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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； he saw a jerry can lying on its side。 It would hold ten gallons。 There were more like it in other trucks； some empty； others brimming with pink diesel fuel。 His gas station was at hand。
The discovery of a functioning truck changed him。 Suddenly he had real mobility。 With the truck； he could carry all he could eat。 He could begin to put flesh back on his bones。 No more crawling through the winter。 The truck would provide heat and shelter。 With luck and good roads； he could plow through Tibet and the Gobi and Siberia in a month； not a year。 He sat at the wheel； contemplating his excellent new future。
Carefully he put the truck in gear and eased forward。 He was thankful for the deafening wind。 For the most part； it drowned the sound of bones under his tires。 Weaving in and out of the doomed convoy with its canopies arched taut or flapping like torn sail； he was reminded of a phantom wagon train。 He went through dozens of trucks； taking their fuel and any food。 He manhandled three spare tires into the rear bed。 He found a blowtorch for heating water or thawing his engine block。 He loaded in gnarled firewood； blankets； a rug； oil； grease； and water。
Almost reluctantly； he took notice of the gold。 It was glinting in the headlights； a dull shining color among the colorless mummies。 There were thick bangles and earrings and necklaces made of it。 He tried to ignore the small fortune out there。 But eventually he was going to reach civilization； and when he did it was going to cost him coin。 Never again would he count on human kindness。 The world didn't work like that。
Nathan Lee descended upon the bodies with a knife and wire cutters。 Jackals and raptors warred with the dead like this； scraping and grunting； taking what the bone did not want to give。 At the outer edges of his headlight beams； he disengaged。 His sack was bulging with plunder。
WITH A SLOW； WIDEU…TURN； Nathan Lee left the massacre behind。 That night he covered more territory than in the entire last month。 He reached Shigatse； and it was a sprawling necropolis； bodies everywhere。 A great； intricate monastery stood like a gravestone above the city。 He didn't stop。 There was nothing for him here。 On the outskirts； he passed a fuel station； and it had been blown up。
The road forked north and turned to dirt again。 He made another two hundred kilometers by dark； then made a fire and brewed tea and slept a few hours。 Over the ing days； he passed other massacre sites。 Solitary vehicles appeared in the distance like far islands； but on investigation they were generally mangled and scorched black from explosives or strafing。 The Chinese had killed everything that moved。
Day after day； he followed empty roads。 He passed lakes like mirrors； and mountains spalled with light； and prayer flags on thin wands in the middle of nowhere。 The world loomed large。 Every day he felt smaller。 He visited a monastery； and the prayer hall was neatly lined with skeletons in robes； some still sitting。 Another time he found a herd of wild horses； hounded by some pilot and felled with an orange cylinder of nerve gas。
He entered Mongolia； pausing at the empty border station to stamp another souvenir visa in his book。 At night he saw missiles streaking back and forth beneath the stars。 Even faced with the end of the world； old empires were using up their arsenals to settle old scores。 Nathan Lee was glad to be in no…man's…land。
At the end of December； his truck bogged in a dune of voluptuous red sand。 He wasted a day trying to dig it free； then resigned himself to traveling by bike again。。。only to find a brand new Land Rover waiting on the far side of the dune。 Its engine came to life after he unbolted the truck's battery and carted it across the sand and hooked up the jump cables。 A second and third day went into slogging back and forth with fuel； food and gear to his new rig。 On his last trip； the dune was swallowing his old truck。
The Land Rover proved faster and more nimble than the truck。 It set a new precedent； as well。 No more nursing the beast along； he drove hard and changed vehicles without hesitation； taking another Land Rover； then a minibus； then another truck。 The weeks passed and he grew lost； though that wasn't exactly true。 It didn't matter that his Bartholomew's map no longer worked。 He had a pass and his journal； a direction and a past。
Somewhere in Siberia it had to be； he came to a bridge just at dusk。 His only warning of danger was a car lying on its top like an upended turtle。 Something had flipped it upside down。 Land mines； he registered； and hit the brakes。 An instant later his windshield shattered； and the sniper's gunshot reached him from across the water。
Nathan Lee crawled from the passenger side； taking only his book and the bag of gold。 He hid in a marsh until darkness； then crept to a river。 Ice lined the banks； but by tossing twigs out onto the water he was able to figure which way it ran and followed the current。 He had no idea of the river's name。 But the sea was inevitable。
9
After Hours
LOSALAMOS
JANUARY
Golding entered unannounced in the middle of the night。 Two months had passed since her last visit to see Miranda。 There was no more prolonging this。 Alpha Lab had run amok。 The lab…the project in its entirety…had to be decapitated。 Cavendish had to go。
She advanced down the hallway； trundling her little oxygen set behind like a pet on wheels。 At times like this； she longed for her husband Victor。 The nasal cannula dangling over each ear made her feel conspicuous and vulnerable and old。 She wanted to appear manding tonight。 But of late； her doctors insisted。 They didn't like her traveling at all； much less above sea level。Los Alamos is going to mug you someday。 But this needed doing。 And so she was going into battle dangling plastic tubes and carting her air； alone and on her own authority。
None of the other regents knew she was ing。 A simple majority could have stopped her； but they were in disarray； the universities on a virtual war footing； teetering on a statewide shutdown。 Parents had yanked their children from schools at every level。 Teachers taught via the net； if at all。 Fear was consuming knowledge just when knowledge was needed most。 No one； it seemed； was watching over Cavendish； no one but her。
She could have terminated Cavendish by phone or registered letter； or summoned him to her。 But Cavendish's minions and collaborators needed to be taught a lesson right here on the turf he'd seized。 It wasn't just Alpha Lab。 With biofast research overtaking Los Alamos； the whole place was barreling out of control。 Those who didn't like the new direction or objected to the ethical breakdown had exited the Lab in droves； leaving the renegades with greater autonomy。 An example had to be made。
The Corfu pandemic could not have broken out at a better time for Cavendish。 As the mysterious contagion spread； panic had ripped apart the fabric。 Europe was balkanizing and in shock。 Africa was dead。 Officials in Washington demanded a