Elijah could see the exit door, still open. He could still get out of here. He could also see his sister and cla.s.smates struggling, crying, trying to get out of the mansion.

I won't leave you here, Elisha.

He remained seated at the console, staring at the monitor, praying he could figure out how in the world to abort the program. His mind just wasn't clicking.

"Dear Lord Jesus, I need your help-uh, right now. I mean, really right now. Please."

The tunnel went straight through the mountain for hundreds of feet, maybe thousands. There didn't seem to be an end to it.

"Heads up," said the marshal.

There were faint lights coming the other way. Click-clack! Nate heard the marshals chambering rounds in their pistols. He did the same.

"Escapees, no doubt," Morgan nearly whispered.

They quickened their pace, nearly running, half blind in the dark, heading for those lights. The lights began to waver, dart about. They heard distant, echoing voices of alarm.

Ping PaPing! A bullet ricocheted off the rock walls while everyone ducked. BANGangangangangang!!! The sound of the shot echoed up and down the tunnel. The lights reversed. The "escapees" were turning tail and running.

"Let's go! Let's go! Let's GO!" hollered the marshal.

OOOM ... oom ... oom ... oom. Another explosion, much closer, much louder.

Britney and Cher both screamed, covering their ears as they huddled in a corner, totally beside themselves. Alexander banged on the stubborn Plexiglas with both fists, roaring in total panic.

Elisha, Rory, and Warren watched through a window as the last dorm building disintegrated in a ball of fire.

"They're going to blow up everything, aren't they?" said Rory.

"Even this building," Warren added.

From all she had seen and heard in the control room, Elisha could only reach one conclusion. "Yes. I believe they are."

The clanging of the tools was beginning to subside. The kids were starting to give up.

Elisha felt a hand on her shoulder. It was Joan, all tears. Neither had to say a word; Elisha just held Joan close as Joan wept in remorse.

Another explosion! The concussion pounded the mansion like a drum. The kids flinched, cried, screamed.

The Rec Center was gone, and all the games were reduced to black, burning ash adrift in the wind.

Elijah kept staring at the screen, trying to get his mind to grab hold of something: Okay, red means the building's blown, green means it's going to be blown, the numbers counting down mean the number of seconds and tenths of seconds before each blast ...

There was a field labeled RESET. He clicked on that, but got an error message: PLEASE ENTER RESET QUANt.i.tY.

Reset quant.i.ty, reset quant.i.ty ... what quant.i.ty?

He stared at the columns of numbers not yet counting down. Come on, come on, what's the relationship? How did they stack the numbers?

Oh, Lord, don't let it be a logarithm, not today.

The Campus Exchange billowed into the sky, a cloud of splinters, pulverized stone, and shredded Knight-Moore sports clothing and souvenirs.

Nate and Sarah heard the explosion just before they broke out of the tunnel into the daylight, and now they could see the smoke through the trees, filling the valley below. The marshals fanned out, giving chase to unknown people-men and women in business attire carrying briefcases and valises, running in all directions through the forest. By the way those people were struggling, slipping, and tripping through the brush in their dress shoes and high heels, it seemed they wouldn't get far.

A trail led from the tunnel entrance, and up ahead, through the trees, Nate, Sarah, and Morgan could see the towering white walls of a huge mansion. They ran for it.

BOOM! Another structure went up in a ball of fire and smoke.

They heard bulldozers in the valley, sc.r.a.ping, rolling, squeaking.

Morgan started crashing down the hill through the trees, shouting at the marshals, "Stop those bulldozers! Stop them!"

Then Nate and Sarah heard something else: a low, close-tothe-ground snuffling, then a snorting. Some bushes rustled. Some twigs snapped.

Nate raised his pistol, aiming it in the direction of the noise.

There was a growl, the pounding of big feet. They saw a large, furry form charging through the brush, and then a monstrous head appeared, a roaring bear with glistening teeth.

Nate fired two rounds, then a third.

Sparks exploded from the bear's mouth and chest, and then, a stream of smoke. The big creature began to jerk and jolt like a poorly driven car, until finally it burst out of the bushes and lurched to a stop only a few yards away, hissing and smoking, the growl reduced to garbled radio noise. There was a smell like burning wire. Hydraulic fluid dribbled out on the ground. This bear had steel wheels on his feet.

No time to wonder about it. They ran on.

The computer monitor was telling Elijah that the cafeteria had just blown up. The numbers next to OFFICE were counting down now. When they dropped down to a certain value, the office building was going to blow.

What value?

He went to the bottom of the list just three lines down, now-and checked out the building where he and the other kids were this very moment. Hey! 55.5 seconds! That has to be the demolition cycle, 55.5 seconds!

He entered that from the keyboard.

ERROR. PLEASE ENTER RESET QUANt.i.tY.

"There's somebody out there!" Jamal shouted, and all the kids ran to the windows.

