Dodge peered ahead, trying to see. "Can't tell," he said. "Neuro-headsets could be built into their helmets."

"Get ready," Tyler said.

In front of them was the white station wagon of Olivia and Brenda. They had left the stadium together. Bonded by circ.u.mstances.

The wagon slowed at the barrier.

Hurry up. Go through, Sam thought. They couldn't crash through the barrier while there was still a car in front of them.

They never got the chance to try. A soldier standing beside the white station wagon glanced back at the Shelby, perhaps admiring the lines. He took one look at Tyler and his eyes widened. He peered at Dodge, then at Sam and Vienna in the backseat.

He quickly took a step backward, raising his rifle toward the car.

His other hand moved to his radio. "We've found them," he said.

There was no opportunity for escape. In seconds, the car was surrounded by armed soldiers who made them all get out of the vehicle and kneel down in the roadway, covering them with their weapons while one of the soldiers moved the Shelby to the side of the road. Vienna was the only exception. She sat on the road, leaning forward, breathing heavily with her head in her lap.

Sam saw Olivia's horrified eyes peering from the station wagon in front; then the car was gone, through the barriers and into Colorado. What must they think? he wondered.

Another soldier appeared from the overpa.s.s and approached.

"Arthur Dodgerson, Vienna Smith, and Sam Wilson?" the man asked.

Sam nodded. There was no point in denying it. Next, out would come the neuro-headsets. Then Ursula would have them in her clutches.

But the man extended a hand. "I'm Lieutenant Blair Wheeler, National Guard. A lot of people have been looking for you." He turned to Tyler. "Special Agent Tyler?"

Tyler nodded.

"Follow me," Wheeler said, and to Sam's surprise, with a quick nod from Wheeler, the guns disappeared.

The soldiers had a command post in a small cafe just off the freeway, and Wheeler led them there. The walls were covered with maps on which lines and numbers were marked in heavy black ink.

Wheeler indicated that they should sit. "The neuros want you badly," Wheeler said. "They're searching for you everywhere. And if they want you that badly, then we want you just as badly. To stop them getting their hands on you. Any idea why?"

Sam looked at Dodge; then they both looked at Vienna.

"Tell them," Tyler said. "They're on our side."

"Okay," Sam said finally, and looked at Wheeler. "Do you know what is behind all this? The neuros? The war?"

"Some kind of virus," Wheeler said. "That's what they tell us. A neuro-virus spreads through the headsets, turns the users into zombies or mutants, something like that."

"Something like that," Dodge echoed.

"Not quite so dramatic," Sam said. "But the story about the virus is...Well, it's close enough to the truth."

"So why have the neuros got their panties in such a bunch about you?" Wheeler asked.

"We've got the cure," Sam said.

Wheeler looked around sharply. "You serious, boy?"

"He is," Tyler said.

Sam said, "We've got a kind of antidote for it. A...software program. If we can get it out into the Internet, I think we can kill the...neuro-virus...and stop the fighting."

He left out the part about knocking the world back to the Stone Age. About destroying the world's computer networks, possibly forever.

"You've got the cure. And the neuros are trying to stop you." Wheeler considered that. "You're telling me that this disease don't wanna be cured."

"It's a little more complex than that," Dodge said. "But you're basically right."

"So why not just do it now?" Wheeler asked. "I can get you to an Internet connection just up the road."

"No," Dodge said. "The moment she-I mean the neuros-detect us on the Net, they'll come after us with everything they've got. We need to go somewhere safe, secure, before we unleash it. Somewhere they can't get to us."

Wheeler looked at them closely. Vienna coughed weakly.

"Cheyenne Mountain," Wheeler said. "That's where you're headed, ain't it?" He nodded. "Makes sense. I'll alert General Jackson up at Fort Carson. Tell him to activate his Emergency Response Plan and set up a defensive perimeter around Colorado Springs."

He turned to one of the big maps on the wall.

"For all intents and purposes, we are in the middle of a civil war," Wheeler said. "It exploded out of nowhere over the last week or so. Colorado, Kansas, Nebraska, and Iowa are pretty much ours. Some small pockets of neuros are holed up here and there, but they're a nuisance rather than a threat. New Mexico and Oklahoma are still okay. Alaska is holding out, so are both Dakotas and both Carolinas, although North Carolina is under heavy attack from Virginia. Other than that, the country is neuro. Not everyone, of course, but the local government and the military, and that's what really matters. The rest of the population are getting neurolized as fast as the neuros can process them. Stick a neuro-headset on your best friend, and he's suddenly your worst enemy. The navy was very slow to take up neuro, so we got them on our side, although they can't help us much here. Air force has gone the other way, all neuro. There've been some big battles, navy jets versus air force."

"Who's winning?" Sam asked.

"It's about even," Wheeler said grimly.

A soldier entered and saluted, then handed Wheeler a note. He read it quickly.

