back here from the dunes." Mongoose swung his eyes to her, then down to Sarah. Rebecca didn't know what else to say, but she couldn't stand the silence. "I know I can't change what happened. Even if I could..." "Enough." The word was quiet but commanding. Their eyes locked. "From what do you flee?" She was too surprised to control her reaction until it was there in her face. She couldn't deny it. But she couldn't just blurt it out. She remained silent and his eyes stayed on her. "Do you seek refuge?" Was he serious? They were complete strangers, an offer like that in the city would have raised her suspicions immediately. He was watching her and waiting. Rebecca's eyes shifted to Sarah. Sarah stood open mouthed, looking up at a painting over the stone fireplace. The painting was of a man with wild red hair, mirth jumping behind sparkling blue eyes. Sarah turned. "Did you know him, Mr. Mongoose? Did you really know Doctor Fox?"

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Joshua stepped through the door and the conversation stopped. He hadn't paid much attention to the others before, but he looked them over now. The woman was watching him differently, more calculating, and the little girl was smiling. She had hair just like her mother, fine as corn silk. It was hard not to smile back but Socrates was still there in his head. He didn't feel much like smiling when he thought about it. The woman stepped forward and extended her hand. "My name is Rebecca. I'm sorry about what happened, I can't thank you enough for saving Sarah." Joshua's eyes jerked over to the girl and she stared right back. "Socrates is the one you ought to thank." She withdrew her hand when she saw he wasn't going to take it, but the expression on her face said she wasn't giving up. She nodded and headed for the door. Joshua watched her go, followed by her kid. They crossed the yard to where Socrates was buried and stood with bowed heads. "What's going on, Pa?" His pa moved over beside him and they stared together at the two strangers. "The world is a large place, Joshua. There is much you must learn." "We moving?" "Your time will come." Joshua didn't know what to make of it. This was the worst birthday he'd ever had. "They will remain here for the night." Joshua's eyes jerked to his pa, then back out the door to where the others still stood. "Just tonight?" "We shall see." Joshua stood there not really thinking anything, just watching the others standing at Socrates' grave. "I'm sure going to miss him." 62

Joshua watched the truck disappear behind the wall of trees. His pa was taking the others to get their things. Joshua planned to be long gone before they returned. He didn't particularly feel like being nice. While he walked out into the trees and down the slope toward the shore, his mind wouldn't stop. He'd never forget the look in Socrates' eyes just before he died. Over and over the thought came -- if he'd just been sooner. He didn't know what to think anymore. Bad things weren't supposed to happen when you were trying to help. He had killed the only friend he'd ever had. He crossed into the sand and stood watching the waves roll in from the west. There was a pulse in his head when he closed his eyes and listened hard. Restless, that's what it was, just like Socrates. Pulling off his shoes and socks, he walked out into the icy surf. Socrates was buried beneath the trees he loved but his soul belonged with the ocean. Ducking beneath the waves, Joshua washed blood into the sea. Later, he stood once more in the sand, looking west. "I'm not going to forget, Soc, not ever." It still hurt. Joshua spent the rest of the day wandering aimlessly down the coast and back through the dunes. He wasn't sure about how he felt. His pa was sure enough planning something. Joshua didn't think it was a present, his pa didn't hold much for such things. Had his pa guessed he was thinking of running off? Joshua loved the woods but there was too much to see, and it was taking infernally long for him to get bigger. He knew he was strong for his age, at least he thought he was. He could make it somehow. Tomorrow. The sun was getting low on the water when he turned up the slope toward the house. The funny thing was, he'd forgotten all about the others until he walked out of the trees and saw them all sitting there on the porch. His pa was laughing. Joshua stood at the steps of the porch and stared right back at the little girl. She made him nervous, even more 63

than her ma. His pa stood and Joshua saw he was wearing his knife. He wasn't laughing anymore. "Are you prepared?" There wasn't any way he could be prepared without knowing what for. It didn't seem sensible to say such a thing, though. Joshua remained silent and nodded. He dug his toes into the sand and pulled the driftwood toward camp. At the top of a dune overlooking the sea, his pa sat facing the ocean, watching the sunset. Beside him were the others. The little girl was watching him. They were both watching him and he didn't like it. The little girl smiled as he pulled the log to the top of the sand. He stared back, unsure what to do. When she spoke he almost jumped. "Are you going to get another one?" His eyes shifted to his pa. "Return at dusk." Before he could turn, the little girl stopped him. "Can I go with you?" Joshua thought furiously. "I'm not sure it's safe." "I'm not scared." She didn't look scared, either. "You do what I say, all right?" The little girl grinned and he knew that was all the answer he was going to get. The only way he could stop her was to not go. He decided as he turned and started down the dune. It wasn't any surprise when she ran after him. He slowed and stopped at the bottom, waiting. She slid down beside him. "Don't you want me to go?" There it was. All he had to do was say no. "Up to you."

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She turned and started walking. He stood and watched her cross the sand to the water. She bent over and rolled up her jeans, then walked out into the surf and turned. They walked north in silence along the deserted coast. Joshua wasn't sure which was worse, having her with him or leaving her ma alone with his pa. He kicked the sea with bare feet. "Don't you ever track anything unless you're ready for it to turn on you." "Who's your real father?" The darned girl wouldn't listen. He stopped and turned to her, looking her square in the eyes just the way Socrates had done to him. "I mean it, you do what I say. My best friend died today. Pa says nobody should die without a purpose. Socrates left it on me." She seemed surprised and her smile faded. "I'll be careful." "You don't know how to be careful." "Yes I do! I'm not stupid; I can learn. Will you teach me?" The darned girl had twisted everything somehow. Joshua didn't like making promises, particularly ones he didn't want to be around long enough to keep. "Maybe." "Maybe?" "I said maybe." She was looking at him and smiling and he started to grin himself. "He isn't your real father." She was worse then Socrates chasing the damn skunks. "You have a boyfriend?" That shut her up, all right. She was staring at him funny, smiling. She took a quick step forward until she was close enough to make him nervous. "Why?" 65

"Don't you come no closer." The surprising thing was, it worked. She took a step back looking too smug. "I'm not going to say anything." "About what?" "I'm not going to tell anyone about the way you scared off the bear. Unless you want me to?" He stopped and stared at her, his brain cooking. Until she'd said it, he hadn't given it a thought. Now, he didn't want her to say anything and he couldn't figure out how in tarnation she'd know that. "How come you're always watching me?" She started to answer and stopped when she saw he wasn't going to believe her. She began again. "I'm curious about you." "Why?" "Why? There's no why. I just am, that's all." Jimminy. She was harder to figure than Socrates and his pa both. "Time we got back." She kept looking at him. "What's going to happen?" The stars were blinking and the ocean rolled in out of the black and pounded on sand. His pa and the teacher lady were sitting beside the fire talking when he and the girl got to the top of the dune. The teacher lady pushed herself to her feet. "Come on, Sarah. There's something we need to talk about." The girl didn't seem anxious to hear what her ma had to say. Her eyes swung from Joshua to his pa, and back to her ma. The teacher lady headed down the dune and the girl followed, looking back over her shoulder. "Sit." Joshua turned back to his pa and sank into the sand in front of him. His pa just stared at him. Finally, he spoke. 66

"To be a man is a responsibility of crushing weight. Your heart is strong, Joshua, stronger then you know. But a strong heart is not enough. You must act to preserve what you believe. The time has come for the training to begin." His pa's face was hard as stone and he reached to his side and pulled the knife. He held it up, straight and deadly in a huge black fist. "This is the Oath of Blood. Blood must be drawn when it is forged; blood must be drawn if it is shattered." There was a craziness in the air. The blade danced with firelight licking upward towards a black sky. "This I promise you. I will teach what I am capable of teaching. You must learn what you are capable of learning. You must stay." Stay? It was about the only thing in the world Joshua wasn't sure he could give. "How long, Pa?" "Until I release you." His pa held up the knife in his right fist, then extended his left hand, palm out. Across the heal, a long scar ran perpendicular to his wrist. Joshua looked from the knife to the scar and up to his pa's face. Joshua's hand moved on it's own, extending towards the knife. "Forged in pain, quenched in blood. To temper the blade it must first be plunged into the fires of hell." The knife reached out and pain burned across his palm. His pa held the knife to his own hand and drew the tip down, crossing the old scar. Now he had promised to stay. How long would it take?

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Chapter Five Joshua eased open his eyes and laid still. His bedroom was barely gray and the air was moist and salty from an onshore breeze puffing against his curtains. There was no sound except for the gulls shaking off the night to begin their feed and the breakers in the distance, no sound that didn't belong to the morning and the forest and the sea. He never heard a creak or a step, but his eyes were on the door, as he lay huddled under the blankets. The knob turned, a crack appeared and widened. A shadow filled the door from side to side, top to bottom. "Come." Then the doorway stood empty as if the shadow had somehow melted into nothing. Joshua pushed back the blankets and stood on the cold wood floor. He found his jeans and a shirt, then eased down the stairs and stopped at the bottom. "What's up, Pa?" His pa didn't answer. He turned and led down the hall past the kitchen and toward the rear of the house and stopped in front of the cellar. The key turned and the door creaked on stiff hinges, opening to a black hole. His pa flipped a switch and light jumped from a bulb over the top of the stairs. The stairway led down a long narrow passage ending in darkness and Joshua was motioned to lead the way. The door shut behind him. When he got to the bottom the room was too dark to make much out. His pa stopped beside him and gave him a look, then reached to a light switch and space turned into walls and a floor and a ceiling. It was huge, maybe eighty feet across and as many wide, with a ceiling twenty feet high. Joshua had known about the door as long as he could remember and known he wasn't supposed to ask what was behind it just as long. He had never imagined anything like this. 68

There were three machines that were nothing familiar and a table that wasn't quite right. There was a mat on the floor to one side that was forty feet long and half as wide, and bars that looked like something you could grab and hang from if you had a good jump. "Come." He turned at the sound of his pa's voice and saw him sitting on the mat. Joshua walked over and stopped in front of him, then sank to the floor. The silence grew until Joshua could hear his heartbeat. Finally, his pa spoke... "Before you stands the First Door, The Door of Conviction. The path ahead is both difficult and long. To reach the end will take everything that is inside of you; everything that you possess. "All men face adversity; to be alive means to fight. We battle the forces that pound against us and crush us between them. There is a weakness in us all that drains our strength when we need it most and leaves us helpless against the relentless forces that have no mercy. "Beware the fear that sucks your blood, feeding on itself until you no longer exist. Beware the doubt the freezes your body and offers your life to the swaying snake. "There is a refuge from the life eater. There is a place inside of you from which you cannot be driven. There is a place you can stand and fight, a place where you can never be beaten. To pass through the First Door, you must find this place. "Face what is inside of you. Learn the ways of the enemy so that you might spit in his face and laugh at his weakness. Face the First Door..." His pa gave him another look and was up and headed across the room before Joshua moved. Joshua pushed himself to his feet with more confidence then he felt and headed after him. His pa stopped beside the table thing, standing next to an empty chair. Joshua took the hint and sat down. There was some kind of metal plate built into the table in front of him. 69

"Place your hands palm down." Joshua took both hands and laid them on the plate. The thing was cool and smooth and hard. "There are many paths that lead to the First Door. I give you this gift. I tell you that it exists, that it is real, and that it can be found. Prepare yourself, the cobra's fangs are sharp." His pa flipped a switch and Joshua twitched in expectation but nothing happened. Then his palms began to itch. The itch began to burn and his fingers began to curl, trying to push his hands up off the pain. He slammed them back down hard and gritted his teeth. It didn't do any good. Those fingers pushed up and he pushed back and his whole body started to shake until his arms were trembling and his legs were shaking and his bare toes were trying to dig holes in the concrete floor. He was wondering how much more he could take, and then he wasn't. His head cracked open like a summer melon and something tore loose and those hands came off of that damn plate so fast he flipped the chair over backwards and he was standing, sort of. He was gasping for air, sucking in big chunks down a burning throat and spitting them back out. The floor jumped up and slammed him right in the face. When he came to, he was staring up at the ceiling and feeling all loose and gooey. His pa was standing over him and there was no apology on the face. Joshua tried to sit up but soon found that to be a painful mistake and laid back down a little harder than was smart. Everything turned red. He rolled over and pushed himself up, feeling hot and mad and damn near ready to kill. His head was pounding and if he didn't do something quick he was going to pop. He took off out of that place on the run, jumping four steps at a time. He was out the door, down the hall and into the woods in nothing flat. The fever burned itself out in the woods by the cliff, fading slow like something oozing out of his body. He was 70

so darned ashamed of himself for running like a coward that he never wanted to face his pa again. Joshua turned from the cliffs and headed toward the house. He stopped at the kitchen door and watched the teacher lady cooking breakfast on the stove with her little girl sitting at the table. The girl stared down at the table, then jerked up and met his eyes. She didn't say anything and she wasn't happy. The mother glanced back and turned to him. "Good morning, Joshua. How do you like your eggs?" He stared back for a second, startled that she would say such a thing, or maybe that she was there to say anything at all. "I'm not hungry just yet." Joshua turned away and headed back to the cellar. He went down the steps with his jaw so tight it could crack teeth and he stopped and looked at his pa. His pa didn't even look back. Joshua headed for the table and took the seat and slammed his hands back down on the darn thing before he had a chance to change his mind. He went after it the way Socrates had charged the bear... The pain was incredible but there was no way back and no place to hide. When he felt himself getting swallowed, he screamed in rage and attacked. The pain struck back, driving him toward the edge of the abyss. His body started trembling and everything was twitching and jerking and somewhere inside his head the thought formed that all he needed to do was lift his hands and it would all go away. Joshua was breathing hard through clenched teeth and slipping backwards toward the edge. He was fighting himself and there was no way to stop and think and only one way to survive. The Dragon stood in cold contempt and spit fire at the shadows. He laughed while the shadows burned until there were flames all around and the beast stood in a circle of light. The laughing stopped as he stood untouched, arrogant and supreme. 71

The Dragon roared... Sarah picked at her breakfast, and then set the fork down because the thought of sticking it in her mouth made her sick. "Sarah, you have to eat." Her mother was worried and Sarah really didn't care. She tried picking the fork back up but it slipped from her fingers and clattered on the plate. Then she was crying and she couldn't stop and didn't want to. Her body started to heave like it was throwing up and moans became sobs until she pushed the plate hard and went face down on her arms. "Sit up." It wasn't her mother's voice and it wasn't a shout but it came out that way. Mongoose was standing there with Joshua at his side and they were both staring at her in completely different ways. Mongoose took two quick steps and extended his hand. "Come." Sarah rubbed her eyes and wished she had something to blow her nose with. She was so embarrassed she wanted to run and hide, but there was something about him that you just didn't say no to. She reached out her hand and he took it and half pulled her to her feet. Then he was moving and she had to run to keep up. He led her down the hallway and she thought that if she fell he would just drag her across the floor. He let go so suddenly she stumbled into his back. It was like hitting a stone wall and her arms went up to catch herself and folded around his waist and held on. She let go and stepped away, then dried her eyes with the back of her hands. "I'm sorry. I..." "Quiet." He was so awesome and fierce looking. He turned and pushed open a door and walked out onto a wood deck stretching across the back of the house. She followed and 72

stopped at the railing. The view was like something that couldn't be real. The giant redwoods were tall and green, dropping away down a steep slope that fell to a wild blue sea. The air smelled so good she wanted to drink it all up, and there were birds singing and a wind rustling under a sky every shade of the rising sun. "You are alive, Sarah. Can you taste it? Can you feel it against your skin? Every breath we take is a precious gift. Is life so bad a thing that you would squander it in self pity and throw away the joy that is there for the taking?" It wasn't a fair question. "But..." "No. There are no conditions. We all face things that are hard to live with. They come in all forms and they tear at our insides and rip us open. We remain and we go on, or we throw life away. You must make your choice. You must embrace the life inside of you or accept death." "But..." She stopped herself this time and looked around. "Will you surrender... or will you fight?" "But I can't fight. There's nothing I can do about it, The Virus won't ever go away." "You give up before the battle begins." How could she fight something that had no cure? He was staring at her like he could see the thoughts forming inside her head. "How can I fight?" "That is something you must decide alone." She turned back to the rail and stared across the sea. It was the picture over the fireplace that came to mind, the one of Dr. Archibald Fox. Joshua wasn't even sure he could talk. He could close his eyes and still feel the flames. But the teacher lady was watching him and he had to say something before she asked him what was wrong. "Why was she crying?" 73

The mother stood and cleared the table, then set the dishes in the sink. She turned suddenly. "You have a right to know. Tell me something, Joshua, just between us. Would you rather we left?" That was a tough one. She saw him hesitate so he just went ahead and thought it over. They were in some kind of trouble, that much he figured. Well he wasn't scared of any trouble that would be chasing little girls and womenfolk. "It's a big house. I guess Pa can use the company." "And what about you?" "I reckon it won't be so bad." She smiled at that and he grinned a little bit himself. Then her face got serious. "We have The Virus." "You mean the thing that makes sick people better?" "It does something else. It makes them so they can't have children anymore." "But you have a kid." "I won't have any more. And neither will Sarah." "She could adopt." "Maybe. But there won't be as many children to adopt in the years ahead. And many people will want them if they can't have their own. Besides, I don't think they'd let her. They'd be afraid the baby would catch it as well." She was watching him but he didn't have anything to say because he sure couldn't figure it out. Now he understood why Sarah was so upset. There was nothing he could do about that. But maybe there was something he could do. "Pa?" Sarah turned from the rail and saw Joshua standing in the doorway to the deck. He wasn't looking at her. In fact, he was ignoring her a little too pointedly for it to be an accident. "Pa, I was thinking. Maybe I should head out to Mr. Pete's and check if he's seen that bear. Might be best to warn him because that bear is a killer. Mr. Pete has a cow ready to drop." 74

Mongoose watched Joshua just the same way he had looked at her. Joshua stared straight back. "Take the rifle." Joshua started to turn away, then turned back and looked at her. "Aren't you going to ask?" She smiled and he grinned. "Come on, then. Just make sure if I tell you not to do something, you don't do it." "I won't." She ran to catch up but he stopped at the bottom of the stairs. "Better ask your ma." She found her mother in the kitchen looking through cupboards and putting dishes away. "Mother?" Her mother turned and they looked at each other. "I'm going to go with Joshua to visit one of the neighbors." Her mother smiled. "Do what he tells you to, Sarah. He knows this area and he knows what to look out for. Don't be stupid. If you're going to live in the woods you have to understand them, we both do." "We're staying?" "For a while." Sarah ran to her mother and hugged her hard. "Sarah, he's a good boy and I think you might become close friends. Just remember, you have The Virus. I'm sorry I did this to you but we can't help that now. It's your responsibility. Don't forget." Not much chance of that. She was going to have to be careful for the rest of her life. "I won't." Her mother gave her a squeeze, and then pushed her back. "Pay attention. And watch Joshua." 75

Sarah turned with a skip. Joshua was standing at the door of the kitchen holding a rifle. Her mother was looking at Joshua and the gun. "Just in case, Ma'am." Her mother frowned and Sarah thought it was all over. "Be careful." "Yes, Ma'am." She didn't say anything, which worked out fine. There was a tang in the air from the salt and the redwoods all mixed with the musky odor of ferns and the sweet smell of flowers in summer bloom. He knew she was watching him because he could feel the eyes on him. It didn't bother him near as much as it had before. He took her down the slope and kept the pace slow because she wasn't used to the woods, and she never was going to be if she rushed through and missed everything. It was different having her around instead of Socrates. Socrates would have been up in front somewhere, sniffing around and poking his nose into things, and just generally pointing out anything that Joshua might miss. Joshua took the lesson to heart and did the same for her, stopping once in a while when he saw a track or something that she ought to see if she was going to get familiar with the area around the house and the creatures that lived there. The cliff was at the bottom of the slope and he stayed back from the edge this time, but it didn't stop her. She walked right on out and stared straight down. "Careful, that's a long drop." She looked over at him, then sat down and inched forward. He climbed out beside her. He was looking for a gull coming back from a morning spent searching the rocks to the north, and when he spotted one, he waited until he was sure what it had in mind. "Watch." 76

The gull came in low over the waves, and as she approached, she started to rise faster and faster on the air currents turned up by the wall of rock. When she cleared the edge she was going almost straight up and so close he could have reached out and touched her if they'd been a few feet to the left. She rose higher and higher on motionless wings until she topped out way overhead and began to circle lazily. "Got herself a free ride." "Joshua? That painting over your fireplace, the one of Dr. Fox. Did you know him?" "That's an old friend of Pa's. He told me once that his name was Fox but he never said anything about him being a doctor." "He wasn't a "doctor" doctor. Well, maybe he was, but that's not what he was famous for. He was a scientist. One of the greatest scientists that ever lived." He sat still for a moment thinking about that and he didn't much like the way it made him feel. To have a picture of a famous man like that hanging on the wall of his house his whole life and to have some girl not even as old as him know it right off. "I've never been to school except what Pa teaches me. I can read and write and do some numbers, but..." "My mother is going to teach you." Well, it might not be so bad. He wasn't going to be here forever and he didn't want to make a fool of himself looking like an idiot. He grinned and eased back and stood up. "Come on, we best get at it." He took her down to the rocks where all the creatures lived between the tide levels. She liked it so much she spent a half hour just poking at things with a stick she had found somewhere. He watched her smiling and thought what a difference it was from breakfast. She got the hint finally and came out to the sand and followed him back up to the trees. Mr. Pete's place was nowhere as big as his pa's, but he had a barn and some cows and a goat and some chickens. 77

Betsy started barking and came flying out of the barn in a gold streak, tearing straight at him. Joshua set down the rifle in the pasture grass, then charged right back and dodged at the last second. Betsy went by clawing at turf and rolling. She leapt up and sprang again. They went down and wrestled around a bit until he got her settled, then he rubbed her ears and grinned at Sarah. "This is Betsy." They hit it right off. Betsy was wagging her tail and giving a welcome, but it didn't last too long before Betsy started jumping around again and looking every which way. "Betsy. Come here." She walked over, still excited but a little confused. He knelt down and took her head in his hands and stared into her eyes. There wasn't any way he could tell her how he felt and explain the way it had been or how proud she should be. There wasn't any way to stop the hurt in her eyes when he finally got through, or seemed to. Betsy backed off, turning from Joshua to Sarah, and then just walked away with her tail dragging and looking so sad it tore him up. "What's wrong? What happened?" He turned toward Sarah and knew there were tears in his eyes, so he rubbed them away as best he could. "She's going to miss him." "Miss him? You mean..." She was staring at him in a funny way and looking from him to Betsy walking slowly for the barn. The front door opened and Mr. Pete was standing on the porch. His eyes went from Betsy to Joshua and Sarah, then out along the edge of the pasture. Joshua headed for the porch and stopped at the bottom. "How you doing, Josh? Found yourself a friend, did you?" "This is Sarah, Mr. Pete. Her and her ma are staying at our place. Mr. Pete smiled but it didn't stay long. "What happened?" 78

"There's a bear around, Mr. Pete. He's a killer. Thought I'd better warn you with your cow ready to drop. He might come sniffing around." "How did it happen?" "The bear went after Sarah and Socrates went after the bear. He got there just in time, Mr. Pete. Just in time." "I'm sorry, Josh." Joshua glanced at Sarah. She was back to looking solemn, but then, so was he. There were tears in her eyes, or trying to be. She blinked them back and looked down at the ground. He looked from her to the barn, and back at Mr. Pete. "How's the cow, Mr. Pete? She hasn't dropped yet, has she?" "Any time now." "Do you mind if we take a peek? Sarah's from the city, I don't think she's ever seen a cow all swelled up." Mr. Pete stared at him a second or two, and then grinned. "Sure enough, Josh." They all headed for the barn and Mr. Pete and Joshua stopped at the door. "Go on, Miss Sarah. She's right inside." She went into the barn and the yelping commenced immediately. "Joshua!" She was sitting in the straw getting swarmed by Socrates' pups doing their best to get up high enough to lick her laughing face. Betsy was standing by and watching closely but letting her go ahead. There were five of them, maybe eight weeks old and fuzzy as chicks. Sarah looked up and then her face turned cloudy. "They're Socrates', aren't they?" Betsy answered for him, giving a howl at the sound of Soc's name. Then Sarah was crying all over again.

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"Well, they sure seem to cotton to you. You ever had a pup, Miss? Why don't you just find one and ask him? If your ma wouldn't mind, that is." She looked up at Joshua. "Socrates darn near chewed everything in the house up before he learned better." "I won't let him. Please? Do you think your father would be upset?" "Probably not. But they mess all over the floor. He wouldn't like that much. Made me hustle every time it happened. That darn Socrates got me in so much trouble I wanted to smack him a few times." "I'll watch him! I'll clean up after him and feed him and teach him. Can't we take one, Joshua? Please?" "I reckon. Just remember... He's going to need looking after and you'll have to do the looking." "You want me to what!" Rebecca realized she'd spoken too loudly but Mongoose's demand was repulsive. "I won't do it! I'm a teacher, not a war monger." She glanced up the stairs and hoped neither Sarah nor Joshua had awakened. "The boy must learn." "I agree completely, but this is outrageous. I can't believe you want me to teach that child the most efficient ways we have discovered to kill our fellow man." "Think carefully, teacher. Can ignorance of history stop the shedding of blood?" "I see no reason to encourage it. Our past is repugnant enough when it comes to war." "And our future?" She didn't like the question. Anger seemed to be spreading like rot. "So you want me to contribute to the insanity? Aren't things bad enough?" "They soon will be." 80

"And is that what you want for your son? To die on a battlefield?" He stared at her with black eyes that smoked. "And who should I send to die in his place?" "Nobody!" "Many will kill and many will die, teacher. The serpent cannot be wished away. Would you see your daughter taken and forced and not lift a hand to defend her? Who will defend the innocent from the viper? Who would die, teacher? And who would be responsible? Would you have blamed the bear for taking your daughter's life? Or would you have blamed yourself?" "Before you stands the second door, The Door of Concentration. "Your mind is not your own. You believe you direct your thoughts but it is an illusion you foster. Your thoughts come unbidden from the shadows and consume you in their intensity. They remain or they flee and are replaced by others that ask no sufferance. They are wild things, and they do as they please while you stand helpless at their mercy. "Before you stands the cobra. Watch him with care, for when your attention drifts, then he strikes. He knows many tricks. The cobra is patient. He waits. "Stand." Joshua took a deep breath and pushed himself to his feet. After what he had experienced the day before, he wasn't sure what to expect. It was another machine. There were two thick walls facing each other eight feet apart. Six feet in front of them was a chair, facing the gap. But it wasn't a chair like anything he had ever seen. It was bolted to the floor and had a post standing directly behind its back. Five feet up the post was a helmet that looked like it would slide down over the head of someone sitting in the chair. That was exactly what it did. His pa took Joshua's right hand and put it on a switch on the armrest, then triggered it. There was a hiss of air and 81

the helmet tightened around him. He couldn't budge his head even an inch and he didn't like the way that felt at all. His pa flipped down some strange kind of faceplate and Joshua stared through it. A blue ball the size of a quarter was hanging in space between the walls seven feet in front of him. "You see the cobra. Concentrate." Joshua had thought he was. He tried harder and a yellow sphere slightly larger than the blue one trapped it. The yellow disappeared almost immediately. "Your eyes are slow and lazy, your concentration a fleeting thing. You must learn, to lapse is to die. Focus." He tried and he succeeded, but only briefly. The darn thing was right there in front of his eyes but he couldn't seem to keep it trapped. He began to sweat and took a deep breath. He let his body relax and gathered his determination. It didn't work. Nothing worked. Two hours later he was still trying and still failing to keep the thing yellow for more than a minute. He had forgotten all about his pa, about breakfast, about everything except that damn blue ball just hanging there right in front of his face. It startled him when his pa took his left hand and placed it on a switch. He triggered it and the blue sphere disappeared and the helmet deflated with a hiss, releasing him. Joshua reached up and swung the faceplate over the helmet and pushed it upward. He stood and faced his pa. "I didn't do very well." "It is a beginning. At night you will study as the teacher directs. During the day you will take turns between the machine and exercises I will show you. You must push harder than you believe is possible. And you must beat him, day by day."

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Chapter Six Jennifer Barton stopped the VCR tape and the sudden silence was like the warm gust of a sea breeze. Kyle had insisted she watch one of his favorite movies, and when she explained she didn't have a VCR, he had lent her his. Then he told her to watch the film alone. He had handed her an unlabeled tape, and then he had smiled in that way he had. He was the most intriguing child Jennifer had ever met, and in the 17 months she had known him, the mystery had continued to deepen. When it came to Kyle, if you didn't read between the lines, you just didn't get the joke. She had been curious to see what he considered important. When she had arrived home from Kyle's Thursday afternoon tutorial, she had immediately set up to find out. It was a James Bond movie. Jennifer was still staring at the now blank screen wondering what Kyle was trying to tell her when the phone rang. Startled out of her concentration, she rose from the couch. "Hello?" "Miss Barton?" She recognized the voice immediately, even though it had been nearly a year and a half since she had heard it. It was the man who had sent her to Kyle. "Yes." "And how are things in Copeland, Miss Barton?" Dale Cooper rose early feeling good. Today was Friday and Jenny came out on Fridays and stayed the weekend most times. It had been over a year since he'd met her and she'd brought him back to life in more ways than one. Dale had The Virus all right; he just kept feeling better all the time. The coughing had cleared up within a month and never come back. He didn't miss it a bit. 83

It was November in the Everglades and November was a special month this year. Thanksgiving was coming and Dale had a lot to be thankful for. He whistled as he pulled on his jeans and headed out to the kitchen. Kyle's door was open and Dale stopped by and gave the room a glance. Kyle wasn't there and his bed didn't look slept in. It was happening too often lately. Dale didn't like to pry into the boy's affairs, but something had been eating at Kyle for a while now and Dale was worried. He slipped to the front door and swung it open. Kyle was sitting on the porch swing, staring off into space. Dale took a seat beside him. "Going to watch the game today?" Kyle came back from far away and Dale would have sworn that if he hadn't said something the boy wouldn't have even known he was there. "The game?" "The football game. Damn, boy. That high school up the road is doing pretty fair from what Jenny says. Five in a row and just beating the tar out of everybody in sight. There ought to be some girls there to take a gander at. You're fourteen now. Might be best to do a little scouting, if you know what I mean." "I don't know, Dad. It's just a stupid game." "A stupid game! Kyle boy, you just shouldn't say such things. There's nothing wrong with games. Fact is, they can be right educational." Kyle didn't answer. "What's eating you, boy? You want to talk about it?" "No. I mean... I don't know. I just can't figure it out. It seemed like such a good idea but it's driving me bonkers, Dad. I can't solve it and I can't seem to stop trying. I'm beginning to wonder if I'm going to spend my whole life stuck in neutral." "Not likely. I've never seen anything that you couldn't wrestle to the mat. Must be a tough one." "I reckon." 84

Kyle swung his legs under the swing and stared out over the Everglades, watching the sun warm the sky. "Well, the tough ones are the ones that take time. You just cut yourself some slack, Kyle. Even the smartest man in the world didn't get born knowing everything." It didn't seem to cheer him up. Kyle always did have a problem letting loose. Once he had a hold of something, he just couldn't let go. "You think about what I said, you can't work all the time. You have to learn to relax and have some fun. Seems like you jumped right over being a teenager into middle age. Why don't you play some games on that computer once in a while instead of bashing your head against it all the time? Give the old brain a rest and you might be surprised what will pop out of it when you least expect it." "Hello, Kyle. How is young Einstein today?" She could tell that whatever had been bothering him was still there. Kyle shrugged his shoulders and stayed silent. It had gone on too long. "How is the studying going? Are you working on that material I gave you last week?" "No, it's done. I can't see why anybody would want to shove that junk into their head and take up all the room." "I wouldn't worry about running out of room, Kyle." She smiled and received one of the old grins, the one that made her think the kid was a demon from hell or an angel from heaven, or even worse, both at the same time. "You're a good looking kid, Kyle. Every girl in the state would be chasing you if you quit hiding from them and gave them a chance." The smile changed and she wondered if it was such a good idea to turn this boy loose among the chickens. He was growing up. He should be starting high school next year in the fall and he knew she wanted him to. He was far past the level of most high school students, but he needed to interact with kids his own age. 85

"So what's the occasion? Surely you didn't get out of your best rags on my account." "Dad says I have to go watch the football game. I think he just wants me out of the way. This is your doing, Miss Barton. I hope you feel guilty." "I thought all boys liked football." "Sure, I want to play so bad I go out behind the house and smash my head against the wall just for practice." "There must be some sport you like." "Not especially." "What about fishing and hunting?" His face got serious. "They're not sports, Miss Barton. After the game I think I'll go see a movie so I probably won't be back for a while." "I need to talk to you later, Kyle. Our friend called last night." She expected any reaction except the one she received. Kyle climbed on his scooter and pulled the helmet over his head, then turned to meet her eyes. "I know." He started the scooter with a kick and it went roaring down the road. She hadn't expected anything like this to happen. For now, this was a refuge from the madness spreading through the country. It wouldn't last forever, though. Someday sanity had to return, didn't it? The Presidential election was one year away and Baylor was probably going to win. It scared her. There was a feeling in the air, like they were all running out of time. Kyle flung the scooter down the dirt road thinking that tomorrow was soon enough to nail the bastard to the wall. He had placed a phone tap and a tracer on Miss Barton's phone within the first week of meeting her, and then promptly forgotten about it until the man stumbled into the trap. But it hadn't gone like that. 86

The man had called from a phone booth in downtown Miami. It was odd enough that Kyle was certain the bastard knew Kyle was ready for him and had sidestepped, which made the guy's next move even more curious. Kyle had listened to the conversation over and over, and the only thing of any interest was near the end when he started talking about The Virus. He had made a casual remark about what a shame it was that Dr. Archibald Fox wasn't alive because The Fox would certainly have been the man who could cure the disease. Kyle recognized bait when it was dangling in front of him. Of course Kyle had heard of The Fox. But until he pulled the information in off the Library Database, he had never seen a picture of the man. The first thing he noticed was red hair. There had always been speculation that The Fox had created The Virus, but most people didn't want to believe that. The most common theory circulating, now that things were starting to fall apart, was that a foreign enemy had made the disease and The Fox's disappearance was to ensure The Virus wasn't cured before America collapsed. But there were other theories, one for every person on earth. The only sure thing was that The Virus was real and the one man who could save them either wouldn't or couldn't. Kyle had stared at the picture on his color monitor for over an hour. Maybe The Fox was dead. But his son wasn't. There was a flock of girls sitting on the right side of the stands and a herd of boys sitting on the left. It was comical the way they tried to pretend they weren't watching each other but couldn't seem to help themselves. And funnier still, there was a platoon of grownups sitting in the middle and staring both ways, trying to catch them looking. Kyle didn't think it was wise to walk up among them, so he climbed the back of the stands and found an empty 87

section behind the grownups where he could see all three groups. He hadn't even taken a seat before the trouble started. "You're supposed to sit over there with the rest of the boys." Kyle just stared back at the man with a confused expression. "Did you hear me?" "I'm not rightly sure." "Perhaps you would like to tell me your name." "And maybe you should just mind your own business." The guy didn't like that. He stood up real quick and walked up the seats. "Are you a student here?" Kyle stared back and didn't budge an inch. "I haven't decided yet." "That's what I thought. If you had been a student here, you would know the rules and know the consequences of breaking them. "Well since I'm not a student here, your rules don't apply. You afraid I'm going to see something I shouldn't? Like maybe an ankle?" "I don't much like your attitude, young man." "So you made a law against it? Listen, mister, don't jump on my case and don't tell me your stupid rules because I'm not your son and I'm not one of your students. Just relax and watch the game, then go home and fuck yourself. The guy got red in a hurry and he reached, but Kyle scrambled backwards up the seats. "You touch me and you'll be sorry." It stopped him. The man settled back, gaining control. "We'll see about this." He turned and headed down the stands while Kyle watched with a grin. There were other people looking at him now, including the teenagers. Kyle sat back down at the top 88

of the stands and waited. It wasn't any surprise when the man showed up with a goon at his side. "Come with me." Kyle laughed in his face. "No. I haven't done anything wrong and if you try to drag me off, I'll sue this school until it's sucked dry. I read your stupid rules. They say boys and girls have to sit separate and not talk. Well, I'm not sitting with them and I'm not talking to them. The rules don't say anything about having to sit on opposite sides and they don't say anything about looking." They didn't like that much, but some of the adults were hiding grins. "Mr. Franks?" The goon was looking confused and the asshole was staring at Kyle and looking ready to pop. "Return to your post." The security guard left with relief and Kyle smiled. Mr. Franks gave him one last look and then sat back down with the other grownups. James saw the whole thing. He watched the punk climb over the back of the stands and take a seat behind the Gestapo. The kid looked like a freshman, or maybe even an eighth grader, but he had balls. He told Franks off, and then made him back down without even losing a grin. He must have been right about it not being against the rules and James wondered why he had never read them word for word. It wasn't going to happen again. He stood and walked up the stands and sat down next to him. "My name is James." "Kyle." "Kyle? Kyle Cooper?" His little brother had been in Kyle's class when Kyle bothered to show up. James remembered some of the stories his brother had told. The name Kyle Cooper stood for 89

something around these parts. The funny thing was that hardly anybody had seemed to have met him. "You serious about coming to school here? I thought you didn't go to school." Kyle turned from the field and grinned at him, then swung his head toward the girls who were giggling and staring back. "Maybe." There was something about him that made all the legends believable. "Doesn't your dad care that you don't go to school?" "I go to school, just not in a classroom. I have a private tutor." "You rich or something?" "Not so you would notice." James grinned. "Me either. I have a car, though. My old man said it was to make up for all the fun I was missing." Kyle nodded toward Mr. Franks' back. "They all like that?" James looked down at Mr. Franks seated stiffly upright on the benches twenty feet below them. "More or less. You have to go home after the game?" Kyle swung around and stared him straight in the eyes. "I have some time." James grinned and Kyle cocked his head and waited. "You stick with me. I don't think anybody would mind if I brought you along." "Along where?" "Just leave that to me. You could catch hell for it if we get caught." "I'm not into trashing things for fun, James. It's nothing like that, is it?" "Not even close."

