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azy halts。 Some had nosedived into a ravine； others had coasted far out upon the plateau and looked like tiny islands。 For the first time since the French couple spoke about an apocalypse； Nathan Lee saw a human body。 Not one； but many。 Many hundreds。 Thousands。
It was like being dropped into the middle of a battlefield。 What had happened here？ The road was littered for miles。 Everywhere； everyone； dead。 He emptied the slight； leather odor of them from his lungs and approached a nearby truck。
The driver lay propped against the window as if taking a nap。 His hair was straight and black。 One hand still rested on the steering wheel。 It was covered with a white cotton glove； an odd； delicate affectation even the roughest truckers shared。 His head was turned away； and Nathan Lee couldn't see the face。 Had the skin turned transparent？ Was he an invisible man？
He selected a second corpse； one that was in the open； away from the tangled heaps。 It was a young woman lying face down。 Her hands were exposed； and her skin was not transparent； but black； baked by the sun； preserved and polished by the cold and wind。 She had bound her black braids with strands of turquoise strung on white yak hair。
Nathan Lee remembered being awestruck at the sight of Tibetan girls like her。 She would have had powerful high cheekbones and almond eyes and very white teeth。 They could be awesome beauties； and awesome flirts。 He remembered some of the archaeologists at Everest razzing him。Have one； Professor Ochs had urged him。 That came back to him； Ochs prodding him； even in the beginning； to do what he should not do。
His first assumption was that they were plague victims。 The French couple had been right； but wrong。 Nothing about these cascades of bodies falling from the truck beds suggested forgetfulness。 Certainly there were no invisible men or women。 Whatever it was； the disease was not supernatural。 It was infectious。 It killed quickly。 Almost instantaneously。
And yet something didn't seem right。 Why had so many people died in one place at one time？ What were they doing out here？ Where were they running to？ What were they running from？ Only then did Nathan Lee notice that the entire convoy had been heading west。。。away from China and into the barrens。
They had been racing away from the center。 Something sudden had spooked their stampede。 It was almost as if a gun had been fired。
He looked through the sprawled bodies。 There were no soldiers。 No settlers from the eastern lowlands。 These were all ethnic Tibetans。 He frowned。 Had the races been separated out？ A different； more grisly pattern presented itself。 Could it be that this was no die…off； but a killing field？
But if this were a massacre； where was its agent？ Where were the machine gun shells？ Where were the exploded trucks？ And where were the vultures and dogs？ Not one of the bodies had been touched。 Not one had a wound。
Then he found a vulture。 And dogs。 And ravens。 And mice。 They lay scattered among the dead。 They had been stricken down in the act of taking their feast。 A few minutes later； he happened across a dull orange canister。 It was partially embedded in the earth。 Stencilled on the underside was the universal skull and crossbones。
It was a bomb。 The nozzle was a simple aerosol spray。 Nerve gas。 He straightened。
Now that he knew what to look for； he saw five more orange cylinders； some sticking in the earth； others lying where they'd bounced and rolled。 It was simple to see now。 The airplanes…perhaps only one； why more？…had flown from the northeast and caught the caravan in the open。
That would explain the mass panic； the rapid deaths； the dead carnivores。 He recalled the lack of animals。 Ever since entering Tibet； no birds； no grazing yak； no antelope。 The food chain had been poisoned from top to bottom。 The People's Republic had killed a whole geography。
He conjured a map of Asia。 It was his only way of thinking through the horror； by looking down from a great distance。 It needed a God's…eye view。 It needed history。 He remembered the dynamited road leading to Nepal。
And then he saw it。 He saw the ebb and flow of time。 He saw epic ruins。 Empires shifting。 He saw the ruthless logic。
This was no mere genocide。 The Middle Kingdom had retreated； as always in its times of crisis； behind a Great Wall。 China had brought its true children…the Han…into the fortress and closed the gates。 Except this time the great wall was made of chemical toxins； not stone。
The PRC had salted the earth。 They had created a firewall。 He envisioned a massive dead zone ringing the core。 Most likely it stretched from Manchuria to its western border with India。 Millions might already have been sacrificed。 He did not have to ask why anymore。 Here lay the outer edge of a quarantine。
Nathan Lee sagged to the ground。
The plague was real。
And it had no cure。
THERE IS BIRTHin death。 Good in bad。 Innocence in guilt。 That was reality。 Life contradicted itself。 One minute the wind was speeding prayers to the gods； the next it was filled with poison。 This was the earth he had inherited。 His choice was simple。 Use it or lose it。 He became king of the dead。 He went plundering。
Nerve gas； he vaguely recalled； dissipated within hours or days。 The whole concept of chemical warfare rested on a gas that would depose before it drifted back onto your own troops。 He decided that since it hadn't already killed him； the plain was no longer contaminated。
With a glance at the last ounces of sun； he rested his bike against a truck； and climbed into the empty cab。 The fuel gauge showed half full。 The wind horses were with him。 This wasn't like Nepal； where the nation's petroleum reserve had slowly dried to zero。 Here the trucks had been fueled up and on the move when the Chinese struck with their nerve gas。
The battery was dead。 No surprise there。 Most of the batteries were old； and the cold would have sapped their charge。 Patiently he moved down the line。 He pulled drivers from their deathgrips on the steering wheels； testing each ignition。 None gave the slightest stir。 No dashboard lights flickered。 He walked to the next truck； and the next。
The sun toppled behind the mountains。 The wind returned。 It whistled among the still metal。 Exhaust pipes hooted like organ pipes。 The wind moaned in the hollow mouths of the dead。
He came to another truck and the cab was empty。 He fought the door open against the wind and clambered into the cab and let the door slam shut。 While he waited for his hands to thaw； the truck shuddered in the blasts of wind。 Dirt hissed against the glass。 Pebbles clattered like shot。
He reached for the key。 The wind raged so hard； he barely heard the engine turn over。 He pawed at the panel； found a knob； and gave a yank。 Light poured from the headlamps。
The highway and plains jumped up from the darkness。 The dead seemed to spring from nowhere。 In the beams of hard white light； the massacre site was appalling and restless。 Loosened clothing fluttered like beating wings。
The gauge read a quarter full。 Behind the seat he found what he expected； a funnel and a coiled plastic tube that stunk of diesel fuel。 Up ahead； in the shadowy bed of a truck； h