Nathan Lee took it for granted that Paul Abbot had his every move under the tightest surveillance. It would mean betraying her father, to whom he'd promised to deliver Miranda, or trying to betray him. 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. With the Captain's help, he'd plotted them on a map. There were hundreds of Anasazi cave dwellings in the Four Corners region. After Miranda's directive shutting down human experimentation, Los Alamos had ceased the harvesting of cities, which were probably finished anyway. 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. It was a pit of despair and deprivations down along the river. Sending them down to the pilgrim camp would be like throwing them into quicksand.
They couldn't be freed anywhere close to the city, or they might try to return and prey upon it. The clones were too wild, and at the same time too tame. For the next several hours, they might as well have been discussing the release of zoo animals into the wilderness. I wouldn't treat a dog the way we've had to treat those men.Īs it developed, the Captain had put a great deal of thought to it already. The clones needed a crash course in the twenty-first century. The cities might be dead, but they were still mechanically alive, and deadly. One wrong highway could land them in the Canadian winter. One can of spoiled food could wipe them out with botulism. But survival in the ruins of America was going to require different skills.
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They knew how to quarry limestone, sow wheat, work leather, smith iron, and herd goats. In the meantime, Nathan Lee wanted to prepare the clones for alien times. And then it would need someone like me to be where I am, doing what I'm doing, who could nod his head yes.
Anyhow, I had this hunch someone like you might show up.
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