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There was a fire dancing to rock and roll and lots of kids dancing right along with it. The sand was filling his shoes so Kyle slipped them off and stood in bare feet beside the car. The clearing was close enough to the beach that he could smell the salt, but it was enclosed in trees and there wasn't anybody around for miles. Except the kids. They were whooping and hollering and talking and drinking. This was exactly the kind of thing all the rules were designed to stop. Kyle grinned in the flickering light and followed James toward the fire. Some of them stopped and turned, looking from James to Kyle. "Don't just stand there. Give us a beer." "You sure about this, James? He looks sort of young. He tells on us and we're all cooked." "Tells on us? You jerk, do you know who this is? Turn that down for a second." Kyle was starting to feel uncomfortable. They were all standing there now, all staring at him in one way or another. There wasn't anything to do but stare back. Not that it was difficult. Some of the girls were smiling, and they weren't dressed exactly like they had been at the game. James stepped up when the music died and everybody got real quiet. "You saw what happened at the game. Franks tried to hassle this kid but didn't get very far. We've been letting the adults tell us what we can and can't do, but how many of us bothered to read the rules for ourselves? Well, he did." James pointed at Kyle. Of course Kyle had read the rules. How else were you going to get away with breaking them? The faces were friendly, so he grinned and shrugged. "Franks didn't know what he was messing with when he picked that fight." "So who is he, James?" She was a dark haired girl and she was staring at Kyle with an expression on her face that warmed his blood. 91

"Ladies and Gentleman. The infamous... the one and only... the teacher-eater of all god damn time! Kyle Cooper!" There was a stunned silence, then the kids turned from one to the other and started talking all at once. What the hell was going on? Most of that stuff he'd done had happened years ago and these kids were too old to have been there. "Are you really Kyle Cooper?" There was awe in her voice and Kyle sort of liked the way it sounded. "I reckon so." "What are you going to do?" What the hell did they expect from him? He was just a kid. They acted like he was a savior or something. There was hope in their faces, and it was a desperate and pathetic thing to see. He started to say he was going to stay the hell away from that prison, but it didn't come out exactly right. "Lock and load." "My parents say I have to get married as soon as I turn eighteen. They have it all set up with some boy's parents from Ft. Lauderdale and I'm not allowed to meet him until the wedding. They won't even show me a picture. Probably afraid I'll run away and I just might." "Jed's folks didn't care how it happened. They called up the police and the next day, Jed was off to the SS." "Carrie wrote me a letter. She says the Safe School is a million times worse then I could ever imagine. The teachers hit you if they catch you not paying attention and they inspect your rooms every day." "I hear that they're planning on building one close by. They wrote a letter to my parents because they wanted to see if my folks would put me away." "They're not going to get me. If I get warning, I'm taking off. Nobody's locking me up." Kyle sat by the fire and kept his mouth shut. The party wasn't as much fun as it had been. The kids weren't smiling as much, and the more beer that went down their 92

throats, the more they talked about how screwed up everything was. By the time the party broke up, most of them were looking about as happy as a someone with a death sentence. James drove him back to his scooter in silence. They pulled into the parking lot and stopped. He turned to Kyle and tried to grin, then gave up. "I should have known it was going to be like that. If I were you, I wouldn't ever go back to school. I don't care what they say about education, it isn't worth this." "Why do you go?" He laughed like it hurt. "It won't last forever, will it? Somebody has to stop them. I'm going to finish high school. College won't be as bad, and then I'm going to law school. I don't care that I won't be a kid anymore by then. I'm not going to let them keep stepping on kids like they're property." He looked at Kyle, and then turned away. "See you later." Kyle climbed out and stood at the open door. "Thanks, James. It was all right." James tried to laugh but couldn't keep it. "What you did up in the stands tonight; that was cool." "Nothing much." "Not for you maybe. But we're going to remember. It's nice to know that the Gestapo doesn't always win." Kyle shut the engine down and coasted the last hundred feet. There was a light on out front, but his dad and Miss Barton were asleep. He crept into his room and shut the door before turning on the light. There was a sour taste in his mouth from listening to the kids talk. He sat down at his computer out of long habit and turned it on. Kyle stared blankly at the screen for a couple of minutes, trying to get his head back into the 93

problem. It had seemed so simple that first night after reading the biology book Miss Barton had given him. Maybe not simple. After all, people had been trying for years to create artificial intelligence. But the idea to evolve it had been so perfect he'd known right away it could be done. If he could just figure out how. The deeper he got into the problem, the more complicated it had become. He had tried several approaches but abandoned them when it became clear they were leading down paths that were dead ends. He didn't even know where to start. He reached up to turn the computer back off in futility, but stopped short. Instead, he did something that he'd never done before. He had pirated some game programs years before, but he had never even played them. For the first time, he entered the directory and listed them on the screen. There were close to a hundred and he scrolled through the list, looking for something that sounded interesting. Suddenly his fingers froze on the keyboard and he was staring a game called Life. Life? "Just about ready. Why don't you drag Kyle out of bed and wake up his nose. He'll be right along." Jennifer agreed completely. Dale was a phenomenal cook, no wonder Kyle was growing up so fast. She walked to his bedroom door and knocked. "Kyle? Breakfast is ready. Better hurry because if you don't, I'm going to eat it all. Kyle?" She eased open the door slowly. Kyle was laying on top of the bed covers still wearing his clothes. Her eyes went to the computer desk where she had found the tests he had left for her the night before. It was covered with paper scattered all over, spilling onto the floor. Jennifer thought about it, and then snooped. There were diagrams she couldn't begin to understand and notes that made not a bit of sense. 94

There were an awful lot of them and they hadn't been there the night before. Had he done all this last night? No wonder he was tired. Then a sheet of paper caught her eye. It was taped to the wall over the computer and she tried to remember if it had been there the night before. She didn't think so. In big letters it said: The Game of Life!!! What was Kyle working on? She turned back to the bed and gave him a nudge. "Kyle?" His eyes flew open and stayed empty for two seconds. Then the biggest smile she had ever seen lit up his face. "Morning, Miss Barton!" He sat up quickly and jumped to his feet, then took a deep breath. "Yah! That's the way a house ought to smell when you wake up. I'm hungry enough to eat a gator, tail and all." She watched him through breakfast and exchanged glances with Dale. Kyle only looked up long enough to grin, then put his head down and shoved eggs into his mouth. "So how was the game, boy?" Kyle finished chewing, then smiled. "We won." "Any excitement?" Kyle's face became a mask. He turned from Dale to her. "Do you know a teacher named Mr. Franks, Miss Barton?" Oh God. "What happened, Kyle?" "He took a disliking to my choice of seats. He told me I had to sit with the boys." Dale leaned back his head and roared, slapping his leg and whooping. Jennifer didn't laugh. She watched Kyle. "What did you say to him, Kyle?" He looked at her and grinned. 95

"I read him from the book. He didn't like it but there was nothing he could do about it; rules are rules, even for him. He went back and sat down and didn't bother me any more." She found it difficult to believe. "He left you alone?" "Yup." He shoved a forkful in his mouth. "And how was the movie?" He stopped chewing, looking from her to Dale. He took his time about swallowing, and then drew a deep breath. "I didn't quite make it there, Miss Barton." She was waiting for him to continue but he didn't. She started to ask, then stopped. It was none of her business and it was probably better if she didn't know. Dale was looking at Kyle with a speculative expression on his face. "Well, now. Seems like you're in a good mood this morning, boy. That there school got something that might interest you after all?" Kyle looked from Dale to her. "Kids aren't very happy these days, are they? I mean, lots of them seem like they hate being kids so much they'd rather be dead." Maybe it was a coincidence and maybe it wasn't. She felt her face go white and they were both staring at her. Her legs were trembling and goose bumps rose up on her arms. "What's wrong, Jenny? Are you all right?" She took a deep breath. "I'm all right. It's just that... I wish you hadn't put it that way, Kyle. Don't say it. Don't even think it." "Say what?" "That you'd rather be dead." She was crying and she pushed back her chair so fast it fell over. She ran for the door. "Miss Barton? I'm sorry." 96

She turned and hugged him. It surprised him so much he went ahead and let her. "I'm sorry, too, Kyle. I just learned that one of my former students hung herself in a Safe School. She was your age. I'm scared, Kyle, and I get more scared every day." Kyle didn't know what to say to that. He wanted to promise everything was going to be all right, but he was pretty sure it wasn't. At least he could assure her of one thing. "Don't worry, Miss Barton, I am not going to kill myself. Fact is, it never even crossed my mind. I know I've been sort of moody lately. But it's all right now. I found an opening. I know how to do it, Miss Barton. I figured it out last night. Just you wait and see. Boy are you going to be surprised." She smiled, but there were still tears on her face. "So what are you working on, Einstein? Can you tell me?" "Well... I don't want to say too much just yet because it's still going to take a long time and it isn't all figured out. Let's just say that I'm building something that nobody ever built before. Lots of people tried, but I'm going to do it." "What is The Game of Life?" First thing he was going to do was tear down the sign. "It's not really a game, Miss Barton. It's a simulation of how a bacteria population changes according to a fixed set of rules. There are rules that say when they breed and rules that say when they die. A mathematician named John Conway thought it up. I'm awful glad he did, because it gave me the hint I needed. I don't want to say any more. You forget all about it, I don't want anybody knowing." Especially the adults. Not that he didn't trust her, but people had to do what they felt was best. "All right, Kyle." She still looked upset. 97

"Miss Barton? If I decide to go to that high school, do you think you could make them let me in? I mean, I have no records or anything. I could whip some up, but it would be chancy. They'd be sure to catch on because they would know me." "Know you? Well, they just might at that. You have a reputation, did you know that, Kyle? They might be hard on you; you'd have to behave yourself. Do you think you can?" "I'm not going to break their stupid rules, Miss Barton."

It was an easy trail to follow. The Fox's last days had been spent at the University of Notre Dame, so it must have been there that the plot came together. Not for a second did Kyle believe The Virus was an accident or designed by anyone but his dear old dad. There was something very big in the wind and Kyle was feeling more sure all the time that he was square in the middle of it. He was dealing with heavyweights now, not stupid drug lords or fumbling Feds. Why had The Fox done it? Kyle didn't even waste his time trying to track down his father. Even if the man was still alive, especially if he was still alive, there would be no hint as to where he might be. Kyle went straight to work on ferreting out known associates. It took him two hours before he found his man. Dr. Isaac Cass was the man he was after. There was no doubt in Kyle's mind, and the more he learned about Dr. Cass, the more apprehensive he became. What was going on? Raston Imri had been overjoyed when Isaac Cass had asked for his assistance with some mathematical modeling. Once he became involved with the project and got a grasp on what Isaac was attempting to do, his enthusiasm had been real. The importance of Isaac's work was too great to 98

overstate. The global economy was destabilizing as a result of fear over The Virus epidemic, and some way must be found to keep it from collapsing. Isaac was working toward producing a tool that could predict the outcome of very subtle economic changes on a worldwide scale. They needed it desperately because one false move might create a situation the would blossom into World War III. Raston had explained all of this to his own government, and they had agreed he should offer any assistance he was capable of. What they didn't know was the reason he had started it, the reason he had accepted the position at Miami University in the first place. It gave him an excuse to stay close to Isaac Cass. His superiors knew nothing of the Fox's children and that was the way Raston intended to keep it. Raston had never met The Fox. He hadn't needed to. When you were dealing with a man as brilliant as The Fox had been, it wasn't unwise to step back and see what he had in mind. The Fox had traded an inevitable future war for a disaster more immediate. Why? Raston couldn't believe a cure didn't exist. It had to be somewhere. It had to be in a place it would be found sooner or later. Raston couldn't guess what form it would take, but Isaac might be able to. He might, in fact, already know. They had to find one of the children and test them for an anti-virus. He reached across his desk and picked up Emily's latest dispatch. She was making no progress in catching up with Teresa Alverez. Carlos Delvega continued to remain one jump ahead of everybody. The man changed identities like a chameleon, and even when the murals appeared and the police converged, Carlos and Teresa were long gone and nobody would talk. It was the little girl who was responsible for that. Her people were behind her; they considered her a symbol of something they wanted to say but didn't have the words for. Teresa Alverez didn't need words. 99

The last mural had shown faceless children crouched naked in cramped birdcages, their hands straining through the bars to touch the child next to them. But they couldn't; the cages were just out of reach and the children's stretching fingers were dripping blood. The blood gathered in pools below the cages and huge rats licked it up and grew fat while they stared through the cage bars with hungry eyes.

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Chapter Seven Emily Carmichael was gaining a grudging respect for Carlos Delvega. She had laughed the first time another mural had appeared. He was a fool to let the child continue to draw attention like that. He was sure to be caught almost immediately. But he hadn't been. They had slipped away and the police couldn't find even one person who would admit to having seen the pair. She had thought the publicity was going to be their downfall, but instead, Carlos was using it to his advantage. They located in Hispanic neighborhoods and the people sheltered them, guarded them from the authorities. The man had become a hero and Teresa was being idolized as an angel come to set her people free. Then there were the police officers themselves. She should have expected it. Over eighteen months before, a police officer had told her that Carlos had done the right thing. Evidently, many of the officers agreed. There was a certain lethargy in their attitude that was unmistakable. She had tried to question them but they pleaded confidential information. Evidently it was information that produced no leads and no witnesses. Teresa was now fourteen and a half. Emily had shuddered at the Thanksgiving mural -- a group of politicians sitting around a table giving thanks with bowed heads while Senator Baylor carved slabs from a screaming child. What kind of child could even think such an ugly thing? Emily had to find her. She had to know. Christmas was two days away. What would be next? "Julio!" Julio pushed his head out of the tenement window. Ramone was standing in the alley beside the stacks of garbage with his arms crossed, hopping from foot to foot in the December cold. "Hurry!" 101

Julio slid through the window and lowered himself down the fire escape, which was starting to pull loose from the crumbling brick wall. He jumped the last five feet. "Trouble?" "There's a girl down at the warehouse. She wants help." "Help? What kind of help?" "She wouldn't say. She wants to talk to you." "Who is she?" "Have to see for yourself, Julio. You're not going to believe it." Julio eased through the back door. The warehouse had been abandoned for two years and it was boarded up and covered with condemned signs. It was an excellent spot because there were ten exits and they all led down escape paths only a familiar would be able to run through. That had been his idea, and the others hadn't liked being forced to do the work, but they had. The place was cleaner on the inside then you'd suspect, the cause of more complaints, but they liked it well enough when it was done. Ramone followed him through the office and down the hall to the meeting place. His eyes swung over the members while he counted heads. They were all there except for the ones in jail or Safe School. They were standing in a half circle that parted when they saw him coming. He stopped dead in his tracks. They were watching him, waiting to see what he would do. She stared at him like she was seeing right through him and it felt more like a touch than anything else. Her black eyes went down forever and he had to blink to clear his head. Someone laughed. "Quiet!" Then there was silence with an unnatural quality. He passed through the half circle and stopped in front of her.

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Carlos had thought about trying to get Teresa to stop. Every time she painted, they had to move. But he couldn't stop her. He wasn't even sure if she could stop herself. He had been a fool to run, but somehow, they had eluded the initial pursuit. Mural by mural they moved on. It didn't take long before he realized that most of the police weren't looking very hard. According to the newspapers, even their photographs produced no leads. People weren't talking, or if they were, what they said wasn't being reported. He had stayed with Hispanic neighborhoods because they drew less attention to the girl and himself. They were recognized. He knew that from the gifts that mysteriously appeared on their doorstep or the managers who charged less rent then the going rate. They had been short of cash from the start, but one evening a manager had hinted how much he would love to have a painting hanging over his fireplace, and from there, Teresa easily became the breadwinner. With so much publicity, it was only a matter of time before they ran into someone who would talk to the wrong person. He considered himself good at judging people. He had been a police detective and it was his job to know when he was being lied to, but Teresa was far better then he. Carlos had come to trust her judgment without question. It had saved them more than once. He still had contacts with the Ventura police. He had received a report on the adoption papers. Nothing was known of Teresa's parents, or of any siblings. The only piece of information he did have was completely useless. Teresa had been brought to the center by a large black man who had told them the girl was born on the Fourth of July and immediately vanished without a trace. It couldn't be anybody except Mongoose, and the son of a bitch seemed to have dropped off the edge of the earth. But Carlos had an idea. Somebody knew something he didn't. He had been told by his friends at the department that there was a lady looking for the girl, a lady who had 103

spent ten years working for the Los Angeles Times, investigating cases on unusual children. A lady who had dropped everything and come running as soon as the first mural had appeared. Someone who was still out there, still chasing him, still hounding the police for information a year and a half later. A lady named Emily Carmichael. Emily pressed the "play" button and started to undress while she listened to her phone messages. She had spent the day cruising the Hispanic neighborhoods in Cerritos close to where the last mural had been discovered. She had stopped at grocery stores, at video amusement centers, at any place she thought Carlos and Teresa might have been seen. She had come out of the last place to find a brick sitting on her front seat and what was left of her front windshield shattered inside the car. After having the car towed, she had arranged for a rental and called it a day. She was just slipping the dress up over her head when she realized the sound she had heard was from someone calling and hanging up without leaving a message. It happened twice more. She reset the machine and stared down at it, and then walked around the apartment, looking for signs that someone had been there. The gun was still in her bedside stand, still loaded. She couldn't find anything that had been touched. Before the phone rang twice she was holding it. "Hello?" "Emily Carmichael?" "Speaking." "You're not being very nice, Miss Carmichael. Why aren't you being very nice?" "Who is this?" "I'm one of the two people you've probably been out looking for all day. You should get rid of that machine, Emily. Don't you know how angry someone gets to pay a 104

quarter to talk to a machine? You cost me seventy-five cents." Emily's heart started pounding and her fist tightened around the phone. "You're lying." "People shouldn't lie, Emily. I'm learning that. I'm learning it from a child. A rather exceptional child, I think. But then, I'm sure you would know more about that than I. Perhaps you would like to meet her? If you're not too busy, that is." "Where and when?" "My, my. But then, you must be tired of asking people questions who claim they can't speak English. Can't seem to get your hands on even one of them, can you? Want her pretty badly, don't you? Tell me something, Emily. What exactly is it you have in mind for the girl? Now don't lie. Maybe we can find the time for you and maybe we can't." "Listen to me, Carlos. It's very important. You understand? Very important." "I didn't think you gave up that wonderful job out of pity, Emily. I didn't think you spent all this time looking for no reason. I want to know why. I really do." "I'll tell you, but not over the phone. You ought to know better than that." "I guess I do, Emily." The Christmas Eve shopping blitz was in full swing and the mall was packed to capacity. Her respect for Carlos Delvega wasn't at a high point. There were a thousand places associates could be concealed among the throng of shoppers and no possible way they could be detected. She was standing in front of a shoe store dodging the crowd and wondering if he was going to show up. A Hispanic teenager stopped in front of her and brazenly looked her up and down. "Prime cut. I bet you'll look good out of that dress, lady." 105

"Please leave me alone." "Can't do that, I've got a terrible itch." "Either leave me alone or I'll rip them off, punk. I said get lost." He backed up a step, smiling. "You sure you want it that way, Emily?" So that was it. The man was a complete fool. "Where to?" "Just follow me." He led off through the crowd. She got occasional glimpse of other boys following at a distance or along the opposite side. She didn't know how many of them were with the punk, but at least some of them were. If she had been working with the police, only one of them could be questioned and he would deny everything. If they could even catch him. He led her down the escalator and out the doors into the parking lot. A car pulled up and stopped. The punk opened the door, and without a second thought, she climbed in the back seat. The punk jumped in the front and they were rolling. The driver was another kid. He turned right on the boulevard and stayed in the slow lane, constantly checking his rear view mirror. She sat back and composed herself. They were sure to be followed by other kids and anybody who had been tailing her was certain to have been spotted. Unless she was using a transmitter. "Guess you know what comes next." They were parked in a gas station in front of a rest room. Julio grinned when her face went white. She didn't say anything though. She nodded and climbed out of the car. Carlos had warned him not to take any chances because she was some kind of pro. Julio hadn't expected her to be good looking. Must be his lucky night. She led the way to the ladies' room and he locked the door behind him. 106

"If you're carrying, you might as well hand it over or use it, lady." She gave him a look he'd seen too often, then reached up under her dress and pulled a gun free. "Now how about that." It had a nice balance and he wished he could keep it. "Keep going." He leaned against the wall and watched her undress down to her silk, then unstrap the leather holster and dropped it on the pile. If she was hiding anything he couldn't see, it was invisible. "Stay here." Julio picked up her clothes, then unlocked the door and walked out. He wiped the gun clean, and after a second’s hesitation, shoved it into a bag. He pushed the rest in on top of it after checking through the clothes, then opened her purse and took a look. Carlos had warned him that anything could be a transmitter. He didn't see anything suspicious, but he wasn't taking any chances. He pulled Emily's new clothes out of the trunk, and then turned to Ramone. "Dump this car where I told you and clear out. Keep a lookout for a while to see if anybody shows, then meet back at the warehouse." "How's she look, Julio?" "Ugly as sin. Get going and don't be late. Tonight's the night, amigo." Ramone grinned, then started the car and backed out. Julio pushed open the bathroom door and took one last good look. "Merry Christmas, lady. Picked them out myself." He tossed the clothes at her and retreated to the car he had parked behind the service station two hours before. Carlos Delvega opened the door and laughed at the bright purple sweats with pink dots that the punk had given her. Emily had to keep her head and the little episode she had 107

just been through had probably been intended to rattle her more than anything else. She was here to meet Teresa Alverez. "Watch her, Carlos. She threatened to rip my balls off... and she was packing." "Thanks, I owe you." "My pleasure. You remember what I said, lady. We'll be around." She heard the punk retreating while she returned Carlos's stare. "Better stay out of the sun, you might turn into a raisin." "Sure, go ahead and laugh. You set me up, you son of a bitch." "And you came with a gun. What was the plan, Emily? Put a bullet between my eyes and grab Teresa? Or maybe it's her you want dead. Is it?" "Don't be ridiculous. The last thing I want is to harm Teresa." He stared at her for several seconds, and then turned towards the living room. She followed him and then stopped suddenly, her eyes going around the room. This was the work of Teresa Alverez, not the mural artist. There was no anger in the children's faces, no pain, no dripping blood. They were playing in sunshine and riding reindeer and opening presents with laughing faces. There was a big Santa who looked so real it gave her the impression he was stepping out of the wall and a large painting of a blazing Yule log fire in a stone fireplace that she could swear was giving off heat. Carlos smiled and pointed to a chair. Emily took the seat and he sat down across the room. "Teresa." A bedroom door opened and Emily was standing but Carlos was on his feet first. Teresa Alverez walked into the room and stood beside him. She was a beautiful child. She had an open, earnest expression about her, the kind that 108

made you think she was fragile and easily hurt. She watched Emily with big dark eyes and she remained silent. Emily smiled. "Hello, Teresa. I've wanted to meet you for a long time. You're a magnificent artist, but I guess you know that. My name is Emily Carmichael." She could have said nothing for all the impression it made. The girl didn't respond, didn't look away, didn't do anything except take a step closer to Carlos. "Try again, Emily Carmichael. Let's start with your real name." Carlos hadn't relaxed for a second. He was watching her and waiting for her response. Was he guessing? "I'm not sure what you mean." "You know what I mean, all right. You want anything from us, you have to tell the truth. What is your real name?" She was caught in the middle. If she lied again, he might very well throw her out and disappear. She might never get another chance. "Marta." Carlos glanced down at Teresa and she nodded. He looked back up at her and smiled. "Now that wasn't so tough, was it? Tell me why you are interested in Teresa. Why all the years watching for exceptional kids? Why drop everything for this one?" "I... I'm not supposed to say anything. You realize that, of course?" "That's just the sort of stuff I want to hear, Emily. May I call you Emily?" "Please." She sat back down feeling helpless. Could Teresa Alverez read minds? "I had to lie. I'm sorry. I thought things were going to be different. You don't understand. Believe me, you can't possibly understand." "But we want to understand, Emily. I think Teresa has a right to understand. Don't you?" 109

"You're absolutely right. She'd have to know sooner or later, she may be our only hope. The other three haven't turned up. They might be dead." Carlos relaxed and sat down. Teresa lowered herself to the floor beside the chair without ever taking her eyes off of Emily. "Why do you want her? What's so special besides the obvious?" "It's her blood. We think that a cure for The Virus might be hidden in her blood." That surprised him. He looked down at Teresa and she looked back up at him with her mouth dropping open. Carlos turned back to Emily. "Tell me something, Emily. How would a cure for The Virus get into Teresa's blood?" Emily wet her lips with the tip of her tongue, looking from Carlos to Teresa. "Teresa, you are not an average child. I don't want you to get the wrong impression because what I'm about to say is crazy. You weren't born in a hospital, you were born in a laboratory. We believe you were created by the same man we believe created The Virus. We don't know why he did what he did, but you can still be proud, because in a very real way, you are the daughter of one of the most brilliant men that ever lived. His name was Doctor Archibald Fox." Carlos leaned back and studied Emily's face, searching for any sign of deception. "If I have this thing, if I give it to you, will it stop? Will they stop doing what they're doing to us?" There was hope blazing out of Teresa's eyes. Carlos sat up and looked from one to the other. "They might." Teresa stood but Carlos stood beside her and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Wait a minute. Who is it you work for, Emily? Who is it that knows about all this?" Emily hesitated, looking from Teresa to Carlos. 110

"I'm a Russian agent." "Holy shit." "You don't understand, Carlos. This is bigger than one country. The whole world is in trouble and the last thing we want is to see the United States heading the way they are. If the United States falls, it's only a matter of time before the rest go under. Who should know better? No offense, but John Baylor will probably be President before another year is gone. Would you trust him? Ask Teresa how she feels about him. Isn't it obvious?" Carlos looked down at Teresa. "What do you think, kid? It's your blood." "I believe her, Carlos." Emily felt every muscle melt. She hadn't realized how tight her body had been until the tension drained away. After all these years, after all the dead ends, she had succeeded. "Will you come with me, Teresa?" "She's not going anywhere. I don't care how important it is, she has a life to live and she isn't going to be turned into one of your lab animals. You said you needed her blood. If it's all right with her, you can have some. You can run your tests. If everything is the way you say, then you won't need any more than that." "Thank you. I'm sorry, you're perfectly right. Thank you, Teresa." Emily got her first smile and the sight almost made her cry. "Merry Christmas, Emily." Carlos grinned at her and she smiled back. "How about some eggnog?" "Please." Teresa headed for her room while Carlos was in the kitchen. He returned with two glasses and handed one to her. "You might as well get comfortable. Sorry, but you're going to have to stay for awhile." 111

Emily didn't mind. She had spent so long looking for one of the children it was still a shock to realize her search was over. Teresa returned wearing black jeans and a black jacket with a daypack on her back. Emily almost dropped her glass. "You're not letting her go out alone, are you?" Carlos and Teresa exchanged grins. "She won't be alone." "Spot them." "On the left, west bound passing the five hundred block. I make it seven, no eight. Eight in sight." "Is she with them?" Lanken adjusted the night scope, scanning the faces. "I can't be sure. There's a small one in black wearing some kind of pack. I think that's her." "All units. Target is westbound, passing five hundred block. There are eight, I repeat, eight bodies. Target is dressed in black and has a backpack. Stand by for orders." Lanken pulled the scope back over the edge of the roof. "You going to wait?" "I'm not being paid to wait. None of those men are too happy with this assignment, especially on Christmas Eve." Lanken kept silent. The last place on earth he wanted to be was where he was, doing what he was doing. "Spot them." Lanken pushed the scope back over the edge. "I make eight, still west bound, passing the six hundred block." "All units, eight bodies, west bound at six hundred block. Stand ready; they're headed straight for you. Converge on my order." Julio took point. 112

The streets were empty and they made good time toward the wall. He was grinning in the moonlight. He didn't know what she was going to paint. He didn't have to. Maybe she didn't even know herself. Everything he had heard about her had been the truth and then some. He felt incredibly good to be out under the stars helping Teresa Alverez. She was the one kid he knew who was really doing something, really trying to fight back. She had started to unite the gangs without even attempting to. They had stopped fighting among themselves. They had stopped the drive-byes and the ambushes. There was a sort of gang peace he hadn't expected emerging. He held up his hand and stopped, checking the area. Nobody in sight. He gave the signal and they crossed the street toward the wall. Julio waved Ramone and Emilio to the left to set up watch, and then started on. Suddenly he froze. "Run!" Then there were cops coming from every direction and the only thing that mattered was getting Teresa out. He lost her in the scramble, and then caught sight of her dodging a cop who went face down. Julio leapt toward her but something hit him hard and he was on the ground before his ears registered the shot. "Julio!" He felt her hands on his face and panicked. "Run! Runnn!" But she wouldn't. She was holding him and crying and screaming for help, but her voice kept getting softer and he knew it was too late. "Teresa. I..." The pain hit bad and twisted him up in a ball. It hurt so much, he didn't think anything could ever hurt that much. "Teresa..." There were two cops standing behind her and she was kicking and screaming for them to get him to a hospital. "It's too late." 113

Julio heard it but couldn't believe it. Was it going to end like this after all? Dead in the street? "Let me go!" Then she was kneeling beside him and holding his head in her hands and stroking his forehead. "Julio?" "Teresa, I'm sorry. I'm awful sorry. I... thanks. I mean it, what you're doing is great. Don't..." Then the spasm hit again and his insides jerked and the last thing he heard was for someone yelling to get her away from the blood before she... Carlos was across the room as soon as the pounding feet hit the steps. He jerked open the door and Ramone spilled through onto the floor, gasping for breath. He leapt over the boy and ran down the stairs and out onto the street. There was nobody in sight. Carlos started to run in one direction, then in the other. Where was she? Where was Teresa? He was back up the stairs and hauling Ramone to his feet by his shirt when he caught a glimpse of Emily's startled face. "Ramone! Where's Teresa!" The boy was crying and trying hard not to. He blinked back tears that were already running down his face and Carlos felt a fear he had never felt before. "Ramone! Where is she?" "They got her. The cops were waiting, there was an ambush. They shot him, Carlos. They shot Julio. He was jumping a cop who was chasing Teresa and they just shot him. He's dead, I know he's dead." Then the boy was openly crying and Carlos took him in his arms. Carlos was too numb to think anything except that she was alive. They had her, but she was alive. He hated himself. He should have stopped her. Julio was dead? It didn't seem real. Ramone pushed himself away. "She wouldn't run. When Julio went down she started screaming for help and ran to him. I saw her holding him, 114

then a cop spotted me and I ran like hell. I should have stayed. Oh God, I should have stayed." "No, you did just right. I want you to go home. I want you to stay there and not do anything. You hear me, Ramone? Don't do anything." Ramone pushed himself back and wiped his face. "You better take off, Carlos. Somebody snitched. You better clear out." Carlos nodded. "Thanks for the warning." Ramone gave him a look that said what he felt, then headed down the stairs. Carlos closed the door behind him and leaned his head against it. "She's alive, Carlos. I'm sorry about Julio, he sounds like he was a brave boy." He turned on her but she held her ground, carved from Siberian ice. He shook himself and took a deep breath. "He was. Oh God, it's only begun." "What do you mean?" "You don't know these kids, Emily. They loved Teresa; they would have done anything for her. Julio gave his life to protect her. Nobody is going to forget. Every gang within a hundred miles is going to be wearing war paint." Emily stood beside Carlos on a hill overlooking the cemetery. He had told her that Julio was the boy who had brought her from the shopping mall. It had stunned her. She still recalled his last words to her. "Remember what I said, lady. We'll be around." From every direction, kids of all ages moved in silence toward the burial of Julio Sanchez. Some of them wore black armbands and some of them wore black bandannas, but they all wore black. They were from every race and probably every part of the county because there were hundreds of thousands. What struck her most was the silence. She believed Carlos now, she couldn't help but believe. She had never thought silence could be so violent. 115

Chapter Eight Joshua was staring down at the photographs in the book with open-mouthed disbelief. "Why didn't they stop him!" Rebecca couldn't help but be pleased with her student. If Mongoose had thought she was going to instill a thirst for war in the boy, he had seriously misjudged her. "Because war makes people crazy, Joshua. Because people will do things out of fear and anger that are atrocious. It wasn't confined to one man and it certainly wasn't confined to one country. In the United States, we locked up our own citizens in concentration camps; Americans who had done nothing wrong but have eyes that proclaimed them enemies despite the fact that they had grown up next to us, worked with us, worshipped with us. We stole their property and we stole their lives. But even that wasn't the end of it. The madness was everywhere: the killing; the imprisonment; the torture. When people get scared enough, civilization melts away and all that's left are the most dangerous creatures on earth, preying on each other with no law except survival at all costs. It's easy to stand back afterwards and say: How did this happen? But we know how it happened. We were part of it." Joshua shifted his eyes from her to the book she had obtained at the library in Crescent City. The photographs were ghastly things: mountains of bodies being pushed by a bulldozer into a long trench; little children standing behind barbed wire with bodies so thin and frail it was a miracle they could still stand at all. "It's happening all over again." He looked up to watch her and there was something indefinable in his face. "Yes, Joshua. It seems to be happening all over again."

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Then his eyes changed. There was an incredible coldness about him at times. He stood and glanced back down at the photographs, then back up at her. Joshua turned and walked away without another word. She tried to figure out what it was about him that was different since the first time she had met him. Maybe it was that he was getting older, growing up. But it was more than that. She had driven north on impulse, fleeing her life and fleeing what she expected to come in the years ahead. She had been offered refuge in a wilderness far from the madness swallowing the city. Why did she feel that, here, miles from the battle lines, she stood in the eye of the storm? The blue ball traveled in three dimensions, jerking and darting with incredible speed. It changed directions and it changed pace. It fled and it attacked, it disappeared and charged. But it could not shake the yellow cage that surrounded it. It didn't give up. It tried every trick and every deception. It moved in predictable patterns, and then exploded in random movements with blinding quickness. It stopped and hovered, then burst into motion. It seemed to grow tired and slowed, then struck straight at the enemy. But Joshua was ready. He no longer had to force himself to keep his concentration; it was a creature with a life of its own. Once the target was locked, there was no escape. Just as quickly as it had exploded into motion, it stopped and hovered, beaten. There were no more attempts for freedom, no more tricks. It waited motionless, accepting defeat. Nineteen months had passed since he had first sat in the chair to begin his battle against the blue sphere. The months behind had passed in a blur of days and an endless agony of defeats. Finally, he had won. The Second Door was open.

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Sarah could tell right away that something special had happened. She knew by the way Joshua stood and by the way his father rose to face him, and maybe most of all, by the way Sherlock looked from one to the other and barked his congratulations. Sherlock had his mother's golden coat and his father's yellow eyes and powerful build. He had grown from a fuzzy ball of fur into a nearly mature dog in the last year and a half. And he adored her, never getting far from her sight except on the nights when he would rise from the foot of her bed and cock his head as if listening, then take off into the black night. He was her constant companion, and she needed him, because Joshua never had time to play. Something very strange was going on. "So you have beaten him." Joshua stood with curiously conflicting emotions waging war on his face. He looked so happy she thought he wanted to jump and shout but for some reason couldn't. He took a deep breath and nodded. "Then you have earned a rest. Your teacher is going to the city to return some books and procure more. Do you wish to go?" Sarah thought he was going to say no, so she spoke before he had the chance. "Please? Come on, Joshua. I want to look around and mother won't let me go alone. I can't take Sherlock because of what happened the last time." "All right." "All right? Great! We'll have lots of fun, you'll see." "I want you to meet me back here in two hours. Got it? Don't be late." "What about my books?" Rebecca kept the frown from her face. Sarah was determined to become a doctor, and Rebecca had warned her that it might be difficult to get into medical school. Sarah had proclaimed that she would study harder then anybody had ever studied before. That wasn't what Rebecca had 118

meant. They weren't going to allow someone with The Virus into medical school, and they weren't going to let them practice medicine on patients who might contract it. But she couldn't tell her daughter that. Sarah probably wouldn't have listened anyway. "I hope you're serious about this because I'm going to test you, young lady, so don't get in over your head. Here is some money, you both buy something, but spend it wisely." Sarah was all smiles. She accepted the money and pushed it into the pocket of her jeans. "What about you, Joshua? Is there something special you want me to look for at the library?" He hesitated, looking up at the sky. He was such a serious kid, especially lately. He needed to have more fun. "I want to read about the American Revolution, Miss Damon." "Look! There's a pet store. Come on, I want to get something for Sherlock." "He'd probably like something from the butcher a whole lot better." Sarah didn't wait to see if he was following because she knew he would be. She stopped and watched the kittens playing behind their glass walls. Sherlock might like a kitten, but the idea was ridiculous. She looked at the guinea pigs and the mice and the snakes and the fish. Then she wandered up and down the aisles until she was sure she had seen everything there was to see. What caught her attention was a book on dog training. She picked it up and leafed through it. Sherlock would like it. He was so smart he could learn anything and she would make a game out of it. The man at the counter smiled. "Going to teach Fido a few tricks, are you?" "If I have to go to school, so does he." The man laughed, then took her money and returned her change. He grinned. 119

"Tell you what, young lady. I'm going to throw this dog whistle in for free. That book will tell you how to teach him to come when you use it. Give it a try." She placed it in her mouth and gave it a long blow. There was no sound at all, but a couple of the puppies started barking. Joshua came from nowhere and jerked it out of her mouth. "What the heck are you trying to do?" "I was just... Shut up, Joshua. Don't you say one more word, you hear me?" "Barely!" "I'll take it. Thank you sir, we have to go now. Don't mind him, he just hates animals." She got out of that store as fast as she could. "Will you slow down?" But she didn't listen. She started to run as soon as they were around the corner. Joshua had no choice except to keep pace. What had gotten into her? It felt good to run. When he had begun the exercises his father had shown him, his body had hurt all over for weeks. When the soreness had gone away, he had pushed harder, worked longer. Between the exercises and the machine, there had been no time to run in the forest. He was getting stronger and taller. He was growing up and getting closer to the day he could leave and see the world for himself. If there was anything left of it. She ran toward the park and stopped on the grass. It was January in northern California and the midday sun was hidden behind billowing black clouds. It was starting to look like rain any minute and Joshua was thinking they better get back. "Sarah, I'm sorry. Look, I didn't mean to yell at you, all right?" She was walking back and forth and around in circles and looking everywhere but at him. Then suddenly she was watching him, circling him on the grass and looking from his 120

shoes to his hair and back down again. He didn't particularly like the way it felt. "What's got into you? I said I was sorry. We better get going because it's going to be pouring in half an hour." "How do you know?" "Because I've lived here my whole life." "You lived here your whole life? You were born here?" "I've lived here long enough to know when it's going to rain." "Who are your real parents?" "What's that got to do with anything? Mongoose is my father." "He's black; you're white. It doesn't work that way, Joshua." "How do you know? Maybe my mother was white and I just came out looking more like her." "So who was your mother?" He wished he knew. His pa would never tell him, never show him a picture of her. The only thing he would say was that she was gone and she wasn't ever coming back. When his pa didn't want to talk about something, there was no point in trying. "Let me see your hand." "What?" "Your left hand, show it to me." He shrugged and held it out. She took it and ran her fingers over his palm, then started pressing around on the heel. "You mind telling me what the heck you're doing?" "Where's the scar, Joshua? I saw the cut. Mongoose had one and now he has two scars crossed, I've seen them. But you don't." "So?" "So there should be a scar, but there isn't. That isn't the way people heal. Everybody else would have a scar." 121

He looked down at his hand when she released it. She was right, there was no scar. He hadn't ever really thought about it. He didn't have any scars, and he had sure enough earned a few. No point in mentioning it. "You sure?" "I'm sure." Why wasn't there a scar? "Do you think I have The Virus?" "Even if you did, there would still be a scar." "So how come there isn't?" Sarah turned away, and then turned back with a jerk. "Why did you yank the whistle out of my mouth?" "Are you kidding? If you had blown it any louder the windows would have broken." "Don't you see, Joshua? Nobody else heard it." "Everybody in town must have heard it." She shook her head and laughed. "You didn't know, did you? It's a dog whistle. I could have blown on that thing until my ears turned blue and nobody but dogs would have heard it." The whole thing was ridiculous. So what if he could hear better then most everybody? In fact, he had already known it. He could smell better, too. He and Socrates had made a game out of sniffing things out. Especially lately, he could sure see better. Anything moving fast drew his attention, but now, it didn't blur. Boy, would she be surprised if she knew what he could do. But he wasn't going to tell her. She was already staring at him like he was from outer space. "We better get going." "Joshua..." "Forget it, Sarah. I know what you're thinking and I'm not going to be one of your experiments. Don't go bothering my Pa and asking him silly questions, either." "Don't you want to know what's going on?" "I know what's going on. Some people can hear better then others, that's all. And some people heal better, too. 122

You're not a doctor, not yet. Don't go making a big mystery out of this." It had about as much effect as telling a tree not to grow. She had that expression on her face she always got when she was determined. She could be the most pigheaded person he had ever met. Let her stew over nothing. It had taken over a year and a half to get by The Second Door. What was next? Rebecca Damon was scared. There was no television at the house, no radio, no newspapers. The only chance she had to get news was when she came into town. She didn't waste the opportunity. There was fighting in the streets of Los Angeles. A gang member had been gunned down by the police on Christmas Eve and gangs everywhere in the city had reacted with incredible violence. The police had caught the little girl who had painted those horrible murals and they were holding her for trial. A spokesman for one of the gangs had told the newspapers that they better let her go, or else. Two police officers were dead and many of the others were refusing to go into the gang neighborhoods. The city was under siege and the authorities didn't know what to do. They couldn't set the girl free. Most of the "experts" thought it would only make it worse to give in to terrorist tactics, and they were calling in police from other areas and training them for a war. There was a call to the Governor to send in the National Guard, and it looked likely to happen. Soon, the streets of Los Angeles might have tanks sitting in them. It was too incredible to grasp. John Baylor had been losing ground slowly to Gordon Ross in the approaching Presidential election. But now, Baylor was on the offensive. He favored the use of national troops to suppress the gangs. Everyone was so scared that Baylor was surging farther out front in the polls with every violent day that passed. The panic was going to place Baylor in office and some newspapers were asking if it 123

were possible that he would impose martial law before he even finished taking the oath. Should she warn the children? There was no reason to be afraid up in the woods, not yet. She didn't know how Joshua would take it. If the army brought in troops and started killing the children... It seemed impossible, but the United States appeared headed for a second civil war. This time it wasn't going to be the North against the South, brother against brother. It was going to be parents against their children. Mongoose was right. Joshua wasn't going to stand by and watch. "Can I speak with you?" Mongoose turned from the railing and smiled. The woman's face was as dark as the storm feeding the forest. "Yes, Miss Damon. I would welcome your company on a night such as this. Did you believe I would refuse?" "It's just that you seemed like you wanted to be alone." "To be alone is a harsh thing at times. I do not resent your company, or that of your child. It seems that you believe you are a burden. I assure you, that is not the case." Now she was flustered. She crossed her arms against the cold and turned to the railing, looking out into the night. "It's just that I don't want to intrude. I feel like my daughter and I are living in your house and eating your food and giving you nothing in return. You even pay me for teaching your son." "And that is what bothers you. You feel you have betrayed my wishes because I demanded you teach Joshua the ways of war. You thought I meant for you to show him its glory? You have not betrayed my trust, teacher. You have earned it." "You knew what I was doing?" "And I knew why." 124

Now she was angry. He threw back his head and laughed. ""You tricked me! "You are not a freeloader. I have a new assignment for you, teacher. The time has come to teach Joshua about men of peace and their dreams. We are not adversaries." She was quiet, brooding over his words. "Do you know what is happening out there? I was at the library today. I never understood why you refused to allow a television or a radio or even a newspaper here at the house. But today I was glad. That's why I wanted to speak to you. I wanted to warn you. Joshua shouldn't know what is going on. I never thought I'd say that, but Joshua is such a serious boy and we both know how strongly he feels. I was afraid that if he heard what was happening, he'd want to try to do something about it. You can't let him. You have to make him stay out of it. Teresa Alverez doesn't know what she's done." Mongoose shuddered as if he'd felt a blow out of the black. Rebecca was looking at him strangely, confused by his reaction. "Have you heard of her?" "The Queen of Wands will light the blaze." "What does that mean? Who is the Queen of Wands?" He took a deep breath, and then turned toward the sea. "It is part of a poem I once heard. Tell me about Teresa Alverez." She looked up at him and there was pain in her voice. "She's a little girl who has been painting murals that you would just have to see to believe. They show faceless children being imprisoned and tortured by the Senator who is responsible for most of the new laws. The police were trying to catch her for over a year, but she was getting help from the gangs in Los Angeles and a former police officer named Carlos Delvega. She was with a gang on Christmas Eve but 125

the police ambushed them, and the leader was killed trying to save her. Now the gangs say they're going to start a war unless she's released, and the Governor is making plans to send in the National Guard. Nobody knows what's going to happen." So Carlos had tried, though he couldn't have know the force he was up against. Rebecca was crying and she was frightened. He wished he could give her hope, but there was no hope. The beast was awake and would not be put to rest before it feasted on blood. He reached toward her gently. Her arms clenched around him and the silent sobs shook her body. "Rebecca Damon, you can not stop the rising tide. Do you cry for the children? It is a harsh thing for the life of a child to end before it begins. It brings me no comfort to know that they will pay the debt that we caused through selfishness. "But the future is theirs. They will make the world what we could not, and they will leave a legacy to all those who will follow. Their children and their children's children will remember them, and sing the songs of those who led them from the desert to the promised land. You think you do nothing to stop the slaughter? You do more than you know." He held her and knew she couldn't be expected to accept what he had said. Her body eased and pressed against him, then thrust back quickly. "I'm sorry." "And now you fear for me." She looked down, and then met his eye. "You know why." "I know it is unnecessary." She was slow to believe. When she finally accepted it, she laughed, and then stopped. "And Joshua?" "No." "Joshua?" 126

"Well, come on in. No point in standing out there all night." Sarah hesitated, then came in and closed the door behind her. She couldn't see a thing. "Criminy, Sarah. You can come a little closer. She walked toward his voice until she thought she was getting close, then stopped. "Joshua?" A hand grabbed hers and pulled her forward a step until she bumped into the edge of his bed. When he released her, she felt around and he laughed. "You're not going to sit on me. What's wrong?" She sat on the edge and thought about what she wanted to say. "Nothing." "Nothing? Don't give me that." "I was just wondering. Have you ever heard of a girl named Teresa Alverez?" "Teresa Alverez? No. Why?" "I was just wondering." "So you thought you would just trot on over and ask me in the middle of the night? Just because you were wondering, but not for any reason?" "Well..." "You're crazy, you know that? Are all girls like you?" "I don't know." "I hope not." "Joshua?" "I'm listening." "Do you like me? I mean, suppose I was your sister. Would you like me?" "Not if you kept asking dumb question like that. Whatever gave you an idea that crazy?" "I don't know. I was just thinking, that's all. Suppose your father and my mother... Suppose I was your sister. Would it bother you?" He was silent for a long time before he answered. 127

"Maybe." "Maybe? What the heck kind of answer is "maybe"? What's so darn wrong with me that you won't want me for a sister?" "I don't know." "Joshua!" But he didn't say anything and she wished she could see his face. "Joshua, do you think there's going to be a war?" "Your ma seems to think there is because everyone all over the world is going crazy about The Virus. I don't see what good it would do to kill a bunch of people over something that stops babies from being born. It will just make it worse. It's so stupid that it's just what they'll do. People are so mixed up." "I mean a war between the adults and the kids." "It wouldn't be much of a fight, Sarah. Grownups have all the guns." "Would you fight? If the kids started fighting back, would you help them?" "There has to be a better way then killing each other. I'd help find it." "But isn't that what your father is teaching you down in that darn basement? How to fight?" He took a long time answering, and when he did, it didn't tell her anything. "I'm not sure what he's teaching me." "Before you stands The Third Door, The Door of Control. "As an infant you learned to precariously stand and take your first steps. It was not accomplished all at once; it took time for your body to conquer its new challenge. Then, when walking was not enough, you learned to run. The price was often blood and pain, yet you continued to reach until the goal was achieved.

