The boy looked up expectantly.
“Dean, listen close. Doc was right. Our situation is very bad, and it looks like it’s only going to get worse. If the enemy is on their way, it may be a matter of minutes before they wipe us out. Your best chance to stay alive is to leave now with Krysty and Jak. To head back to the gateway with them and make a jump. To get as far away from here as you can.”
The boy was incredulous. “Dad, you want me to leave?”
“What I want has nothing to do with it, Dean.”
Ryan said gently. “This is about you. About what you want. It’s your life that’s on the line.”
“If I run with Krysty and Jak, they’ll still find us, won’t they? With that satellite and all the other whitecoat gear they brought with them, we’ll never ever be safe, will we? Not even if we ran to the other side of the world?”
“I can’t answer that for certain, but I won’t lie to you, son. The chances are good they will find you sooner or later.”
“And they will chill us when they find us?”
“Yes.”
“Dad, are you telling me to go?”
“No. That’s your choice.”
The expression in the boy’s eyes hardened; for Ryan it was like looking into a mirror. “Then I’m staying to fight.”
“Are you sure that’s what you want?”
“I’m sure, Dad. Come on, the others are getting a big lead—we’d better catch up.”
As Ryan watched Dean run ahead, conflicting emotions surged through him. Even as his chest swelled with pride, he was crushed by the thought that his son had signed his own death warrant. Inwardly, he raged at the dire circumstances they found themselves trapped in, and at his own powerlessness to change things so far.
Rage was good.
Rage had helped him survive a thousand pitched battles. And every battle had tempered his body, his instinct and his spirit. If Ryan knew anything for certain, he knew this: if there was a way to win this struggle, he would find it.
He took up the rearguard position in the file as Jak led them along the rows of wheel tracks that paralleled the northern arm of the canyon wall. As Ryan walked along, he kept his eye out for defensive positions they could retreat to quickly—places to make a stand, the more enclosed the better, with entrances they could control. He wasn’t the only one doing this; his companions knew the routine by heart.
When they reached the mouth of canyon, they could see the direction of the tire ruts leading in and leading out. J.B. pulled his hat brim down to shield his glasses from the sun. “All the tracks head toward Slake City,” he said. “The base for the invasion force must be that way.”
“Not much between here and there,” Krysty said. “No safe water, that’s for sure.”
“Trouble!” Jak cried. “Gyro coming!” He pointed at the horizon.
A single black gyroplane swept in low over the desert, flying out of the sun. That was just the tip of the iceberg. Far behind it on the plain, Ryan saw the spiraling pillars of dust that meant heavy vehicles were rolling toward them at high speed.
“The snake cave!” he shouted. “Triple red, let’s go!”
The companions broke and ran for the side of the canyon. As they sprinted for cover, the whine of gyroplane’s turbines grew louder. They were within twenty yards of the rock wall when a whistling shriek split the air. Oily desert shrubs blossomed in a line of fire to their left. Then a second beam of emerald light squealed over their heads and ripped into the sandstone cliff in front of them, making cascades of white sparks erupt from the red rock.
The warning shots didn’t slow the companions, and none of them stopped to return fire. They knew that bullets were useless, and that their only hope was making the cave. They were almost to the wall when a blast of prop wind whipped dust into their faces. Behind them, engines howling, the gyroplane hovered, its rotor wash forcing them up against the wall in a swirling cloud of dirt.