"There goes somebody else!" said Rory.

Elisha could see green jacketed marshals running across the front lawn. The kids raised a ruckus, banging on the windows, yelling, screaming.

The marshals kept going.

"They can't hear us!" Elisha moaned.

Alexander yelled like a wild man, banging and swearing, but to no avail.

Then, suddenly, Elisha saw a vision like a flash of reality, like a bolt from the ordinary, real world piercing this nightmare.

She saw her mom and dad running toward the mansion, searching all around the grounds with their eyes, trying to find any sign- Elisha screamed as she'd never screamed before. "It's my mom and dad!"

Hope flooded that big white prison. The kids pressed against the windows, waving, straining for a glimpse, longing to see a real mom and dad out there.

Sarah heard some faint noises, looked, and it was like seeing the heavens opened. There was Elisha, trapped behind the gla.s.s. "Nate! Nate, it's Elisha!"

She leaped up on the porch, went to the window, and put her hand against the thick Plexiglas. Elisha, crying unashamedly, pressed her palm against her mother's, the gla.s.s between them.

Nate tried the front door. It was sealed shut, like it was part of the wall. "What about the windows?"

Sarah replied, "Unbreakable, probably bulletproof."

The sound of a big machine echoed up from the valley. "I'll be right back." Nate took off down the walkway toward the big open gate.

KABOOM! The office building was history.

Elijah was talking out loud to himself, trying to get his brain to work. "Okay, 55.5, 55.5 ... Okay, yeah, increments of 55.5 ... okay, twice that is 111 . . . "

The computer was telling him there was only one more building to blow up before it was time to blow up this one.

"Okay, reset, reset ... two buildings to go, we're counting down from 111 ..."

He entered 111.

ERROR. PLEASE ENTER RESET QUANt.i.tY.

With some help from an armed U.S. marshal, Nate b.u.mped the nearest bulldozer operator from his machine and took over. He put the big monster in high gear, opened the throttle, and crossed the field like an army tank. The gate was already broken open; he had only to widen the opening as he crashed through.

BOOM! The last remaining structure on the campus went up like a volcano.

Sirens began shrieking in the control room. Strobes began to flash. Elijah had only one green line left, and it was counting down, 55 seconds ... 45 ... 35 ...

All right, Elijah, think! THINK!

55.5 increments, twice is 111 ... that doesn't work ...

Nate was rolling, thundering, screeching up the walkway, heading for the mansion, looking for the best place to ram a hole. He gestured wildly to Sarah and yelled, "Get the kids back!"

Sarah waved through the window, "Get back! Get back!"

The kids inside ran to the farthest corner, dragging any kids too hysterical to move on their own.

25 seconds.

Okay. Twelve buildings, twelve lines ... twelve times 55.5.. .

Elijah couldn't do it in his head. The sirens were jumbling what was left of his brain. He looked for some paper and a pencil.

Nate rolled across the front lawn, digging out deep, ugly track marks in the gra.s.s. He yanked the right lever, spun the big Cat around, and headed for the front wall, just to the right of the porch.

Full throttle now Straight on. Seat belt fastened?

No paper. No pencil.

Okay, okay. Uh, we had 111 on the second line. Second of twelve, that means 6 times 111 ... Really?

He typed in 666.

ERROR. PLEASE ENTER RESET QUANt.i.tY.

Ten seconds.

Elijah, you forgot the first decimal. "Well, picky, picky, picky!"

He typed in 666.0.

No error message.

Five seconds.

He clicked on RESET.

PROGRAM RESET. CLICK OK TO RESTART.

Don't click OK!

The numbers stopped counting down-at 2 seconds. The sirens turned off. The strobes quit flashing.

The blade of the bulldozer tore into the front wall of the mansion, bending, ripping, breaking. Daylight streamed in through the widening gash, and the kids began to leap and cry and cheer.

Nate backed up, took another run, and pushed the metal sheeting and framework farther aside until he had a gap wide enough for escape. He left the machine right there to hold the gap open, leaped from the seat, and gestured to the kids inside. "Come on, let's go, let's go!"

Leaning back in his chair, numb and exhausted, Elijah could watch the big screen on the wall above him and see the kids streaming out through that gap. He could also see his mom and dad helping each one, hugging any who needed it, and hurrying them all away from the building.

A feeble prayer escaped his lips. "Oh, G.o.d, thank you for letting me think again!" Then he looked around the incredibly complex room and shook his head. "No truth, huh? Then how did they design and build all this stuff?"

Oh-oh. He could see his mom and dad on the big screen, and he could tell they were asking about him. Elisha didn't seem to have a complete answer. She just kept pointing down, looking frantic.

"Oh, that's right. I'm the only kid still missing." He looked toward the exit door. "Guess I shouldn't keep them worrying."

Epilogue.

ays later, Nate sat at his computer, drafting a final report for Mr. Morgan and, via Morgan, the president.