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"You feel you now control your muscles, that they will do as you command. I tell you the tasks required of them are easy tasks. This will not always be true. "Your body is an instrument, your muscles are its strings. What your mind wills, your body must do. This is the gift of The Third Door. You must learn the control of a master musician. Each muscle must be yours to command with perfect precision. Before your body can play its song, you must learn to command your strength without thought or error. Nothing less can halt the cobra's strike. "Come." Joshua rose and followed his pa to the next machine. It looked like an enormous coffin and he was immediately sure he was going to be locked inside of it. He pushed down the panic and waited. There was a hiss when his pa flipped a switch on its side. The lid swung up. "Strip." Joshua undressed in the cold basement and stood naked, looking from his pa to the open coffin. There were metal disks the size of small buttons covering the plastic molded in the rough shape of a body with a place for his head. He levered himself into the coffin and shivered when his skin came in contact with the cold disks. He felt like a corpse. "Spread your legs and point your toes toward the end of the box. Separate your arms from your sides and place your hands palm down with your fingers spread." Joshua did it and his pa corrected his position. "Lay still." With a hiss, the lid descended and he was in total black. He came close to panic again when the plastic began to inflate, wrapping him tight. The only place that wasn't covered was his face staring straight up at nothing. He calmed his breathing and waited, wondering what was going to happen. Light! Before his eyes, a figure appeared in three dimensions. It 129

looked like something from one of the anatomy textbooks Sarah was always studying except that it wasn't flat like the pictures on the page. All his muscles were clearly outlined and he looked at it in curiosity, wondering if it was really him. It sprang to life. Colors of every hue pulsed as the muscles shifted. Muscles around the ribs surged from dark blue up through the spectrum to bright yellow in time with his breathing. He flexed the fingers on his left hand and watched the colors warm up. "Can you hear me, Joshua?" It startled him so badly the body burst into a rainbow. "I can hear you." "Your first task is to relax every muscle until the color is deep blue. When you can achieve it, the machine will be triggered. A dot will appear on a muscle; a color will be shown. Match the tension in the muscle while all others remain dark. The machine will release you in two hours. If you need out before that, there is a switch near your chin. Can you reach it?" Joshua found the switch and suppressed an impulse to trigger it.

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Chapter Nine John Baylor watched the election returns with grim satisfaction. The results of the election had come as no surprise to anyone. Not that there hadn't been a few rough moments in his campaign. The murals painted by Teresa Alverez had lost him an early lead in the polls until Ross had actually come close to overtaking him. With the capture of Teresa nearly a year before, and with the resulting violence of the gangs, the trend had reversed itself. As the riots had spread across the country the population had become so terrified that they believed the only way for a return to safety was John Baylor in the White House. It was no accident, and he wasn't particularly proud of the way he had manipulated the crisis. Baylor still had plans for the gangs. Only total panic could bring the country to the point of no return; the point where they would accept anything that promised an end to the bloodshed and a stabilization of the epidemic. He had intended to waste no time, to bring the crisis to a head as soon as he took office and before The Virus had spread further. But something had started to go wrong. In the last few months the gangs had been getting too smart. There was a leader emerging; a leader he couldn't seem to find out anything about. Whoever it was had begun to bring the eastern seaboard gangs together and quell the sporadic violence, replacing it with organized action. The deviousness of their recent planning was not lost on Baylor. Well-organized and united gangs were the last thing he wanted, the last thing he had expected. There were fifty thousand angry children on the streets of Washington. They had come to listen to a speech at an Election Day protest they were calling the "Death of Democracy Eulogy". Everything was in place, the police had been warned, and the trap was set. 131

Who was the gang General? Mrs. Tucker was smiling as she climbed the stairs. John Baylor was sweeping to an overwhelming victory. Gordon Ross was expected to concede at any time and there was a celebration planned at the Civic Center. She was chairwoman of the Elect Baylor Women's Committee and she had been working on her speech for weeks. She had allowed herself to become so involved with watching the election returns that she was going to have to hurry. She was half dressed when she remembered Sandra. Buttoning her dress, she headed for Sandra's room. She knocked on the door then pushed it open when there was no answer. Seconds later she was standing at the top of the stairs. "Steven?" The butler appeared at the bottom of the stairs and waited patiently. "Have you seen Sandra?" Sandy watched the crowd swell outside The White House from the back seat of Clubber's car. She closed her eyes and listened to the roar of fifty thousand voices. Baylor had used his influence to let the protest take place. She had expected it, counted on it. She knew what he was planning. Slash had done everything she had asked of him. He had argued with her constantly, but in the end, he had agreed. He had begun meeting with gang leaders along the New England States nearly a year before and he had given them her message word for word. It had taken time, but slowly, it had begun to work. The newspaper article from over two years before had established Slash as a powerful enemy of John Baylor. That's all it had taken to open the door. It wasn't long before the gang leaders realized that the plans they were receiving came from someone besides Slash. They had wanted to know who and had been promised they 132

would find out when the time was right. They had accepted it because they enjoyed the intrigue and because the plans had worked. Most of them didn't want open warfare. Most of them didn't know what they wanted. They just knew they hated John Baylor. Her life was about to change forever. She had taken her best guess at what would happen. Sandy was fifteen years old and knew there was a possibility she would die tonight. If that happened, the world was in big trouble. She thought she might be the only person alive who knew where to find a cure for The Virus. During a freshman biology class she had opened up a textbook and seen something she had never expected to see again. It was the face of Dr. Archibald Fox. "Well, Raston? Would you say we had it coming? Would you say they have every right to be angry? This whole thing stinks to hell and I'm going to detest John Baylor for as long as I live." Raston agreed completely. He knew it would be a mistake to underestimate Isaac's analysis of the situation unfolding on the television screen in his den. Isaac undoubtedly understood the social forces at work far better then he did. He might have retired from the Pentagon, but he was still very much involved with watching the international arena. Isaac Cass was uncommonly shrewd in the ways of social mechanics. "Tell me something, Isaac. If you knew where a cure for The Virus was hidden, what would you do?" Isaac's eyes jerked from the screen where the throngs of teenagers shouted and jeered at the police in riot gear. He regarded Raston with a level stare. "That's a much more complicated question then you suspect, Raston." "I'm sure it is. Would you agree that completely eliminating The Virus is out of the question, even if it were possible?" 133

Isaac was staring at him with a look Raston had never seen on his face before. It was a calculating expression that tore away the surface and peered deep into his soul. Raston met his eyes. "You're a curious one, Raston. I've know you for years, but at times, I wonder if I really know you at all." "Can we ever know another person completely, Isaac? We all have our secrets." "I suppose we do." Raston returned his eyes to the television screen, but Isaac was still watching him. Tonight was the night. Teresa Alverez could be permanently out of reach now that Baylor had been elected. There were three more children who might possess the anti-virus. It was just possible that Isaac Cass knew where at least one of them was. "Shit on a brick. That son of a bitch is asking for it. I'm not taking any crap off of him." Jennifer Barton smiled even though she didn't feel like it. Kyle wasn't very good at taking "crap" from anyone. The high school was in a complete uproar and he had been a freshman there for only three months. They had rewritten their rules four separate times, and every time, Kyle had laughed in their faces. He had told her that if they were stupid enough to define exactly what he wasn't allowed to do, they automatically left an endless choice of things he could do. She had never thought about it quite like that. "So what are you going to do about it, Superboy?" He grinned and it made her wonder just what he would do. "Nothing yet. But soon. I'm going to feed them something they'll choke on." There was a dangerous gleam in his blue eyes. It worried her. Then she remembered what Baylor had done, what he would do now that he was President. "Feed him a piece for me, Kyle." 134

Baylor had won. The guard had been more than happy to tell her. It was the only news Teresa had received since the attempt by the gangs to break her out of prison. They had moved her, separated her from the others. She didn't even know where she was. She huddled on the prison bunk, staring at the blank wall. Everything was going to get worse and worse. They were going to keep her locked up for the rest of her life, because if she got out, she would begin again. She hadn't denied it, she had admitted it. Piled on top of everything else was something that terrified her. She felt all right. She was fifteen and her body was growing out the way it was supposed to. But her periods had never started. She had never been sick a day in her life. She hadn't thought about it before, but lately, she had plenty of time to think. Something was wrong with her. Even if she had The Virus, something was very wrong. She still remembered Emily saying she wasn't a real person. Teresa was terrified and there was nobody she could talk to. When she had started the murals, she hadn't thought it would be this bad to be really locked up. She couldn't take it much longer, she needed somebody to talk to. She needed to see the sky again and she needed to paint. She pulled her knees tight against her chest and felt the tears run down her face. Rebecca Damon had told Mongoose she had to go to town to get more books. She had brought Sarah with her and left her in the library nearly an hour before. Then she had gone looking for a bar. She sat on a bar stool drinking rum and coke and watching the election returns. As the events in Washington unfolded on the television screen, she switched to tequila. Baylor had won. She had known it was an impossible hope that he would lose but she had maintained it until it was obvious he would not. The election results from the West weren't tallied yet, but it no longer mattered. John Baylor 135

was the next President of the United States. Fifty thousand people, most of them under eighteen, were marching in protest through the streets of Washington. Could it really happen like this? Could a little bug so small it was invisible bring freedom crashing down? Could a disease that made you well terrify people into war? The glass shook as she brought it to her mouth. What kind of place would Sarah have to live in when she grew up? She had to take Sarah and run before it was too late. Closing the borders was an obvious step, they had to escape before it occurred. But she didn't have the money to run. She reached for the shot glass and it tipped over. "Easy, lady. That stuff will creep up on you." The bartender was wiping the bar with a rag, cleaning up the mess. "I'm sorry. Can I have another one, please?" He eyed her dubiously. "You don't look the type. Nothing can be that bad." "Not that bad! Tell me if you're looking forward to a war against children. " "You think it's as bad as that? I figure something has got to be done, and Baylor seems to know what to do." "Oh sure, he knows just what to do." "Carlos? Carlos, you can't lose hope. If there is a cure for The Virus, Baylor will go up in smoke." Carlos stood on a hill overlooking Los Angeles. He hadn't been sure why he had wanted to see the city like this until he was there, looking own at the city lights. He had come to say good-bye. "Damn you! Don't do this to me, Carlos. Are you going to let Baylor have Teresa? Is that what you want?" "Shut up, Emily. Baylor isn't going to let her go and I'm not going to encourage any more kids to get themselves killed trying to free her. This cure you're always harping about probably doesn't exist. I listened to your talk about The Fox and his mysterious plans long enough. I don't think there 136

is a cure. I don't think he set us up like this. What would be the point?" "So you're giving up? You, the great Carlos Delvega? I don't believe it, Carlos. You're not the type to quit and run." Then he was angry. "Do you know how my ancestors came to America? They ran from where they were living under conditions they couldn't accept. They came here because it was a place they could be free. Don't give me any of your patriotic shit because you're not even an American. America was founded by people who got out while the getting was good. It was built by people like me who knew when to pack up and leave the government to its stupidity. They elected the son of a bitch. They can keep him. I'll find someplace where they still believe that a man has a right to his own balls." She was watching him with tears in her eyes and he was immediately sorry. It wasn't her fault. It wasn't even Baylor's fault. If what she said was true, then it was The Fox's fault. He took her in his arms and felt her body shaking against his. Wasn't it funny that, Emily, the Russian agent, was crying over the collapse of the United States? She pushed herself back suddenly and wiped her eyes. "This isn't the world of your ancestors, Carlos. You can't just go somewhere else and escape what is happening. America is our last hope. There's no place to run to anymore. You either help or you watch, but either way, you're in it whether you like it or not. We need your help, Carlos. Nobody knows where they're keeping Teresa. You were a police officer and they know you. They know how you feel about Teresa. You may be the only man alive who can find out where they're keeping her." "Time to party." Sandy nodded and pushed open the door. Clubber and Slash got out of the car and stood watching her with silent acceptance. 137

"The gang leaders are up close to the platform. They said they would play it any way you want. But they didn't like it, Sandy. They didn't like it at all." "That's the way it has to be, Slash." "Why? Sandy, you can't do this. They need you. I need you." "There's no safe way through this, Slash, not for any of us. All we can do is try our best and hope we succeed." Slash stared at her and there was pain in his eyes. "Come on, then. I'll take you to the stage." "No. Thank you, but I'd like to walk by myself." "You're one crazy chick, Sandy." She turned to Clubber and smiled. "I hope not." She walked to him and hugged him. He seemed surprised at first, and then returned her embrace. "Knock em dead, Goldilocks." Sandy stepped back then turned to Slash. "You'll do it? You have to convince them the way I explained; I won't be around to help you. You have to do it on your own. Will you, Slash?" He took a deep breath and nodded. She walked to him and pulled his face down to her. Slash's kiss was sad and soft. He stepped back. "Get going before I change my mind and drag you home." She nodded, and then turned into the crowd. Most of them were kids because the adults were afraid that there was going to be violence. Everywhere she looked there were police officers holding clubs and wearing bulletproof vests and riot gear. There was a sense of expectancy in the air. The kids she passed were talking about the election and wondering who was going to speak and what they were going to say. She stopped once in a while and listened to the speculation, then continued toward the platform. There were news cameras set up and bunches of microphones at the place the 138

speaker was supposed to stand. The boys lined up in front of the barricade separating the platform from the crowd were dressed in gang colors. She surveyed their faces then swung her eyes toward the reporters. One of them was staring back. Jeffrey Lassen felt his guts jerk. She stood near the barricade and her white lace dress and innocent features were a stark contrast to those of the gang members. It was Sandra Tucker, and, holy cow, she had to be the one. He turned to survey his fellow reporters but none of them seemed to be paying any attention to her. "Hey, you! See that girl in the white dress? That's the one, buddy. Swing that camera around and pick her up." Mrs. Tucker dropped the champagne glass and screamed. Everyone at the party turned in surprise and the laughing and celebrating ended with the shattering of glass. She didn't even notice. Her eyes were on one of the television screens set up for the post election coverage and she couldn't believe what she was seeing. Standing next to a group of boys who couldn't be anything but gang hoodlums was her daughter. "Hey! Isn't that Sandra Tucker?" "George, come here." George Tucker grinned and wrapped a damp towel around himself. He headed for the bedroom where Cynthia was standing in front of the television. She turned when he appeared. "George, isn't that your daughter?" He turned to the television and his grin froze. Ramone had driven across the country to be there. He had met gang leaders from all over the East Coast on the night before and they had explained the situation. He was there to see this person that had gotten the eastern gangs a new respect in the press lately. He wasn't Julio, but he knew 139

a good thing when he saw it. He was the leader now; it had changed his perspective on a lot of things. One of those things was watching his members die. The eastern gangs had stopped the killing but they were still driving the cops nuts. Ramone liked the idea of working together with the other gangs. It made sense. It gave them more power when they organized, and on top of that, it seemed to be scaring Baylor more than when they were killing cops. He saw the girl in the white dress standing near the front of the line. She didn't belong here and he didn't mind telling her. He was grinning when he stopped in front of her. "Better get back. Cops shoot kids these days." "And kids shoot back. It doesn't seem to be getting either of us anywhere, does it?" "Maybe that's going to change. But you better get back anyway." She was looking at him and smiling and she just wasn't going to do it. "What's your name?" "Ramone, from Los Angeles." The smile spread across her face and he wasn't sure what it meant. "Did you know Julio Sanchez?" It still hurt to think about it. Julio had been the best. Ramone nodded. "Would Julio have wanted you to kill police officers?" "Not Julio. Julio didn't take any chances that didn't need took. I was there the night he got gunned down." It surprised her. She stared at him and she wasn't smiling anymore. "Ramone, can I borrow your headband for a few minutes?" "This is for Julio." "I promise I won't treat it with disrespect. I promise you won't be sorry. Please? For Julio?" 140

If she wasn't so beautiful he would have laughed in her face. Ramone smiled. "But I want it back." "I promise to try. Is that good enough?" "You better try hard." She smiled at him when she took it from his hand. "Ramone, will you do something for me? I want you to talk to the other gang leaders from the West. I want you to tell them that I need their help. I want you to tell them that it isn't hopeless, that Baylor can still be beaten. But you have to stop the violence. You can't give him any excuse to do what he plans. We have to be patient and wait. If we kill any more people, it's going to get worse. We may never get rid of him. There's a better way to fight, Ramone, talk to Slash." Ramone laughed. This one had balls, just like Teresa Alverez. But she wasn't Teresa Alverez. She was a white girl in a white dress and she was crazy or something. "And just who the hell are you? Why should we help a white girl who wants us to be nice to cops? When you're through playing your games you'll go home to mommy and daddy and tell them you were at a friend's house. I want my headband back, hand it over." She took two steps back and he reached for her, but she was quick. She dodged, and then jumped the barricade. She stopped on the other side, staring at him while everyone else was staring at her. Then she turned and mounted the platform. If you were willing to accept the impossible, it all made sense. Some of the other reporters were grinning but Jeffrey wasn't. He realized that he had been used by Sandra Tucker. He realized that Slash had been used. He realized he was seeing a cute young lady that was very dangerous. And she looked it, despite the white dress and the long blonde hair. She surveyed the crowd like a professional speaker and there was no nervousness apparent. She had 141

fooled him. She had been a consummate actress at the age of thirteen and now she was fifteen. She had her eyes on the crowd as she tied the black headband in place and her face was hard edged. "My name is Sandra Tucker. I have come here to deliver the eulogy of a great nation, a nation conceived in liberty and dedicated to the principle that freedom is sacred. A nation that has led the world through the dark horrors of tyranny into the light of democracy and freedom of choice. "Today the adults made their choice. Tonight, we make ours. "They have hounded us. They have locked us up and kept us apart. They have drawn our blood and silenced our voice. They have forced their beliefs down our throats until we choked. They have decided our lives and they have decided our deaths. "We remember Julio Sanchez. We remember that he died trying to save a life we all hold precious, a life that has been imprisoned by the adults because they couldn't accept she had a right to refuse slavery. We are just children, after all. We have no voice. We have no right to decide how to live our lives. Our thoughts have no meaning because we are possessions to be used as the adults see fit. We belong to them. Lest we forget, look around. They hold guns and clubs ready to teach us what we refuse to learn. "Shall I tell you why? Shall I tell you what stupidity guides their misbegotten irrationality? They are afraid. Not of you and I, we are just children. They are afraid to loosen their death grip on a world they are strangling into submission. They are afraid we will not breed the soldiers with which they intimidate any who have the arrogance to think for themselves. They are afraid they will lose their place at the top of the mountain from which they issue their demands with righteous self-conceit. They are afraid there will be no more pawns to sacrifice in their insane madness for power. 142

"They believe that unless we breed ourselves into extinction we might leave some resource unexploited, some forest standing, some air still breathable. They are afraid to accept what they find unacceptable, that The Virus is not a disease, but a cure. "So they pass their laws in the hope that the rape of the earth can continue to feed their addiction for dominance. They made their choice. They would rather enslave us than allow their power to diminish. They plan to feed our bodies into the furnace so that the factories will continue to spout poison into the air and into the sea. "Baylor has promised to bring an end to our refusal to line up before the furnaces. They have begged him to enslave us. They do not understand that they have been used by a madman. They do not understand that they cannot be saved by standing on our bleeding carcasses. Have you wondered why we must pay the price for the adults' greed for power? “It is plain to see why Baylor has aligned his sights on us. "We are children. We cannot tell the adults what to do; we have no money; we cannot organize and resist. We have no voice, no vote to speak against him. He is using us and he is using the adults, pitting one against the other and maneuvering under cover of the panic. His goal is the death of democracy. He thinks it a good bargain to trade freedom for power. He knows that we will get older, stronger. He doesn't intend to allow us to oppose him. "But he has underestimated us. He was a fool to allow me to speak to you tonight. He will compound his mistake before the night is through. He chose children as easy targets; children he didn't believe could oppose him. "Baylor! I spit on you. I spit on your laws and I spit on your sick dreams of conquest. "We, the children! We are coming for you. Hide behind your walls and your tanks, it will do you no good. We are children. "Expect us to act childish." 143

Raston had been torn between watching the speech by Sandra Tucker, and watching Isaac's face. He wondered if Isaac was aware that he had stood when the girl faced the microphone and stared into the camera. He wondered if Isaac was aware what he had given away. Raston noted the resemblance between Sandra Tucker and Isaac Cass. So... He wasn't sure what to think about that for the time being, Isaac Cass was formidable enough. When the speech was over, Raston watched the girl untie the black headband and walk to the edge of the platform. She didn't make it very far. She had time enough to throw it toward the crowd, but no more. Then she was surrounded by bulky men in suits and taken away. The camera panned the audience, particularly the front row that looked as though it was composed entirely of gang members. They did nothing but watch, some of them even smiled. So they had expected it. What was going on? "Isaac? Why didn't you tell me that you had a daughter?" It took several seconds for Isaac to gather himself, but when he did, Raston felt like he was being pinned to the wall by two spears. "What are you talking about, Raston?" "I'm talking about Sandra Tucker. I'm talking about Teresa Alverez and I'm talking about two boys, one who has hair the exact shade as The Fox himself. I'm talking about a few years you spent at Notre Dame, and a virus that makes people well. You know God damn well what I'm talking about, Isaac." "Who do you really work for, Raston?" "Not John Baylor. In fact, as far as this particular piece of business is concerned, I don't work for anybody. But don't tell my employers that. They trust me. With good reason, in my opinion." "Russian?" 144

"Come on, Isaac, are we your enemy? I don't think you believe that. Do you have to look farther than the United State borders to identify its greatest threat? Remember, we've been through it. It isn't pleasant." Isaac stared at him for several moments, then headed for Raston's refrigerator. He came back with two beers and handed one to Raston. "So what are you looking for? The mysterious cure you were asking me about earlier? You're wasting your time. The Fox was a secretive man, I never even had evidence that he caused The Virus." "But you knew about the children. Is Sandra Tucker your daughter?" "She could be." "You don't know for sure?" "Do you think I would have abandoned her to be raised by strangers? I never suspected what he had done until he mailed me a photograph just before he disappeared. Would you like to see it?" "Of course I would. You're being very cooperative, Isaac. It worries me. Aren't you going to ask what I would do with a cure?" Isaac pulled a photograph from his wallet and handed it to Raston. It was the four children that Emily had taken a picture of. He turned the picture over and read the message. She will make you proud. "And are you proud? I'd say he delivered on his promise. I'd say that must be one hell of a kid you have. Did you notice the way the gang members along the front reacted when she was taken away? They were expecting it. They had been told to stay out of it. It puts a whole new perspective on the recent decline in gang violence." "I noticed, Raston." "Of course you did. Now that the secret is out let me tell you that I am a great admirer of yours, Isaac. I've read your dissertation. You should have gone to work for us, we wouldn't have treated you so shabbily." 145

"It's all in the past." "Not necessarily." "Forget it, Raston." "Couldn't hurt to make the offer. It stays open in case you change your mind. If we don't locate a cure..." "You're asking the wrong person, Raston." Maybe he was and maybe he wasn't. There were still a few matters to take care of. "You don't know the location of the two boys? The reason I ask is that I think it's possible that The Fox concealed an anti-virus in their blood. It's becoming quite frustrating, Isaac." "I don't know where they are, Raston. I wish I did, but I just can't help you."

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Chapter Ten Mongoose sat at the silent dinner table and felt his heart tearing open. Sarah Damon had no appetite for food. She stared at her plate as though it was a looking glass and when her eyes rose and met Joshua's, they fled as a blush rose on pale skin. The young girl had become a young woman. The next day was June 2 and Sarah would be sixteen. She could not hide the feelings inside of her; nor could she conquer them. Joshua would greet his seventeenth birthday with no joy. His son had grown increasingly restless as the months passed. Mongoose had found the boy's eyes on Sarah more often lately and it was with a man's feelings that the eyes spoke. The tension between the pair was heavy in the early summer air. The time had come. "Tell me, Sarah, what is it you wish most for your birthday?" She jumped, her face turning crimson. "I don't care. A driver’s license, I guess. Then I could get a job." "And what would you do with the money?" "I'd save it until I had enough to go to college. I know it costs a lot but I can work my way through if they'll just let me in and give me a chance." "I know of your desire to study medicine. I know they will stand in your way. What will you do if they do not allow it?" "They can't stop me! Nobody can stop me. I'll lie if I have to. I'll make them let me." "Perhaps it can be arranged." Her mouth dropped open and Rebecca was watching him with raised eyebrows. "Can you really do that? Can you make them let me in?" "No." "But..." 147

"There are other places that would welcome a student with your desire. There are places that their laws can not reach." Rebecca set down her fork and stared at him. "Mongoose... What are you suggesting? Are you saying that we should leave the United States?" "My son and I must remain here until the training is complete. You are welcome to stay with me always, Rebecca. I have no wish to see you depart. But your daughter desires something that she will not find on these shores. There are others who can guide her down the path she seeks. There is a man I know who will direct her efforts. I have spoken with him. He will accept her." Sarah was watching him with incredulous eyes. Rebecca sat back and turned to her daughter. "Is that what you want, Sarah?" "You mean you would really let me go? All by myself?" Rebecca turned to him and extended her hand. Mongoose took it and waited. "I'm staying here, Sarah." "You're separating them, aren't you? That's what this is all about." He reached out and pulled Rebecca against him. She felt his flesh against hers and wrapped around him. He was the most incredible man she had ever met. "It must be done. Joshua will require all of his concentration in the months ahead. Your daughter is proving a considerable distraction. She has become a woman and she can not hide the way she feels." Was it so bad, after all? Rebecca felt guilty for her wish that Sarah and Joshua might fall in love. The Virus stood between them and might always stand between them. She hated the situation. "How does Joshua feel about it?" 148

"He feels as a young man feels. She is beautiful, Rebecca, as her mother is beautiful. She has a soul that is gentle and a mind that will not rest. But he is young. Do not fault him for something he can not control." She rubbed against him and leaned forward to kiss him. It lasted until her body demanded more. "You're all beasts. You take us and use us and leave us." "And you wait for our return." "I hate you, every single last one of you." "And we love you as we are capable and hope it is enough." His hands stroked her back, finding the places he seemed so expert at locating. "Do you think she will go?" "She will go." Joshua rose and headed straight for the cellar. His dreams had been disturbing. Sarah was going to leave and he didn't want her to. She was going away and he might never see her again. It confused and infuriated him. The damn Virus was like an electric fence. He had trouble getting to sleep, and when he did... Joshua pushed it away and closed himself in the shell that was the First Door. He had spent six hours every day for over two years locked in a coffin. When he wasn't in the coffin he was driving his body to exhaustion on the mat in the basement or studying until his eyes popped out. Life hadn't been much fun for a long time. But it wasn't all-bad. He had nearly gone crazy trying to match the muscles in the coffin. He had started to make progress and seen it vanish when it became suddenly harder. The machine became more sensitive, the time period he had to succeed shorter, and the leniency in zeroing in tighter. He had to get it right the first time and he had to do it now. But even that had gotten easier eventually. As he had become better and won more often he wondered if he was closing in. 149

But the machine had another trick. Suddenly there had been two muscles to match and the tension wasn't the same in both. It seemed impossible. Then there had been three, then four. He had been getting better lately and didn't make more than a handful of mistakes in every turn. The closer he got the harder he had pushed because he could tell that this was it, that he was almost there. He was halfway through his first turn and hadn't made a mistake yet. This was the day. This was the day the Third Door fell. "Mongoose? Can I ask you something?" He smiled at her and she returned it with a grin. In every way that mattered, this man had become her father. "You may always speak to me, Sarah." She was suddenly nervous. It was her sixteen birthday, a day she had never thought would arrive. But it had and it had brought with it something that she couldn't believe. She hadn't slept much because she had to know. "Who is the friend you are sending me to? Is he a doctor?" "He is." Mongoose was watching her with an amused expression. She tried to push away the butterflies in her stomach and forged ahead. "Is he a famous doctor?" "He is a good doctor, Sarah Damon." He drove her nuts. "Can't you just tell me one thing? Can you tell me if he'll help me find a cure for The Virus?" "Is that what you wish most? Medicine concerns far more then curing a disease that makes you well. There is still sickness, still pain and suffering." "I know! I was just wondering, that's all. You're not going to tell me, are you?" "You do not need to be told. The choice is yours, Sarah. Do not make it from curiosity. Does it matter? If it is 150

only a cure for The Virus you seek, I must warn you, there is no chance you will find it. There is no cure for The Virus, Sarah." "No cure? Ever?" He shook his head and she felt the tears start. He took her in his arms and she cried against his chest. She had it forever. She couldn't even kiss Joshua good-bye. "Would you rather remain? It is not my intent to order you away." She pushed herself back and dried her eyes. "No. I'm still going to be a doctor. I'm still going to help. When do I leave?" "Tomorrow." "Tomorrow!" She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "All right." "You will not regret your decision. There is something I must ask of you. You must promise me that you will tell no one of what I will entrust in you. Do not promise if you believe yourself incapable. No one. Do you understand?" He was looking at her like it was the most important thing in the world, and if she guessed right, it might be. She was trembling with excitement. He was going to tell her after all. He had just been making sure she understood what she really wanted. "I promise." "I did it, Pa." It came out pretty casually but Joshua was jumping inside. Over two years in a stinking box! He'd almost be angry except that he could feel every muscle when he moved. The change had been gradual but he still realized the difference. He couldn't not notice. It was the most incredible feeling to even walk around and his reflexes were better. He almost believed he could snatch an arrow right out of the sky if he were stupid enough to try. 151

His pa was smiling in that way that didn't look much like a smile. He was standing beside Sarah on the back porch and Sarah had a crazy expression in her eyes. She was going to do it, she was going to leave. "Happy birthday, Sarah." She was grinning and looking at him like he was some kind of thing. "Stop that. You don't have to look so darned pleased." Her grin faded. "Sarah, I'm sorry. I guess I'm just worked up. I'm glad you're going to be a doctor, but it's a little hard to say goodbye." The smile was tentative. "I'm going to miss you. But I have to go. It may be the only chance I'll ever have." "I know." Joshua looked from her to his pa. His pa smiled. "Go." Rebecca stopped at the library before heading for the grocery store. She never missed an opportunity to catch up on the news, and lately, even though he refused to allow a television, Mongoose had listened to the information she had learned. John Baylor had taken office more than a year before. There had been several grim predictions, particularly after the speech by Sandra Tucker. Everyone had expected an all out gang war that had never materialized. If anything, they were more peaceful than they had ever been before. They still spoke out, they still organized marches and they still denounced Baylor as a tyrant. But that was it. Baylor claimed they were gathering their forces and waiting for the proper moment to attack, but everything was so peaceful that not many people believed him anymore. It seemed their tactic was a simple one, to bide their time and 152

wait until Baylor could be voted from office. Rebecca grinned and picked up the next newspaper. There was an alarming rise in the spread of The Virus. Despite the many laws, the older population seemed to be catching it at a rate that appeared to be accelerating. There were reports of gang members in senior citizen centers, but the police were unable to prove anything, and the seniors weren't talking. The spread wasn't confined to the senior citizens. More and more children were testing positive. The implication was clear. Sandra Tucker had told Baylor to expect them to act childish. Apparently the revolt had moved out of the streets and into the woods. Rebecca wasn't sure how she felt about that. Sarah had The Virus by no choice of her own, but these children did have a choice. They were making a mistake that couldn't be unmade. Baylor was screaming that the epidemic was getting worse and stronger measures were needed to stop the spread. The legislators were reluctant to support his proposal that all children be placed in Safe Schools because they feared another outbreak in violence. Baylor appeared on the verge of hysteria. Even as The Virus spread there were no signs of violence that had caused the panic that swept him into office. He continued to berate the legislature for sitting idle while the United States became a country with no future. Rebecca wasn't sure she disagreed. The birth rate was appallingly low, and with the number of children who would be unable to become parents when they grew up increasing, it promised to fall still lower in the years ahead. She had an uneasy feeling that the peace would be short-lived. Baylor had already begun to combine forces with the religious groups demanding Congress act to stop the spread of immorality. Congress was beginning to feel the heat. It was only a matter of time.

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Sarah walked beside Joshua through the forest while Sherlock pushed his nose around up in front. She loved the way Joshua moved like a big cat stalking in the jungle. She had seen him with his shirt off and it had awed her. He had muscles on top of muscles like snakes wiggling under his skin. He was over six feet tall and had wavy brown hair hanging to his shoulders and eyes that could look so gentle and so cold almost at the same time. She was going away and by the time she got back he would be long gone and it would be too late. By then, every girl in the world was going to be chasing him and he was so stupid he didn't even realize it. "Joshua?" "Sarah, listen. I know how you feel about it but I just don't care. I'm not going to watch you go and just shake your hand and say `see you later'. I know you have to go. I know I can't go with you. But damn it, I may never see you again. Ever. " "I know, Joshua." She waited, watching him. He was having a rough time getting out what he wanted to say but she had already made her decision to take the chance. "Sarah, will you let me kiss you good-bye?" He met her eyes and she met his. "What about The Virus, Joshua?" "Where's Sarah?" Mongoose smiled. "She has gone to explore with Joshua. Is there news of Teresa Alverez or Sandra Tucker?" She looked at him with a woman's curiosity. "Teresa Alverez is still in custody. Nobody has been able to find out where they are keeping her. The government claims it is a matter of national security, that she started the riots once and it would happen again." "Someone must know." "Nobody who will talk." 154

"What of Sandra Tucker?" "She has been released into the custody of her father. Her father refuses to disclose her whereabouts and more than one reporter has been trying to find her. They haven't been able to. Her father is a very wealthy man. Evidently he has sequestered her in some place where she can't get any message out, at least, not one that reaches the press. There is wide belief that she might not be in the United States, that he may have shipped her overseas and surrounded her with guards and security systems. At least her prison cell has satin sheets. Poor Teresa. She has been locked up for over two years; she must be terrified that they'll never set her free." Both of the girls had disappeared, it was not expected. Joshua couldn't sleep. He lay in bed staring at the ceiling and feeling like he was being torn in two. He didn't want her to leave, especially not now. But she had to. Just like he had to stay. It wasn't even his promise to his pa anymore. He had started it and he was going to finish it. The Doors of the Mongoose had changed him and he liked the changes. He could do things that didn't seem possible. He could grab a fly out of the air every time, even choose which wing to catch him by. He could see things he had never been able to see before because they moved too fast. Nothing ever moved too fast anymore. Once his eyes locked on the movement it was like everything shifted into slow motion. He wasn't done yet. Tomorrow Sarah would sail west and he would begin his assault on The Fourth Door. They were both caught by things. He just wished they had more time together. He didn't know what time it was but it was late. The breakers were quiet and the wind was still. He jumped when he heard the shriek. It was the dog whistle Sarah had gotten for Sherlock and it took him a second to remember he was the only one in 155

the house besides Sherlock who would hear it. He climbed out of bed and eased open the door. Everything was so black he could barely see. His pa and Sarah's mother were in a bedroom on the other side of the house so there was no way they were going to hear him. He grinned and eased down the hall. He turned the knob and pushed open the door. Sherlock was standing there, sniffing at him. "Go chase a cat, Sherlock." Sherlock seemed to think it was a good idea. When the dog was gone, Joshua stepped inside and closed the door. "I didn't wake you up, did I?" "Not likely." "Will you sleep with me?" "Sleep?" "Just get in bed, you barbarian." Joshua stripped and climbed in beside her. It was different in the dark. She was naked and warm and soft. He rubbed her and she gasped. "You're not going to scream again, are you?" She traced her hands over his body, liking the feel of all his strength. "Joshua? I have to tell you something. Promise you won't say anything? I'm not supposed to know." "Then how do you?" "I listened when I wasn't supposed to. You remember that time I came to your room and asked you if it would be all right if I was your sister?" "I remember." He was still moving his hands over her and she was starting to heat up all over again. "Well, what happened was I overheard my mother and your father talking. They were talking about a girl named Teresa Alverez. Do you remember me asking if you knew her?" "I still don't." 156

"But I think you're going to." "Why? Who is she?" "She's a girl your age who painted a bunch of murals down in Los Angeles. The police were trying to catch her for a long time and they finally did. They locked her up in jail and the gangs tried to break her out. Some gang members were killed, the police moved her, and nobody seems to know where she is." "What has this got to do with me, Sarah?" "Because you're the one who is going to find her, Joshua. You don't know it yet, but you are. You're going to try to set her free." "Break her out of jail? Are you crazy? Why would I do a stupid thing like that?" "Because you will, you idiot. You're so dumb sometimes. Why would you try to fight a bear that could rip your head off with one swipe? You don't even know, do you? I know. You can't help yourself." He didn't say anything for a while. He pulled her against him and she almost hated him for being what he was. "Sarah? Do you ever get scared of what you might do? Do you ever think that you could kill somebody with your bare hands and then be sorry for the rest of your life? Sometimes I think about how crazy I can get." She touched his face and found the tears she had heard in his voice. "Joshua, you can't let them do what they're doing." "What can I do about it, Sarah? I can't just say stop and they'll stop. I can't make it go away. I'm not going to fight them. I'm not going to go around killing people." She could feel the tension humming under his skin. "You'll know what to, Joshua. I know you will. You're going to have help. You won't have to do it all by yourself. You're going to free Teresa Alverez. That's what I wanted to tell you. You don't have to believe me, but I'm going to say it anyway. There is a man named Carlos Delvega. He might know where Teresa is. He was a police 157

officer once. If anybody could find her, he could. He's the one who saved her from the police when she painted the first mural. He must be trying to find her. The police are still trying to find him." "How the heck am I supposed to find this guy if the police can't catch him?" "You'll have to go to Los Angeles, Joshua. The gangs might know where he is. You're going to have to find one and ask." Simon looked from Mongoose to the mutt. "Take a dog?" Sherlock barked. "No offense, mutt. But believe me, the ocean is no place a dog wants to be." The damn dog jumped on board and looked at him as if to say, "just try to throw me off." "You better not get seasick, dog. And you better like fish." The dog wagged his tail and Simon laughed. "Leave it to you, Mongoose. Only you could find a seadog in the forest. When are you going to shake off this dirt and get back on a deck?" "When the time is right." That was the Mongoose. Never could get a straight answer out of the bloke. "Soooo. This the package for delivery?" "Take care, old friend, she is precious to me. Teach her what you can of the sea. Do not let her lay about while there is work to be done." Simon eyed the girl. "Can you cook, Miss?" "I don't burn things too often." He grinned and was treated to a smile. "Say your goodbyes, then. The first lesson of the sailor's life is leaving behind the ones you care about most." 158

It was a tearful farewell. The boy stood like he was unable to move and the girl walked to him and kissed his cheek. She hugged Mongoose and she hugged her mother, and then returned to stand in front of the boy. "Don't you forget me. I'm going to write, if I can." "Don't fall overboard, Sarah." "Be careful, Joshua. Be real careful. I'm coming back someday. You haven't seen the last of me yet." Simon had seen it too often. Best way was a clean break. "Better get on board, Miss. Tides going out." She glanced back at Simon then turned back to the boy and whispered something in his ear. The kid grinned in a way any man would understand. She turned and ran to the ship, then jumped aboard. "Get the bow line, Miss, or we'll take the dock with us." "My name is Sarah, Captain." "And mine be Simon, but the bow line don't care much about that. Get ready to cast off." He started the old diesel that would carry them out of Eureka Harbor where they would hoist the sails. "You watch your step, Mongoose, I have that old feeling in my bones. It's getting ready to blow." Joshua didn't sleep. His pa wouldn't even tell him where she was going. Even if he had wanted to go looking for her, how would he ever find her? It seemed like a trick of some kind, but he couldn't figure out why his pa would do such a thing. Why did everyone seem to know more about what was going on than he did? What the heck had Sarah been talking about when she said he was going to look for Teresa Alverez and break her out of prison? He didn't even know who she was. Still, it was hard not to think about what he would do if he ever got released from his promise. Should he 159

try to find Sarah? He would probably just be in the way if he showed up. Tomorrow he would begin his assault on The Fourth Door. He couldn't do anything until he finished his training. Sometimes he was sorry he had ever promised to stay. It was no use thinking such a thing. All he could do was push on even harder. He was ready. He was more than ready. "Before you stands the Fourth Door, the Door of Counteraction. It is the last." Joshua couldn't describe exactly how the words affected him. He felt a rush through his body and met his pa's hard black eyes. "When the cobra threatens it is not enough to see the beginning of his strike. It is not enough to have the quickness to avoid his venom. If your mind freezes in time of crisis, his fangs will sink into your flesh. "Your thoughts are sluggish things. The world about you moves in slow motion and you have allowed yourself to take what time you need to come to decision. When the world erupts in blinding speed you are caught unprepared. Your mind stumbles when forced to decide without time for thought. To hesitate is to die. "Come." Joshua followed his pa to the last machine. It was the strangest of all four. There was a wall shaped like half of a bowl sitting on end. It reached up fifteen feet and curved around on all sides like the mouth of a shallow cave. The inside of the bowl was covered with holes one inch round and there was a three-foot circle on the rubber mat positioned where the center would be if the bowl was a sphere. "Stand in the circle." Joshua walked to the center of the circle and stopped. His pa pulled a net around behind the bowl and moved to the 160

machine. It felt like was he staring down the barrels of a thousand guns from every direction. "Cloak yourself in the armor of the First Door. Unlimber your mind and your body. Prepare. "The cobra strikes..."

