had already launched—and there was no turning back.
The entire length of the black-and-gray diamond-patterned snake seemed for an instant to spread straight out as its fangs
closed on the spot that the pitbull had just been inhabiting. But the canine jaws ripped up from underneath, coming into the
thing sideways. His teeth closed cleanly around the head, and he bit hard. Then just as quickly he opened the white mouth
and spat out again, and the snake flew off in pieces. Stone pulled himself out of the way of the whipping, but now harmless,
body of the thing that fell across his shoulder. With disgust he ripped it free and flung it off and then glanced down at
the ground where the head and but a few inches of the body still writhed around, the jaws still opening and closing. Excaliber
slapped his paw against the thing, and damned if it didn’t try to bite him. But with nothing to propel itself, the dying animal
jawed feebly at the air like an old man without his dentures.
Stone rose, threw his boots on, and crushed the wretched leftover, putting it out of his misery. He patted the pitbull on
the head. “Owe you again, dog, even though I suspect you had something to do with the whole event.” Excaliber looked up at
him with supreme innocence. Stone got the whole crew up, and after a quick few pots of coffee, boiled on little stoves inside
the tanks, they were on the road again. Stone went slowly at first, not sure they would actually remember the lessons of yesterday.
But behind him the two tanks steered as straight and steady as a ruler. He added five miles per hour every fifteen minutes
or so. Within a few hours they were cruising north across a crumbling interstate highway cutting up through the mountains
at thirty-plus.
The day was clear, the sun burning down through an almost cloudless sky, and as they rose up into the Rockies the peaks around
them took on an almost mystical beauty, mountains shimmering with snowcapped crowns; blankets of pine trees, every branch
frosted with a million jewels of ice. Above them, hawks circled, lazily searching for the movement of a rabbit or a groundhog
far below. And after a half hour of climbing, Stone, looking from inside the tank with the scanning video camera, could see
down into chasms thousands of feet deep. If one of the tanks went over there, there’d be no need of a rescue mission. There’s
a silver lining in every cloud—no matter how bloody it may be.
They reached the summit of this particular set of low mountains in the eight- to ten-thousand foot range and started back
down the other side. Stone scanned ahead to the north as they descended. He could see miles off, lowlands stretching to the
horizon, more treed than the terrain they had just been through. Stone had already formulated a plan —and that was a plan
for what to do when he hadn’t a fucking idea of what to do. Go to the bunker.
The bunker—carved into the side of a mountain at the northern edge of Estes National Park in northern Colorado. There Stone
had lived for five years with his father, the Major; and his mother and his sister, April. One big happy family screaming
at each other, staying out of each other’s way. But now the Major was dead, his mother raped and killed, and April … The Major
had installed a complex computer system in the place and had been storing up data for years in the damned thing.
Maybe there was information there that could be useful. He had to start somehow, and as they were within thirty miles of the
place according to his calculations, Stone couldn’t see that it would hurt. Also, although he wouldn’t even really admit it
to himself, Stone hoped that somehow April had been able to make it there and was waiting for him.
They reached the bottom of the mini range and another flat landscape and had been traveling on it for several minutes when
Stone glanced away from the front-angle drive screen and up to the
The entire length of the black-and-gray diamond-patterned snake seemed for an instant to spread straight out as its fangs
closed on the spot that the pitbull had just been inhabiting. But the canine jaws ripped up from underneath, coming into the
thing sideways. His teeth closed cleanly around the head, and he bit hard. Then just as quickly he opened the white mouth
and spat out again, and the snake flew off in pieces. Stone pulled himself out of the way of the whipping, but now harmless,
body of the thing that fell across his shoulder. With disgust he ripped it free and flung it off and then glanced down at
the ground where the head and but a few inches of the body still writhed around, the jaws still opening and closing. Excaliber
slapped his paw against the thing, and damned if it didn’t try to bite him. But with nothing to propel itself, the dying animal
jawed feebly at the air like an old man without his dentures.
Stone rose, threw his boots on, and crushed the wretched leftover, putting it out of his misery. He patted the pitbull on
the head. “Owe you again, dog, even though I suspect you had something to do with the whole event.” Excaliber looked up at
him with supreme innocence. Stone got the whole crew up, and after a quick few pots of coffee, boiled on little stoves inside
the tanks, they were on the road again. Stone went slowly at first, not sure they would actually remember the lessons of yesterday.
But behind him the two tanks steered as straight and steady as a ruler. He added five miles per hour every fifteen minutes
or so. Within a few hours they were cruising north across a crumbling interstate highway cutting up through the mountains
at thirty-plus.
The day was clear, the sun burning down through an almost cloudless sky, and as they rose up into the Rockies the peaks around
them took on an almost mystical beauty, mountains shimmering with snowcapped crowns; blankets of pine trees, every branch
frosted with a million jewels of ice. Above them, hawks circled, lazily searching for the movement of a rabbit or a groundhog
far below. And after a half hour of climbing, Stone, looking from inside the tank with the scanning video camera, could see
down into chasms thousands of feet deep. If one of the tanks went over there, there’d be no need of a rescue mission. There’s
a silver lining in every cloud—no matter how bloody it may be.
They reached the summit of this particular set of low mountains in the eight- to ten-thousand foot range and started back
down the other side. Stone scanned ahead to the north as they descended. He could see miles off, lowlands stretching to the
horizon, more treed than the terrain they had just been through. Stone had already formulated a plan —and that was a plan
for what to do when he hadn’t a fucking idea of what to do. Go to the bunker.
The bunker—carved into the side of a mountain at the northern edge of Estes National Park in northern Colorado. There Stone
had lived for five years with his father, the Major; and his mother and his sister, April. One big happy family screaming
at each other, staying out of each other’s way. But now the Major was dead, his mother raped and killed, and April … The Major
had installed a complex computer system in the place and had been storing up data for years in the damned thing.
Maybe there was information there that could be useful. He had to start somehow, and as they were within thirty miles of the
place according to his calculations, Stone couldn’t see that it would hurt. Also, although he wouldn’t even really admit it
to himself, Stone hoped that somehow April had been able to make it there and was waiting for him.
They reached the bottom of the mini range and another flat landscape and had been traveling on it for several minutes when
Stone glanced away from the front-angle drive screen and up to the
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