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And so, for now, Nathan Lee resigned himself. He did the next best thing to making his own escape. He devised the clones' escape.

Nathan Lee was astonished. But you're their keeper, he protested.

Nathan Lee guessed that was one way to view the universe. You're going to let them go? he reiterated.

The notion gratified him. He despised what had been done to them. They and their sacrificed brothers had been used a thousand different ways by Los Alamos, from serving as lab subjects to titillating the city's mystical itch. Now they could be used one final time, as his surrogate for breaking free.

Nathan Lee was surprised. Then you're not opposed to them going free?

The notion gratified him. He despised what had been done to them. They and their sacrificed brothers had been used a thousand different ways by Los Alamos, from serving as lab subjects to titillating the city's mystical itch. Now they could be used one final time, as his surrogate for breaking free.

Not him, Nathan Lee said, Ben.

In the meantime, Nathan Lee wanted to prepare the clones for alien times. They knew how to quarry limestone, sow wheat, work leather, smith iron, and herd goats. But survival in the ruins of America was going to require different skills. One can of spoiled food could wipe them out with botulism. One wrong highway could land them in the Canadian winter. The cities might be dead, but they were still mechanically alive, and deadly. The clones needed a crash course in the twenty-first century.

Nathan Lee was surprised. Then you're not opposed to them going free?

And so, for now, Nathan Lee resigned himself. He did the next best thing to making his own escape. He devised the clones' escape.

By the fire, Eesho was holding forth about the coming armageddon. It had been over a month since Ochs had kowtowed to him, but the encounter continued to whet his appetite for disciples. Borrowing from Revelation and from the War Scroll of the Dead Sea Scrolls, he had patched together a hybrid parable about a giant demon, one of the Sons of Darkness, begging him for forgiveness, and a queen of the dead, a woman with green eyes and hair like red gold whose name was Miranda, and her slaves, who were Nathan Lee and Izzy. Each day his sermons became a little bolder and more intricate.

Not yet. And not me, said the Captain. But when the time's right, I'm all for you.

Nathan Lee was surprised. Then you're not opposed to them going free?

Not his bloody lordship, Izzy protested. I'm not about to hand Eesho the keys to the castle. He already thinks he's God almighty.

They're prisoners. They have no choice.

And so, for now, Nathan Lee resigned himself. He did the next best thing to making his own escape. He devised the clones' escape.

The notion gratified him. He despised what had been done to them. They and their sacrificed brothers had been used a thousand different ways by Los Alamos, from serving as lab subjects to titillating the city's mystical itch. Now they could be used one final time, as his surrogate for breaking free.

We'll select just one of them. Educate him. Show him the ropes. When the time comes, he can lead the rest.

As it developed, the Captain had put a great deal of thought to it already. For the next several hours, they might as well have been discussing the release of zoo animals into the wilderness. The clones were too wild, and at the same time too tame. They were dangerous, but habituated. They couldn't be freed anywhere close to the city, or they might try to return and prey upon it. Sending them down to the pilgrim camp would be like throwing them into quicksand. It was a pit of despair and deprivations down along the river. If the deck sweeps had not been called off, they could have been transferred by helicopter to some distant place, but now that wasn't an option either. After Miranda's directive shutting down human experimentation, Los Alamos had ceased the harvesting of cities, which were probably finished anyway.

Nathan Lee went to Izzy, who thought it was a terrible idea. I told you, they know we're the enemy. Eesho's got them ready to kill us if we show our faces.

Fine, grumbled Izzy. We'll pick one. But which one?

By the fire, Eesho was holding forth about the coming armageddon. It had been over a month since Ochs had kowtowed to him, but the encounter continued to whet his appetite for disciples. Borrowing from Revelation and from the War Scroll of the Dead Sea Scrolls, he had patched together a hybrid parable about a giant demon, one of the Sons of Darkness, begging him for forgiveness, and a queen of the dead, a woman with green eyes and hair like red gold whose name was Miranda, and her slaves, who were Nathan Lee and Izzy. Each day his sermons became a little bolder and more intricate.

Not him, Nathan Lee said, Ben.

Well, all right then, Nathan Lee said, trying to believe his luck. So when is the right time?

There were hundreds of Anasazi cave dwellings in the Four Corners region. With the Captain's help, he'd plotted them on a map. He could flee with Miranda, hole up, outwait the fanatics streaming toward Los Alamos, and then run loose through the world with what was left of their time. It would mean betraying her father, to whom he'd promised to deliver Miranda, or trying to betray him. Nathan Lee took it for granted that Paul Abbot had his every move under the tightest surveillance. He was more of a prisoner than the prisoners in Miranda's basement. Even if he could escape Los Alamos, Miranda would never agree to leave with him. Her devotion to the city-her utter faith in it-baffled and frustrated him. She acted as if she'd been born here.

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