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Chapter Eleven Mr. Franks was droning on about something or another and Kyle wasn't paying any more attention than he usually did. Teachers didn't mess with him much anymore. He sort of missed it. He was a senior and he was going to be eighteen in three months. It was April and Baylor had been in office for two years and all his stupid laws to prevent kids from catching The Virus had blown up right in his face. Teenagers had turned catching The Virus into sport, and the adults didn't know what to do about it. Even the kids they had locked up in the Safe Schools had managed to pass it around by wiping blood into each other's cuts. Sandra Tucker had told Baylor to expect childishness; it was every bit of that. Most of the kids couldn't seem to think past getting laid and it was the craziest darn situation Kyle had ever heard of. The religions were screaming and the parents were screaming and even the businessmen were screaming that something had to be done. But the fools must have known it was too late. They were calling the kids the last generation and there might be more truth in the title than the kids wanted to believe. Or maybe they just didn't care anymore. In the last few months the battle lines had shifted again. Baylor wanted several constitutional amendments approved that somehow didn't sit too comfortably with the rest of the document. Everyone knew it was going to happen; nobody knew what to do about it or think about it. There was a strange lethargy building up. The shittiest part about the whole mess was that Baylor was right; it was a desperate situation calling for desperate action. The gangs had sworn to fight if Baylor went through with it, and it wasn't an empty threat. They had become more organized in the last two years, and their membership had been about the only thing in the country that continued to grow. Baylor was getting the armed services ready for a war and most of the generals were new generals, owing their 162

position to John Baylor. Kyle had no taste for a blood bath. He wasn't joining either side. All of his plans to stick it to Baylor had dried up when he realized it was futile, that it would only make things worse. There was nothing to do but run and let it happen because the only way out was a cure that nobody was even close to finding. Except maybe Merlin. Kyle had done what he set out to do; he had brought software to life. He had used stolen supercomputer time to evolve intelligence from a cell of computer code in an extremely hostile environment. The product of a billion generations was Merlin, and Kyle had made sure the boy got a proper education. It had been a tough decision whether or not to let Merlin help Isaac Cass in his attempt to create a global economic model, but the man was right, they did need it. And no way was Isaac going to succeed without Merlin. Kyle still didn't quite trust the guy. Isaac claimed that The Fox had made a mistake, that The Virus wasn't supposed to cause infertility. Before The Fox could figure out what went wrong, he had disappeared. Isaac had an answer for everything and the answers all made sense, but they stank in that way that an equation stank when Kyle was looking at it and somehow felt something wasn't right. Kyle and Isaac had been communicating with their computers for over three years, and it was a real joy for Kyle to interact with somebody he could explain some of the things going on in his head to. Isaac said he had been asked to look out for Kyle by The Fox, and Kyle believed that. It wasn't that the man was sinister in any way; he was just too damn smart. It kept Kyle on edge, and it had convinced him to drop the cultivation business and bury any tracks that could lead the Colombians up his ass. And then there was Isaac's preaching that infuriated Kyle because it hit him right in the ego. Isaac claimed that it would be an international disaster if Kyle's genes were lost through contagion with The Virus. He kept his pants on, for the time being. He didn't doubt for a second that sex was as good or better than all the 163

kids were saying, but he had the feeling that once he got started, it was going to occupy a considerable amount of his attention. What with working on Merlin and managing his growing financial empire, there just wasn't much time for women. Yet. But he would graduate from high school in a month, and with the Cartel on ice and the Feds tied in knots, Kyle was beginning to believe he'd actually got away with it. There were ways around catching The Virus and Kyle fully intended to put them to use while Merlin searched for a cure to the infertility. But not until he was out of Copeland and away from its prying eyes. So he forced himself to look away from trying to see down Shelly's blouse, even though he could swear she was trying to make it easier. He stared sightless at the birds outside the window building a nest in the tree, thinking that one long lick... He was just drifting off when the classroom loudspeaker bellowed -"INCOMING!" Kyle jumped to his feet. Two government suits had left the Principal's office and were headed across the lawn toward the classroom. Hooooly shit! Then he was running... "Mr. Franks? Sorry to disturb your class but we would like to question one of your students. Could you point out Kyle Cooper, please?" Mr. Franks surveyed the students' horrified faces. Their hero had just executed a perfect dive through the back window and landed on the run. "Could you show me some identification, please?" Both men pulled billfolds from their jacket pockets. They were FBI. Kyle Cooper wasn't going to squirm out of this one easily. "What exactly is it that you wish to question him about?" 164

"It is a matter of national security, Mr. Franks. Could you point the boy out?" Mr. Franks looked from the class to the FBI agents. "I'm sorry, gentlemen, but Kyle Cooper is not present." "Don't play games with us, Mr. Franks. The Principal said he was in school today. He said he was in your class. Now which one is he? Do we have to get the Principal here personally to identify him?" Shelly Halsey stood beside her third row desk and laughed. "You're never going to catch him. Nobody catches Kyle Cooper." The old pickup had a Kyle Cooper engine. He was moving a hundred and forty in nine seconds. He jerked his head around in time to see the two suits running for the parking lot. Shit. He had almost gotten away with it. Evidently, somebody had discovered a few hundred thousand hours of missing supercomputer time and followed him home. "Merlin, you there?" "I wouldn't stop and smell any flowers, Kyle. They have a warrant for your arrest and they sounded quite serious about serving it up." "You could have given me a little more warning, buddy." "I'm sorry, Kyle. I was star gazing at Palomar." "Who are they?" "It's the FBI this time, Kyle." Shit. Just what he needed. "Have they staked out the homestead?" "I see no sign of intruders in the perimeter." Kyle grinned. That meant there were probably just the two of them and they were a couple minutes behind. "Heat up the Batwagon and drive her up to Tuckers Corner. And call Dad." 165

The phone rang three times before his father picked it up. "Hi, Dad." "Kyle, you ditching school again?" "I guess you could put it that way. Dad, could you do me a favor? Could you check the extra gas tanks for the airboat and throw them on board? Then crank her over and get it warmed up." "Are you in trouble, boy?" "Sort of." The line was silent for several seconds, and then he heard his father sigh. "Anything else?" "There's a blue pack in my closet. Could you throw it on board?" "Going on a trip, son?" "It seems like the prudent thing to do at the moment." "How much time do you have?" "They're about to give me an enema." "Guess you won't be around for dinner. How long before you get here?" "Either two minutes or ten years." "It's like that, is it?" "Probably a bit worse." "Then I better get moving, son." The line went dead. Kyle hadn't wanted it to be like this. "Merlin, cover your tracks. Don't do anything that might give yourself away. Clear?" "I'm all ears." Jenkins was along for the ride. Marco was a legend in the Bureau and needed assistance about as much as Jenkins needed hemorrhoids. Jenkins figured it was some kind of training mission because picking up a kid on wasn't something Marco was likely to deal with under normal circumstances. 166

They had agreed that the school was the best place because if the boy made it into the swamp, flushing him out might be difficult. Somehow, Kyle Cooper had been alerted. The damn pickup was faster than it looked. Jenkins had the peddle to the floor and the kid was nowhere in sight. "Looks like he's running for home." Marco looked up from the map and gave Jenkins a look that wasn't full of admiration. "He's running toward home. Any kid who could do what he did must have known he might get caught. We're in his back yard. If he isn't in custody in fifteen minutes, I'm calling in a chopper." "You think it will be necessary? What had Kyle done? Dale had always been afraid his son would end up in a cell. It wasn't that Kyle was a bad boy, just a might disrespectful of authority. Dale figured it was his fault. He found the pack, and then he was running for the airboat. Kyle couldn't do with an ordinary airboat. He had rigged up something he called a "cruise control". It didn't seem to interfere and she kicked over fast and solid. Dale checked the fuel, then dropped a couple spare five-gallon tanks on the deck and started strapping them down. By the time he was finished he heard the truck coming. There wasn't any question that Kyle was in a hurry. Kyle passed the house on the run and slowed to a stop ten feet away. "Pack your tooth brush, son?" "Afraid so, Dad." "Then you knew it was coming? What did you do, boy, rob a bank?" "I borrowed some computer time for a worthy cause. They're not just cops, dad. And they're right behind me." "Best be on your way then. You have a plan, I suppose?" Kyle grinned and Dale relaxed. "I'm going to miss you, boy." 167

"I'm going to miss you, too, Dad. I couldn't have asked for a better father. Anybody else and I'd have been locked up long ago. This wasn't your fault; I did it all by myself." Dale walked to him and grabbed him. "You made me proud, son. You always made me proud. Now get the hell out of here." Kyle stepped back and nodded, then untied the airboat and met Dale's eyes. "Tell Jennifer I said thanks for everything. Tell her I'm never going to forget." Kyle jumped up into the seat and he was blowing air. "Roger, Marco. ETA eighteen minutes." Marco hung up the microphone and turned to where Jenkins was talking at Mr. Cooper. Mr. Cooper was sitting on the porch and spitting tobacco juice at Jenkins dancing feet. Marco walked to the porch. "Do you mind if we look around, Mr. Cooper?" "Damn right I do. You have something that says I have to let you?" "Jenkins, check out the house." Mr. Cooper kept his eyes on Marco and spit. "I don't suppose you want to tell us where your son is?" "Ain't seen him. Never could keep track of the boy. What's he got himself into this time? He piss on a police car again?" The old man wasn't going to prove very helpful. Jenkins came out of the house. "Guess what, Marco? The boy has a computer." "Secure it and start searching the area." "We're airborne." Marco was studying a map and tracing the probable escape routes while Jenkins acted as spotter. It was a tricky problem trying to second-guess a kid on the run in the 168

Everglades, particularly one that was undoubtedly familiar with the area for miles around. Kyle had a twenty-minute jump; he could be anywhere. "Tell them I want road blocks in place in ten minutes. And get two more choppers up. If we don't catch him by dark, it could take weeks to smoke him out of the swamp. Assuming he stays in it." "Don't worry, sir. If he's running, we'll catch him. Most of these types get rattled and keep pushing air. There's no way we won't pick up a signature." Kyle finished tying the airboat under the radar reflecting camouflage netting. He had bought it years before from a military surplus dealer and set it up next to one of his plantations. He unrolled the front flap and let it drop, then grinned. Now that the car was in the garage, it was time to see what was on the tube and relax. He wasn't planning on moving an inch until dark. He pushed open the door of the shack and triggered the switch. A generator hummed to life, barely audible from ten feet away. "I want a cold beer in fifteen minutes, Merlin. Don't keep me in suspense; how many and where?" "You want the good news or the bad news?" "Get it over with." "One chopper, ten miles northeast in an expanding search pattern. Two more on the way and the roads are blocked. It looks like they want to talk to you pretty badly, Kyle. Did you do something I don't know about?" "I'm seventeen. That's a crime all by itself." He kicked off his shoes and picked a James Bond movie from the library. Seconds later, he was leaning back in the recliner and lighting a joint. "Times are tough all over, Kyle." "Right. So what's the good news?" 169

"Kyle, that was the good news. You're out of beer." "No sign of him, sir." "And?" "He must have had a place prepared. If he had been running, one of us would have spotted him." "I'm quite aware of that, Marco. What I want to know is how you plan to ensure he doesn't escape." "I'm not sure I can promise that, sir." "And I'm not sure you quite understand the situation, Marco. I have a report here that disturbs me a great deal. Young Mr. Cooper has no love of authority, Marco. You could even say he has been quite adamant in his attitude of disrespect. Considering what we know he is capable of, and considering the present instability, wouldn't you say that he might prove a bit bothersome if he put his mind to it?" "I imagine so, sir." "And wouldn't you say, all things considered, that it might go beyond merely bothersome? Imagine this, Marco. Imagine Kyle Cooper seeking shelter where he would be wholeheartedly welcomed. Imagine the gang organizations finding ample use for his particular talent of breaking into secure systems and both accessing and altering vital information. Imagine him skipping joyously through CIA records, police files and Pentagon documents. Imagine us waking up one morning and finding it all gone. Are you getting the picture, Marco?" "Yes sir." "Do I need to make it any clearer? Kyle Cooper is not to escape. I want choppers in the air around the clock and I want the fucking Marines swarming the everglades and I God damn want him, dead or alive. Don't fuck this up, Marco; he's to be considered extremely dangerous. Now, have I made myself clear?" Jennifer Barton was in the grocery store when she overheard two children talking. Her cart was left half-full of 170

groceries in the produce section while she ran for home. She threw open her door and headed straight for the phone. She waited four seconds for the phone to ring before she realized she must have misdialed. She cut off, but before she had even lifted her hand, her phone rang. "Hello?" "Jennifer Barton?" "Can you call back, I'm in a hurry, thank you." She severed the connection but again the phone rang before she had release the button." "What!" "I really need to speak to you, Miss Barton. I heard something about Kyle Cooper I thought you should know." She yanked the phone from her ear and stared at it, then placed it uncertainly back. "Who is this?" "I'm a friend of Kyle's. He wanted me to tell you that you shouldn't call his house, just in case you heard what had happened and decided to check." "He's in trouble. I knew this was going to happen." "I'm sure there's nothing to worry about, Miss Barton. But I wouldn't go out to his house right now. I think there are people there who are looking for him. They would only ask you questions that you wouldn't want to answer." "What am I supposed to do? Sit here and wonder if Kyle is in jail or worse?" "He's safe at the moment. But since you brought it up, I have a suggestion. When was the last time you took a vacation?" "What did you find out?" "Zip, Marco. His computer is full of games. There are no notes, nothing you wouldn't expect to find in a boy's room. The only thing of any interest is the radar dish out behind the house." "Did you check out the pickup?" "He has a standard CB in it. The engine's hopped up, all 171

right. Nice work there, I'm not surprised you couldn't catch him. He probably did the job himself because he has got quite a set of tools in the shed. Just another kid who is into cars and computer games. You sure you got the right guy?" "What about neighbors? What about friends?" "Nobody lives very near this place. According to the principal, Kyle Cooper is a kind of legend in these parts. He didn't go to school much as a kid, but when he did, he drove teachers out of their minds. Everyone was surprised when he showed up to register for high school. His grades were average. He played volleyball on the boy's team, he was a good athlete. No close friends. He kept to himself apparently, not even a girlfriend. We can't find a photograph, but we have a good description from the principal and a couple of teachers who acted like they hoped we were going to shoot him." No pictures, no evidence, no close friends, and no clue as to where he might be headed; this kid would make an excellent agent. Where the hell was he hiding? Kyle could be in a million places, but the airboat should have been spotted long ago. It would be dark in a couple hours and Marco had a hunch that Kyle would be on the move. He probably wasn't aware of how badly he was wanted. Even if he guessed, he'd have to move. So far, everything led to the conclusion that a plan had been prepared long in advance. Would he try to escape into the Gulf by boat? Or even Mexico? The Caribbean? Shit, he could head in any damn direction except north and he might even try that. "Tell the Coast Guard we're after a drug runner. Give a loose description and tell them to hold anyone resembling it. I want them on alert around the entire southern tip of Florida. Tell the principal that if Kyle shows up, to give us a call. I want you to make sure that he doesn't suspect we're still looking, and I want him to spread the word that Kyle was simply wanted for questioning over a minor matter you aren't at liberty to discuss. I want anything in the air not positively identified investigated. I want a Marine training 172

exercise ordered beginning at first light and traffic blocked off until further notice. I want five more choppers ready to go at dusk. Got it?" "Damn, Marco. Is that all?" "No. I want you to go back over this place and keep looking until you find something he missed. Where's the father?" "Jenkins left with him about forty-five minutes ago. He's taking Mr. Cooper in for questioning." "Jenkins, this is Marco. What the hell do you think you're doing?" Jenkins picked up the microphone and looked over his shoulder at Dale Cooper just to be sure he was still there. "I'm taking Mr. Cooper back to HQ, Marco. What's up?" "Mr. Cooper is not to be detained. This situation has gone far enough, Jenkins. If Kyle doesn't want to answer our questions, there's no way we can make him." "What are your instructions?" "Apologize to Mr. Cooper for the inconvenience. If his son contacts him, ask Mr. Cooper to please convince the boy we merely want to talk to him. Is that clear?" "Clear." "What is your location?" "Eastbound on 41, five miles out of Sweetwater." "Let Mr. Cooper out at the bus station and ask him to take a bus back home. Give him bus fare; we don't want any hard feelings. Tell him I'm sorry, but I need you somewhere else and I'm sure he doesn't want to tag along." Marco was smart; Jenkins was going to remember that trick. By the time Mr. Cooper got home, the place would be wired solid. It would all look like it was a simple inquiry, and the boy panicked and ran. Nobody would ever suspect how badly Kyle was wanted and if Kyle never appeared... Accidents happen in the Everglades. "Roger, Marco. Anything else?" 173

"I'll get back to you." Dale found himself standing in front of a bus station with twenty dollars in his hand and mad as hell. He knew a cover-up when he heard one. The anger disappeared and was replaced with fear. What had happened to Kyle? If they had caught him they obviously weren't planning on letting anyone know. He didn't like the implication. Dale turned with a snap and headed for the ticket counter. "One way to Copeland." "You aren't Dale Cooper by any chance?" "You want to tell me how you knew that?" "I just received a call from a gentleman who said to stop you from boarding the bus for Copeland. Someone is going to be here to pick you up in about twenty minutes. Something to do with your son feeling guilty about making you ride the bus so he was sending a friend." Jennifer didn't know what to believe. Everything had turned so strange that it didn't seem odd at all to be sitting beside a pay phone and waiting for a call from somebody she didn't know with instructions she couldn't even begin to guess. The only reason she was still sane was that she knew Kyle. Somehow, Kyle was behind all of it, but she couldn't imagine how. The phone rang. "Yes?" "Do you have something to write with, Miss Barton?" Jennifer dug through her purse. "Ok, I'm ready." "Mr. Cooper is waiting at the bus station parking lot in Sweetwater. I advise you to keep a low profile, Miss Barton. I took the liberty of presuming you wouldn't object if I provided new identification and passports for both you and Mr. Cooper. You will find it in a post office box on Carter Street in Miami. The box number is 983 and the combination is 8428. Flight 506 out of Miami is saving your seats. I apologize that they aren't together, but you shouldn't be seen 174

boarding the plane as a couple. I advise you to make yourselves difficult to recognize, the airline employees might remember your description at a later date. Takeoff is at 8:45 PM so you have an hour. Don't worry if you're late, I'll hold the flight. Enjoy yourself, Miss Barton, Jamaica is reportedly quite nice this time of year. Bank accounts have been established in your and Mr. Cooper's new names at the Bank of Jamaica. Don't worry about spending them dry. Personally, if I were you, I'd consider opening a school. If there are any problems or if you desire anything at all, please contact me. Remember this phone number: MERLINN. Check back with me when you get to the islands and I'll let you know if Kyle is safe. Are there any questions?" "Who are you?" "I'm a friend of Kyle's, Miss Barton. And Kyle is a friend of yours. Bon voyage." "We have contact. One airboat headed northeast in sector three and moving like a bat out of hell. He's got a spotlight out front and boy is he flying." Marco couldn't afford to let himself smile. Jenkins had actually set Mr. Cooper free after a false radio call and the man had promptly vanished off the face of the earth. Either Kyle had very competent assistance, or he had already slipped through the net by early evening. Marco had spent the last four hours wondering if he was ever going to get within a thousand miles of the kid. "We have point." Kyle was making his move. The kid must have eyes like a cat, even with the spotlight. The night was overcast and the Everglades were a black hole beneath the chopper swerving to stay behind the airboat. "Will you look at him go! That son of a bitch would make one hell of a chopper pilot." "Can you stop him?" "The only thing that's going to stop him is a stump." "What's up ahead?" 175

"Alligators the size of battleships. He doesn't look like he's going to give up, Marco. Anyone with the balls to open it up at night in the glades is going down fighting. I swear to God, I don't think you understand what you're seeing. This kid is on a suicide run. Even if he hits the water alive, every gator in ten miles is going to be fighting over the pieces. We won't even find a belt buckle." "Get closer." "You fucking crazy?" "Move the choppers up on his flanks and fire some shots." "This is Alpha One. Kenny, move up to his right flank. Luke, take the left. Keep your distance and prepare to fire some warning shots." Marco forced himself to relax while the choppers moved into position. The spotlight on the airboat was jumping and dancing, snaking through a path to avoid obstacles that were invisible from the chopper. The boy must have phenomenal reactions; he couldn't possible see further then twenty feet ahead. Kyle was bound to make a mistake. If he hit something at that speed he was going to land in New England. "Use your guns." The machine gun fire must have caught Kyle by surprise. He panicked and the airboat swerved. It started to go over, but miraculously righted itself and plunged to the left. The change of direction was so quick it caught the pilot unprepared. One of the rounds must have hit a fuel tank. The airboat exploded in a ball of flame and hit something that sent it tumbling end over end. "I said warning shots!" "He swerved under my gun! I'm coming around, I'll see if he got thrown clear." "Bring those choppers up! Search the area and make it quick. If he's still alive he won't be for long if the gators get a whiff of him. Down to the water and get the floods on." 176

Marco didn't allow himself to hope. Nobody could have survived that crash. The choppers were swinging searchlights over the area surrounding the burning wreckage. "Anybody see him?" "Negative. Wait a minute, I see movement. I'm coming around." Marco had his face pressed against the glass, staring down. "It's an alligator the size of a truck and it looks like he's chewing on something."

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Chapter Twelve Teresa huddled on the prison bunk and felt the tears begin again. She didn't know what month it was. She wasn't even sure how old she was. Her schedule consisted of a guard opening a slot in the door and pushing a plate through three times a day. Half an hour later the slot reopened and she pushed it back. She heard voices sometimes; at least she thought she did. She could never quite make out what they were saying and she wasn't completely convinced that they weren't coming from inside her head. It was just another thing to be scared of, that something was wrong with her mind as well as her body. Her dreams had become more violent lately. She had awakened screaming, but there hadn't been anyone there to hold her and tell her it would be all right. Nobody to even listen. Maybe they just didn't care. Sometimes, when it seemed like an unusually long time had passed since the guard had last been there, she wondered if they had forgotten she existed and would never come back. She remembered Carlos and their days together, and knew he must be trying to find her. A lot of her dreams were about being rescued. Sometimes she dreamt the door would open and Carlos would be standing there with Julio grinning beside him, and they would take her out into the sun. Sometimes she dreamt that they would give her a pretty dress to wear, and take her to a party with so many people she couldn't count them all. But more often lately, when she dreamt about being rescued, it was The Knight who opened her door and stood there in armor so shiny she could barely stand to look at him. The dream seemed stronger every day. She had seen him before but she couldn't remember where, or maybe it was just a picture she had seen long ago. He rode a white horse at full gallop and there was a sword raised in his fist and a red cape flying out behind him. He was riding to save her and take her away, and he would never let them lock her 178

up again. She knew it was a dream but she couldn't shake the belief that it was real. She knew she was going crazy. But the dream persisted, almost like a promise, like he was swearing an oath that he would find her and save her and nothing would ever stand between them again. She shut her eyes and tried to push away the madness welling up inside of her. I am coming. "I have some information, Carlos. I know where they're holding Teresa. Don't get crazy. There's nothing you can do about it, but I thought you should know. It isn't right the way they've treated her." Carlos's fist clenched around the beer bottle until he thought it would shatter. Kevin was looking around the bar, making sure there wasn't anyone taking too much interest in the meeting Carlos had arranged. It was early afternoon in Los Angeles and the summer heat was shimmering off the sidewalks outside the window. "Where is she, Kevin? Kevin stared across the table at Carlos and Carlos realized his apparent calm wasn't easing the tension in his old friend. "You have to promise me something, Carlos. You have to promise you won't pass this information along to the gangs. They would try something stupid and it would only make things worse." "Why are you doing this, Kevin? You know what could happen to you." Kevin looked suddenly angry. He grabbed his beer bottle and downed half of it in one swallow. "It's fucking Baylor. I can't believe he closed the borders. I never had any inclination to leave until now, but I'm getting out. Nobody tells me I'm a slave to the state. You should get out too, Carlos. I knew you were still around because I hear shit once in a while. Some cop starts 179

wondering whatever happened to Teresa Alverez. Every time I hear it, it turns out the cop is an old friend of yours." "I can't leave her in prison, Kevin." "There's nothing you can do about it, Carlos. They got her and they aren't going to let her go. She was the first one, the first of the political prisoners. There's been more since then." "Where is she?" Kevin gave him another indecisive glance, and then took a swallow. "I heard from an old friend of mine. They made him warden at a prison they converted from a military installation out on the desert. He says she's been locked up in solitary for three years. He's going to try to do something about it, but he hasn't figured a way around the regulations yet. He doesn't think he can get her out, but he says there might be something he can do. I'm not sure why he told me, but he knew you and I served together. I think he wanted me to tell you if I ever got the chance. I think he wanted you to know that she was still alive and that he was going to try to help her. Don't spread this around, Carlos, this guy is stuck, just like the rest of us. If they find out he said anything, he's going to end up in his own prison. You want to know something crazy? I hear senior citizens talking all the time. They wonder when the gangs are going to start fighting, and I swear, there's hope in their eyes. Who would have ever thought that gangs would be taking on their parents, and their grandparents would be cheering them on? It's coming; you watch." "Where in the desert?" "It doesn't matter. I told you, he's working on having her moved. Sit tight for a while and I'll try to find out where. I don't know what you're planning and I don't want to know. I'll find out, and from then on, it's your neck. Just promise me you'll keep the kids out of it. "We don't need another blood bath like the last time." 180

Teresa was sitting on her bed when the door swung open. Her eyes stared at Wes with a hope that vanished immediately. "Hello, Teresa. I'd like to talk to you." "I'm busy." She still had some fight in her. Was this really the kid who had painted the murals? She wasn't a kid any longer. ""You want me to go away?" "No!" "Make up your mind." She stared at him, and then relaxed slightly. This girl should be a model. Her face had a classical Castilian beauty, but her hair was tangled and she stank. She regarded him in silence with intense black eyes that burned what they touched. "Follow me." Wes left the door open and headed toward the end of the hall. He didn't know if she was behind him or not until he got to the gate and turned around. She was standing outside her door, looking around like she wanted to remember every detail. "Open up." "Yes sir." The lock clanged and the door swung open. "You want a guard to accompany you, Warden? She may look safe, but once they're locked up for awhile..." "That won't be necessary." Wes led Teresa down the hall but he kept an eye on her because the guard had been right. When they entered the Warden's office, Paul rose from the easy chair and smiled. "Well! This is a real pleasure. I'm a great admirer of your work, Teresa. You have a marvelous talent." Teresa stood still, looking at Paul across the room. "What do you want?" "We just want to talk to you, that's all. There's nothing to worry about, we aren't going to harm you in any way. Please, take a seat." 181

Teresa looked from Wes to Paul and sat in the seat facing the desk and the easy chair. Wes sat down, and Paul smiled and eased backward into the chair. "Now then. I can't imagine what you've been through. Being locked up in solitary for over three years must be difficult." "How old am I?" "You'll be eighteen in three days." "Are you going to let me go?" Paul looked over at Wes, and then back to Teresa. "We can't do that, Teresa." She didn't seem surprised, but it hit her hard. "Teresa, have you been feeling all right lately? The guards say that you're not eating everything." "I'm not as hungry." "They say they hear you screaming once in a while. Do you mind telling me why?" Wes sat back and watched the psychiatrist at work. Teresa hesitated, and Wes got the impression she couldn't lie if she had to. "I have bad dreams sometimes." "I guess you would. Even I have bad dreams sometimes. What sort of bad dreams?" She hesitated and closed her eyes. "I dream about people getting killed. They are falling down and dying with blood pouring out of them. I dream of them being tortured and cut into pieces. I dream about girls being raped and babies being stolen." She opened her eyes and stared at Paul. "Am I going crazy?" "Of course not!" She lowered her eyes. "I know you're lying. I can't stand this place anymore. Sometimes I think I would rather be dead. But I can't give up before he comes. I have to wait." Paul leaned forward. "What are you waiting for, Teresa?" 182

She looked from one to the other and hesitated again. "I don't want him to come for me and find out I'm already dead. I don't know what he would do if I were dead. He might do something horrible. You won't be able to stop him. I know you'll try, but you won't be able to. Nobody can stop him." The poor girl was crazy. All those years locked up had twisted her head inside out until she didn't know what was real any more. Paul was staring at her like he didn't know what to say. "Who is he, Teresa?" "He's a knight on a white horse with a sword in his hand. He's very angry. You better not try to stop him. You better not get in his way." "A knight? As in a knight in shining armor? Teresa, there are no knights in armor anymore. There haven't been for a long time." "He's coming to rescue me. He's going to take me away and never let me be locked up again." Paul glanced at Wes and Wes shrugged. "Is this someone you know, Teresa? Is it Carlos Delvega?" "No." "Can you describe him?" "I can draw a picture!" "That was quite extraordinary. I didn't think artists worked that fast. You'd think that after all these years she would have lost some of her touch." Wes stared down at the drawing in amazement. He had locked Teresa in the next room so he could discuss her with Paul and convince him to sign for her. "So? Will you take her? I can have her transferred within the regulations, but I need your signature claiming she has a severe psychological disorder that can only be cured in a hospital. Or not cured at all. If you cure her, I'm afraid 183

she'll have to be transferred back. You know what I'm after, Paul. There is no way certain people want her out of this prison. It's been a long time and I believe they've mostly forgotten her with everything else that's going on. There are still rules on the books I can use, but I don't want it to come to their attention if it can be avoided. You understand? No headlines, no shouting and screaming. She shouldn't even be allowed to paint but I hate to see her prevented from something she loves so much. You'll have to work that out on your own." "I understand. I can't handle her personally, no matter how much I would like to. But I can see she is placed somewhere safe." "I appreciate this, Paul." "Don't be ridiculous; I really do admire her work. Look at this drawing. He's a rather fierce looking chap, wouldn't you say?" "He's more than fierce looking, Paul." Paul jerked his eyes up to Wes. "Do you recognize this from somewhere?" "I recognize him, all right. It's almost an exact replica of a tarot card called the Knight of Swords. She must have seen it at one time or another because it's too close a resemblance to be an accident. I'd like to see her do it in color." "A tarot card? You mean the kind the fortune tellers use to predict the future?" "You got it." "So it means something. How fascinating. It is amazing what can pop out of our subconscious when we're pushed too far. You don't happen to remember what it stands for, do you?" Wes glanced back down at the picture. Did she know what she had drawn? More than likely her years in solitary had forced memories out of her subconscious that had surfaced as a recurring dream. 184

"That's the Sword of Justice, Paul. It means Judgment Day. It means don't get in my way or I'll slice your head off. You wouldn't want to make this guy angry if you met him." Paul stared down at the drawing as if he were considering what Wes had said. He looked up and smiled. "It's a jolly good thing he isn't real." Teresa stared upward at the summer sky. The morning was warm and sunny, filled with wonderful smells and sounds. She didn't even care that she was crazy; she was out of the cage. But she wasn't free. The two men dressed in white were staring at her like they were trying to see through her prison dress. It made her realize she had grown up. She didn't like the way they were looking at her. "He'll kill you if you touch me." The one on the left laughed. "And just who the hell is that, honey?" He stepped up close and she stepped back quickly. "Don't be running away, now. We wouldn't want you to get shot trying to escape. Me and you, we have some business to take care of. This place doesn't have to be all that bad. You be nice to us and we'll be nice to you. Think about it. One way or another, babe. One thing we have plenty of in this joint are straps for tying people down." Doctor Franklin Travers smiled at Teresa Alverez. She didn't smile back. "How are you feeling, Maria?" "My name isn't Maria." "It is now. Your name is Maria Valdez, and if you don't want some more of your friends killed, you better remember it. This is a hospital, Maria, but it is a hospital you are not allowed to leave. The facilities are designed with this in mind. I'm sure you noticed the guard towers. There are men in them at all times and they're armed. If somebody tries 185

to break in, they have to climb a twelve-foot fence topped with barbed wire. Even if they made it past the guards, there is no way into the building that won't trip alarms in the police station. They can arrive in less than five minutes. You aren't going anywhere and you better get used to the idea." "Those two men named Gus and Gary are going to rape me." Franklin controlled his reaction and kept the smile. "Come now, Maria, you are not in prison here. You are in a hospital. We aren't here to harm you, we want to help." She stared at him and he didn't like the look in her eyes. "You're going to let them. You're going to rape me too. You better not. He'll kill you." Franklin felt his face flush hot. "You are going to be here for a very long time, Teresa. You are going to be here until I decide you are well. Then you will go back to prison. Is that what you really want, to return to prison?" "Yes. Please let me go back, I don't like it here. I don't like the way the people look at me and I don't like you." The interview wasn't going according to plan. "I feel sorry for you, child. Your mind is very sick, whether you choose to believe it or not. This fantasy you have about being rescued is a symptom of your illness. Did they tell you who the rescuer was you drew? They told me. It was a picture of a card that gypsies use to tell fortunes with. He isn't a real person, Teresa. Don't you see? Sometime in your childhood you saw this picture and it somehow came to be connected with a sense of security and protection. While you were in solitary, your mind dug that memory out of your subconscious and turned it into a savior charging to your rescue. Does that sound reasonable to you, that a fortuneteller's card is going to jump out of the picture and come to your rescue? Does it?" 186

She remained silent, staring at him with hatred. It was always like that. They clung to their fantasies despite all the evidence you brought forth to prove that they couldn't be true, and they hated you for forcing them to see things for what they really were. Mental illness had addictive qualities to it. They didn't want to get well. "He's real, I know he's real. You better not hurt me. You better leave me alone." "And when is this miraculous event supposed to occur?" She looked uncertain for the first time. "I'm not sure, but I think he's coming soon. I think he's waiting until I'm eighteen." Franklin smiled. "Your birthday is the Fourth of July. That is in two days. What if he doesn't arrive, Teresa? What if you are wrong? We're all wrong, once in a while. Will you continue to believe in him?" "He might be late. He has to find me." "So he doesn't magically know where you are? I'm afraid he might have trouble finding out." She looked scared for the first time. Franklin watched her, studying her face. It was a beautiful face and the body under her hospital dress promised to be equally beautiful. "Who's she?" Carlos smiled at Emily, and then turned back to Kevin. "She's a friend of mine, Kevin. Don't worry; she's on my side. At least I'm sure she isn't going to turn you in. She hasn't turned me in. Kevin looked at Emily and she smiled. He relaxed and leaned back. "I got a call from my friend last night. Teresa has been moved." "Already?" 187

"It happened this morning. They took her by car to the new state hospital south of Ventura." Carlos didn't like the sound of that. "Is she all right?" "I asked him that. Listen Carlos, solitary confinement can do things to you. She was only a young girl when they locked her up. My friend thinks she has developed some psychological problems. Like who wouldn't have?" What had they done to her? Carlos felt his fists clench under the bar table. She was so open, so innocent of the ways they came at you. She wouldn't understand that she would have to hide things she was feeling. Emily took his hand in hers under the table and he turned to her. She looked back in a way that made him remember himself. "What kind of problems, Kevin?" Kevin looked from one to the other, and then shrugged. "Nothing that can't be cured. She was locked up a long time; it was only natural for her to start fantasizing about being rescued. She told them that a knight in shining armor is coming to save her. Then she drew a picture of him. My friend recognized it. You know anything about fortune teller cards?" "You are not to touch that girl." "Come on Doc, we were just trying to rattle her a little. You know how some of these patients are. If we can't scare them into doing what we tell them, it can get messy." "I'm aware of your methods. I have plans for this girl. I don't intend her to be taken away.” Gus and Gary exchanged glances. "What are you planning, Doc?" Franklin leaned back in the chair and it creaked under his massive weight. He studied the two men. He was going to need help, and these were the likely candidates. She would panic when she discovered what he had in store for her, even though it was really for her own good. She couldn't survive 188

in this hospital the rest of her life and enjoy any happiness. He was going to have to remove her past, along with part of her mind. She would become a child, a happy child. She would become very eager to please. "Just keep your mouths shut and leave that to me." "You're going to need help, is that it? We're just the guys for the job. Of course, we're not going to do something like that for free. We're not asking for money, we just want your promise. We get our turn." "She's going to be here a long time. Once I'm certain she isn't going to be taken back unexpectedly, I'll let you know. If there are no problems with the transfer, we'll do it late on the Fourth of July." They smiled and left. Franklin knew what they must think of him, but it really was for the girl's own good. He was not allowed to set her free and she was not the type who could ever accept being locked up the rest of her life. She would never be happy the way she was. At least he could do this for her. It was inevitable that she would suffer rape; she was just too beautiful for some members of the staff to resist. They were used to dealing with patients who had no rights; it wasn't a large step to rape. At least she would be able to enjoy it. Her life here would be a very pleasant one. Best of all, she would offer no problems that they didn't need. She would be like a puppy when he got through with her. A puppy eager to roll over and play. He looked at the calendar and tapped his desk with the end of a pencil. It was early July second. "So who is he, Emily? He's one of the kids, one of the two boys?" Emily couldn't stop the excitement from showing. "I believe so, Carlos. She must think he's going to come to her rescue. She must remember the card from when she was a child. She's an artist, it isn't unbelievable that she would remember something like that if it were shown to her." 189

"So you think it's real? You think this kid will show up?" "It makes sense, doesn't it? They were separated when they were children, but that doesn't mean they weren't intended to be reunited. It seems so obvious I don't know why I didn't realize it long ago. I kept thinking they were spread out to ensure that the anti-virus would be safe in case one or more of them were killed or somehow prevented from distributing it to the population. What if that isn't it at all? What if The Fox had something entirely different in mind?" Carlos wasn't sure he agreed. Just because she remembered the card didn't mean he was going to come, that he even knew of her. Even if he did, how would he find her? "The Knight of Swords doesn't sound like a kid who would be painting murals on a wall, Emily. He sounds more like somebody who could spill some blood." Her face relaxed and Carlos wondered if she realized how much that told him. He knew Teresa; he knew what she was capable of. What kind of kid would someone named the Knight of Swords be? And what about the other two? There was a thought starting to take shape, a thought that frightened him. What would they be capable of if they were all together? Baylor was about to move. The forced registration and testing had already taken place, but the extent of epidemic was still a tightly controlled secret. It wouldn't be for long. Baylor was waiting for something, possibly the Fourth of July to pass. He wouldn't want to start anything on the anniversary of freedom. He wouldn't wait much longer than that. "Carlos, where are you going?" He had started to leave as soon as the thought took shape. She was looking at him and she was worried. "I have to talk to Ramone." “The gang leader? Carlos, you can't do this. You said you promised your friend not to bring the gangs into it." 190

"I'm not going to, Emily, not directly. But there is something I want them to do that might help."

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Chapter Thirteen There was an uneasy rhythm in the waves rising out of the west. The air was wet salt and the sky was glowing orange streaks on innocent blue. Thunder rose from the sea and the sand shook, then the ocean was against his legs. Joshua raised both fists to the sea... Rebecca Damon eased from the empty bed. Today Joshua was going to leave. It was the Fourth of July and he was eighteen years old. She had tried to convince him to attend college but the battle was over before it began. She had lost a daughter, now she would lose a son. He would be up by this time. He would leave early on the motorcycle Mongoose had bought for him and she might never see him again. The future was a dark cloud hovering over the world. She stepped to the window and pushed aside the curtains. The forest was dark green from the edge of the clearing to the point where morning sun crested the ridge. Movement caught her eye. Mongoose walked down the porch and into the opening. He stopped with feet spread and remained motionless, facing the trees thirty feet away. There was a knife in his hand. What was going on? Joshua walked out of the trees and stopped. He faced his father and they stood opposed like two warriors across a battlefield. The knife came up in Mongoose's right hand and she caught the flicker... Joshua held the knife in a fist before him. "Happy birthday, Teresa." The fat pig was sitting behind his desk and smiling. She could smell his rut and it made her want to puke.