"Get it out of sight," he said to the soldier, then screwed up the note and tossed it into a wastepaper basket.

The man left.

"The neuros have just broadcast a description of your Shelby. But no problem-we'll hide it in the forest and give you one of our Humvees," Wheeler said, and added, "They're armored."

A quiet, raspy sound came out of Vienna, who had not yet spoken, and Wheeler seemed surprised to find that she actually had a voice. "No," she said.

"What's wrong?" Sam asked.

"They'll have the Shelby on satellite by now. They already know where we are. They're already on their way."

"What are you suggesting?" Dodge asked.

She coughed again and asked, "How long is it from here to Cheyenne?"

"Two, two and half hours," Wheeler answered. "Two if you hurry."

Vienna nodded. "I'll take the Shelby. Head east, toward Kansas, Wichita, where the headquarters of the resistance is. They'll think that's where we're going. It'll buy you some time. Maybe an hour. Maybe two if we're lucky."

Dodge said, "No, Vienna, that's suicide."

She laughed but the laughing turned into a fit of choking and coughing, and it was a moment before she could speak. "We're all going to die sometime," she said.

Sam looked at the floor. He knew exactly what she meant, and so did the others.

"No," Tyler said.

"It'll buy you some time," Vienna repeated.

"I know," Tyler said. "But you're not well enough to drive. Certainly not fast."

"But-"

"But nothing," Tyler said, his eyes narrowed. "It's a good plan, and probably our only hope, but you're not the person to do it. You're just not well enough. I'll drive the Shelby."

Vienna began to protest, but it turned into another coughing fit, and she collapsed back in her chair.

"Get her to a hospital," Sam said to Wheeler. "She inhaled the dust in Vegas. See what they can do for her."

Wheeler looked grave but nodded.

"Grab your stuff out of the Shelby," Tyler said. "I'm gonna make tracks."

"Tyler-" Dodge started.

"Don't argue with me, Dodge," Tyler said. "There's no time, and you know it."

"Thanks, Tyler," Sam said, shaking his hand. "I..." He stopped, unsure of what to say.

"Don't get dead," Dodge said. "I'll see you on the other side of this."

Tyler grinned and ran his fingers through his hair, slicking it back. "See you on the flip side."

He is a cool guy, Sam thought.

He walked over and kneeled down in front of Vienna as Tyler left. Her eyes were closed, but she opened them.

"Get out of here," she rasped.

"We're about to leave," Sam said, picking up one of her hands with his. It felt limp and cold. "They'll get you to a hospital. You're going to be okay."

With an effort, she rolled her eyes and shook her head.

"Sam, you're such an egg," she said.

The heavy, armored army Humvee felt more like a tank than a car.

Wheeler had spent a couple of minutes showing Sam how to use the automatic gears and the pedals. There was nothing to it, really.

Dodge was making some final modifications to the Plague virus, a power cable snaking from the laptop to the cigarette lighter on the dash.

They were only five minutes into their run when Wheeler came on the radio. "I just got word of a lot of activity happening up in Wyoming at the air force base," he said. "Lot of soldiers getting loaded into transport choppers, attack choppers, the whole nine yards. Looks like they're getting ready to hit something real hard."

"Let's hope they don't find us," Sam said into the radio.

"That ain't the worst of it," Wheeler said. "We have reports coming in that over in Missouri at the Whiteman Air Force Base, a lot of planes are getting prepped. Lot of bombs getting loaded. Looks like nukes."

53

DIVERSION

Tyler drove as though the devil was at his back.

The big engine of the Shelby growled like a wildcat as it ate up the highway east toward Kansas.

The road still groaned under the weight of the refugee traffic, but he was no longer concerned about being noticed and used the power of the big car to weave his way along the blacktop, veering onto the left side of the road for long stretches, as there was little oncoming traffic.

The farther he got, the more time he spent running, the better the chances that Dodge and Sam had of making it to Cheyenne.

Even close to Colorado Springs would be good enough, he thought, as Fort Carson would have thrown up a protective screen by now. If they could make it that far, they could probably make it all the way.

He scanned the sky constantly as he drove. Early warning of an attack might be his only chance.

He could dodge; he could weave. If it came to it, he could leap from the car and try to make a run for it.

Deep down, he knew that he had little to no chance of survival if they found him, when they found him. But there was no point in thinking like that.

The first hour of the journey was monotonous, uneventful, and fast. Sam drove and Dodge worked on the laptop.

They pa.s.sed through a small town, Trinidad, at high speed, ignoring road signs and the startled glares from the people on the streets.

Sam caught a glimpse of one sign as they left the town behind them, curving around to the north: FREEDOM ROAD FREEDOM ROAD.

Somehow that seemed weirdly appropriate.

Other towns flashed by: Aguilar, Walsenburg.

But the trouble didn't start until they got to Pueblo.

The radio suddenly went wild with shouted orders, the sound of heavy machine-gun fire, and the thunder of the rail guns on the Abrams tanks.