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"Still angry about being forced to take showers? I apologize, but the odor was atrocious. This is a hospital, Teresa, we require cleanliness." "I don't need help." "But you do, dear, you just don't realize it. Have you been molested? So you see, your fears are groundless. It's not unusual for a patient with your history to develop paranoia. We really are here to help you, Teresa. Fighting us will only make it more difficult. You do want to be cured, don't you?" She wanted to be cured of him. He was planning something and she didn't like the anticipation on his face. She was slowly trying to prepare herself for the rape. She knew it was coming. She knew there was nothing she could do about it. She was tired and she was scared. "Why did you bring me here?" "Isn't it obvious? I wanted to see you, dear. I wanted to wish you a happy birthday." It's the Fourth of July. Isn't that a wonderful birthday? Everyone is celebrating Independence Day and you get to celebrate too. I wish we could invite this friend of yours, but he hasn't arrived yet. We can't put off your celebration so I hope he arrives soon. I hope he makes it by tonight, Teresa. If he doesn't, I'm just going to have to hold the party without him." "Carlos, they'll kill you." "So what am I supposed to do about it, Emily? Let her rot in their stinking nut house? You're the one who convinced me I couldn't leave until I found her. What did you expect out of me when I did? I'm a simple man; I come to simple conclusions. If I don't try to set her free, she's never going to be the kid I knew. Three fucking years in solitary!" Emily wanted to hit him. She had never met anybody who could make her lose her temper so easily. "So get yourself killed! That will do everyone a whole lot of good. The press will eat it up. Baylor will find out she's been moved and send her someplace where nobody will ever find her. The gangs will feel they have to retaliate 193

because you know damn well they worship you, you stupid jerk." "I suppose you have a better idea?" "I'll think of one if you give me a chance, Carlos. We know where she is. That's more than we knew before. We can figure some way to get her out of there. We can use our heads instead of rushing in and ruining everything." "It won't be we Emily." "Damn you, Carlos! I want her free just as much as you do." Carlos crossed the hotel room and stopped a pace in front of her. "And why is that, Emily? I know what I'm after. I can't let them keep Teresa in a cage. But you can't have her either. She doesn't belong to us and I don't want her becoming a pawn in your international power games. I'm an American, Emily, and today is the Fourth of July. I think Teresa has something more important to do than jump from a mental hospital into a laboratory. That's what you want, isn't it? To get your hands on her blood?" "Some of it's my blood, Carlos." He reached up and placed a hand on each of her shoulders. "Say the rest of it." "You son of a bitch." "You're not much of a spy, Emily, you talk in your sleep. Who recruited you first? Was it The Fox or the Russians?" Joshua had planned to take his time. He felt betrayed, in a way. It seemed his whole life had led up to this point and there was nothing he could do to stop it from happening. He felt like he had been set up, was being forced into a position where he would end up doing something for which he could never forgive himself. Everything was pushing at him from all sides. He wanted no part of it. But he couldn't stop. 194

Teresa Alverez was in some kind of trouble and it was Joshua's business in a way he hadn't quite understood. She wasn't his sister. Not exactly. But she was family in a way, his pa had made that clear. He started thinking of Teresa and Sandra as his sisters, and he was real excited about the idea that he had a brother as well. But Teresa was first. His pa had told him how they had locked her up because she painted some pictures that somebody didn't like. Joshua wasn't sure why he got so angry when he thought about her being in a cage, and he had felt the Dragon's breath on his neck and held the knife in his fist. Twelve hours later he was in time to see the sun set over Los Angeles. The first time he passed a billboard with the message spray-painted on it, he hadn't really looked. The second time, he pulled over and stopped. KoS, need help, CD Knight of Swords? The last thing he had expected was to have someone waiting, someone who knew the name his pa had given him that very morning. But Joshua remembered what Sarah had said. If anyone would know where Teresa Alverez was, it would be a man named Carlos Delvega. He jumped back into traffic and kept his eyes moving. He saw two more signs that said the same thing and then a third that said something different. KoS Inglewood "What the hell are we doing here, Carlos?" "Waiting for someone." Carlos kept looking. The signs should bring him to the grocery store parking lot, but Carlos wasn't sure how to recognize him. He had brown hair or red hair, and he was eighteen years old. The whole thing was ridiculous, except that he knew Teresa. She was an unusual kid, Carlos figured she knew what she was talking about whether she realized it or not. It was a long gamble, but it was the Fourth of July, 195

Teresa's eighteenth birthday, and Carlos had a hunch. He would wait a little longer, and then he would leave Ramone with instructions to keep someone around. It was eight-thirty and it was dusk in Inglewood. If the boy wasn't here soon he probably wasn't coming. "You sure about this, Carlos?" "No. Maybe he doesn't exist, Ramone. Maybe he does and he won't understand the signs. I couldn't make them any clearer because the cops aren't stupid, they can follow a trail. Just hope the Knight of Swords can." "The Knight of Swords? I think you've flipped." Carlos spotted him as he pulled the motorcycle into the lot and stopped in the shadows. He couldn't make out who was riding it because it was too dark, but the rider was looking around. Then he was moving, and he was coming straight for the car. Carlos pushed open the door and stood, not sure what to expect. The boy stopped the bike and stared at Carlos in a way that reminded him of a wild beast. His eyes went from Carlos to Ramone and stayed there, then swung back to Carlos. He shut the motor off and pulled it onto the stand and climbed off. Every movement only emphasized the impression. Carlos had seen many dangerous men, but this one was different. "Are you Carlos Delvega?" Carlos nodded and turned toward Ramone. "And this is Ramone; he's a friend of Teresa's. She's expecting you, did you know that?" "Where is she, Mr. Delvega?" Carlos glanced from the kid, to Ramone. "She's locked up in a psychiatric hospital south of Ventura. It's going to be difficult to break her out. We'll have to make plans, it will take a few days." The kid didn't even hesitate. Two seconds later he was straddling his bike and it was running. His eye's rose to meet Carlos's. "Now." 196

Carlos stared straight back. There was something terrifying about the look on him, like he was death in person. "Now?" "The Dragon is awake, Mr. Delvega. I can feel him in the air preparing to feast. I have my own plan. You show me where she is and I take it from there. The Queen of Wands must be set free." "I think we should wait, you're going to need help." "The Dragon isn't going to wait, Mr. Delvega." Carlos had to make him understand. "They're not going to just open the door and invite us in." Carlos jumped. There was a knife in the kid's fist big enough to skewer a pig and the damn thing had come from nowhere. Ramone whistled soft and low. "I have what I need." Joshua followed the car north. He hadn't been very friendly but there was a terrible tension in his head. It had started early that morning and got worse all the way down the coast. They must think he was some kind of idiot; why had he told them about the Dragon? It didn't matter anymore. Teresa was expecting him to save her. He didn't know how, but she was. He couldn't let her down. He wasn't sure what he was going to do, but he was going to try. "Keep an eye on him, make sure he doesn't get lost in traffic." Ramone swung his head around and spotted the single headlight. "He didn't look like the type to get lost in traffic, Carlos. You see the way he drew that knife? Where the fuck did he get it? I didn't even see him put it back." "Neither did I." Ramone didn't know what was going on, but one look and you knew, don't mess with this guy. 197

"You hear him call Teresa the Queen of Wands? What do you think that means, Carlos?" "I don't know yet." "But you knew enough to be sure he was going to show up. What's the deal?" Carlos kept driving and didn't answer right away. "Teresa told the Warden that a knight in shinning armor was coming to her rescue. There's a lot more going on here than you realize, Ramone. I probably shouldn't tell you this, but there are two more." "Two more what? Is this guy related to Teresa?" "In a way." Teresa sat on her bed and stared at the white wall. She lived in a nightmare that she couldn't wake up from. Tonight would only be the beginning. They would use her. They would come again and again and rape her for years until she was too old for them. Then they would find someone else and finally leave her alone. She would be dead long before then. She would die tonight. She closed her eyes against the tears and the madness started all over again. I am coming. "Please hurry." The night had a big moon blazing away and that wasn't the best of luck. The freeway was filled with cars, but the side road was empty when Joshua pulled up beside the stopped car. "Just around the corner. You sure you don't want to wait?" "Thank you, Mr. Delvega" "How are you going to get in?" "I'll get in." "Do you know what she looks like? She's Hispanic, your age." "I'll find her, Mr. Delvega." 198

Joshua said it with more confidence than he felt. He must have gone nuts. Carlos Delvega was watching him. "Suppose you get past all the guards. Suppose you get in without tripping the alarm and you wander around opening doors until you find her. Then you just stroll out and push open the gate? Kid, this isn't practical and you know it." "I can't wait any longer, Mr. Delvega. I don't expect you to believe me because I'm not even sure if I believe it myself. But the Dragon is awake. She must need me now." Joshua didn't wait for any more arguments. He kicked the bike into gear and idled up the street. He stopped at a gully paralleling the driveway up to the hospital. Cutting the headlight, he eased the bike into the dirt. Ramone kicked open the door and stood. "Where the hell do you think you're going?" "Do you have a gun, Carlos?" Then Carlos was standing. "Damn! I should have known something like this was going to happen. I should never have told you to paint those signs." Ramone grinned. "Do you have a gun, Carlos?" "I'm not giving it to you, Ramone. Come on, I'll hide the car near the hospital and we'll follow him. Son of a bitch." Ramone didn't climb back in. Carlos was unpredictable sometimes, he might just take off and the only way would be to jump. Carlos gave him a stare, then started the car and moved it up the road toward where the guy had disappeared on his bike. He backed the car into the brush and cut the engine. Ramone walked up and stopped. "So what are we waiting for?" "Listen, Ramone, this is how we're going to play it. We'll get near the gate where we can see the building and wait. He might not even get in, but if he does, and if he finds her, he's going to be leaving in a hurry. We'll open the way 199

and watch his back. Just hope he makes it, damn it. I can't believe how stupid this is." Ramone didn't care. He eased up the gully and passed the bike before Carlos grabbed his shoulder and took the lead. They crawled over the embankment and lay beneath the brush. There were lights flooding the compound and there were at least two guard towers he could see along with a guard station at the gate twenty feet away. Ramone didn't doubt the guy was going to try it anyway. He just hoped the guards were asleep because there was no way in hell to get by them. The situation looked hopeless. Carlos was scanning the fence and wondering where the kid was when he caught the movement. It happened so quickly that he would have missed it if he hadn't been looking straight at the spot when it started. The kid hit the fence twelve feet up and kicked. His body pivoted around his handhold and twisted. With a push, he somersaulted over the barbed wire and was up the guard tower in two seconds. "Did you see that?" Carlos had seen it, all right. Just that fast, the boy was inside the fence and had subdued the guard. Carlos was grinning. Whatever they were prepared for, it certainly wasn't the Knight of Swords. "Don't call out. I don't want to hurt you, sir." The guard didn't seem to believe him. He was an old man and he was terrified. Joshua crouched beside him on the floor of the guard tower, waiting to see if anybody had seen him. When two minutes of silence went by, he smiled. "I'm going to tie you up. Take off your pants and shirt." The door opened and the two men who had threatened her on her arrival were standing in it. They grinned at her. 200

"Time for your medicine." Teresa had tears running down her face but she stood and faced them. They crossed the room and took her arms, then dragged her from the room and down the white halls. She wasn't familiar with the entire hospital, and they lead her into a section she hadn't seen before. She had thought it would occur in his office near the front door but she had been wrong. She wasn't even sure how to get out if she escaped the pig. They stopped in front of a door and unlocked it. Teresa got ready, but when it swung open, there was nobody inside. There was an examination table with a machine beside it. She panicked for the first time, but they dragged her inside and shut the door without turning her loose. She started to fight but it was useless. They had her strapped to the table minutes later. "What do you think, Gus? Mighty tasty." Gus was running his hands over her, reaching up under the gown. They looked at each other and grinned. Joshua finished putting on the guard uniform. It was tight in some places and loose in others but there was nothing he could do about that. He tucked his hair up under the hat and pulled it down to cover his face. The guard was staring at him and Joshua smiled back. "Not a perfect fit, but it's on." The guard looked back but he couldn't say anything, not with his undershirt stuffed in his mouth. There wasn't any point in waiting any longer so Joshua grabbed his clothes and shoved them in the shirt like he had a big belly. Then he stood up and walked down the steps like he did it every day. There was one guard tower in sight and Joshua hunched over a little and imitated how he thought the old man would walk. The other guard didn't even see him. It seemed like it took a couple years but he made it to the corner. Joshua took one last look around then shinnied up the drainpipe and flipped 201

over the edge. He lay still and listened. Wasn't anybody awake? But then, they were looking for folks breaking out, not in. There were sure to be people ready to raise a ruckus once he was inside, and they would probably be reluctant to let them leave. One thing at a time. The pig entered the room and Gus yanked his hand out from under her gown. The pig looked from one to the other. "Get out." "But, Doc..." "Now. This isn't a spectator sport. This is a necessary medical procedure." Teresa shivered while she watched the pig close and lock the door behind them. He turned to her and smiled. "I'm not a bad man, Teresa. I honestly want you to enjoy your time here with us. You've been very sick, but that's all going to change. I'm going to make you well." He removed a pair of scissors from the table and started cutting away her gown. "You are so lovely, my dear. So very, very, lovely." He reached out and pinched one of her nipples until she gritted her teeth. She wasn't going to give him the satisfaction. She wasn't going to cry. But she couldn't stop herself. She kicked and thrashed until her bones seemed ready to snap and she could taste blood in her mouth. "Now, now. Be a good girl; it will all be over before you know it." He moved out of sight behind her. "I promise you, you won't mind. You won't mind much of anything, after this. All those bad old memories are going to disappear with a pop and you will find peace on earth. You're one of the lucky ones. You're going to positively enjoy staying here. You'll be very happy to see me after this." 202

She was crying openly. Two greasy palms caressed her temples. "Relax, Teresa. Just close you're eyes and relax. It will be all over soon." Something cold was pressed to one side of her head, and then the other. They clung there despite her efforts to shake them free. From inside of her, a scream was building she couldn't control. It surged out of her in waves. Joshua was back in his own clothes and crawling through the air duct system, stopping at every vent to examine the rooms. He wasn't sure where he was going, but it was the only thing he could think of. He was stupid to try this, she could be anywhere. Maybe Carlos was wrong and she wasn't even in this place. He didn't have all night because sooner or later the guard would be found. He crawled faster, feeling like a fool. A female scream tore through him and the Dragon roared. "Any last thoughts, dear, before that burden is lifted from your delicate shoulders forever?" Hate boiled out of her. The fat pig bathed in it. He swelled with ecstasy, beaming down at her. "He's going to kill you!" "I hardly think so, Teresa. It's time you realized that you are sick. It's nothing to be ashamed of; we all have fantasies. But you can't allow them to be confused with reality." Teresa wasn't listening. She could hear the vibration building in the ceiling and she grasped at the only hope she had left. "Here he comes!" The pig laughed and she screamed for help. He was still laughing, still hadn't heard the sound coming from the ceiling when the roof buckled. Her scream cut off in mid note. 203

Something crashed through the ceiling and landed like a panther on the floor between them. Dust settled in the silent room and Teresa strained upwards against the straps holding her to the table. There was a beast in the shape of a man facing the pig, and his stillness had an unnatural quality, like an explosion frozen in place. Power and fury rose from him like smoke off an early morning lake and she blinked tears out of her eyes to make sure he was real. Beyond him, she could see the Pig's face twisting in fear. The beast turned his head toward her and she felt herself flush. He wasn't human. Gray eyes touched her and the muscles along his jaw bunched. Teresa gasped when a knife appeared in his outstretched fist as if by magic. He thrust it under the pig's chin and tilted the quivering fat back to stare directly into the terrified eyes. "I am the Knight of Swords." His eyes returned to Teresa. "I have come for my Queen." It was all he could do not to laugh at the way the man fainted right on the spot. Joshua looked back at Teresa and she was watching him. He grinned. "He shit his pants." She was trying to sit up against the straps and he noticed that she wasn't dressed for traveling. "If you're coming with me, we better find you some clothes." He unbuckled the straps, but his eyes did a little looking until he saw her blush. He turned his head and stared down at the fat man. It was either his duds or she climbed naked to the roof and put on the guard uniform. That created a pleasant picture but he pulled the man's shirt off anyway and passed it back without looking. "You can turn around now."

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It didn't look anywhere near as good as skin. But on the other hand, it didn't look bad. The way her eyes were burning was starting to get to him. "Maybe we should save the explaining for a more convenient time. We better get going before somebody trips an alarm." "You're going to leave him?" Maybe the guy shouldn't get off so easy. Joshua scooped him up and dropped him on the table, then started strapping him down. He finished and shoved a couple pieces of what must have been Teresa's clothes into the man's mouth and tied them around the back of his head so he couldn't spit them out. Joshua walked to the hole he had made in the ceiling and jumped for the edge. He pulled himself through, and then looked down at her. "You coming?" There must have been fifty feet of open space. There was a guardhouse beside the gate and he could see Carlos and Ramone by the brush outside the fence and knew they saw him. By himself, it would be no problem. But Teresa still seemed a little wobbly and the only way was through the gate. There wasn't time to think it over. "Can you jump?" She stared back and nodded. "Get ready. I'm going for the guard, you head for the gate. There's no way they're going to miss seeing us so don't waste any time about it." She swung her body around along the edge of the roof and watched him. Now or never. He dropped and hit the ground running. He glanced back once to make sure she hadn't broken anything, but she was up and running like she meant to beat him. There wasn't any chance of that. He charged the guardhouse and saw Carlos come off the ground with a gun and sprint toward the gate with Ramone right behind him. The guard had seen him and was standing and reaching for something. Joshua went 205

right on in just as the alarm went off and it was plenty loud. The guard reached for a gun, but that didn't seem like a good idea, so Joshua gave the guy a push and he crashed into the wall and lay there. There were a couple shots outside and he jerked his eyes toward the window. The gate swung open just in time. Then they were all running for the brush. He grabbed Teresa by the hand and dove for an opening, then dropped into the gully. Joshua ran for the bike and they followed right along. He was on it and had it started before they caught up. Carlos and Ramone were taking turns hugging Teresa. "All right!" Ramone was laughing but it seemed a little early to relax. "Thank you, we better be on our way." "Kid, you keep in touch. The gangs will know how to reach me." Carlos was looking at Teresa when he said it and Joshua felt sorry there wasn't much time because it looked like they had a lot to say to each other. "You want to go with them?" Teresa kissed them both, then turned and jumped on behind Joshua and grabbed him like she wasn't ever going to let go. "Thanks for everything, Mr. Delvega. Ramone, maybe we'll see you again sometime. Let the rest of her friends know she isn't locked up any more." And that was all there was to say. Joshua kicked it in gear.

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Chapter Fourteen General Nash was tall and gaunt. He seemed in a contemplative mood, at ease except for the occasional glance at the clock on the wall that tightened his jaw line into a hard edge. President Baylor watched in silence as the minute hand reached toward midnight. There was a bitter taste in Baylor's mouth and he expected it to soon be much worse. They both knew when the moment arrived. The gong sounded like the muffled crack of distant artillery. President Baylor pushed himself to his feet. "Today is July fifth. A State of Emergency is now in effect." "Are there any last instructions, Mr. President?" "I believe it's all been said. I want to emphasize the necessity of keeping the population calm. I don't need to tell you that the wounds inflicted before this is done will not easily heal." "We're not going to get out of this without bloodshed, Mr. President." Sandra Tucker's face was composed. She sat in a lotus position surrounded by windows on three sides staring east across the Chesapeake. Before her was a knife. The dawn was gun gray. Below her, boats visible only dimly by their running lights headed south for open sea and the fishing grounds along the coast. She wished them luck in their endeavor, wished them happiness she could not feel herself. She knew why she had believed. She knew the belief had been a rational thing, that all indications led to the obvious conclusions. When her periods had not begun by the age of fourteen she had become frightened. When her body began to fill out with the unmistakable fullness that heralded her dawning womanhood, she had known something was 207

seriously wrong. She had waited in apprehension and growing dread, concealing her fear from her mother and all others. Even Slash had been lied to. The months had passed slowly. Each day she had awoken hoping to find the sheets bloody and her body cramped. Each day she was disappointed. She had been near hysteria at times, despondent at other. She had told herself just one more day. Tomorrow, she said every night as she lay down. Please let it begin tomorrow. But tomorrow never came and she was on the verge of asking her mother for help when the answer struck her in the middle of the school day. Why she hadn't known, hadn't somehow come across it before, was something she couldn't answer. One day in biology class she had turned a page and there he was, Dr. Archibald Fox, the man who had stolen her memories. She had been so stunned, so caught by surprise, that when the confusion resolved with a crashing roar she had screamed, shattering the tranquility of the early morning classroom. That night the dreams began. She knew there was a cure to the infertility. She was sure that she knew where it was. Though she couldn't reach it, she had no doubt that someday she would, that she was meant to. That certainty triggered something deep in her head. It didn't happen all at once. It was more like a picture that came slowly into focus day after day, sharpening and darkening and filling in, expanding outward. When the vision became clear, she had known what to do. She had begun the journey, pushed the lever that would send them down the open path. Slash had thought she was crazy, but she was very convincing when she wanted to be. In the end he had succumbed to her demands. The battle was joined. Like dominoes it fell, one after the other until in the end, she had stood before the nation and delivered the final blow. By the time the dust settled, The Virus was in every 208

school, every playground, and every neighborhood. She had done what she set out to do. But the cure still eluded her. She had been so certain, long ago. She had known she was alive to bring the path into being. But the final piece was missing, and until she had it, the danger was very real. She studied in her solitude. She tried everything she could think of to break through the memory block, and she proceeded with confidence because there was no reason for The Fox to have betrayed her. But he had. Her apprehension grew as she failed time after time, and her mind turned to the problem of examining the consequences of failure. With her added maturity and her expanded knowledge, she saw what she had been too conceited to consider before. If she failed, if she couldn't produce the cure after what she had done... She became frantic. At last she had resorted to the only method remaining, the one she feared most to use because it would mean another person would know. She had convinced her father that she was interested in hypnosis and asked him to find someone who could work with her. He had laughed and told her "no", but she had persisted. He was suspicious, but in the end, he had agreed and the sessions had begun. She had told the doctor that she wanted to remember being an infant. He found it an amusing request, but he had complied. And he had failed. It was not unusual, he had told her; some people are not susceptible to hypnosis. She had insisted he continue to try and he had, but eventually it became obvious, even to her, that it was useless. She would never break through. She had betrayed the innocent and accelerated the cataclysm. She had destroyed any chance of reversing the plunge. She had imprisoned mankind. The sky was much brighter and dark streaks had turned to fiery red swirls of wispy silk. It was a beautiful thing and there were tears in her eyes. In seconds the sun would break the horizon. 209

She felt it coming and drew a deep breath. Tenderly, she picked up the knife and poised it above her left wrist. Day broke and the knife slashed deep. Ramone couldn't help but grin. He walked quickly down the cracked sidewalk smiling at everyone who passed on their way to work or school. He hadn't felt so good since before Julio had died, and he figured that wherever Julio was, he must be smiling too. Ramone crossed the street and stopped at the open bay door where Gerard was lifting a car on the hoist. "One fucking nice day. You got the pumps turned on yet?" "I got 'em." Gerard didn't look happy. He was watching Ramone and there was a warning in his eyes. "What's up, amigo?" "Ramone Cabrillo?" Ramone turned quick and knew trouble when he saw it. He tried to run but they were expecting it and seconds later he was eating asphalt. The cuffs closed with a ratchet click. Florida was a long way off and it didn't make sense to ride all the way out there only to find out Kyle had moved. Joshua crossed the border into Nevada as the sun rose above the desert. It had been a long night, and it had been a longer day before that. They needed someplace to rest in the shade and they needed to talk. Something was going on. They had passed army convoys headed west all the way out from the coast and it meant only one thing he could think of. There was a feeling of dread building up inside of him, but there wasn't anything to do about it except try to stay off the roads until dark. He throttled back when he saw the gas station and pulled in, stopping in front of the pumps. Teresa unwrapped her arms and climbed off. 210

She was wearing a pair of his jeans and a shirt, neither of which fit too well. She didn't even have shoes, just a couple pairs of his wool socks to keep her feet from getting cold. She was going to attract attention dressed the way she was. He looked at her and she smiled. There wasn't any way she was not going to attract attention. He pumped the gas while she stretched for the sky and it was an inspiring sight. She noticed him noticing and her smile broadened. Sarah wouldn't be too pleased with the way his thoughts were churning. Joshua topped off the tank and replaced the nozzle. "You hungry?" "Very hungry." "I'll be right back. If you need to use the bathroom, now is the time." She started toward the side of the building and he watched her for a second, and then headed inside. It was one of those convenience store places and they had some shirts on sale that said "Welcome to Nevada", as well as a few other things that ought to do. The clerk rang it up and Joshua headed for the bike. He handed her the bag and she looked inside and smiled, then started back to the bathroom. Joshua headed for the telephone. "What city, please?" "Copeland, Florida." "Can I help you?" "I'd like the phone number for Kyle Cooper. He lives at the end of Gator Road." "Did you say Kyle Cooper?" She said it like she knew him, and she said it with hesitation. "That's right. Does he still live there?" "You didn't hear? I'm terribly sorry; this is awful. Were you a friend of his?" The boy sat on his motorcycle and there was pain screaming from him that ripped through her like a knife. His 211

eyes were clenched shut with his head hanging loosely down toward his chest. She stopped in disbelief, afraid to move. What had happened? He looked up suddenly like a wild beast. His eyes were frantic and she began to respond but before she could move, he changed. Suddenly there was a wall around him. His face was calm, his eyes clear and hard. All trace of pain was gone and it was as if he were invisible, as if he had disappeared somehow. Teresa blinked in surprise, watching him. He smiled without joy. She crossed to him and he stood and took the clothes from her hand. She watched him while he placed them in the leather bags and she looked for some trace of the pain she had felt. There was nothing. "Let's get breakfast." He remained silent while they ate. Teresa had lost her appetite but she ate what she could, glancing up at him from time to time to see if he had returned from the place he had gone. They finished and left, then she was holding him again and it felt so good to hold someone and not be alone. She didn't understand what could be wrong. The wind felt wonderful against her bare legs and the warmth from his back made her wish she were naked and their skin touching and burning all over like the touch of his hand. She was tired of sitting on the motorcycle and wished he would stop. He maneuvered down a dirt road along the edge of a crystal blue lake that looked so inviting she wanted to jump right in. There were a few boats in the distance but nobody close and the shore was deserted. He pulled up the hill and stopped. Below them was a small cove with a sandy beach and two big trees a few feet back from the edge. When the bike stopped below one of the trees, she jumped clear and stretched sore muscles. He climbed off and they stood facing each other. 212

"I'm tired." He was making excuses, but Teresa wanted answers. "Tell me what is wrong." The wall cracked and the pain was there, then the cracks closed and his face was empty. "You see those army convoys? You know what that means?" Teresa felt something choke up her throat. "We must stop them!" Joshua was in no mood to hear it. He let loose before his head burst open. "I'm not fighting! I don't care what you say. Everybody wants me to fight and I'm sick of it!" She turned red but she didn't back down. He was ashamed of himself. "We have to!" "They have reason! If you quit thinking about yourself you might see that there's nothing else they can do." "Noooo!" No wonder they had locked her up. "I'm not helping you start a war. I got you out and now I'm leaving. Come night, I'm heading back west. There's nothing here for me. There's plenty of other places to go and I've never been to any of them." He turned and walked away, feeling like dog shit. He didn't get very far. She ran up behind him and grabbed him by the arm. "You can't leave!" "Watch me." "No! You can't leave me! You can't!" He got angrier because she was probably right. Everything was coming in on him and there was nothing to do but close it out. The First Door slammed shut and he took a deep breath. "Stop it! Don't hide from me!" He grabbed her by both arms and held her tight. 213

"Listen. I don't know what's going on, and you probably don't have any more choice about this than me. But I'm not going along with it. I'm sorry, I really am. But nobody asked me. You don't understand. You're just supposed to start it and you've done enough of that already. I'm supposed to finish it and I'll be damned if I will!" She was calm all of a sudden, staring at him. "Tell me what is wrong." "I don't like killing, Teresa." She watched him and he became aware of the feel of her arms in his hands. "Tell me." He let her go and she stood there and she deserved to know. "Kyle is dead." "Kyle?" "The Knight of Cups." She reached for him and he took her in his arms. They held each other for a while and it seemed to help them both. When she looked up, he was crying and so was she. Then something happened and her eyes changed. Suddenly she was at him and she was out of control, ripping at his clothes like she was about to explode. It surprised him so much that he dropped the wall and there was a smell in the air that convulsed him. Their clothes went every which way and they were both naked except for the knife strapped to his chest. He didn't have time to take it off. Isaac was halfway through a bottle of tequila when Raston knocked on his door. They stood and regarded each other in silence. "They've created a Quarantine Zone: Kansas, Arkansas, Oklahoma, and Missouri." Isaac slumped into a chair and stared sightlessly at the wall. "Are you planning to go down fighting, Isaac?" "No." 214

"Because if you are, it's possible that I might know somebody willing to provide assistance." "Forget it, Raston." Isaac downed the liquor and threw the glass at the wall. It bounced and landed intact on the carpet. "I'm sorry, Isaac." "So am I, Raston. Do you know what bothers me most? That a man I respected and admired and called friend is responsible. Not John Baylor, Raston. The Fox did this to us." "And you share his guilt. Is that what is bothering you, Isaac? Let me tell you what bothers me. The Fox set this up. He probably knew exactly what was going to happen. He made plans of some sort and I don't believe those plans have come to pass at this point. I think he wanted this situation to occur. Tell me something, Isaac. Why would The Fox want the United States to face a possible civil war?" "Don't be ridiculous, Raston. He was trying to control the population growth." "He did that. But incurable? What was the point?" Isaac stood and picked up the glass, then filled it with steady hands. "Speak to me, Isaac. Give me something to calm my country's fears." "Tell them John Baylor is not a world conqueror, Raston. Tell them that he has no intention of spreading his campaign." "Do you believe that?" "I'm certain of it." "So they shouldn't worry?" "Not about Baylor, Raston." Raston didn't say anything for several moments and Isaac resumed his inspection of the blank wall. "You know something." "I know it's a long way from over, Raston. I know blood will flow and a civil war seems inevitable. A cure for The Virus won't stop the fighting, Raston. In fact, it's more 215

likely to set it off. What would you say the main issue is here? What principle divides the opposing sides?" "I thought it was obvious." "Is it?"

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Part II

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Chapter Fifteen The grass was wet from a summer shower that had swept through in late afternoon. There was a musky scent rising from the decaying leaves under the forest, and there were crickets chirping and frogs croaking somewhere in the warm black night. Ramone lay at the edge of the clearing in the damp grass, eyes searching the line where the fence separated the Quarantine Zone from free territory. Slash shifted in the grass beside him then settled silently back to rest. They both stiffened when the flashlight swung into view near the fence line a hundred feet away. The light darted through the fence, searching the clearing and the edge of the trees. It was a slow pass, but ten minutes later the light disappeared up around the bend. Ramone rose cautiously to one knee and Slash came up beside him. They waited in silence. The light blinked twice from the edge of the woods on the other side of the fence. Ramone raised the flashlight and returned the signal, then they moved back into the trees. The arrow hit forty feet away in the center of the pasture with a faint thump. Carlos shouldered the bow and turned up the hill. He made two steps before the voice stopped him. "Don't move, Mr. Delvega." Carlos tensed, his ears searching the black shadows beneath the forest. "I just want to talk." "Who are you?" "I would like to think I'm a friend, Mr. Delvega. I have a message for you. I think it's something you're going to want to hear." A shadow separated from a tree thirty feet away. "From?" "I like your style, Mr. Delvega. But if you're organizing an escape attempt, you're making a mistake. 218

There is more they can accomplish where they are, at present. A cure for the infertility has been discovered." Carlos settled back on his heels. If a cure had been found... "I'm listening." "I'm the Knight of Swords! Let her go or you're shark bait, you scum bag, slime ball, sleaze bucket. Oh yah? Well take this! Ohhmph! Pow! Crunch!" Max Thurston set down the notebook and grinned. "Did you save the damsel in distress?" "You just betcha I did. Now I gotta get away." Billy faked right and left, then plunged through the door screaming cowabunga at the top of his lungs. "What do you think of that, Marcie? Looks like we have a superhero in the family." "I think it's much better than when he was Billy the Kid, gunning down everyone who walked by. I just hope he doesn't try to leap over cars passing on the street." But the real Knight of Swords apparently did. When the investigation uncovered how Teresa Alverez had been treated during those three years, particularly how she was being treated at the moment she was rescued, the public outrage had exploded. Even so, if she had continued to paint murals of Baylor dismembering children there would have been nothing the Governor could have done. Instead, she began bringing to life on the walls of America the epic of a new American hero, one whose exploits and mystique were so unbelievable that it had captured the imagination of the entire world. The Governor of California had issued a pardon and an apology, and Max felt at least partially responsible for bringing that about. As a reporter for the Los Angeles Times, it was his article that had set off the outcry. When the phone rang, Max had just returned to making notes. "Emily!" 219

"Joshua." Joshua tried to ignore her. It had been a long ride into Lubbock and his butt hurt from hours in the saddle. He was laying on the grass in the shade and trying to get some rest because Teresa had talked him into taking her dancing that night. They were short on cash again and he was going to need to find a ranch or something where he could pick up some spare change for a couple days work. "Joshua." "I'm asleep." "Joshua, there is something wrong with that man." "Tell him to find a doctor." "Joshua." Joshua groaned and sat up. He followed her line of sight. There was an old man sitting on a park bench fifty feet away feeding a swarm of pigeons. "He looks fine to me. There's nothing wrong with feeding pigeons." "Joshua, he is feeling very bad." "I'm not feeling so good myself." "Very bad." "What in tarnation do you expect me to do about it? People have a right to feel bad once in a while. I'm sure he wants to be left alone." "No." She got up and headed over. It always started like this. They would pass somebody on the street and Teresa would stop and look after them. Then she would start following and there was nothing he could do but tag along. Next thing he knew he was square in the middle of a mess. Teresa was sitting next to the old man on the bench talking to him and Joshua was considering lying back down, but he didn't. The old man looked up as Joshua approached and his eyes did seem a little on the wild side. "Joshua, this is Herman." "Nice to meet you, Herman. It looks like you have yourself a crowd of friends here." 220

Herman looked around at the swarm of pigeons. "I come here every day. They know when to expect me and sometimes they even meet me at the door of the Home and escort me to the bench. If I miss a day, they always scold me and want to know where I've been." "Pigeons are pushy sometimes. But as long as you have food, they don't hold a grudge. It looks like you keep them fed pretty well." "Yes, that's true." Joshua stood in silence, looking at Teresa. He shrugged and she gave him a look that said to keep trying. The old man was slumped over, watching the pigeons scurry after the bread crusts he tossed out with listless fatigue. "You look sort of pissed off, Herman, like you want to get up and tear down some walls with your teeth. You aren't thinking of going out and pushing over a car or two, are you?" That got a smile. "Whose ass are you planning on kicking?" The old man looked up and his face hardened. "Milton says this is the last time I can come to the park alone." "And what the hell business is it of his? What is he, your mother? You tell him to kiss off." Herman got a little excited and Joshua grinned. The excitement faded fast and Herman ended up looking even worse than before. "I can't. I'm just an old man. If I try to come again they'll strap me down or lock me in my room." "Like hell they will. You're a free man, Herman. Nobody has the right to stop you from leaving." The old man met his gaze and there was thinking going on behind his eyes. He swelled up inside all of a sudden and he pushed himself to his feet. "You're right, I don't have to take their bullshit just because I'm too old to knock them on their ass. I'm catching a ride to the Quarantine Zone. I'll sneak past the guards. I'll 221

find this miracle cure they're all talking about and I'll tell anybody who doesn't like it to go straight to hell!" The old man was shaking. "What about the pigeons?" "Screw the pigeons!" Joshua laughed and then Herman was laughing with him. "I reckon they'll get along." "Thank you, young man." Joshua grinned and shook his hand. Herman turned to Teresa. "And you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. I'm going to dream about you if you don't mind. I'm going to dream I'm sixty years younger." Herman turned and started walking away. Joshua watched his careful, slow steps. "Hey, Herman?" Herman stopped and turned. "What's your plan?" Herman grinned and raised his right fist, thumb pointed at the blue Texas sky. "I'm not getting any younger, Joshua." "The Quarantine Zone?" "You're damn tooting." "Now how about that? I was just thinking of going out there to take a look myself." President Baylor stared at the morning edition of the Los Angeles Times and felt his fists clench in fury. "This is unconscionable! I want Max Thurston shut up. I want him fired. I want him shot! Joseph, get me the Los Angeles Times." "Yes, Mister President." "I want a retraction immediately. I want him to apologize in public for spreading rumors of a cure." Baylor threw the newspaper across the Oval Office. It popped open like a parachute and fluttered to the floor. 222

Ramone and Slash were back at the clearing, waiting for final confirmation from Carlos before they made the break. Ramone was grinning when the arrow hit somewhere out in the middle of the pasture. He stood still at the edge of the trees, searching the night with his ears. When he was sure it was safe, he darted into the clearing. It was a black night and he had trouble finding the arrow. After fifteen minutes of crawling over the pasture grass, his hand came down on the shaft just as a light appeared swinging around the bend. He froze, and then lowered himself slowly to the ground. It was a long ten minutes and twice the light came within fifteen feet of him. He held his breath and remained still. The light continued on and finally disappeared from sight to the left. Cautiously, Ramone rose and headed for the trees. When he rejoined Slash, they felt their way into the forest for a quarter of a mile before Ramone stopped. He removed the note and buried the arrow under a pile of leaves and dirt. After listening in silence, he flicked on the flashlight and they continued through the trees. Two miles later they stopped in the hollow and grinned together. "Go on, read it." "You think he got it set up?" "Read it." Ramone unfolded the note and aimed the flashlight. His eyes widened in disbelief. "No way!" "What's it say?" "It says the deal's off. He wants us to stay put." "Why!" "He says that somebody found a cure." "Great! It's all over, we'll be out of here in no time." Slash leaned back his head and howled. "Shut up! Someone's going to hear you." "So what? It's over, Ramone. We're out of here." "No we're not." 223

Slash laughed but Ramone didn't. "Why the hell not!" "He says for right now this cure is still a rumor. He says he thinks it's true but Baylor is denying it and nobody seems to know anything about it." "What's he want us to do?" "Something is going on in the Quarantine Zone, Mr. President. The gangs are moving, and by the look on their faces, they don't think we're going to like it." Baylor turned from the map on his office wall outlining Arkansas, Missouri, Oklahoma and Kansas. General Nash looked apprehensive. There had been little trouble out of the gangs in the QZ to this point, and Baylor gave full credit for that to Nash. "Do you think they're planning violence of some sort?" "I don't believe so. It seems to be a protest demonstration. They have declared the first anniversary of the State of Emergency a gang holiday. They're calling for a rally in Little Rock and they've invited the Press. They promise there will be no violence." "When did this start?" "Just this morning, Mr. President. But word is spreading." "Do you believe they'll keep it peaceful?" "Yes, sir. There's been no violence in the QZ even from the beginning. The gangs have been extraordinarily well behaved, Mr. President." "Congressman Ross, what is your opinion on these recent rumors that a cure to the infertility has been found, but the information is being suppressed?" Gordon Ross had a patriarchal cast to his face. His snow colored hair and long jaw combined to give him the look of a man you could trust. Beneath white brows, his eyes 224

were not focused on the cameras, not on the reporter who had asked the question, but on Max Thurston. "I don't know whether the rumors are true or not, but I'm glad the issue has finally been raised. Nobody feels more sorrow than I over the situation we find ourselves in. I am not blaming President Baylor for the existence of this disease. I am not blaming the children who have contracted it through childish foolishness. I am blaming our society as a whole for creating the environment that has allowed us to come to the point we are now at. Clearly, if the moral character of this nation had not been allowed to degenerate to the depths we have all witnessed, there would be no crisis. "It is not the disease that we must fear, it is what it has done to us as a nation. I know that many of you are hopeful these rumors are true. I cannot share that hope. Think clearly what the existence of a cure will bring about. We have already witnessed the corruption of our children's innocence. In the Quarantine Zone at this very moment are children no older then fourteen who have contracted the disease through sexual intercourse as part of a gang ritual of initiation. "How have we allowed ourselves to come to the point where these organizations are looked up to and praised? Is it because they have stopped the killing that once bloodied our city streets? But aren't they even now guilty of a more atrocious form of murder? They are destroying our integrity and our spirit, our families and our society. No, I am not pleased by hopes that these rumors are true. I do not want to see the degradation of morality that will inevitably occur. I do not want to see this great nation turned into a cesspool of pornography. I say it is better to live with the situation as it now stands, to continue to fight. I am not willing to give up on a moral America." Max Thurston was impressed with Ross's power as an orator, but the claims seemed exaggerated. Max had already come to regret, many times over, the statements he 225

had made in print. It had nearly cost him his job. Now it seemed he had set off a war. "Congressman Ross, what do you think of recent plans by gang members in the Quarantine Zone to hold a protest on the anniversary of the State of Emergency?" Gordon Ross closed his eyes in obvious pain and took a deep breath. He opened his eyes and swung them over the press conference. "Without question, I would not allow it. It is a mistake to cater to children lacking the maturity to understand the consequences of their actions. It is not their fault that they are angry. They are children, and children often make mistakes. Witness what occurred on the eve of John Baylor's election to office. Witness the explosion of the epidemic that followed. I am sorry, gentlemen. I know you are anticipating the newsworthiness of the event. But at what price? It will serve only to keep the anger alive and it will fuel misguided support for dismantling the Quarantine Zone in light of these rumors of a cure. "I ask you to have patience. All scientific evidence suggests that the actual disease is, and always will be, incurable. If some temporary way around the infertility is discovered, the children will still be born infected. We will be saddled with this disease and its consequences for as long as humanity walks the earth. Who can say whether or not The Virus will mutate, turning it either deadly or immune to any cure for infertility. We are gambling with the fate of mankind and it is an unnecessary gamble. Soon enough, the benefits this disease tempts you with will be available through other medical advances. I plead with you not to make this mistake that cannot be undone. I beg you, for your children and your children's children..." Emily watched Carlos pacing back and forth across the room. His face had a frantic confusion waging war behind brooding eyes. "What's wrong, Carlos? Is it Gordon Ross?" 226

He stopped suddenly. "What have I done, Emily?" "You haven't told me, Carlos. I did what you asked me to, I got Max to print the story. You haven't told me why. It's this demonstration they're planning, isn't it? There's going to be trouble of some kind." "There will be now. How could I be so stupid? That son of a bitch Ross used me. I can't prove it, but it had to have been someone he hired. How the hell did he find me?" "You think he wanted you to provoke something? Carlos, you said you thought this cure was real." "I thought it was. I knew Ross would be against a cure but I didn't think he could be so convincing. He's even got me wondering if it wouldn't be better to wait. You want to know something that scares me? We're better off with Baylor." "He's still the President, Carlos. He won't be easy to beat. If no cure appears, Ross will look like he's just trying to start a panic to get into office." Raston Imri lined up behind the cue ball and the rack exploded with a loud crack. He watched the balls scatter in every direction and roll to a stop. "Nice break, Raston." "Only one detail short of perfect." "Not from where I stand." Isaac went to work will cool precision. "What do you think of this talk about a cure, Isaac? Do you believe it?" "It's always been a possibility." "Do you think it is coming from Teresa Alverez?" Isaac lined up and dropped his third ball, then glanced at Raston. "I very seriously doubt it, Raston. From what you told me, Teresa was informed about this idea of yours that there was a cure in her blood. She would have long since found some way to have it checked out." 227

"Maybe she did. Maybe they discovered it was true. Maybe they're testing the waters, attempting to see what reaction it will provoke." "Maybe." The fourth ball dropped. "But you don't believe it?" Isaac leaned on his cue stick and examined the table. "It's not her style, Raston. She would have screamed it from the roof tops." "Perhaps the boy stopped her. Perhaps he's worried about the reaction." "Raston, I've never met either of them. But from the way things have gone, I suspect the boy has no more control over Teresa Alverez then Carlos Delvega did. She goes about her business with a rather single-minded determination." "You think he is responsible for making her change the tone of her murals? He has become quiet a folk hero, Isaac. People look up to him, people respect him, people even worship him. In this controversy over The Virus, he is about the only thing people consider neutral ground. Perhaps he wants it that way." "I doubt that he finds the situation desirable, Raston." The fifth ball dropped, followed quickly by the sixth. "Then maybe it's your daughter. Don't tell me Sandra Tucker isn't more then up to playing this kind of game. The rumor of a cure has caused an uproar and she was very good at that. It strikes me that perhaps she has known all along about the cure. It strikes me that her plans began long ago, long before the day Baylor was elected. Have you made any progress in locating her?" The seventh ball dropped and Isaac straightened. "She's not easy to find, Raston. I've tried to make some discreet inquiries, but I am afraid to arouse suspicion. I'll tell you this. Wherever she is, there is little chance she has the freedom of action to arrange spreading rumors of a 228

cure. I'm also certain she would never do so unless she could back it up. I don't believe Sandra is responsible." Isaac walked around the table studying the lay of the balls. The eight was hidden and there was little chance Isaac could hit it, let alone make the shot. "That leaves The Fox's son, doesn't it? You know, it makes perfect sense that he is the one. Who better than The Fox's son to provide a cure when you least expect it?" "I couldn't say, Raston. I haven't the faintest idea who the boy is. I suppose it is possible..." John Baylor was nervous. Gordon Ross had taken rumors of a cure and turned the country upside down. There was obvious truth in Ross's claims that The Virus might mutate. The worst part of the matter wasn't that Ross was right in his estimate of the seriousness of the situation. The worst part was standing in front of Baylor's desk. Agent Marco's face was unreadable. "Well, Marco?" "There is considerable confusion over the matter, sir. A number of women have claimed that they are pregnant. I was able to contact one of them. I asked her how she believed it happened. She had no idea. She thinks that perhaps something she ate offset the infertility." "Maybe they're lying. Maybe somebody is manufacturing this crisis for his own ends." "That would explain it, sir." "I want you back there immediately. I want to know if these women are telling the truth. If they are, we need to know how this thing is distributed. Find me the common factor."

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Chapter Sixteen George Tucker stood silently before the monitor screen and studied his daughter. Sandra was seated nude on the floor in a lotus position, surrounded by a shaft of morning light slanting down through the window. Blonde hair shown with a deep radiant abundance, cloaking her in a golden cape that spilled to the burgundy carpet. Her eyes were closed, her face relaxed. He tugged on his lower lip, wondering what she was thinking. "How long has she been sitting there like that?" "All night, Mr. Tucker." The matron glanced down at the monitor, watching Sandra. "Turn off the camera." The monitor went dark and George moved down the hall, pausing in front of the locked door. He stood there for several seconds, and then inserted the key and the lock opened with a solid clunk. He waited, then turned the knob and pushed the door open. Sandra stood facing him in a silk robe the color of bright blood. Her eyes were veiled, her face expressionless. She stood and waited. "Good morning, Sandra." She watched him like a scientist might study a specimen, as if his words meant nothing beyond the fact that he made sounds with his mouth. "But it is a good morning. I have some news that will cheer you up when you have time to consider it carefully." Sandra had no reaction. If he were to turn and leave, by the time he could get back to the matron's station she would undoubtedly be reseated in the exact same spot. "This attitude is beneath you, Sandra. Sometimes I see you and I believe you did not survive after all, that you are a ghost who haunts this room. Your spirit has infected this house with morbid despair. Despite what you believe, I do not enjoy keeping you isolated from the world. I am sick of it. I had hoped that time away from the events that brought 230

on your depression might allow you to distance yourself from what is happening. But now I see how foolish that was. You never forget, do you, Sandra? I have come to accept that. So this isolation is pointless, it is destroying me and it is destroying my home. When I turn you free will you find the first knife in reach and carve out your heart? Or will the knife be aimed at me?" It had no effect. Maybe that was the only way she could hold back her pain, to shut herself off so completely that nothing touched her. "I have come to a decision. Since I cannot seem to help you, perhaps somebody else can. No, I'm not handing you over to another psychiatrist. I dismissed the physician when he became overly curious about your miraculous recovery. I have kept your secret, Sandra. I think you owe me something for that. I think it's time you paid up. "I was contacted last month by a man seeking a wife for his son. I've had the boy investigated. There's nothing flashy about him, but his record seems to indicate a serious maturity and steadiness, a conscientious respect for the rules you seem to find so repugnant. Perhaps he will help you to find the roots that can anchor you in reality. I want you to agree to marry him, Sandra. I want your oath that you will give him a chance and not run for the gutter as soon as you are free." It went as it always went. Her eyes never left his face but there was no life behind them, no human life. He turned from her and crossed to the door, then paused, turning back. "There was something you might find of interest in the news recently. There are rumors that a cure for the infertility has surfaced." He turned to the door and pulled it open. "What's his name?" George smiled, then cleared his face and turned. "Now that's something I think you might find amusing, I know I did. His name is Bond. James Bond." 231

Gordon Ross lifted his right hand and ran fingers absently through his hair. He stopped when he came to his office wall and stood staring without seeing. He pivoted with a snap. "You're certain?" "No. Some of the reports are contradictory and there is always the possibility that the girls are lying, that they either don't have The Virus, or that they are not actually pregnant. The problem is that many of the islands are very remote. That alone suggests that they are lying. I would think they had little opportunity to catch the disease." "That isn't good enough, I need to know for sure." "Do you want me to send somebody out there?" The plane engine slowed and sputtered; Max Thurston's guts heaved. "Are you sure this thing will hold together?" "She's made a thousand trips in one piece. Just relax and enjoy the scenery. Besides, she floats." Max wasn't so sure. If he ever saw Emily Carmichael again, she was in serious trouble. The plane dipped and the cabin shuddered with vibration. He forced his breakfast back down and strained his eyes ahead. The sea was an incredible blue with dancing whitecaps under clear skies. He spotted something on the horizon and pointed. "Be there in five minutes." It was a nervous five minutes. The island grew into a tropical vacation poster, complete with reef and sheltered lagoon. There were sailboats at the docks and a few fishing boats beyond the reef. They dropped low as they came in and Max clenched his fists. They hit water and the plane went in deep, then popped up and slowed and they were floating gently on the calm lagoon. "You going back today?"

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Sandy stared at the open door, scared of what was happening inside of her. There was hope rising up from someplace it had been buried a long time. She knew it was foolish hope. On the Fourth of July she would turn nineteen years old. That gave her two days before the birthday party announcing her betrothal, a party that had apparently been planned nearly a month before. She dressed in shorts and a white shirt and then headed downstairs for the first time in a year. She was starving for information. The servants watched her with tentative grins as she made her way to the kitchen and Sandy waved but kept on going. When she pushed open the kitchen door, Mary was standing there smiling, a newspaper in her hand and blueberry pancakes on the table. Sandy stopped in surprise, and then ran to her and they embraced. Mary pushed her back and looked her up and down, then smiled. "Welcome back, Sandra." "You're wonderful, Mary." "Maybe a little bit. Here, I knew you would want this as soon as you were up." She grinned and handed Sandy the newspaper. Sandy took it with hungry hands. "You can't even imagine. I don't suppose you've been saving them?" Mary looked right and left, then grinned mischievously. "Some of them. Some of the special ones. The ones about that boy." "What boy?" "Go ahead and look. He's on the front page again." She opened the paper and her eyes went wide. "When did they let Teresa out!" "They didn't. He rescued her a year ago. Now every painting she does is about him." 233

Sandy started to read the article but found her eyes back on the mural of the Knight of Swords. She felt it with a certainty deep from inside that brought a slow smile burning up through her skin. Another piece had fallen miraculously into place. Max stepped carefully to the dock and stood with relief. Now that he was down, it didn't seem all that bad. Best of all, he had a chance to redeem his reputation. He looked around while the pilot tied the plane to the dock. There were several tourists lying on the beach and some locals lounging around a store in wicker chairs under a veranda roof. The day was slightly humid, but there was a gentle breeze that smelled like flowers and salt, making the warmth a very comfortable, lazy touch. A brown skinned boy in shorts ran from the store toward the docks. His bare feet slapped against the wood and came to a stop. Max smiled and the boy grinned. "Do you speak English?" "Good English. You need something? I know where, know everything. I show, you pay. Deal?" "Maybe. I'm looking for a girl I was told about. She's pregnant and she has the sickness that makes you feel better. Do you know where she is?" "You betcha. Deal?" "Deal. How far is it?" "Not far." The boy turned and Max followed. Could it be this easy? Now that he was here he had no great desire to jump back in the plane and tempt fate once more. But he had made a promise and Gordon Ross had given him a chance at a story that would make headlines around the world. If it were true. The boy led him up to the store and Max walked in the door and stopped fast behind the grinning youngster. There was a girl at the counter and she was pregnant. She was twenty years old or so, her complexion was creamy brown skin set off by smiling white teeth and dark kinky hair. She 234

was a pretty girl and she looked like she was glowing with health from the inside out. The boy stuck out his hand. "I show, you pay." He was laughing at Max but Max didn't care. He pulled out his wallet and counted out fifty dollars, then added twenty more. "Grunt, what are you doing?" "Nice man want to see you, Jassel." She started speaking in what Max assumed was Polynesian and the boy got angry and shouted something back. She came around the counter and glared down at him. The boy looked from Max to her to the money. Then she said something else. His eyes went wide and he turned to Max and shoved the money back at him. "No want! Big mistake!" Max looked from one to the other and shook his head. "This is no mistake. Jassel? Can I talk to you? I'm a reporter from America. I came all the way here just to find you. I think you know why I'm here, Jassel. You're a very unusual girl. Very unusual." He had no sooner said it when two young girls pushed through a back curtain laughing and gesturing and speaking in Polynesian. They looked up at the same time and stopped. Max's eyes went from the younger one, near seventeen, to the other, perhaps a year older, to Jassel. The resemblance was unmistakable; they were undoubtedly all three sisters. They were also just as pregnant. His eyes returned to Jassel and his eyebrows went up in question. She returned his look for several moments, and then said something, and Grunt took off on the fly. "What's going on, Jassel?" Jassel kept her eyes on him and said something to her sisters. They stopped smiling and their faces held sudden animosity. 235

"Jassel, you don't have to talk to me. But it's pretty clear that you're pregnant and if you don't have The Virus, I'll eat that plane sitting out at the dock. I can leave here with what I've seen, and within a week, this place will be swarming with people from all over the world asking these same questions and some of them will be very persistent." A man came through the front door, followed by Grunt tagging silently behind. He surveyed them and locked his eyes on Max. There was the threat of violence in the man's manner. He looked like he was probably the girls' father and Max was suddenly aware of how far he was from home. These people were hiding something. The conversation that followed was heated, with Jassel doing most of the talking. The man interrupted with several sharp questions and Jassel looked at Max and said something else. The father turned to Max. "You're an American?" "That's right." "A reporter?" "For a newspaper in California." "You're going to tell people?" Max looked from one girl to the next, and then returned his eyes to the father. "I have to. It's very important, I have to let people know." Then another conversation that frustrated Max completely because he got the impression they were deciding how to dispose of the body. The father stopped and looked at Jassel. She stared back and he nodded. Jassel stepped up to Max. "This will be on television? Many people will see it?" "Nearly everyone in the world will see it." The Fourth of July dawned orange red, streaks of foamy waves crawling across the deep blue sky. Sandy was in the lotus position watching daybreak from the same spot she had attempted suicide a year before. She closed her eyes 236

and felt the beat of her heart pounding in slow melodic rhythm. She was nineteen, and for better or worse, the tide was rising. She would have put little faith in rumors of a cure if the timing of their appearance hadn't been so uncannily perfect. If she had been sure that there was a cure, if she had been free to act instead of being locked behind the walls of her father's mansion, she could have done no better in placing the barb. The rumors had ignited a controversy, begun the confusion and the debate, etched the line where the mass would be perfectly cleaved, splitting the population cleanly down its philosophical center. It had begun with Teresa Alverez many years before. Sandy had recognized what she was looking at when she had seen the first mural. Teresa was an emotional generator, a focal point of force that drew energy to it, snowballing as it gathered momentum. Sandy had seen both the possibilities and the danger of the force unleashed. She had made her plans carefully. She had gathered the reins and given direction to the explosion, forcing it away from violent confrontation and down the only path that offered hope. Even then she had known that there was very little chance of success. She had grave doubts that she would be able to accomplish what must be done. If the rumor of a cure turned into fact, she was one step closer. But it was a very dangerous step. Up to this point the forces had been gathering slowly, their momentum keeping them on the path she had pushed them down. But unless she guessed wrong, the rumored cure would be confirmed at any time. That was the point of greatest danger, the point when turmoil would threaten to break out into chaos. That was the point when all could be lost, when a minor confrontation could pre-ignite the mass. It would be a game of delicate balance, frantic scrambling to shape the charge and keep the forces in check. It was a time when she would need to be everywhere at once, see 237

everywhere at once, know everything that was happening, and be able to reach out and correct the imbalances before they grew into war. She had made a serious error in judgment. Her father had come to her rescue and kept her out of Baylor's prison. But he had made one of his own. Her reaction to her failure to break through the memory block had been childish selfpity. She had survived, but she had endangered everything. The time she had needed to build her organization and gather the strings had been irrevocably lost. Now she had an impossible task to accomplish. She struggled against the despair when her mind went frantic with the knowledge that it wasn't possible. She calmed her breathing and cleared her head. With meticulous patience, she sought the way through. She needed freedom to act and there was only one way she was going to get it. She was going to take some poor son of a bitch for one hell of a ride. "Happy Birthday, Kyle." Kyle groaned and pulled the pillow over his head. He was tired enough to sleep a week and he was pissed off at the asshole who had forced him to blow up a perfectly good plane and swim three miles through freezing water on a pitch black night. Merlin had pulled the Batwagon out of mothballs and had it waiting. By the time they hooked up, he was wet and cold and so exhausted he had crawled into the van like it was a womb. Something was bothering him and he was trying to figure out what it was. He sat up quickly, and then waited for his head to stabilize. "Damn it! When's the last time this sucker was tuned?" "Before you died, Kyle." Kyle grinned when he remembered it. By the time Merlin had triggered the explosive and blown the airboat, 238

Kyle had been twenty miles north weaving the black ultralight plane ten feet above the swap grass. "Pull over before I go nuts." "Feeling a little irritable this morning, are we?" "You're damn right, I am. What the am I doing back here?" "You're here to pick up your birthday present, Kyle. You seemed quite enthused about it two days ago." "Yah, well..." Kyle stretched, unwinding sore muscles. He looked through the drawers and found a pair of shorts he had left behind. After pulling them on, he moved forward and climbed into the passenger seat. "Where are we?" "Coming up on Norfolk. If you can stand to wait a little longer, we're almost there." "Yah? So when do I see this spy shit?" "Just a few more minutes, Kyle. I really believe you're going to enjoy this. "Right on. Drop the window and give me some rock and roll." Kyle snapped his fingers and the panel slid open. He extracted a joint off the stack and lit up, drawing in smoke. Then he settled back and kicked his feet up on the dash, feeling the warm wind and watching the trees flash by. Seconds later he was grinning and singing and feeling fine. Kyle Cooper was back. The 747 out of Honolulu came in over the breakers and touched down at Los Angeles Airport. Jassel watched through the window as the plane taxied down the runway and approached the terminal. She was a long way from home and her life would never be the same. There would be people staring at her, men asking questions and taking pictures, doctors examining her and poking her. "Here we are." 239

"I will be on television?" The man smiled at her and nodded. "Yes, Jassel, you will definitely be on television." "And everyone will see me? They will see my face?" "Everyone, Jassel." He would see her. He would know. Then he would make everything all right. She relaxed and the confidence returned. He would use his magic. It looked vaguely Italian but with an exotic profile that was all its own. It was jet black and slung low, a road racer that could probably corner on a square. The windows were tinted, concealing the interior. Kyle circled the car again, studying the lines. "Nice. Very nice. Open up, sweetheart." The lock popped and Kyle moved around to the door. "Very, very nice." He climbed in and the seat folded around him. No time like the present. "Crank her over." The engine turned over with a turbo-charged roar and settled down to a soft purr. "I'm feeling good, little buddy. I can think of at least one use for this starship that ought to be immediately implemented." "I though you might, Kyle." "Give me a sensor reading, Mr. Spock." "Will blonde suffice?" Kyle grinned and searched the dash. He found the switch and the roof slid back. "Sounds like just what the doctor ordered." Jassel winced when the needle went into her arm. She saw the syringe start to fill with blood and turned her head. The needle pulled free and the doctor turned and handed it to a man who practically ran out of the room. 240

"How do you feel, Jassel?" "Feel fine." "No trouble with the pregnancy? Morning sickness? Cramps?" "No. Feel good." "How far along are you? Four months? Five months?" "Three months. Almost." The doctor looked at her and lifted her shirt exposing her stomach. He set a cold stethoscope on her skin and moved it around, pausing to listen. He put his hands on her and pushed gently, probing with his fingers. "Three months? You're sure?" She looked at the faces surrounding her. They were all staring at her bare stomach with guarded reactions. "Maybe four." "I thought so. Well, ladies and gentlemen, there are undoubtedly many tests we are going to have to go through before we know how it happened. But she's quiet definitely pregnant, and she has all the signs of possessing The Virus. We won't know for sure until the blood test is back, but if you want my opinion, we're looking at the real thing. I want to clear the room and give her some privacy. Doctor Henning? Would you do the honors?" A woman in a white coat stepped forward and smiled at her. "Congratulations, Jassel. My name is Doctor Margaret Henning. Why don't you come with me and we'll take a look at how this very special baby is doing." "You better pull off up ahead, Kyle. You're going to need some party clothes." "No shorts?" "Sorry, Kyle, the event is rather formal." "Formal?" "I have a tuxedo reserved. I'm sure you'll look quite dashing, Mr. Bond." 241

"Bullshit!" What the hell was he doing here anyway? Coming back had been a mistake right from the start. Merlin's toy was nice enough but it was just a car and it was cramped. Something about this situation stunk. A tux? On his birthday? Seemed like a lot more fun to get a twelve pack and find someplace he could be alone and watch the fireworks. That's when he realized why he had let Merlin talk him back. "Screw the party. We're going to California." "Right away, Kyle?" The voice almost sounded hurt. "You better do some fast talking, Merlin. I'm not in the mood for wearing a tux just to meet some girl. I'm almost sick of them." "Do you want me to tell you why, Kyle?" "No." "I really think you want to know." "I'm really pretty sure I don't, Dr. Fraud" "I think you're lonely, Kyle. Your recent preoccupation with the female of your species is a symptom of a deep-seated need to find somebody you can love." Kyle couldn't help it. He started laughing, and once it began, it got a little out of control. By the time he was able to stop he was angry. "That's not true! I liked all those girls and they liked me. You just don't understand that a man needs a little variety once in a while." "We're not talking about a little variety, Kyle. We're talking about, at last count, thirty-four women in three months. And while I'm sure you did like them, the longest you stayed around was two weeks, and only then because of the novelty that there were three sisters. You never stay and you never go back. Face it, Kyle, you're in a tailspin. Believe me when I tell you that your behavior has generated numerous complications." "I reckon we all have our cross to bear." 242

"You're still lonely, Kyle. I realized what was going on some time ago and began a worldwide exhaustive search. My findings were rather startling. Among other things, I found something I think you will find extremely stimulating. I found you a woman." "And that's what this is really all about? A computer date?" "Trust me, Kyle." Sandy stood up on the balcony above the ballroom, hands resting casually on the rail. They were the beautiful people, the powerful people, the wealthy and the famous, there to celebrate the Fourth of July and the betrothal of George Tucker's daughter. Most of them stood in groups that shifted like lines of force, merging and splitting in a dance more real then the one on the ballroom floor. Servants bearing champagne and hors d'oeuvres wove through the room acting like catalysts as the music played softly in the background. Her father stood by the door, greeting the newcomers and playing the host and proud parent. Beside him stood her mother, something Sandy hadn't expected and didn't particularly care for. They made a rather stunning couple. Everyone was waiting for the betrothed to arrive. "Pull over here, Kyle." Kyle jammed it sideways and locked it up but there wasn't much in the way of a real satisfying squeal. He revved the engine and grinned. "Kyle Cooper is ready to pounce." The box dropped open and Kyle glanced over and started rummaging around. "What am I looking for?" "The invitation is in the envelope, Kyle. Tonight your name is James Bond." "I'm going to laugh my nuts off if I have to tell somebody that." 243

"I'm sorry, but it's too late to change it. Pull out the red box and open it up." "More toys?" This was getting fun. He found the box and opened it, then grinned. "You have a range of approximately five miles, Kyle. It's possible you might need me to advise you as the situation develops. Don't get caught talking to yourself." Kyle shoved the button in his ear. "Give me a test." "I suggest you play it loose, Kyle. There's a gold cigarette case and lighter I doubt you'll want to leave behind. And a gold Rolex." Kyle found the cigarette case and popped it open and took a whiff, then smiled and shoved it in his pocket. He slipped on the watch and examined it. "So what's it do? Shoot an aphrodisiac dart?" "It tells time, Kyle. And it says you're late. Time to meet your lady." "What's her name?" "Just trust me, Kyle. When you see something you like, that's her. And one more thing, Dad... “Happy birthday." Sandy saw the servant cross the floor to her parents and speak to them. Her father looked up and nodded and Sandy headed for the stairs. She moved down them feeling more curious then she had expected, but his name was responsible for that. She crossed the floor and stopped, then concentrated on looking demure. He came through the door like he owned it already, a smile so wide it distorted his face. He stopped and nodded to her father and mother, then dismissed them and surveyed the room. Sandy waited, knowing where his eyes would stop. When they did, he had the grin of a mischievous eight year old. "James?" 244

James had his eyes on her and she had the impression he hadn't even heard her father. Then he smiled and swung to him. "That's me. Nice place. Very nice place. You must be loaded." The eyes returned to her and they were so intensely blue and jumping with sexual desire that she felt it in her groin. "I'm George Tucker. I've heard a lot about you, son. It's going to be a pleasure to have you in the family." James shook himself loose and turned back to her father. He stared at him for several seconds, then back over at Sandy. "I'm sorry I'm late, Dad, but the flight was a bitch and the landing was a bastard. This must be Sandra's mother. How do you do, Mrs. Tucker? I want to tell you both what a fine job you did raising your little girl. You must be very proud of her." Her father frowned and her mother didn't look like she agreed. Sandy was watching James. James smiled at her parents and motioned with his head towards her. Her father frowned again. "James, may I present our daughter, Sandra." Then his eyes were back on her and they were laughing. "Zonkers." Her mother's smile was frozen solid. Sandy laughed, and then pushed it down. She had to get him away from them immediately. "Father, I think James could use some champagne. I'm sure you're both anxious to get to know him better, but so am I. You know how difficult it must be meeting your inlaws for the first time." Her father looked from James to her. "Yes, of course." Sandy smiled and walked to James. He extended his hand and when she took it the jolt made her shudder. 245

Without a backward glance she led him away across the room full of curious eyes. "You better let go or back that up right away, James Bond." She looked sideways at him and he grinned, but let go of her hand. "I think maybe your folks were hoping for a better sort of son, Sandy Tucker. Seems they're probably rethinking my credentials about now." She led him through the ballroom and out through the kitchen. He grabbed a bottle of champagne on his way by and followed her out the back into the grounds and down toward the shore. It was early evening just after sundown and the air was warm and felt so good she wanted it all over. There were trees lining the bank hanging over the water with swarms of bugs circling under them. They stopped and faced each other. "Who are you?" He grinned and reached up, pulling his tie free. "Haven't you seen any of my movies?" She kicked off her right shoe and it landed with a splash twenty feet out. "You're not what my father thought he was getting." He loosened his collar and unbuttoned the shirt. He pulled it off, and then tossed it after her shoe. "I almost skipped this shindig when I found out I had to climb into a tux. Nobody should have to wear one of these things." Her left shoe went after the right. "Why are you really here? I saw the surprise, but you covered it well. You didn't even know you were supposed to be meeting your bride. And you forgot your name." His shoes went after hers, then the socks after them. "I don't suppose you'd believe this was a blind date?" Everything was heating up inside. There was a smell in the air that was making it hard to think and she was pretty sure it was coming from him. 246

"Who are you?" He smiled and she felt a flood begin. She ripped the dress over her head and she was at him. Kyle heard the splash and lifted his head. He still felt a little numb and a swim sounded like just the thing. He pushed himself to his feet. She was neck deep, watching him. He smiled at her but she didn't smile back. "Now that is something I'm going to have to explore a little more thoroughly." She didn't say anything at first. Finally she wet her lips with the tip of her tongue. "It was never like that before." "You can say that again." "Do you think..." "I'm all for finding out immediately." She smiled and waited. Kyle was walking for the edge when the voice in his ear stopped him. "Save it for later, Kyle. There's something you should be aware of occurring shortly. I suggest you return to the car." "Are you serious?" "Am I serious about what?" Sandy was waiting for his answer, looking at him with piercing eyes. "I suggest you bring Sandra with you. This involves her as well." Kyle groaned, then smiled. "I've been thinking. It being such a nice night and all, what do you say we go for a drive?" She didn't say anything at first. She moved toward him and stood waist deep. "I don't think my father will allow it." "Debate it later, Kyle. Just get her into the car." Kyle pulled on his pants and found the watch and the cigarette case and shoved them in his pocket. 247

"He's not invited. Come on, I want to show you something." She walked up and stood facing him, watching his face. Kyle kept his eyes on hers and she shrugged, and then pulled on her dress while Kyle got the champagne. She led off. They kept to the bushes. The car was near the edge of the lot and Kyle wormed his way to it. He stopped beside it and smiled. Her eyes went from the car to him and back to the car, but she didn't say anything. He opened the door and she looked inside and smiled, then climbed in. Kyle jumped in and settled back. "Well?" "Well, what?" "What is going on?" "I just wanted to show you... What was it I wanted to show you?" A panel slid down exposing a miniature screen six inches square. It lit up and the damn thing was a television. "Let's see what's on the tube." Sandy was so confused she couldn't focus. The news came on but she was more interested in the car and boy beside her. When she caught the word "cure" her head snapped around and everything else faded into the background. A girl with The Virus was pregnant. She looked straight into the camera and answered every question by saying her name was Jassel Lomi. Information was sketchy, but there where further reports from a research lab in Australia claiming to have discovered a neutralizing agent that allowed conception to occur during a brief time window after application. It was several minutes before she realized the boy was staring at the screen in horror. "What's wrong?" He looked over at her with wild eyes. "I'm going to kick your ass, you son of a bitch!" 248

He slugged the dashboard and her eyes widened. "Don't give me that shit! How long have you known about this! How many!" He started the car and threw it in gear, and then they were headed for the gate. Sandy was afraid to say anything else. Everything in her world had stopped making sense the second James Bond stepped through the door. The guard opened the gate and the car hit the road flying. "Slow down, you moron!" He looked over at her and some of the craziness went out of his eyes. He took a deep breath and the car slowed. "Tell me. If you know something about this cure you have to tell me. You have to." He looked over at her and she could see he did know something. "I don't know nothing." "Stop this car!" He kept his eyes straight ahead, then swore and pulled over. They sat like that for nearly a minute, Sandy staring at him staring out the window. "You have to tell me, whoever you are. You don't understand how important this is." "I don't understand? Give me one good reason I shouldn't take you back to daddy and get the hell out of here. I have twenty-seven good reasons I should." Their eyes locked and Sandra took a deep breath. "All right. You probably won't believe me but I'll tell you. I'm trying to stop a war. I thought I knew where the cure was. I was sure it was in my head, blocked off in a part of my memory I can't reach." "That was an imaginative fantasy. You just wake up one day and decide you have a cure rattling around in your brain?" "You don't understand. I had a reason." "I'm waiting."

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And he was, looking at her like she was crazy and he thought it was funny. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "I'm not human." "That's even better." "I'm a thing. I was made in a laboratory by Doctor Archibald Fox. I'm different than everybody else. I'm sure The Fox made The Virus." "Oh, that's cute. You expect me to believe that? That you're not human? That you were made by The Fox?" "Believe it, Kyle. You were, too." The car was talking! The boy's eyes went crazy again and he screamed. "God Damn it, Merlin! You better explain that!" "Isn't it obvious by now, Kyle?" Sandy's eyes were on Kyle, noting the similarity between Kyle and The Fox. Kyle was looking at her with total disbelief on his face. Sandy had already accepted it. But something else was bothering her. "Excuse me, car. But who are you?" The screen blinked and an old man with a long white beard and a purple pointed hat smiled out at her. "I am Merlin, magician and emissary of the Knight of Cups. I greet you Sandra Tucker, Queen of Pentacles, and I humbly place my services at your command."

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Chapter Seventeen Kyle felt like he had been run over by a bulldozer. He kicked off the knotted blankets and stretched out spreadeagle, staring up at the fan turning slowly above the bed. Sandy was nowhere in sight, and for the moment, that was fine by him. It had never occurred to him before that the term "too much of a good thing" had any basis in fact. If he didn't know any better, and he wasn't sure he did, it would have been easy to account for the previous nights activities as attempted murder. Everyone in the whole damn country was going to be hounding after them as soon as he was identified, and despite his staged demise, it wasn't going to take long. Now he had Sandra Tucker to look out for and she probably didn't have any intention of laying low. Merlin claimed Kyle was immune to The Virus and that he produced some sort of neutralizing agent in his semen. If Merlin hadn't already isolated the neutralizing agent from the sample Kyle had left at his Australian lab before he went poking around, there would have been a lot of unpleasant people looking to grab him by the balls. Now they would probably just shoot him. But there was a bright side. The old Fox had really done a number on both of them and apparently this guy called the Knight of Swords and Teresa Alverez where in it as well. Whatever was going on, there was some good news to come out of it. There was a cure for the infertility. In no time at all everything should straighten itself out. If he could stay alive that long. Kyle sat up and climbed off the bed. He pulled on some shorts, then lit a joint and walked to the cabin door. Merlin's Bondmobile was parked in front of the motel room door. Sandy was sitting in it and talking to Merlin. What was she cooking up now?

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General Nash's face was tightly controlled. Baylor didn't expect anything except bad news on this day, the anniversary of the State of Emergency. "Well?" "The entire Quarantine Zone seems to have exploded into frenzied activity, Mr. President. It must have been the confirmation that a cure existed. There's a very different attitude on the streets this morning. The protest has turned into a huge party and they say they're planning on staging a rock and roll concert. There are men setting up a stage with a giant screen behind where the band will play." Baylor stood and walked to the map on his wall, staring at the section marked off as the QZ. "How many people are they expecting to show up?" "It's difficult to say, sir, but I would be surprised if less than three hundred thousand come out for a look. It might end up being considerably more than that." Baylor turned to Nash to see if he was serious. "When does it start?" "1600 hours Central, that's five hours from now our time" Baylor turned back to the map. There was going to be trouble over this, probably more than he could imagine. Congressman Ross had ignited a heated controversy that had spread from the House to the Senate and was shaping up into a major split that crossed party lines. There were still many people undecided, thrown into a state of confusion as the discovery they had all been hoping for turned out to hold dangers nobody had considered. There was no doubt that Ross was right about one point. This thing was going to change America forever if it was set free. It was a very careful time for the man who sat in the White House. Gordon Ross gathered his notes and checked his appearance in the mirror. He felt tired and apprehensive. The news that the protest demonstration had turned into a rock 252

concert only emphasized his point that the event should not be allowed. Gordon had to convince them. He took a deep breath and gathered his resolve, and then turned to the door toward the press conference he had called. He mounted the stage and faced the microphones. The reporters were eager. They knew that he would scream condemnation and they were anticipating the furor. His eyes covered the room while the flashbulbs exploded. "I want to thank you for accommodating me on such short notice. You are all aware that the rumor of a temporary way around the infertility has in fact been verified. This event that has been so eagerly anticipated is not a time of joyous celebration. Mutation is an inevitable aspect of all life. The question isn't whether or not The Virus will mutate, but how much time we have before it occurs and what form the mutation will take. There are many hard questions to be asked, much discussion that must take place. I have already heard arguments that the Quarantine Zone should be immediately dismantled. I plead with you not to take a step in haste that cannot be undone. "Look to the reaction it has already spawned among the gangs of the Quarantine Zone. What began as a protest has become a rock and roll party. Even under the best of circumstances these events incite our children into destructive behavior. Do I need to list for you the death toll over the years these concerts have accrued? Children have been trampled to death, they have died from overdoses on dangerous drugs, and they have caused wide destruction and violence. But these are not the best of circumstances. "We are dealing here with children who feel they have been betrayed. They are angry at the necessity of isolation and they have grown even more contemptuous of the values that we hold up as moral and decent. They have let their emotions consume them and they are striking back at us in childish immaturity. 253

"The announcement of a cure has destabilized them, driven them to strike out at us on the anniversary of the day they were confined to the Quarantine Zone. Expect nothing good to come of this event. It should be stopped now before it is too late. This rock and roll party will raise them to a state of insanity and unite them in their contempt for our society. "I call upon you to demand President Baylor halt this thing before it begins. Let some time pass while we consider the ramifications a cure will inevitably bring down upon us. We must be clear headed during these dangerous times. To allow this concert to occur will only encourage them into more contemptuous behavior. It will encourage the children who are not in the Quarantine Zone to emulate the worst that is in us. It will destroy our families. It will destroy our nation." "Well, Isaac? You have to admit, the man makes a kind of sense. I tend to agree with him that these are far from normal circumstances. These kids are in a frenzied state. While there's no question that the cure has to be released, doing so is certain to contribute to the spread of The Virus. If The Virus does mutate, mankind could find itself in a very precarious position. The atmosphere could certainly be more favorable in the opinion of conservative elements. The gangs seemed intent on shoving the coming changes down America's throat. Do you think this party should be prevented?" Isaac set down the cheeseburger and looked across the table at him. "Gordon Ross doesn't have to deal with the consequences of calling it off. All he has to do is scream and then say I-told-you-so after it's over. John Baylor is in a tough spot right now, Raston. I don't envy him." Raston sat back and regarded Isaac across the table. "And what would you do?" 254

Isaac smiled, and Raston wished he could read the man's mind. "I think it's obvious that the gangs are planning something, Raston. I think it would be a shame not to let them have their say. There are two sides to this issue. John Baylor knows it and he's juggling knives. In the end, aren't you a bit curious to see what they're up to? I know I am." Isaac stood and Raston followed him with his eyes. He watched the man's back, fingering his chin. "And what do you think they're up to, Isaac?" "That depends, Raston." "On what?" Isaac turned and met Raston's eyes, his face unreadable. "On who's behind it." The loudspeakers were stacked twenty feet high and spaced around a square mile of grass. There were portable toilets circling the perimeter and there were concession stands dotting the open field. There must have been nearly three hundred thousand kids. Ramone stopped near the stage, looking up at the screen three stories high. His eyes took in the news cameras and saw a couple of mobile units heading out into the crowd. It was going to be one hell of a party. Slash was standing under a sign labeled "Gang Council" and making moves on two of the female gang leaders at the same time. Ramone grinned and headed over. "Last I heard we had other plans." "Plans change, Ramone." The girls were checking Ramone out and he was estimating his chances when Slash grabbed them both. "Get ready. Meet in one hour at the tent. I'll explain everything then and you have half an hour to find your members and clue them in. Make sure they stay in the area they're mapped for until you get back with the word." 255

They took off and Ramone followed them with his eyes. "So what do you think?" "I'll take either." "About the set up, Ramone. Pretty wild, huh?" "How did you do it?" "Not me." Ramone turned back to Slash when the girls disappeared into the crowd and watched Slash's grin keep getting wider until Ramone could see tonsils. "Spill it." "We're set up for a guest appearance by a lady we all know and love." If the grin got any wider Ramone was going to puke. "Teresa?" "Guess again, Ramone." Kyle thought a concert was a great idea but the location was inconvenient. Not that it would stop him. He checked his Rolex. "We can still make it, Sandy. Merlin can clear the way and we can be there just when things start hopping." "Forget it, Kyle. I have a date." She was smiling and Kyle wondered what was really going on behind those eyes. She and Merlin had become bosom buddies. She was the most beautiful, intelligent, captivating female he had ever met, but it was already obvious that she was a manipulative, conniving, bossy bitch. "Someone I know?" "I rented a backwoods PBS studio, Kyle. Do you think you can work the cameras?" "You know God damn well I can. What the hell are we going to do at a movie studio?" She studied him and she could probably see he was getting a little testy. Being cramped up in a dinky little car wasn't helping his mood any and he reached for a joint and 256

lit it up. She didn't say anything but he could tell she didn't like it. "I have to make a speech, Kyle. People are expecting me to say something." "A speech?" Then it hit him and he shook his head in amazement. "This party in the QZ. You set the whole thing up." She watched him suck down smoke. "That's right." "Like the one you gave the day Baylor got elected?" "Something like that." Kyle figured it was trouble for sure. She gave a speech and it wasn't going to make it any easier to keep them out of Baylor's long reach. On the other hand, it might just be worth it. "All right, but we're going to have to ditch the car. Merlin, where's the Batwagon?" "It's waiting in the parking lot of the studio, Kyle." Sandy was smiling. "When?" "We'll be there in half an hour. Do you want to see what you're missing? The band hasn't started yet but they're blasting out rock and roll at dangerous noise levels and some people have already started dancing. There are over four hundred thousand attending and many are still arriving. It looks like it’s going to be a major event." "No, I don't want to see what I'm missing. Find me the Knight of Swords. When's the Cuervo?" "You have one month, Kyle. But unless this situation stabilizes the volleyball tournament might be canceled, and even if it isn't, it might be more appropriate to hold it in the QZ." Kyle wanted to hit something. He took a deep breath and tried to push the frustration down. "There's no beach in the QZ!" "Kyle?" 257

She said it tentatively at just the right pitch to make him realize what an asshole he was being. He looked over and she was apologizing for making him angry. He didn't believe it, but she scored for effort. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Kyle, I'm sorry I took over. I just can't help it, I have to do something and there's so much that can go wrong. I'm stressed out. It's going to get worse and I'm going to be a bitch, sometimes. I know that both of us can't occupy the same space for too long without getting on each other's nerves. I know I like to tell people what to do and you hate being ordered around. And maybe it bothers you that I seem to have confiscated something so wonderful that nobody else in the world could come close to creating it. I respect your ability and what you have done, probably even more then you do yourself. I don't want to change you or judge you. But it's very important to me that I try to do this. "I like you, Kyle. I think you're a nice guy and I think when we aren't screaming at each other we can be friends and I sure as hell want to be lovers. No matter what happens, I don't want you to hate me and run away and never come back. I know you're going to leave the first chance you get, and I know I'm going to try to make you stay until I don't need your help anymore. If we can just get through this without killing each other, and if I can do what I'm trying to do, I promise you, you'll get your chance to play. So just lighten up, damn it. I have to give a speech in forty-five minutes that could start a war and people could die and things could turn really ugly and it will be my fault. Will you let me concentrate? Please?" Ramone stood outside the entrance of the tent where the gang leaders were going to meet and watched them arrive. He was in more than a good mood. He had a feeling surging out of his gut that tingled up his arms and down his legs, pulsing through him in waves that made it hard to stand still. Sandra Tucker was on the move. 258

He could feel it in the air the way he had at the Election Day protest after the speech. Sandra Tucker knew what to do, she knew how to fight in ways that didn't kill people and made their point more effectively than blood. He had spent years fighting against the gang leaders' rising call for war against Baylor. He had trusted her, had faith that she would somehow pull them through the mess they were in. Julio would have loved her. Ramone nodded and slapped hands with the leaders from the west that he recognized. He smiled at the girls and a couple grabbed his ass and grinned, then disappeared into the tent. Kelly stopped in front of him and smiled. He looked her up and down, and then whistled low. "Looking good, girl." She walked up and pushed against his chest. "We're set up right next to you, Ramone. Maybe you and me can share some old times when this is over." He reached around and squeezed and she bit his chin, and then leaned back. "What's all the mystery about? My girls are getting a little crazy out there. I haven't seen them like this since the good old days." Ramone grinned. "The good old days are back." "I've been a reporter for thirty years, Jeff. I've never seen anything like this. There must be half a million kids out there." Jeffrey Lassen nodded but his eyes were on the closed tent flap where the gang leaders were in conference. There were gang members stationed around the perimeter of the tent, keeping everyone away from the meeting in progress. "What do you suppose they're up to in there?" Greg glanced over, and then returned to watching the girls. 259

"Probably warning each other not to get in any fights. They made a big deal of this nonviolence promise. They'll come out of this looking like shit if a brawl breaks out. We got world wide hookup and you can just bet almost every kid on earth is parked in front of a tube right now." Jeffrey swung his eyes over the crowd. Greg was probably right. The gangs had been very conscious of their nonviolent image in the last few years and it had paid off. The senior citizens had embraced them as rambunctious grandchildren and many of the seniors had even joined into their silent war of spreading The Virus. Jeffrey watched the frenzied crowd dancing to rock and roll almost loud enough to puncture eardrums. They were in a state of uncontrollable mania. For now they were celebrating, but they could get ugly, as only kids can get ugly. If Baylor were to order the concert cancelled at that point, they would tear down the fences. "You must stop this!" "Calm down, Gordon. You know it can't be stopped without creating a riot." Gordon Ross was infuriated. He glared across the desk at Baylor and there was wrath on his face. "Listen to me, Mr. President. A riot is preferable to what is happening out there. The entire world is watching this celebration. They can't help but think this represents the United States' position on releasing the cure to the masses. You are endorsing this thing by your inaction and the kids know it and the world knows it. A riot would be a horrible thing and it brings me no comfort to know I would welcome it with full knowledge that blood would flow. But the alternative is much worse. "They are gathering support from all over the world. They are laughing in our faces and saying our laws mean nothing to them, that they will do as they please and anybody who doesn't like it can go to hell. Their total lack of respect for authority will destroy our civilization. It will encourage 260

people to ignore the law and our country will sink into a state of chaos. You cannot endorse flaunting the law in the face of society. You are sworn to uphold the laws of this country yet you sit calmly by while children tell the world that the law is meaningless, that it need not be obeyed. How many examples do I need to draw from to make it clear what occurs when the citizens of a nation hold their government in contempt? This is not just a party, Mr. President. We are throwing ourselves over the edge of an abyss." Jeffrey Lassen was watching the crowd. The gang council had broken up and the gang leaders had merged into the throngs of kids. The music volume dropped to background noise level. Suddenly he became aware of the roar from half a million kids on the verge of explosion. One after another, groups formed among the masses as the gang leaders passed along what they had learned to their members. The reaction was startling. It began with a rebel yell... "I think I hear somebody calling your name." Sandy took a deep breath and nodded. "You know what to do?" Kyle grinned and took her by the hand and kissed her, then placed her where he wanted her and stepped back. "Knock 'em silly, sweetheart. It's ShowTime." He lit the camera and zoomed in and out a couple times, then zeroed in on her face. "On my mark. Three, two, one..." The roar shook the ground under Jeffrey's feet. Sandra Tucker's face was smiling out of the huge screen. She grinned like she could hear the welcome, and if she was within a thousand miles, she probably could. The roar settled down slowly and she waited as though she was there in person, playing the crowd. 261

"How are you all feeling this afternoon? Feel like a party?" The screams resumed and again she waited. When silence returned, she looked right and left like she could see them. Then she began...

"I wish I could be there with you in person this afternoon. I wish I could share with you the joy and the celebration that is ours. Today marks the beginning, the birth of a new age. We are the guardians of the new life, the new hope for a better world. We are the soldiers that will bring the new dawn, the dawn of peace and prosperity that will spread across this earth. "The battle is not over. Today we declare our independence for all to see. Today we begin down the path that will lead us from the desert into the Promised Land. "I ask you to follow me, to trust me, to help me. I ask you to believe in me. I ask you to join with me against the tyrants who enslave you. "They are frightened of the unknown. They are terrified of releasing their death grip on values that no longer serve purpose. They are afraid we will commit the unspeakable crime, to enjoy what was given to us to enjoy. They seek to enchain us, to prevent our joy from polluting the world they are breeding to death. "Even now they scurry to keep you imprisoned. Now that the danger is gone, we discover the root of their fears. We are disgusting. We are revolting and immoral, perverted and dangerous. We are sick and immature and childish and foolish. We are corrosive. We are filth. We are animals rutting in the dirt. We reject them and the society they have spawned that is flooding the earth with poisons and cities buried in trash. They say we are contemptuous of their laws and they are right. "Look upon me, Gordon Ross... 262

"Is it this body that you fear? Are my breasts endangering your soul and forcing evil thoughts into your head? Is my vagina the den of iniquity that will bring down your house? Am I revolting? Is my sex a slap in your face that drives you to imprison me? Would you cover my nakedness and lock me away if I was now in your grip? "Then turn your eyes... "I welcome our friends from around the world to a celebration of life. Today is our day. Today we make our stand, not with guns, but with joy. Today we lay down our gauntlet. “Welcome to you all. Welcome to the QZ Ball." Jeffrey Lassen was afraid to turn around. He swung from the screen and his eyes went wide. They were laughing as they undressed each other. They were screaming and howling but the sound was soon buried in rock and roll as the band began to play. Then there was only the incredible act of half a million naked teenagers dancing under an innocent blue sky. His eyes went to the cameras and they were lit, broadcasting live worldwide. A sea of flesh...

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Chapter Eighteen The glass in Joshua's hand was half way to his mouth and had been since the face of Sandra Tucker appeared on the television. He recognized her speech for what it was, and he recognized that what followed was not an act of love, but a declaration of war. He looked around the diner to see if anybody was paying too much attention to the way Teresa was laughing, and sure enough, someone was. She was an old woman sitting alone and she was the only one in the place besides them who hadn't jumped to their feet and run to get a better look. She wasn't looking at the television at all. She was looking dead at him. "Teresa, time we moved along." "But Joshua..." He didn't wait for it. He got up and slapped some money down, grabbed her by the hand, and just dragged her out of there before they all found out and started gawking. It didn't make Teresa stop laughing and it didn't solve the problem of the woman who had recognized them. She followed right along. "Excuse me..." Joshua stopped and let go of Teresa's hand. The old woman was beside a car and leaning on it and gasping for air. She was about the frailest looking person he had ever seen. He waited for her to catch her breath while she watched him as though she thought if she blinked he might disappear. It took a while and he started to relax because everybody inside seemed in no hurry to leave. She smiled and pushed herself away from the car, then panicked as she started to fall. He caught her before she hit the ground. He looked around quickly, then scooped her up without even asking and headed across the street toward the park. By the time he set her down on the bench, Teresa was beside her, holding her hand. Joshua grinned. "Most girls just scream." 264

She smiled at him and her breathing was easier. She looked from him to Teresa and back to him. "I'll bet you get recognized all the time." "Only by girls and kids. The guys generally see Teresa and never get any farther." "You know how I feel right now? I feel like I'm young again. I feel like I'm nineteen." She had a smile like a grandmother passing out cookies. Joshua grinned back. "Do you know why I stopped you?" Joshua shook his head though he had a pretty good guess. Ever since the newspaper printed that the Knight of Swords had helped smuggle a man in, the older folks seemed to recognize him almost everywhere they stopped. "Will you take me? Like you did that man? I know it's rude to ask. I don't want to get you in trouble and I know you have a..." She stopped when Joshua held up his hand. "You sure that's what you want? Things seem a little crazy in there right now. A lot of folks aren't going to approve of what just happened." She took a deep breath and she needed one. "I've been alive eighty three years and I've had my share of fun. The thing you learn by living so long is that live and let live is the only way to survive. You see a lot of changes by the time you reach my age. It's hard to shock you. I think it's wonderful that the kids are fighting for this thing, and I think it's wonderful that they found a way of doing it that doesn't kill people. But the rest of us old farts shouldn't be sitting around watching. We should be helping. We should let people know how we feel and we have no excuse for not coming to their defense. I don't know how many years I have left. I want to do something now, before it's too late." There was no way he could refuse. She had left that out she was dying and she was scared, hoping The Virus might give her a little more time. 265

"Right now?" The smile was worth it. It took a while for her to get back under control. When she finally did, she looked him straight in the eye. "Can I bring someone with me?" She was trying not to beg and he could see how important it must be to her. It was going to be tough enough making sure she stayed on the bike. "I don't have room. I can maybe take you one at a time." "If we have a car? Then can we go at the same time?" Now things were getting complicated. Joshua wasn't sure he could get more than one through the fence and hidden before the guards came by. The other time there hadn't been any trouble, but mostly that was because they were looking in the wrong place after they found the break in the fence. They were looking outside. He couldn't turn her down, not the way she was looking at him. So he agreed and they planned to meet the next night at the same spot. He watched her limp away thinking it was just as well. Teresa grabbed him from behind and they stood there watching her go. "I might be gone a few days, Teresa. You think you can stay out of trouble?" "Why?" "Once I'm inside, I think I'll ask around and see if I can find your friend Ramone. I want to ask him if he knows how to find Sandra Tucker." "All right, Kyle. We can go to California now." "Not so fast." Kyle watched the monitors while Sandy dressed. The cameramen were sweeping the crowd, zooming in on the superstars. One thing was certain, Sandy might be a pain in the butt sometimes, but she made things happen. He was seeing something he would have bet was impossible. "Look at that girl! I want her name, Merlin." 266

"Will you quit drooling, Kyle. Only you could take one of the greatest creations of all time and turn him into a pimp." Kyle grinned at her, then returned to watching the show. She was pleased with the results whether she said so or not. Kyle couldn't care less how much trouble it caused. He watched and he knew; compared to Sandy Tucker, he was an amateur. "So this is the plan? I doubt that this is going to make many people see things your way. It seems that they're going to be more sure than ever that they have to keep the QZ locked up." Gordon Ross's voice burst over the pressroom. "They are fornicating in the streets! "Our sons and daughters have lost all sense of right and wrong. They are possessed. They are under the spell of this witch who encouraged them to catch the disease. Is this the America you wish your children to grow up in? Do you want your thirteen-year-old daughter challenging her friends to who can have intercourse the greatest number of times during recess? Will you volunteer to keep score and cheer them on? Do you want them on the lunch tables, on their school desks, in the aisles of the stores? On your front lawn? Do you want them to take this thing that is an act of love and commitment and turn it into a children's game with no meaning beyond instant gratification? "How can we look at ourselves and know we allowed it to happen? And for what? We allow them to destroy our society and their lives so that we won't catch a cold? Don't let your selfishness blind you to the danger here. These are our children, but their foolishness is no longer childish. We must stop them. We must treat them as they have asked to be treated. Would you smile with indulgence if your child burned down your home to roast marshmallows? Do not lose sight of what is at stake here. 267

"Your house is burning." "Well, Mr. Tucker? I seem to remember a promise you made in this office several years ago. I seem to remember you telling me that you would keep your daughter from further mischief. This goes way beyond mischief." George Tucker wanted to reach across the desk and throttle President Baylor. He had been so angry the night before that he had screamed at everyone within hearing until one of the staff had called a physician. Before the sedative took him under he had only one thought. If he ever got his hands on James Bond... President Baylor looked surprisingly relaxed leaning back in his chair. It only made George Tucker angrier. "I tried! I kept her locked up; I kept my own daughter in prison for making a speech when she was fifteen years old. She tried to kill herself. So what did I do? I locked her in her room and refused to allow her to know what was going on around her. She spent a year without saying a single word. And you want me to apologize? I was doing the only thing I could think of. A man contacted me and said he wanted a wife for his son. That was your idea. I looked into the boy; his credentials were good. I got Sandra to agree to marry him and stay out of trouble. They met at her birthday party on the Fourth of July, two days ago. He wasn't the boy I was led to expect, I can tell you that. We introduced him to Sandra and two minutes later they walked away to get some champagne and never came back. I know you want my daughter. I want this boy." President Baylor listened attentively, but his face remained calm. "And this boy. What was his name?" George Tucker felt like a fool. He met the President's eyes, and then turned away. "His name was James Bond." He spun to see the reaction. President Baylor's eyebrows were arching. 268

"Are you serious?" "Mr. President... I checked into the father and I checked into the son. I thought the name was amusing but I wasn't suspicious because my investigators claimed he was legitimate. Now I understand why they were never able to pin him down. His credentials were solid. Everything checked! It was a very elaborate scam of some sort pulled off by someone who knew what they were doing. "Baylor looked like he thought George was lying. "Can you describe him?" "He was around six feet two, maybe a hundred and eighty pounds and built like an athlete. He was a goodlooking kid and Sandra was attracted to him immediately, or she pretended to be. He had red hair and blue eyes that were the strangest color I've ever seen." President Baylor fingered his chin, then his eyes went wide and he jerked upward. "Did you say red hair?" "Hello. My name is Helen Foster from Maple Leaf Senior Resort. I'm calling about renting a tour bus for this evening. No, that won't be necessary. We have a driver." Father Turkle couldn't smile about the success of his call to action. Up to this point the Pope had been silent in regard to the discovery of a cure and the Church policy on its distribution was not settled. Father Turkle knew that the Vatican was in a state of upheaval, but he couldn't afford to wait while they drafted their position. Something needed to be done immediately. The night before, the rectory had been swamped with calls of outrage. He had convinced them it was necessary to present a united front against what the gangs had done. The thirty parishioners carrying signs begging the gangs to stop were marching along the fence near the Texarkana entrance into the Quarantine Zone. It took less than an hour from the time they disembarked from the church bus and began their 269

picket for the news crew to show up. He walked to meet them as they began setting up cameras. A short potbellied man seemed to be directing the filming. He saw Father Turkle's approach and leaned inside the van, emerging with a microphone. "This is Henry Malcolm with KHDR news on location at the Texarkana gate. In the background, you see what may be the first of many picket lines established at the borders of the Quarantine Zone. The reaction to last night's activities inside the QZ are confused, and we will be doing our best to bring you people's feelings about an event that has shocked the world. Are you in charge here, Father?" Father Turkle pushed down the nervousness and faced the camera. "God is in charge here." "What is your name, Father?" "I am Father Franklin Turkle, Pastor of Saint Mary's Church and Elementary School." "Can you give us some of your personal feelings on what happened yesterday, Father?" "I think it is important to remember that the children can not help being upset by their internment. I think it is important to remember they have been in there a year, separated from their families and with only each other to turn to. I think it is important to remember with how much hope they had received the news that a cure had been discovered, only to be told they might not ever be released. Is it any wonder that they turn to Sandra Tucker as a leader who will guide them out of this dilemma? Is it any wonder that they are angry, that they wish to strike out? Even in this, though I can never condone their action, they struck out without bloodshed, without taking lives, without physically attacking their captors. I am not here to condemn them. "I am here to plead with them, to beg them to go no further. The harm they may cause is irreparable. I ask them to understand there are many children out here who look up to them, who admire and want to emulate them. I ask them to 270

set an example they would wish others to set for their own children. I ask them to have patience, to wait while a solution is found that we can all live with. "We invite America to join us here at the walls behind which we have placed our children. We ask America to understand, to forgive, and to allow the wounds to heal. This has gone far enough. How much more can we stand before the first blood is drawn? How many will die if this is not settled quickly? Sandra Tucker, if you can hear me, I beg you. Stop this before it is too late." "All warmed up now, Kyle? Let's see if you can do something with your mouth besides pour beer down it." "Kyle? Sandra? Before you continue, there is something I think you might both find interesting." Kyle ignored Merlin and reached up to grab one with each hand. "I think I know how you can locate the Knight of Swords." Kyle let out a whoop and almost dropped Sandy over backwards. "Atta boy!" "I've been tracing the sightings and eavesdropping on telephone conversations in the localities they pass through. I seem to have discovered something unusual outside of Denver. You are aware that he has reportedly smuggled several senior citizens into the QZ. I believe he is setting up to do it again tonight. Thirty residents of the Maple Leaf Senior Resort have withdrawn their life savings from the bank and a woman named Helen Foster has chartered a tour bus without a driver. Perhaps I'm wrong, but The Knight of Swords and the Queen of Wands were last scene in the vicinity and the trip came up quite suddenly." Sandy smiled in the way that said it was over for the time being. She crawled into the front seat and kicked her feet up. 271

"I wish you had a dick, Merlin. Let's get to work." President Baylor knew it was coming. Nothing could have been more shocking than to see the screen at the concert light up with Sandra Tucker. Six years before he had looked out over an auditorium of Pennsylvania parents and wondered what the sweet little girl in the first row was thinking. Even after she had kicked him in the stomach that day he hadn't realized the nature of his foe. It wasn't until the election day speech she had given that he received the first glimpse of a mind more capable and dangerous than any suspected. Now she was more powerful, more mature. Now she had Kyle Cooper. Ross was a fool if he believed he could stop her short of killing her. She had assumed the position of General for the forces of change. He didn't underestimate her any longer. "What is it, Nash?" "It's the Quarantine Zone, sir. There is a priest who has made a plea to the gangs to be patient. He has set up camp at the Texarkana gate and asked America to join him in begging the gangs to go no further. People have been arriving for hours and the crowd at the Texarkana gate has swelled, demanding a solution be found immediately, before it becomes any worse." "Is that all?" "No, sir. The gangs are on the move again. They're headed for the Texarkana gate and I'm afraid they intend to give their reply to the pleas to stop. But there's more than that, sir. We received a tip from inside the QZ that it's a diversion. The man said that the gangs are going to attempt a mass escape while we concentrate our men in Texarkana. There is a spot on the Missouri River where they intend to cross under cover of night." "I'm suspicious of anonymous tips, General." "Yes, sir, so was I. But there are many people inside the Zone who disagree with the gang methods and it's possible the tip is genuine. Some of the more prominent gang 272

leaders have disappeared from our surveillance and several known gang vehicles were seen headed in the general direction of the reported escape attempt. I had some men scout the western shore and they discovered several cases of inflatable pool toys concealed under some brush. I think this is for real, Mr. President. Even if it isn't, we can't afford to ignore it." "Yes ma'am, but you're getting the last bus. Where are all you folks headed?" Teresa kissed him goodbye and returned to playing with the four-year-old boy scribbling with crayons. Joshua hadn't known what to do about leaving her behind but she had made a friend on a park playground. The parents had been more than pleased when she asked if she could stay with them a few days. She was sure good with kids. Joshua moved the bike through the gears and wondered how he was going to sneak two people in without getting caught. The old woman would never be able to walk and he'd have to carry her. If her friend was in as bad shape, it was going to slow them down. He pulled up at the park and she was there, waiting on the same bench. He looked around and found someplace the bike would be safe, then headed over. She was alone and Joshua sighed with relief. She stood when she saw him coming and they looked at each other for a while without saying anything. "I knew you would come. I knew you wouldn't let us down." "Where's your friend?" She smiled nervously. "Back at the vehicle. Over there." She pointed and his eyes followed, and then almost rolled out. It was a bus full of senior citizens, their faces pressed against the dark windows. "All of them?" 273

"I'm sorry. I know I didn't ask you but they want it so badly. I just couldn't run away and leave them." Joshua was in trouble. He wasn't going to be able to sneak a whole bus through the fence. "Will you still do it? They need you to help them. They're so excited about it. They wanted to meet you in the park but I made them stay on the bus. I told them you thought you were only taking two. I told them that you might not be able to do it. But I promised I would ask. Can you? Will you?" Joshua looked toward the bus and they were waving and smiling. What the hell was he going to do? "I can try. I'm not sure they can all make it tonight, but we can just hope for the best." "Oh, thank you. I think you are the noblest man that ever lived. I can't wait to tell them." And she didn't. She waved her hand and they started cheering and yelling. "There's just one last problem." "We don't have to pick up any more, do we?" "No, it's not that. It's the bus driver. He says he can't let you drive. He says he'll lose his job, that he's responsible. Do you think you can convince him it will be alright?" Only one way to find out. They walked to the bus and he helped her aboard. The driver smiled at her and looked down at Joshua. He was just a kid. He had red hair sticking out every which-way from under his cap and he was wearing blue jeans and a T-shirt the said `Grateful Dead'. They looked at each other for a while and the boy grinned. "Climb aboard, son." Joshua stepped up and looked back at the passengers. They were silent now, watching him. He turned to the driver. "I don't suppose you want the night off?" "My boss would lynch me if he found out I left the coach with the customers. Besides, you ever drive one of these suckers? It's harder than it looks. We got a bus full of folks back there and some of them look brittle. If I was to 274

turn this bus over to you, and you piled up, how would I ever live with myself? You just forget it." The driver reached for a lever and the doors closed. He leaned on the horn a couple of times and whooped, and then they were rolling. The passengers started cheering and threw down the windows. Seconds later one of them started a song and they all joined in, laughing and hollering. So much for that. "You know what's going on here?" The driver gave him a look, then returned to driving the bus. "I reckon it's only obvious." They were driving for ten minutes when another bus pulled in behind them. Joshua walked down the aisle shaking hands and saying hello. He stopped at the rear of the bus and looked back just in time to see another one pull off a side road and fall in line. One by one, the string of buses kept getting longer. He walked back up the aisle and the driver looked over and smiled. "Looks like we have company. What's the plan?" "Plan? There's no plan. I thought there were going to be two little old ladies in a car. There's only one way and that's through the gate. That's no way at all." "Maybe they'll let us in." "Why are you doing this?" The driver grinned, eyes on the road. "I hear QZ girls are easy." Kyle was still grinning when he put the pedal to the floor and leaned on the horn. The other buses followed suit and they came blasting at the gate like a screaming blur out of the night. Joshua stood up and told everyone to get their heads down, then turned back toward the front. "Do you think they'll shoot?" "Not likely." "I could have driven this bus." 275

Kyle smiled but he kept his eyes on the gate. They closed the distance to the barrier and the guard stood leaning against the shack, watching with a smile on his face. The barrier broke across the front of the bus and they were in the Quarantine Zone. The folks in back started cheering and hollering. Kyle kept speed, looking for the reception committee. Five miles later he slowed to a stop when he saw the car on the side of the road and the kids ran out of the trees for the buses. Kyle popped open the door and the first one climbed in. Twenty seconds later he closed the doors and started down the road. Joshua was looking confused at the guy standing at the front of the bus. "My name is Slash, let me get things started here." Slash turned toward the back and raised his hands until it was quiet. "How are you all doing tonight? Don't you folks know you're not supposed to be in here unless you have The Virus? Well, you've done it now. These guys beside you have some clean blades, so if you want it, you got it. Just remember, you're going to be stuck in here until this is over, so if you want to change your mind, it better be quick. Cops are going to be all over us shortly and the rest of us are going to run for the woods. You folks sit tight; we have some people on the way to see you settled. Welcome to the Quarantine Zone, ladies and gentlemen. And thank you." They cheered while the kids went to work cutting fingers and swapping blood. It didn't take much time and Kyle slowed when the guy pointed. He pulled over and the kids piled off. Joshua knew he had been set up but he just didn't know how. Kyle grinned and left the keys in the ignition and pulled his pack out from under the seat. He jumped down the steps and turned, looking back up at Joshua. "You're not staying with the bus, are you? As long as we're here, I figured we could get in on some of the fun. You and me, I bet we'll make the best team on the beach. You ever play volleyball?" 276

Joshua walked down the steps and stopped. "What the hell did you need me for? You had this set up." Kyle grinned. "It was your idea to sneak folks in. We were just giving you a hand." "Sandra Tucker is behind this." "She almighty anxious to get her hands on you, Josh. Believe me, you're in for a treat." Joshua looked at Kyle. "I thought you were dead." Then they were gripping hands and grinning like little boys.

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Chapter Nineteen There was a feeling in the warm summer night. Joshua didn't know what Sandra Tucker was up to, and he didn't care at the moment. It was enough just to be alive, to be there with Kyle alive and beside him. They crossed out of the trees and there were lights up ahead from a town across the highway. The streets were empty and silent and Joshua felt like an outsider in this place. Slash was waiting for them at an intersection under an orange glow from a streetlight. He was smiling. "Slash! Slash, come quick!" Slash turned and started to run. Joshua caught up and then there was three of them running toward the house where a kid stood on the front lawn. Slash slowed to a stop. "What is it? Rick! What's wrong?" "It's Karen. She's inside, Lana's with her." Slash started for the door and Kyle started after him but Joshua held him back. Their eyes met, then turned toward Rick. "What happened?" "She was raped." Joshua closed his eyes and tried to force the picture out of his head. Kyle's voice was ice. "Did you catch him?" "We caught him, all right. He won't be trying it again. We castrated the son of a bitch." Joshua watched Rick walk away and he wasn't sure how to feel. Kyle turned to him and they just looked at each other for a while. "Josh, where's Teresa?" "I left her with some folks named Pollack east of Denver about five miles. She's not expecting me back for a couple days. Maybe I should go back now. I'm not sure these folks want us around and the only reason I figured on staying was to ask after Sandy. I didn't know she was with you." Kyle laughed and the sound of it made Joshua smile. 278

"She isn't. I figured to stay with you, Josh. Sandy wants me to tell her where to find Teresa and they'll probably hook up. Why don't we stay in the QZ a while and poke around?" There really wasn't much choice. When they came through the door, Slash was standing by the window staring silently out at the night. There was a girl about their age sitting on the sofa with a young teenager in her arms. Lana was holding the girl and rocking her back and forth. Kyle took one look, then headed back outside. Joshua stood frozen by the pain of what he was seeing. The little girl's face was badly beaten, her eyes nearly swelled shut. The older girl looked up and their eyes held. Then the little girl gasped and jerked upwards. "You're the Knight of Swords!" The words came out slurred and she was struggling to stand. Joshua walked over and crouched down. "That's right. How do you feel? It looks like it hurts." "It does." Tears rolled down her battered face. "You're safe now, Karen. You're surrounded by people who care about you very much. Think about your friends. Think that tomorrow it will hurt a little less and every day you'll feel better if you can just make it through. Think about running in the sunshine again with the corn fields swaying in the breeze." Karen watched him and he felt like a fool trying make her feel better and knowing he couldn't. "Are you going to be here tomorrow?" Joshua smiled. "I think maybe I am." Sandy had Merlin to herself. She was waiting outside Denver for word from Kyle about the success of the Senior Express and the location of Teresa Alverez. She felt guilty about the way her mind worked, that she was already 279

planning ways to use Teresa. But that wasn't going to stop her. She had infuriated the conservative majority, and even the liberals would want nothing to do with her by the time the critical point was reached. She needed someone they would both respect, someone of supreme competence and intellect, someone to make her play to the legislators once they reached boiling point. She couldn't trust Baylor, he had already aroused too much animosity among both factions as he sat hopelessly straddling the fence. Sandy needed a pawn, disguised as a king. "Merlin, I need help. I need a man whose credentials will guarantee that he'll be listened to. He's has to be able to address the legislature and be very convincing. I'll tell him what to say, but he has to be intelligent and quick on his feet in case anything goes wrong. I need a man who might not exist, damn it. And I need him right now." "If I understand what you're after, Sandy, then I assure you he does exist. His name is Doctor Isaac Cass, and I think you will be amazed at his grasp of the present situation." "Do you think he'll listen to me?" "I'm certain of it. I suggest that once we pick up Teresa, we head toward Florida." The van stopped on the residential street. "Teresa, it's for you." Teresa looked up from the sketch in surprise. Mrs. Pollack was holding the phone and smiling. Teresa jumped to her feet and ran to the phone. "Joshua! Is everything all right?" "This isn't Joshua, Teresa. I'd like to talk to you, but not on the phone. I'm parked outside in a black van. Will you come out?" "Sandy?" "Right outside." 280

Teresa gasped and hung up the phone on the run. She hesitated when she reached the door. Then the door flew open and she was running for the van. The passenger door opened and Sandy stood. Teresa jerked to a stop. They looked at one another for a long time without saying anything. "I've wanted to meet you since I was twelve years old, Teresa. Ever since the first mural." "Sandy!" Then they were in each other's arms and both of them were crying. They held each other until Teresa stepped back, wiping tears away. "How did you find me? Did you meet Joshua?" "Not yet." There was something wrong with the way she looked when she said it. "What's wrong, Sandy? Joshua is wonderful." There was pain in Sandy's eyes but it was buried deep. "Sandy what's wrong? He's all right, isn't he?" "He's fine, Teresa. Do you want to go somewhere with me?" "I want to know what is wrong. You are like Joshua. When he hurts he hides it." Sandy closed her eyes. "Tell me." "Teresa, I'm afraid. Don't like me, I'm not a nice person. I came here to use you and someday I'll use Joshua." This time the embrace was gentler. Teresa held her and closed her eyes, her cheek against Sandy's. Sandy's skin was so smooth. Teresa stepped back suddenly. "Joshua is going to think you are very pretty, Sandy." "I'm very dangerous, Teresa, and Joshua probably knows that already." They stood there in silence again and this time it was uncomfortable. 281

"I can't leave until Joshua gets back. He thinks I'm going to be here waiting." "He thinks you're going to be with me, we're going to meet him later. Teresa, he's with Kyle." "But I thought..." Then they were back in each other's arms and it lasted longer this time, neither one anxious to let go and face the other. It was Sandy who pushed Teresa away, but she was smiling. "I didn't expect this." Teresa shook herself and looked away from Sandy, searching for something to say. "Joshua is nervous about meeting you too, Sandy. He thinks you're going to try to make him do something horrible, and he swears he won't do it. It's because of that poem his father told him." Sandy was suddenly alert. "What poem?" Teresa paused, then began... “The Queen of Wands will light the blaze, “The Knight of Cups will focus haze, “The Queen of Pentacles will aim the sun, “The Knight of Swords will see it done.” Sandy face turned white and her mouth dropped open in shock. Kyle shook himself awake and sat up. The place Joshua had been sleeping was empty except for a neatly folded blanket. Kyle levered himself to his feet and stacked his blanket on top of Joshua's, then grabbed his pack and went looking for him. Kyle found him in the back yard stripped to the waist and standing motionless on the fingers of one hand. Strapped to his chest was the infamous knife. Kyle dropped the pack and sat back against the wall, then found a joint in the pack and lit up. Joshua began doing one-arm push-ups, his body rigidly straight, toes pointed at sky. He had muscles on top of 282

muscles and the motion was so smooth and effortless you would think he didn't weigh a thing. Lana poked her head out of the door and Kyle grinned and held up the joint. She sat down beside him and took it. They watched in silence as Joshua switched hands, and then began hopping from one hand to the other. Five minutes later he pushed upward with both hands and flipped, landing on his feet with the knife in his hand. It began to dance in the air, spinning and flashing between two invisible hands. Kyle looked over at Lana and she looked back, and then returned her eyes to Joshua. Ten minutes later the knife disappeared from the air and appeared in the sheath strapped to his chest. Joshua turned to them and grinned, then walked over and sank to the ground. "Are you for real?" Joshua smiled at her and it was all the invitation she needed. Lana came off the ground, but Joshua was suddenly standing, holding up his hands. "Wait a minute, Lana." She smiled and walked up to him. "Just one kiss?" It was a long kiss, and then Joshua let go and stepped back. "Wait until I tell the girls that I kissed the Knight of Swords. You guys hungry? I'll fix some breakfast." Kyle watched her go thinking maybe she hadn't even seen him sitting there more than willing. Not that there weren't complications. "Josh, you ever had sex with anybody beside Teresa?" Joshua smiled, looking far away. "Sarah. She was a girl I grew up with. I'm going to find her someday. I'm going to let her know she was right all along." "Did she get pregnant?" Joshua frowned.

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"She had The Virus. She hated it. She went to become a doctor. I think mostly she wanted to find some way so she could have kids." "So she didn't get pregnant? You're sure?" "She had The Virus, Kyle. She left right afterwards and I don't know where she is. My Pa sent her to live with an old friend of his. I'm not sure, but it might have been that guy Doctor Fox. You ever heard of him? Teresa says that a Russian agent told her he was the one who made us different." Kyle blinked a couple times and leaned his head back against the wall. "Let's start with the Russian agent." "Teresa says they've been looking for us ever since we were split up. I think the person to ask is Carlos Delvega." It wasn't bad enough that the CIA was on his ass. Now Kyle had to worry about the KGB, and probably the rest of the alphabet as well. What else hadn't Merlin told him? "I'll tell you what, Josh. If you want to, as soon as this mess gets settled, we'll go look for Sarah. I'd be curious to see what the old Fox has been up to all these years." Joshua grinned. "They could be anywhere in the world." Then they were both smiling. Joshua's face turned serious. "Kyle, my Pa told me a poem about us." "A poem?" Agent Marco's face was a dark mask as he stood quietly in front of Baylor's desk. Baylor let the silence accumulate until it became apparent the man would stand there forever without any emotion. "I was told that Kyle Cooper died in an accident during your attempts to apprehend him. Yet, it would seem 284

that this boy who disappeared with Sandra Tucker matches his description quite well." "The assumption of his death seemed justified. If you are asking me if this boy who disappeared with Sandra Tucker is Kyle Cooper, I'd have to agree that it is possible." "And would you agree that Sandra Tucker and Kyle Cooper together are a thousand times more dangerous then either alone? This whole business disturbs me a great deal, Marco. Last night we were prepared to stop a group of gang members from breaking out of the QZ, and instead, we got ten buses filled with senior citizens breaking in, led by the Knight of Swords. Sandra Tucker must have been behind the move and God only knows where she will strike next. She's pushing us, Marco, and she's doing it extraordinarily well. It gives you some hope for the younger generation, doesn't it? I see gang members that once shot people indiscriminately turning to peace and sex. This new form of protest doesn't bother me half as much as the thought that they might return to their old ways with a greatly improved ability to organize and act." Marco stood silent, watching Baylor with unreadable eyes. "Come now, Marco. You must have some opinion about what is happening." "It is obvious what is happening, Mr. President. She's maneuvering us into a position she believes will allow some change to take place. The only real question is what kind of change. She's walking a very fine line, Mr. President, toward a future only she can see." Baylor stood and glanced at Marco, then walked to the map. It wasn't the type of answer he had expected from Marco, and it was too damn close to the truth. He turned and studied the man, but Marco had gone back to being his impassive self. "You think I should negotiate with her?" "I suspect she won't negotiate until there is only one way out. She is taking us somewhere, Mr. President. 285

Opening the Zone will not settle this matter, that is why she has prevented it by stirring up the population. Gordon Ross could not have kept the borders in place if the gangs hadn't begun their campaign of public sex." Baylor's eyes narrowed in disbelief. "You think she did it to stop us from setting them free?" Karen's face looked even worse in the morning light. She smiled at Joshua when he sat down opposite her and there was a blush showing along her neck. "I'm glad you stayed." Joshua smiled, but he didn't feel like it much. Karen looked down at her plate. "Lana says you kissed her." Joshua looked up and Lana was grinning. She had changed into a short skirt with a blouse that had buttons down the front going to waste. She had smooth brown skin almost the same shade as Teresa's that ran from the top of her skirt in a streak up between her breasts. She bent forward and the blouse opened. Joshua pulled his eyes away and returned them to Karen. Karen was looking at him and waiting. There was only one thing to do. Joshua stood and walked around the table while Karen's eyes tried to open wide against the swelling. He bent over and brushed her lips, then backed off and smiled. "Now I kissed you, too. You tell all your friends, but wait till I'm gone." "You can't leave yet! We're having a barbecue; you have to be there. All the girl's are dying to meet you." Joshua looked over at Lana and she wet her lips with her tongue. Kyle was grinning. Joshua wasn't sure how these folks thought about things after what they'd done the other night. What if he found himself in the middle of something like that? "Please?" 286

Karen was pleading with her eyes and Joshua knew he was sunk. "This isn't going to be anything like that last party you threw, is it?" Lana grinned. "It sounds like a fate worst than death, Josh." Kyle was no help. Teresa was with Sandy so there was no point running off. He could stay and be nice for a while, but being famous was not his favorite job. Lana walked over and reached to kiss him and her hand went right to his crotch. Joshua jumped back. Lana grinned and turned, flipping her skirt up on the way out of the room and there wasn't anything under it. Karen stood and smiled. "I'll be there too. Will you have sex with me?" "No! Damn it, Karen, you're just a kid. You find someone your own age, all right?" "I've done it before plenty of times!" "That doesn't change anything. Karen, you can treat this as a game if you want, but I don't. You remember that. Other people see things differently sometimes." It didn't make her smile. She looked down at the ground like she was ashamed and that wasn't how he wanted her to feel. "Do you think we're being bad?" She looked up at him and he didn't know what to say. "I think shoving it in people's faces to get them angry is wrong. You're backed into a corner inside this place. I can see why you're mad, especially now. If this is how you fight instead of killing folks, that's fine by me. I just think you should realize that it's not a game when you do it for that. It's a war. Don't confuse the two, Karen. Make sure you know which is which." She watched him the whole time he was talking and it was impossible to tell what she was thinking. "That man who raped me was angry when he did it. I was so scared I was crying and shaking and begging him to 287

stop. He started hitting me then. He said I was a slut and I deserved what I got. Do you think I'm a slut?" "Sure." Karen's eyes jerked over toward Kyle and Kyle grinned. "Now me, I love a slut. Sluts are the finest people on earth because they know what they want and they don't play games to get it. They come straight at you. Next time I'm in the vicinity, you watch out. I'll show you some tricks I learned that will make you think you can't get any higher. At least, that's what I've been told." Karen showed teeth and she walked over. "I think you're bragging." Kyle smiled and stood. His eyes bore into Karen's and his hand reached out and touched her with one finger on the crotch of her jeans. She damn near fell to the ground. "You get well." Karen looked from Kyle to Joshua and back to Kyle. "I'll be waiting." Then she was gone and Kyle was grinning. "Josh, you and me have to talk before these girls ambush you. You want to take a walk?" Joshua stood and looked at Kyle. "Were you joking with her?" Kyle looked straight back and his face was serious. "Last week I wouldn't have been. This week the situation is more complicated. She's too young to have kids. "She has The Virus, Kyle."

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Chapter Twenty Colors of sunrise warmed the Florida sky. Teresa stepped away from the van and stretched muscles sore from hours on the road. The van door slid open, then Sandy's head pushed out and her eyes blinked away sleep. They grinned together. Isaac Cass rose from bed feeling his age. He shuffled to the kitchen and got the coffee pot started, then headed outside for the morning paper. When he opened the door, he saw them. Sandra... The man's face barely registered the emotion Teresa felt coming from him. His eyes were on Sandy and there was something hungry in the way he looked at her. Teresa's eyes moved from Isaac to Sandy and back. "Dr. Cass?" He nodded and smiled, and then he was looking at Teresa. Teresa grinned and she could tell he knew that she saw the resemblance. He returned his eyes to Sandy. "Do you know who I am, Dr. Cass?" A smile tugged at the corners of his eyes and Teresa liked him immediately. "Yes, Sandra, I know who you are." "May I speak with you?" The man was Sandy's father and he knew it. Teresa was smiling when she left Sandy with Isaac. She slid into the van and put her bare feet up on the dashboard." "I think you've been a very bad boy, Merlin." "Like father, like son. I knew you would recognize the resemblance, Teresa. Isaac Cass is an extraordinary man; I have developed a great deal of respect for him. I hope you'll keep his secret until he tells Sandy himself." 289

Teresa wished Merlin had a face she could see. It was so difficult to tell what he was feeling that the only thing she was sure of was that he had feelings. "Kyle must be very smart." "Humanity has a wide variety of talents, Teresa. Kyle may be the greatest scientific theorist that has ever lived, but in many ways, he is still a little boy. People underestimate him because he revels in acting childish. Don't make that mistake when you meet him. Behind the grin is a very powerful mind. There are projects under way in laboratories all over the world that will bring enormous benefit to mankind if they prove successful. For Kyle, what matters is the moment of rapture. I believe his preoccupation with sex is a result of his need to touch the world, to wallow in the sensations of his body and set his mind free to recharge. Kyle lives in two worlds, and when he is in one of them, he is very vulnerable. "I worry about him, Teresa. Kyle has an amazing proclivity for getting in trouble, and sometimes, it is trouble of a very serious nature. There are a number of people who would like nothing better than to see Kyle dead or in some form of prison, and while I do my best to protect him, I have certain limitations. Kyle must survive, Teresa. He is more important to mankind that even he realizes, and modesty is not one of his faults. I'm very pleased to see that Kyle and Joshua are becoming friends. Kyle needs Joshua's protection." Teresa was silent, thinking over what Merlin had said. "You must love him very much." "He is my father. And I am a proud son." Joshua woke up with a throbbing in his temples. He had never been drunk before and wasn't sure if he ever wanted to be again. It was the confusion that had tripped him up, made him down one beer after another without being sure how a full one had reappeared to take its place. 290

Kyle had told him about all the pregnant girls in the south pacific and what he was doing to ensure they were taken care of. He had promised Joshua that any child of Joshua's would be raised right next to his, that they wouldn't be alone, that they would be safe and loved. It wasn't that Joshua didn't believe him; it just didn't seem right to father a child and leave, even if the mother and infant were taken care of. What if Sarah had gotten pregnant two years before? Should he go find her and marry her? What about Teresa? He couldn't marry both of them, and even if he could, did he really want to get married and settle down? Settle down! Just the thought of it had scared him so badly he had started drinking faster. It was a mistake. The best thing would have been to stay away from girls until he figured out what to do about the two he was already involved with. He felt guilty enough between Sarah and Teresa, the last thing he wanted was the kind of trouble Kyle had. But they looked so damn good, and they made no secret out of wanting him. He was in serious trouble and sinking fast when Lana rescued him. Joshua eased up in bed and stared down at her. What had he done? The problem wasn't that he didn't really remember; he had a pretty good idea. The problem was that just looking at her made him want to do it again. He slid from bed careful not to wake her, pulled on his shorts and strapped on the knife, then headed out to loosen up before he made things any worse. He stepped out onto the grass in the back yard and began stretching. He was twenty minutes into the routine before he caught a glimpse of Kyle sitting up on the roof. Kyle was sitting on the peak, facing east with his legs dangling over the edge. His eyes were on the horizon and any fool could see he was waiting for the sun to come up. Joshua started to say something but Kyle looked busy. Joshua went back to his workout and pushed until everything was flowing and pumping and surging. He looked up at Kyle almost an hour later. It was as if no time had passed. Kyle 291

was still staring east, only now the sun was up and he was staring straight at the darn thing like he didn't even see it. Joshua started to yell but thought better of it. He jumped for the edge, pulled himself over, and walked to where Kyle was sitting. He lowered himself down. "Kyle, you shouldn't stare at the sun like that. You'll burn the eyes right out of your head." When Kyle didn't react, Joshua took a hand and passed it in front of him, blocking the sun. Kyle blinked a couple of times, and then shook himself like he was trying to wake up. "Kyle, are you all right?" Kyle took a few deep breaths, and then turned to Joshua like he was surprised to see him there. "Morning, Josh. One hell of a party." "Kyle, you were staring straight at the sun like it wasn't even there. You didn't see me sit down; you didn't even hear me talking to you. You sure you're feeling all right?" "Feeling good. Feeling real good." Joshua watched him but Kyle seemed to be back to normal. "I want to see Teresa." Kyle's face got serious and he looked down at the ground, then up to meet his eyes. "Josh, you walk around on tiptoes trying not to hurt other people's feelings and you forget about your own. Me, I let my feet fall where they land. That's why I piss people off so much, but that's just the way things go. You telling me you didn't have a good time? Stop worrying. Sure she'll be mad, but that's not your fault." Kyle grinned. "Thanks a lot." "Josh, pissing people off on purpose, that's one thing. Pissing people off by being yourself, now that's something different. You have to make a choice. There's a bunch of girls down there more than willing to share what you're 292

willing to give. They aren't asking that you become their slave and kiss their feet every morning for the rest of your life. From what I've seen, you haven't reached that point. Let her stew. Speaking of which, let's rustle those girls out of bed and get them to work." Joshua grinned and stood. Teresa was going to have a few things to say to this guy when they got together. Kyle was in for a big surprise if he thought he was going to dance her around. Lana stood in the kitchen staring out the window with her arms crossed over her chest. When Joshua and Kyle stepped through the door she turned and her eyes met Joshua's with a blush creeping into her face. Joshua looked back, feeling uncomfortable and not knowing what to say. "I'll get the newspaper." There was silence behind him when he pulled open the front door and stepped outside, sucking down air like he had been suffocating and just realized it. What was he going to do if Lana was pregnant? Even if she wasn't, how could he walk away from her? Nothing made sense any more. He hadn't promised to stay, he had told her he was going to be leaving soon. He still felt like a shit. Joshua reached for the newspaper at his feet and when he opened it the headline gave him a sudden shiver of cold flashing up through his body. Joshua shook the newspaper at Lana but she just smiled back. "What are you talking about, Joshua?" "Lana, people are starting to talk. They want a law passed that anybody caught having sex where they can be seen gets tied to a post and whipped. You understand? They'll tie you up and beat you. They'll make a show out of it, just like you're doing to them." Lana drew a slow breath. 293

"They better not, Joshua. They just better not or we're damn sure going to start beating them back." Joshua had to get away or he was going to pop. He turned from Lana and strode across the back yard, and then flung the gate open so hard it nearly tore off its hinges. Joshua crossed the street and headed west. He was so mad that he was two blocks down before he realized he didn't know where to find Sandy. But Kyle did. He turned and Kyle was strolling up the street whistling with his hands in his pockets, his pack hanging off one shoulder. Kyle stopped three steps away and grinned. "So let's go find that bitch and give her the what for." "Can you call her on that radio?" Kyle lowered the pack and opened it. He pulled out the radio. "Sandy." The phone rang four times before a man answered it. "Is there a girl there with long blonde hair?" There was a pause, and then Sandy came on the phone. "There's a guy here who is very upset and he's carrying a large knife. You better do some fast-talking, Sandy. I have a feeling you wouldn't last long if he got his hands on you right now." Kyle handed the radio to Joshua. "Sandy, you tell them to stop." "I'm supposed to let assholes step all over us? Forget it, Joshua. It's too late to stop and it has been for years." "Sandy, you don't know what could happen." "Listen, macho man. You stick to what you do and I'll stick to what I do. If you don't have anything more constructive to say then please stop, go back to playing with your groupies." The phone slammed down and Joshua looked over at Kyle. "I told you she was a bitch." 294

Sandy came out of the house and climbed into the van without looking at Teresa. "Isn't he going to help?" Sandy looked up at her. "Yes, he'll do it. Merlin, I think you made the perfect choice. Will you talk to Dr. Cass and help him with anything he needs?" "I'll do my best." "Thank you. I wish I could get inside your head sometimes and know what goes on in there. I wish I could know everything you know." "The same thought occurs to me, Sandra."

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Chapter Twenty-one Gordon Ross was one of a select group of powerful legislators in the conference room. The reactions of his peers when Ross stepped to the front and named himself spokesman were mixed. Baylor noted the faces and recorded them, then swung his eyes to Ross. "What amazes me, Congressman Ross, is that you are well aware passing this law will bring on a civil war. Yet apparently, you find that preferable to accepting the inevitable. The Virus will never disappear. I assume you must realize that. I assume this attempt to beat the gangs into submission before we inevitably release them is intended to insure they will hate us even more." Gordon Ross didn't particularly like the accusation. He was gathering air when Senator Brant spoke"Senior citizens are circulating a petition in California endorsed by Teresa Alverez. Several of the southwestern states seem to have been similarly targeted. They're demanding we prevent this from becoming a war, even if it means extending the Quarantine Zone and allowing people to choose." Ross turned on Senator Brant. "And you think that's a solution? Extending our problem? You are gambling with explosive dice, Senator. Extending the Quarantine Zone is the last thing we should accept." "I suppose you have a better idea? Look Ross, I don't care who has their sensibilities bruised. I don't see any other way of stopping the spread besides killing everyone with The Virus, a solution I'm beginning to think you might favor. I'm not supporting a law to beat children for civil disobedience, and I'm not alone. If you bring this up for vote, you might have a majority. Do you think the President won't veto it? You're not only wasting our time with this tyranny, you're endangering our chances of defusing this without bloodshed. Give this up and do something constructive." 296

"It so happens I am." Ross swung his eyes over the legislators in the room and then centered them on Baylor. "Naturally, this disease can not be eliminated from the world. But before it is too late forever, it can be eliminated from the United States. There are countries that are willing to accept our infected in return for financial assistance in getting them settled. We should think about this. The consequences of this disease are impossible to fully comprehend. We should let other nations take this risk; make sure that they haven't destroyed themselves by allowing this thing in. The United States should stand back in a position to safeguard mankind. We should encourage countries to follow our lead, to separate the infected from the uninfected. We should encourage caution before we find ourselves responsible for the death of our species." Baylor leaned forward and stood. All their eyes were on him. "And this law to beat children?" "The law will pass, Mr. President. You are right, the disease will last forever. But will it mutate? Will the cure suddenly stop working? And what happens when the right to bear children becomes a privilege? Don't choose the easy way out of this crisis. Our reaction to gang tactics will be watched all over the world. If we take a firm stand we will be showing the gangs that they must respect the laws of society if they wish to live in it. That's a lesson that needs to be taught." "I'm sorry, Joshua." Joshua eased open his eyes. The first thing he noticed was that Lana was wearing a dress. She sat down on the back yard grass and crossed her legs, then composed her face and waited. He sat up and they looked at each other. "It's not your fault, Lana." "I know. But sometimes it feels like it's my fault, like I should just accept what they want me to be and stop 297

making trouble. Sometimes it feels like I'm the problem, and all I have to do to fix it is just be a good girl instead of something they hate and want to whip." She was looking down at the hem of her dress while she twisted it between her fingers. Her eyes rose to his. "It's not their fault either, Lana. They don't know what to do." "Do you think we should stop?" "I've been thinking on what you said. My Pa once told me that you have to fight for what you believe. I guess that's what you've been doing all along." Lana smiled and it was a beautiful sight. "So you'll help us fight them?" "No." Her eyes blinked and her face was confused. Then she looked hurt. "You're not going to stand there and scream obscenities at me, are you?" "I'm not on their side either, Lana." "But you said..." "I said it's time for me to fight for what I believe." Joshua stood, but Lana just looked up at him and didn't have anything to say. "Have you seen Kyle?" "He's out front talking on that radio he carries around." "It beats the shit out of me, Josh. Sandy pushed them into passing this law. She's been after it for a long time. You say as soon as they try to enforce it, we're at war. I believe it. The only thing that makes any sense is she's planning on having it stopped from being enforced. I know how you feel, Josh. But I don't think Sandy would do this without a good reason. I'm not saying there won't be a war, but maybe there would be anyway. She must figure this is the only way out." Joshua glanced over at Kyle and studied his face. Kyle was still a big mystery to him. He seemed to know 298

everything that was going on. The guy said things that should make you angry, but instead, made you like him even more. The girls liked Joshua; they stared at him as if they wanted to faint just from seeing him. But they loved Kyle. Joshua wished he was more like him. "She better have a damn good reason, Kyle. She's playing with a lot of lives." "I'm sure she could justify the hell out of it, but that doesn't change the fact that she might be wrong, and she knows it. She's really scared right now, Josh. Something could go wrong at any time and it will be too late to correct it before this place explodes. You're more alike then you think. Sandy is the serious type. You two are carrying the world around on your shoulders. Me, I have other problems." Kyle was staring straight at him. Joshua got the feeling Kyle had found his own way to the first door. He looked like nothing could touch him. "What about war, Kyle?" Kyle looked down at the lawn they were sitting on. He reached out and pulled up a handful of grass and held it up. "You ever kill anybody, Josh? I don't like fighting. I don't enjoy hurting people. But I'll do it and I'll sleep like a rock afterwards, because I figure if it comes down to me or some asshole trying to open me up, that's his tough luck. The next day he's a memory I would rather not have and it makes me mad to think I can't wash it away. It takes some of the color out of life to know you'll never be able to forget that look just before people die. It takes some of the color when you see starving kids and old folks wrapped in newspaper dying of pneumonia on a snow covered bench. One day you look around and everything is gray and dirty and smelly. I do what I do best, and I hope things will get better because of it. But I can't live without the color, Josh. It's not that I don't care; I guess I just don't care enough. I'm leaving the world saving to those with the temperament. The only reason I'm still around is to see how you stop it." 299

Kyle grinned, but Joshua didn't feel like smiling. "What if I can't? What if I don't know how, Kyle?" "Then you better figure out a way to, Josh. Maybe you don't know it yet, but it's obvious to me. You're the one who stuck yourself in the middle. You're the one who is going to have to get yourself out. I'll be here and I'll watch your back. Just promise me something, hero. Promise you'll be alive long enough to change some diapers." There were clouds boiling over the eastern horizon. It smelled like a storm on the way. Joshua closed his eyes and tasted the air. "It's coming, Kyle. Do you know where Lana and Slash are headed? There's a meeting of the gang leaders over this threat to beat them. Lana wanted me to go with her. They've been angry for a long time and if they pass this new law, it's going to push them over the edge." Joshua opened his eyes and Kyle reached down and pulled up another handful of grass, then held it up and let it rain down. "It passed twenty minutes ago, Josh." The council was full of angry faces. Lana watched them talking and there was a frightening edge to the sounds in the room. Ramone stepped up beside her and they stood together. "Do you think they'll really do it?" "They'll do it, Ramone." Ramone's jaw clenched and his eyes were hard black glass. "They better not, Lana. We've put up with enough. Some of the western leaders wanted to fight a long time ago but I convinced them to wait. Well, we waited. Now we have a cure and we have whips." "They have whips. They have guns and tanks and bombs. We have knives, Ramone." "But we have Sandra Tucker." 300

They exchanged a look and Lana nodded. "That's right." "It's going to happen. It's so stupid I can't even figure out why they're doing this to us anymore. Maybe there was a reason before, but there isn't one now. It wouldn't have mattered if we hadn't pissed them off on purpose. We'd still be in here. They'd still be out there screaming to keep us locked up because we're dangerous. They're right. They made us dangerous." Ramone pulled a switchblade from his pocket and it opened with a loud snap. The talking in the room stopped and the gang leaders turned toward them. Ramone held the knife up in his right fist. "They want us to stop fighting with sex? Fine. Let's see if they like this any better." John Baylor jerked to his feet when General Nash entered the office. They stared at each other and the look on Nash's face was clear enough to put a twitch in Baylor's spine. Baylor broke his eyes away and walked to the map. He reached out and placed a hand on the area marked off as the Quarantine Zone. "They're burning down buildings, Mr. President. There are fires all over the Quarantine Zone and the worst of it might still be ahead. It's going to be a long night." "Longer then you know." Baylor let his hand drop from the map and turned to General Nash. The man's face was pinched and hard, his eyes on the President's desk. The Flogging Law was sitting on a blue desk cover, waiting for Baylor's signature. "There has been no reported incident of public sex." "Isn't it clear, General? It doesn't matter if we ever beat any of the gang members. Just the threat was enough to set them off. Even if I don't sign this damn law, it's too late. Now the gang reaction will escalate fear and the legislature will override my veto. This is it, General. We're at war. Within forty-eight hours there are going to be riots both 301

inside and outside the QZ. In less then a week I'll have to declare martial law. In all honesty, I don't see any possible way out of this situation. I don't suppose you have a suggestion?" When General Nash looked over at him it was a hard evaluating stare. "I know somebody who does, Mr. President." The chain link fence rattled as Ramone cut through. Beyond it, the military motor pool showed as ragged shapes against dim lights in the distance. It was a quiet night, but there was a feeling of thunder in the air. Ramone pushed the cutters into his back pocket and peeled the fence open. He paused and listened, then slid through the fence and stepped aside. One by one, they followed him through and gathered inside the fence. Then they spread out and moved down the rows of vehicles. Ramone reached the first truck and his knife found the tire and pushed in with a twist to open the hole. The truck creaked as it settled. Lana kept the knife low. She felt her way down the line of trucks and stopped at the edge of the light behind the last vehicle. The building was two hundred yards away, lit from the outside. She moved quickly back toward the fence, thrusting her knife into each tire she passed. She cleared the last vehicle and saw too many shadows. "Run!" She turned and ducked between two trucks just before spotlights blasted the dark. She tried to slide under the back of a truck but it was too low without air in the tires. "It looks like you got yourself in a pretty tight spot, Miss." Lana followed the boots up to the rifle. He stood casually, the rifle pointed straight up. She felt the knife in her fist pressed against the pavement. "You planning on using that, Ma'am?" 302

She looked up at him and released the knife, then stood, leaving it at her feet. She shoved it with a sliding kick and it rattled across the pavement. It stopped under the middle of the lowered truck. Lana smiled at him. "You have The Virus, soldier boy?" He grinned and stepped back and she followed him out into the open row. Most of the gang members were being guarded near the fence. Slash was joking with one of the soldiers and keeping the situation from getting tense. Where was Ramone? Ramone grinned and sparked it. The jeep engine turned over with a scream and he dropped the clutch and ducked. He had about two hundred yards to the building and the gate was fifty feet beyond that. He shifted and glanced back. Some of the soldiers were running toward other jeeps but the tires were all flat. Four of the soldiers took up a run after Ramone. Five more headed back toward the break in the fence. Ramone downshifted and took the path up to the gate, then hit the lights expecting to see soldiers. It was just the gate and it was right in his face two seconds later. He hit doing forty and it didn't give easy. The steering wheel smashed him in the face and the jeep jerked. The last thing he felt was the jeep coming over the top and he was falling. Lana screamed when the jeep hit the gate. Then she was running and there were shouts but she ignored them. Soldier Boy appeared loping easily at her side with the rifle held up in his left hand. He matched her pace and they ran for the gate. Under a streetlight, the jeep was upside down with one tire still slowly turning. Three of the soldiers stood next to it while the fourth was kneeling beside a body on the ground. Lana sprinted, pushing her legs so fast she stumbled. Then she was there and kneeling beside Ramone. His face was bloody and one of his legs was twisted under him, a 303

bone jutting out of the torn pants. Lana started to shake and there were tears pouring down her face. "Ramone?" There was no response. Soldier Boy knelt across from her and his hand went to Ramone's neck and paused there for several seconds. Blood gushed out of the open wound when he straightened Ramone's leg. He worked quickly, cutting away the pant leg and wrapping a tourniquet around Ramone's upper thigh. Ramone groaned but his eyes stayed shut. "Harrison, find a couple splints. Kennedy, call this in and get an ambulance here." He kept working without looking up. One of the soldiers stepped forward and knelt beside Soldier Boy. He dropped his hat and started laying the contents of a first aid kit on top of it. "The ambulance is on the way, sir." Lana felt helpless. She reached out and touched Ramone's cheek. "Ramone? Can you hear me? You're going to be all right, help is on the way." "Careful, don't move his head." Lana looked up and Soldier Boy was staring down at Ramone, his jaw clenched. She looked back down at Ramone, suddenly more afraid. Ramone's face was bleeding but the soldier hadn't done anything to try to stop it. "He's going to be all right, isn't he?" Their eyes met. Harrison returned with two sticks and the soldiers worked together at tying them in place with the first aid supplies. The bone wasn't sticking out anymore, but she could see it and she stood suddenly and walked away, taking deep breaths. She threw up at the side of the road and stood there gasping and hurting. By the time she turned back, she could hear the ambulance in the distance. They were through wrapping the leg and Ramone lay there like he was dead, his bloody face slack. Soldier Boy walked over and 304

handed her a canteen. He waited while she washed out her mouth. "His name is Ramone? Ramone Cabrillo, the gang leader?" "I don't have to say anything. I'm under arrest, right? Are you going to beat me yourself or does somebody else get to have all the fun?" The way he looked at her made her feel foolish. "I suppose this is my fault? Well, you're right, it is. You think I don't know what's going to happen because Ramone Cabrillo got hurt trying to escape?" He turned and walked away from her. The ambulance was silent when it pulled up. The doors opened and soldiers jumped out. One of them stopped to talk to Soldier Boy and the guy's eyes jerked over to Ramone. Then he rushed over to help with the stretcher and Lana watched while they put a brace gently around Ramone's neck. Soldier boy said something to Harrison and the boy nodded then headed for her. "You're to go with the ambulance, Miss."

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Chapter Twenty-two Karen sat alone in the night. Rain fell hard on the street and poured into overflowing gutters lit orange by the streetlight. Lana and Slash were still gone and Karen was scared. They were out in the storm. She jumped when a shadow grew legs and crossed the lawn to the sidewalk. He was wearing a long overcoat with the hood up and his back was to her. Then she saw the pack. Kyle! Karen eased the door closed behind her and ran into the storm. Lana paced nervously back and forth across the military hospital waiting room. Soldier Boy watched her from a chair, his eyes following. "Soldier Boy?" "My name is Lieutenant Nash. Or Mat." Lana studied him and he stared straight back. "Is your father a General?" He smiled but there wasn't a great deal of happiness in it. "Your father is commander of the QZ?" "My father is an officer in the United States Army. So am I. I don't suppose you approve of that?" "It's not your fault." "It's very much my fault. I'm a soldier because that's what I chose to be. Don't assume I was pressured into it, I wasn't." Lana turned from him and walked to the swinging doors separating the waiting room from Emergency Care. She bent over to peer through the small window. It told her nothing. She turned back to Mat. "Since your father is such a bigwig, why don't you go ask what's going on?" He stood and walked to her. 306

"The doctors are trying to save your friend's life. There is no apparent neck injury and the leg has been set, but Ramone seems to have slipped into a coma. There's no way to tell what kind of damage was done until he wakes up, and they're searching furiously for the reason he doesn't. I assure you, Ramone Cabrillo is a VIP. Everything possible is being done." The look on his face scared her. "He's going to be all right, isn't he?" He placed a hand on each of her shoulders. "I hope so. Everybody here hopes so. They're going to transfer him to the hospital in Topeka. You're going with him." Karen wasn't even sure where they were. Kyle had the heater going and he looked over at her from time to time, but mostly he watched the road as the windshield wipers flapped back and forth. They had been driving for nearly half an hour through the storm and Kyle just grinned when she asked him where he was going. He hadn't been mad exactly, but he had been surprised when she caught up with him. "Lana and Slash are all right, Karen." "You're sure?" "I'm sure." Kyle slowed the car, then pulled over to the side of the road and stopped. "You stay right here." "You're going out there? But there's nothing around, no buildings, no anything." "Just stay here." Then he was gone. Karen curled up on the front seat and crossed her arms against the cold. She leaned back against the door just as it opened. A girl caught her as she started to fall. Karen gasped. "You're Sandra Tucker!" "And you must be Karen. Where's Kyle? Is he out by the fence?" 307

"He just said to wait." Sandra turned to someone behind her that Karen hadn't seen. The second one walked off in the direction Kyle had gone and then Sandra turned back to Karen. "Can I talk to you, Karen? I need your help." Teresa wasn't sure how she was going to find him. She went toward the fence while she swung the flashlight in front of her. The rain was starting to ease up but the mud sucked at her shoes making it difficult to walk. She stopped, swinging the light and trying to figure out where she was. An icy hand touched the back of her neck and she jumped, then slipped and fell. "Now you're all muddy. Why don't you just strip off those clothes and I'll wash them out for you." "You are a pig." "You want to rut in the mud?" Teresa pushed herself to her feet and held up dripping hands. "You have two choices, Kyle Cooper." "Be gentle." Teresa bent down and grabbed the flashlight from the mud, then pointed it at his face. He was grinning, and it was the most innocent expression of joy she had ever seen. "Nice to meet you, Teresa Alverez." His hands pulled her against him and he licked the rain from her nose. Joshua woke up feeling uneasy. After pulling on some shorts, he headed out to check the house. He found Kyle sleeping on the couch with a smile, but Slash and Lana weren't back and Karen was gone as well. "Kyle, wake up." Kyle stirred, then his eyes opened. "Morning, Josh." He sat up and rubbed sleep away. 308

"Slash and Lana are still gone and now Karen is missing." Kyle gave him a look, then pushed himself to his feet. "Josh, there was trouble last night. Slash and Lana were caught by the army slicing tires. One of the gang leaders named Ramone was injured trying to escape. He's at the hospital in Topeka, Lana is with him." Joshua felt it coming on. "Where's Karen?" "She's on her way to Topeka." Baylor stared out over the emergency session of the legislature. It was full of solemn faces, each of them keeping their eyes straight ahead to avoid contact with their peers. "Now you see. If it weren't for the rain in the Quarantine Zone last night, who knows how much damage would have been done. You keep insisting on calling the gangs criminals, but you deny responsibility for making them criminals. I know I am guilty. I did what I thought had to be done. This is no longer a question of survival. It is a question of politics. "I have before me the law you passed. You are all aware of the reaction it prompted. I will not sign this law." Ross was on his feet and Baylor was waiting. Baylor nodded and Ross began"We have all seen what the gangs are capable of. If we back down to their strong-arm tactics we are unfit for the offices we hold. The danger here is to let fear consume our intellect. I admit, there is the very real possibility of war and that is something no sane man wants. "But to claim there is no longer an issue of survival at stake is shortsighted blindness to the dangers this disease conceals. We are dealing here with something that can't be undone. If we rush into legalizing The Virus, we may be responsible for bringing about a world that is repugnant, a world that is open to the harshest form of tyranny, the 309

brokerage of human life. We are tampering with the laws of nature and the laws of God. No man or woman has the intelligence to guess the consequences of this thing. If we discover we were wrong to set it free, if it mutates and renders this cure useless or The Virus deadly, it will be too late to correct our mistake. "The Virus cannot be eliminated, but it can still be contained. We must ensure that some nations remain free of this disease to safeguard our race. And we must lead the way, show the world that we are prepared to act in the face of threat. We must show them that we are able to make the hard choice, that we are dedicated to a course of caution in dealing with this thing. "Now is not the time to gamble with the future of mankind. The United States holds a grave responsibility in world affairs. We hold a grave responsibility to act with prudence in this matter. This situation must be controlled and that can be accomplished only by letting the gangs know their behavior will not be tolerated. They are attacking us at a time of crisis and that is the worst form of cowardly spite. "They must be treated like they ask to be treated, like destructive children who know only one method of discipline. Pass this law, and let us get on with organizing the evacuation of the infected out of the United States. Let us get on with our lives and our families in peace and security. "Let us lead the way." "It's time, Sandra." Sandy stared at the radio and felt the pulse in her throat. She didn't have time to feel guilty. Teresa had stopped questioning her, she simply watched with big black eyes that had an unnerving impact. They were in Topeka, sitting in a stolen car down the street from the Kansas Headquarters of the QZ military force. There were gang members on the early morning street. They stood with hands clenched at their sides and they faced the headquarters with hostile faces. Armed soldiers were strung along the front of the building, 310

trying to watch every direction at once as the crowds swelled. It was a very dangerous time and it was out of her control now. She had dreaded this moment without knowing its exact form for years. Now it began. She turned to Karen. Karen was shaking. "I'm scared, Sandy. I don't know if I can." "I'm sorry, Karen. I can't tell you how much I hate myself for asking you to do this. I wish I could take your place. But I can't. You're our best chance, Karen. I can't promise you everything will be all right. But there's a chance. There's a chance we can stop it. You don't have to do it. But I have to ask." "This is wrong, Sandy." Teresa was sitting beside Karen and holding her hand. Teresa's eyes swung up to Sandy's. The black eyes were hard. "Teresa..." "No. You won't tell me what you want her to do but I don't like it. Tell me, I will take her place." "Teresa, you can't. I don't know how to explain it, but you just can't. It has to be Karen and it has to be now." "I'm going with her." "Teresa, please... Joshua is going to need you very soon. He's going to need your wisdom. It has to look like she did it on her own. If they know I asked her to, everything will be ruined and our last chance will be gone. You'll be recognized instantly." "This is wrong, Sandy. Can't you feel her fear? She is trembling even while she tries to be brave. Karen?" Karen looked from one to the other and her nervousness increased. "I'll do it." Teresa turned to Sandy and Sandy jerked her eyes away. "Thank you, Karen." Karen had never been more scared in her entire life. 311

She shivered inside her dress and watched the faces of the people on the street. They were angry faces. She got curious looks once in a while because people couldn't help staring at her. Her face was still black and blue and swollen, and the stares made her feel even more nervous. But her feet kept moving until she was across the street from the place she was supposed to be. She stood on the sidewalk and watched the guards, wondering if they would shoot her. Her knees were trembling underneath her dress and she wrapped her arms across her chest, feeling the tears roll down her cheeks. Then the chanting began... More soldiers appeared at the door and suddenly there were twice as many. There wasn't much time because the soldiers were getting ready for something. Then there were trucks full of soldiers at both ends of the block. They climbed out holding rifles and made lines across the street. A man appeared at the door and stood at the top of the steps. It was the man she was supposed to wait for and his eyes searched over the crowd and paused briefly on her face, then passed on. Her feet moved on shaky knees, taking her out into the middle of the street. The chanting died away slowly and everyone was silent and staring at her all alone. She was trying hard not to cry and she was shaking so badly she could barely stand. She just stood there like that for a long time and nobody said anything, nobody moved. They were all watching her and Karen wanted to run. Her hands clenched the dress and she sobbed, and then jerked it up over her head and she was naked in front of all those people hating each other. Then there was a jacket around her and she opened her eyes to see the blurry face of the man. He wrapped her up, then lifted her in his arms and carried her into the building. The shouting began... Lana jerked, then sat up. Mat was standing in front of her and his face was furious. Lana jumped to her feet. 312

"Oh, he's all right. Ramone woke up twenty minutes ago and wanted a beer." Lana dropped back in the chair. "You're Lana Rodriguez. Karen Hernandez is one of your members?" Lana was back on her feet. "I was just starting to admire you, Lana. Now this?" He turned from her and Lana screamed. "What's wrong with Karen!" She ran to him and pulled him around. His face was hard and evaluating. "You didn't tell her to do it?" "Is she all right!" She was shaking him by the arms and getting ready to start pounding him with her fists. He grabbed her by both wrists. "She's all right, for the time being. But the Flogging Law passed just minutes before her stunt and now it seems we have a test case. By law, we are ordered to take a little girl who has recently been raped and beaten black and blue, and we must strip her to the waist in a public exhibition and beat her back with a lash. Don't suggest I might enjoy it, Lana." Lana's knees gave out and she fell in a heap on the cold tile floor. It had been an easy decision that it was time to do something, but Joshua didn't have the faintest idea what. The truth was dawning on him slowly and it left him furious. There was nothing he could do. Kyle was standing at the back door and his face was savagely cold. "Kyle, what's wrong?" "I'm sorry, Josh. I haven't been exactly straight with you. I've been helping Sandy because she seemed to know what she was doing. If I ever get my hands on that bitch, I 313

swear, I'm going to strangle the life right out of her. I've done something really bad, Josh." Joshua walked over and stopped in front of him. "What is it, Kyle?" Kyle's stared straight back. "I gave Karen to the Devil. I have no excuse. I'm sorry. God am I sorry." "Where?" "She's in Topeka. They're going to beat her, Josh. She's going to be the first one. How could I have trusted Sandra Tucker? She knows what Karen means to you; I was the one who told her. Josh..." Joshua turned away. "Where's Sandy?" "She's in Topeka, waiting for you." "Karen Hernandez, will you rise and face the bench." Karen stood, unsure of what to do with her hands. She finally folded them across her chest, squeezing her arms until it hurt. The judge was a stern looking man with white hair and an emotionless face. Karen's eyes went around the room and there were people crying and people angry and people smiling. "We all know why this case was pressed through with unprecedented swiftness. There is no question of guilt. Circumstances being what they are, certain parties demanded this be settled immediately. "Karen Hernandez, you are sentenced to fifteen lashes with a leather strap on the naked back. Sentence to be carried out this afternoon, in public." You were supposed to obey the law. Joshua didn't think he had the brains to figure it out. He didn't know how to make everyone happy. People had to obey the law. All those important people had decided that it had to be done, but Joshua couldn't understand why. They were 314

smart people, people who had been to school for years. They must know what they were doing. The gangs weren't going to obey the law. No matter what he did, either one side or the other was going to start it. It was already started. And none of it mattered. He could think forever and it wouldn't matter. Joshua's fist tightened on the throttle. The Dragon was awake... Teresa stood beside Sandy near the edge of the park. The tension was suffocating. Sandy's body was so tight that every movement was a jerk and there was a violent smell in the humid heat. Teresa turned and watched the crowd gathering in near the area marked off by soldier circling the stage. They had furious cold faces or insane wild stares. There were so many people she couldn't even guess at the number, but it didn't matter. What she saw was a massive single thing. Sandy's voice was carefully under control. "What do you feel?" "They are not people, Sandy. They are not even animals. There is death in this place." Sandy didn't relax, didn't stop moving her eyes over the crowd. "How soon?" Teresa turned back to the crowd and shuddered. The thing was rising. "Now, Sandy." Sandy's face turned pale, but her jaw was clenched. "Damn him!" Teresa's eyes jerked back out to the crowd. She was swinging around when she saw Kyle. His face brought tears welling up. Sandy moved up by her side and they waited together. Kyle stopped his eyes on Teresa and there was a terrible pain behind them. Then his eyes moved to Sandy and the gaze turned to burning blue ice. "Where is he!" 315

Kyle didn't answer right away. He stared at Sandy and Sandy went white. "Where is he!" "I have a message for you, Sandy. Joshua doesn't want to play." "God damn you, Kyle. I don't give a fuck what he wants and you just go ahead and hate me. But you tell me where he is or so help me..." She stepped to him and grabbed him by the shirt. His face was wavering with uncertainty. He pushed her away and stepped back. "So anything goes? You're so sure of yourself you can't admit that other people can think for themselves. You got what you were after. He's here all right. You knew he wasn't going to let them beat Karen. You've probably killed him, Sandy. But he's just another pawn. Like me. Like Teresa. Like everybody." Kyle moved up until he was inches from Sandy's face. "You get one warning, Sandra Tucker. If Joshua gets killed, if leather hits Karen's back, you can kiss Merlin goodbye. You're not competent enough to be trusted with him." A roar rose from the crowd and all their eyes went to the street. A military convoy had come into view around the corner. Truck after truck moved slowly parallel to the fence circling the stage they had assembled. The trucks stopped and vomited soldiers into the madness. "Teresa?" Teresa turned to Sandy and Sandy was terrified. Even after what Sandy had done, Teresa had felt a vague trust in her, that somehow she would make everything all right. Nothing was all right. The crowd's screams choked off. Karen stood on the back of a truck and she was unnaturally calm. She raised both hands to the crowd, stretching them toward the dark sky. The fists opened into hands, fingers spread wide. Karen 316

lowered them slowly until they were in front of her. Her face was tight and scared, her eyes trying to stay brave. The silence was oppressive. Karen stepped down and walked calmly between the rows of soldiers on her own. Both the soldiers and the crowd were poised, waiting for the spark that would turn the park into bloody mud and ignite war. Sandy grabbed Teresa by the arm. "Find Joshua!" Teresa couldn't move at first. Then she ran toward the crowd, searching the sea of faces for the Knight of Swords. She pushed her way past bodies standing mute and tense. There were too many. Her eyes went through the fence. Karen stood with head held proudly up as her hands were tied to the whipping post. The soldiers inside the fence watched the crowd with nervous eyes but the ones on the stage looked even worse. A man wearing a black hood held a leather strap and stood by Karen's side, facing the crowd. It was the gang silence that met his hooded stare. It was the silence of hate and fury, the silence of promised retribution. The soldiers were even more nervous now. Their eyes swung frantically over the crowd while their rifles were held in tight fists. The man with the strap waited and somehow it got even worse. Teresa wanted to run. She didn't know what to do. From deep inside of her the scream came tearing out. "Joshuaaa!" She was crying, her eyes back on the platform. Her knees trembled and she almost collapsed. Then he was there. It was the Dragon in full cold fury. It was the face of death, the face of emotionless justice. Their eyes met and Teresa was weeping openly. Sandy stepped up to him and grabbed his shirt with both fists. "Joshua, you have to listen to me. You have to do it yourself. You can't stop it. You have to swing the whip." Teresa flinched when she saw Joshua eyes fill with flames. Sandy was shaking him with her fists knotted in his shirt. 317

"Did you hear me? You have to be the one who beats Karen. You have to!" Teresa began trembling so badly she couldn't stop. Joshua's hands knocked Sandy's fists loose and then Sandy's hat was gone. His hands reached out and grabbed Sandy's shirt and their eyes locked. The shirt tore like paper and Sandy was naked to the waist, her golden hair spilling out. She tried to hit him, and then she tried to run. He grabbed her from behind and lifted her kicking and screaming over his head. They all recognized her. Joshua didn't even seem to notice her struggles. He turned to the line of soldiers and walked through the crowd with Sandy fighting for freedom above his head. The soldiers watched frozen in disbelief. They waited, and then they stepped aside. Their eyes were on his face. "What can I do about it, Sarah? I can't just say stop and they'll stop." "You'll know what to do, Joshua. I know you will." Joshua came to his senses standing on the stage holding Sandra Tucker over his head. He was more then a little angry and seeing Karen there tied to a post just made it worse. He set Sandy down and made sure she knew to stay put. Karen's face cooled him off and the smile of relief was hard not to return but it didn't seem right to be smiling. Joshua pulled the knife and cut the straps in one motion. Then Karen was holding on to him and he was trying to calm the spasms jerking through her. Slowly, the shaking stopped and she finally stepped away, tears slick on her battered face. She looked from Joshua to Sandy. Sandra Tucker stepped forward and gave Karen a hug, her mouth close to Karen's ear. When Sandy let go, Karen nodded, then smiled at Joshua and headed for the steps to the platform. She stopped beside General Nash. 318

Joshua turned to Sandy, and then extended his right hand to the hooded man holding the leather strap. The hooded man handed Joshua the strap and Joshua held it up high in a clenched fist. "This is your doing, Sandy Tucker. You started it; you drove people to this place. You sent a little girl to take a beating that you had earned. Karen isn't the one who broke that law. You are." Sandra Tucker was hard to figure. There was a slight smile at the corners of her mouth but the eyes looked haunted with pain and she was breathing deeply. "Are you going to beat me?" Joshua felt the strap in his fist and wondered if he could. "You stop it now." There were tears in her eyes and Joshua wasn't sure what that meant. Then her face changed and it hit him hard. Joshua held her while she cried and she clung to him so tightly it was like she thought if she let go she would fall forever. She pushed herself back suddenly and wiped her face. Joshua pulled off his shirt and she took it and slid it on. She was calm now, her jaw tight. "I'll talk to them. On one condition. Can I borrow your knife?" She was looking at it like it was some sort of magic thing instead of just steel with an edge. Joshua watched her but her eyes wouldn't meet his. "Earn it, Sandra Tucker." The eyes came up and they were dangerous. "I need it now, Joshua." Joshua's looked out over the crowd and his eyes stopped on Teresa. It was the first time he had ever seen her unsure. Teresa looked from Joshua to Sandy and back to him. She bit her lower lip, and then nodded. He could feel the eyes on him and it didn't make it any easier. He pulled the blade free and it was there between them. He flipped it and held it out. 319

She took it slowly like she was scared of it, but when her hand wrapped around the handle, all hesitation vanished. Her face hardened and she turned away toward the crowd and the cameras...

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Chapter Twenty-three Sandy faced an audience that blanketed the earth. Her body was rigidly straight, head held up. She was frightened and nervous, certain that it had all been madness, that she would fail and contribute to the very thing she had fought so hard to prevent. Here was a crisis so painstakingly crafted that the social forces could no longer be contained without a restructuring of the forms that bound humanity together. Change was now inevitable, unstoppable. Boiling Point... With the knife at her side she looked over the faces of the gang members and the soldiers. "I know I am guilty. I can only tell you that I am sorry for the pain I have caused, sorry for the lies and the deception and the manipulation. "I dreamt of a world free from disease, a world that could ease the pain of old age, a world with room for all creatures that walk or fly or swim. I dreamt of a world where the air was fresh and the water was pure and the land was our friend, a land full of joy and contentment and prosperity. "Instead I have created a hell where parents must imprison their children, where death and suffering will consume our nation. I see now that I was arrogant with conceit, that I may have doomed mankind to perpetual warfare until the last child is imprisoned or slaughtered. "How could I have been so blind in my attempt to force you to accept this thing that I risked the lives of those who trusted me? How could I have been so blind that I tried to force my country past a line that its conscience could not cross? "You must accept their demands. You must accept that they have the right to fear this thing. You must accept that they have the right to chose caution. "You are the future, but you are not their future. Your nation has spoken and they have made their choice. Feel no resentment toward your parents, they do what they feel must 321

be done to protect our species. They will guard the rear and protect mankind from extinction should The Virus prove a lethal mistake. But for you, the struggle has just begun. "The time has come to assume your responsibility to a peaceful world. The time has come to leave behind those that love you and gave you life. I am sorry for what I have done to you, sorry that I have made you a people without a country, cursed to drift until you find safe haven to build your new world. But consider what they have lost. They have lost the future, sacrificed their role at the forefront of mankind to ensure its survival. They have lost their children, their joy and their spirit. They have accepted something no human should have to accept, that freedom must be sacrificed in the face of the survival of our species. "You can be no less brave in your struggle. I know you love this land. I know I am the one responsible for driving the wedge, for forcing you to go forth and abandon the nation that gave you birth. I have no right to ask... but I must. Follow this man who stands here, allow him to lead you to a place where you can begin the hard tasks ahead of you. Go in peace with a man of peace. And please, forgive me for what I have done. I can never forgive myself." Before Joshua had time to stop her, she raised the knife and pushed it between her ribs to slice open her heart. Blood gushed out onto the platform. Then Joshua was holding her and the look on his face hurt more then anything possibly could. He was frantic, his eyes wild. Her vision blurred as blood drained out of her onto the stage she had built to crucify herself. Through dry lips she tried to smile. "I'm sorry, Joshua. I'm so sorry." She tumbled down into the darkness...

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Chapter Twenty-four Even Gordon Ross's face was pale. Isaac Cass studied the effect of the bloody martyrdom while keeping his emotions under rigid control. The legislators watched the televisions with horrified faces as Sandra was pronounced dead on a stage soaked with the blood of her shame. When her corpse was gently lifted by the Knight of Swords and carried into the crowd, the politicians turned to each other. There was hopelessness and confusion in their faces, a deep despair. The stage was set for the last act, and over two decades of plans and lies and manipulations hung precariously in the balance. Here was Boiling Point, a crisis so painstakingly crafted and orchestrated that it breached the barriers of sluggish momentum, the pork barrel politics and special interest maneuvering, the idealistic inflexibility and the selfserving pettishness. Here was an emotional atmosphere brewed with excruciating care, a potion that suspended pessimistic disbelief and transformed the most hardened political cynics into children eager to help, if someone could only tell them how. Eastern Europe was in the room that day, that feeling of change, of an opportunity that must be seized and grasped, or lost forever. In the months ahead the politicians would return to their cynicism, they would feel foolish and used for allowing what was about to transpire occur. They would wish for a return to the old days, the days before, the days of business as unusual. But here and now, it could happen, it would happen. Tomorrow they would wake up and wonder how. When Isaac's West Point classmate, General Nash, had convinced President Baylor to talk to Isaac about options, Baylor had been reluctant to accept Isaac's analysis. But like Sandra Tucker, his daughter, Isaac could be very convincing. John Baylor met his eyes and they both knew it must be now. Baylor stepped down from the podium and dropped 323

heavily into his chair, his eyes closed in pain, no doubt considering his dubious place in history. Isaac started across the room. He drew eyes as he moved toward the podium. The legislators were eager to turn their attention to something, and Isaac took his place at the microphone to a dead silent room. "Seal the doors." "I have a confession to make, Carlos." Carlos turned from the window where he had been watching the night and trying to sort out what was going on. The government had been mysteriously silent since the events of that afternoon, and the news was filled with reports of confusion on Capital Hill and evaluations of just how close they had come to the edge. Emily was standing quietly, looking at him with eyes that said everything she felt. "I love you, Carlos." He walked to her and took her in his arms. "You think I don't know that, Emily? You think I don't feel the same way?" "Then say it." Carlos released her and stepped back. "You have to give it up, Emily. You have to tell them that you quit. We can hide from them if there's a problem." "That problem was solved years ago, Carlos." He didn't understand her, and he probably never would. She had known from the first how he felt about her being an agent. Why hadn't she said something earlier? "Just like that?" "Carlos, I don't talk in my sleep. You asked me once who recruited me first. You never asked who recruited me last. There's a lot you don't know, Carlos. There's a lot I didn't know. All those years I spent searching for one of the children was a cruel deception. I was told that The Fox double-crossed us in the end, that he had hidden the children, 324

hidden my daughter. I spent years searching when all that time the man I work for knew exactly where they were. He didn't want me interfering while Teresa grew up. I only learned a short time ago, when his messenger showed up looking for you. But he had something to tell me as well." Carlos backed up a step, his eyes narrowing. "That man who told me there was a cure for The Virus? You told him where I was going to be?" Emily nodded. "His name is Marco." "And I'm next on the recruitment list? No thanks, Emily. I don't think I like the way your boss works." Emily smiled but it was a hesitant sort of thing. She turned from him and stood silently, her back rigid with emotion. "You're already in it, Carlos, your old friend Mongoose saw to that. You're in it much deeper then you know." She turned and watched him while his fists clenched at his sides. "She has your eyes, Carlos Delvega. And she has your heart." I awaken when Sandy slides on top of me. With eyes still closed I taste the scent of salt and sweat from the ocean and its siren, the beat of tires across the joints of the endless bridge, and the rhythm of her rocking while her silken hair sways against my chest. She lays down on me and I wrap my arms around her, and wonder if there is anything she could do that would cause me to reject her. How did she make me furious beyond measure, then heart-broken in a single beat, brought back to life with a slow smile, and then soothed me completely by her touch? How terrible must be the burden of her dark vision that she alone can see. She is a riddle that has drawn me inside of her, and I am no longer sure where I end, and she begins. 325

It was the poem my father taught me that unlocked Sandy’s memory. Behind her block were our genetic blueprints. They explained why I heal without a scar. Sandy knew she would not die. She also knew it was going to hurt. I fall asleep wondering where on Earth we are going to hide. The next time I awaken the van has stopped. Something bad is going to happen… I kick open the door and leap out onto sand holding my knife. Kyle and Sandy were sitting together on a fallen tree facing the ocean. Teresa was twenty feet behind them, standing with eyes closed, nose titled up to taste the wind. Her face contorts. “Joshua! Save him!” And then I smell death loose upon the breeze. Teresa screams, and I spin, searching for the source. Sandy shouts, and I blink to clear my eyes. A shadow cracks open, and spills out golden light. The hero calls himself… Teresa leaps into the opening, and disappears. Kyle and Sandy are running. I beat them to it, and plunge through the threshold, knife raised to strike. It was a clear and humid morning in Miami. Raston Imri had been nearly frantic for two days and the sight of Isaac's open office door at the University brought a tremendous sense of relief. He calmed himself as he walked down the sidewalk and by the time he arrived his face was relaxed. Raston leaned against the open door and watched Isaac's back as he cleared his desk drawers. "Sorry about your daughter, Isaac. Strange how her body seems to have vanished. In fact, the other three appear to have disappeared off the face of the earth. Gone without a trace, my sources say. Like a magic trick. I don’t suppose you know where they’ve run off to?"

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Isaac straightened and turned. He met Raston's eyes. They stood watching each other, each of them wondering what the other was thinking. “I wouldn’t waste any time looking for them, Raston.” Raston nods, his eyes drifting around the room and coming to rest on the packing box. "Going somewhere, Isaac?" "I've been offered another position, Raston." "Another university?" "I'm afraid I can't discuss it until it's officially announced." Raston scratched his jaw thinking that if he had an axe he would split this bastard's head open just to get a look inside. "I suppose you've been following things, Isaac. The United States had a rather close call last night. It scared quiet a few people I know. But there seems to be a better mood this morning, thanks to the legislators finally having come to a compromise. And what an incredible compromise. I would have never believed they would even consider such a solution, much less act on it overnight. Lucky how things turned out." "Don't put down luck, Raston, we can all use some right now." "Still, there seems to be a lot of it going around." Isaac shrugged and went back to packing. "I'm beginning to get an idea of what is happening here, Isaac. It's quiet astonishing that The Fox was able to set this up all by himself, much less bring it off nineteen years after he disappeared. What luck that things didn't go wrong in any of a thousand places. But then, maybe it did go wrong here and there. Maybe someone corrected the situation along the way, someone who was really the man behind it all from the very beginning. I'd guess it went something like this... "You choose the University of Notre Dame specifically because the Fox was on the medical school staff. 327

Your plans evolved long before you met the Fox, probably while you were working with the Pentagon. Overpopulation was certainly one our most pressing problems looming in the future, whether people wanted to acknowledge it or not. But it was obvious that there would never be a political solution that the entire world could accept. So you came up with the idea for The Virus. "Something like The Virus was going to cause an upheaval whether or not there was a way around the infertility it caused. You orchestrated things quite brilliantly, Isaac, it was a magnificent stroke to withhold the cure. Give them something to fight against and focus their concern on the dropping birthrate. Make the infertility their enemy and give them time to adjust, time to discover the incredible benefits of this thing, while at the same time, realize the dangers. Give them time to understand while you bring the situation to crisis. But how? How could you bring the country to the point of cataclysm in a way that would offer the opportunity you were looking for? "And this is the part of the plan I admire most. In retrospect, it is obvious that the situation you created would eventually result in the children being targeted, becoming the first generation of the controlled society. It is obvious that the children would reject imprisonment designed to raise them as breeding machines. The children were the perfect tools to bring about your revolution. But they needed leadership, and who better to lead them than the daughter of the man who conceived the plot?" Isaac straightened and his face was unreadable. "It seems a little far fetched, doesn't it?" "It certainly does. It's so far fetched I doubt anybody would ever believe a word of it. Just one last question, Isaac. You got what you were after. You got the Southwestern United States. You tore off a chunk of the most valuable and heavily defended real estate in the world and they smiled when they handed it to you. Apparently, the United States gets to have it both ways, by dividing into two nations. Now 328

that it's done, I think I understand why they accepted it. To their allies, they appear a kind and compassionate nation, moved by conscience to give up a very valuable resource and reduce the United States' power on a world stage becoming increasingly hostile to US supremacy. On the other hand, the new western nation is a great warrior that brought the United States to its knees, defeating American tyranny. I don't imagine you intend letting the situation go to waste. In fact, it occurs to me that your plans are barely under way. Congratulations, Isaac, you've given new meaning to the term: `Divide and conquer.' "But what about the children? In the end, it was The Fox who held the scalpel. You've created a new nation. "What did he create?”

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