defiantly raising his ornamental pistol in defense.
Caesar wagged a finger at Schofield. 'Oh, no, no, no, Captain, you're not allowed to do that. Remember, no shooting Uncle Caesar.'
'No?' Schofield said.
'No.'
'Oh…' Schofield sighed.
Then — blam! — quick as a flash, he snapped his gun up and shot Caesar square in the chest.
A gout of blood erupted from Caesar's torso.
Blam! Blam! Blam!
Caesar reeled with each shot, staggering backwards, his eyes bulging in astonishment, his face completely aghast. He dropped his P-90 and fell unceremoniously to the floor, landing hard on his butt.
Schofield rose to his feet, stepped out of the chopper and strode over to the fallen Caesar, kicking the general's P-90 away from his clawing fingers.
Caesar was still alive, but only just.
A trickle of blood gurgled out the side of his mouth. He looked pathetic, helpless, a shadow of his former self.
Schofield stared down at him.
'How…how…?' Caesar stammered through the blood. 'You…you can't kill me!'
'As a matter of fact, I could,' Schofield said. 'But I think I'll leave that to you.'
And then he hurried off to rejoin Gant and get the hell out of Area 7.
'Warning. Three minutes to facility self-destruct…'
Schofield carried Gant in his arms onto the detachable mini-elevator. Her right ankle had been completely shattered by Caesar's shot, and she couldn't walk on it at all.
But that didn't stop her contributing.
While Schofield carried her, she held the most important black box in the world in her lap.
Their goal now — more than saving their own lives — was to get that flight data recorder out of Area 7 before it was destroyed in the coming nuclear blast. If its signal died now, everything they had fought for would be for nothing.
'Okay, smart guy,' Gant said, 'how are we gonna get out of this seven-story nuclear grenade?'
Schofield hit the floor panel of the mini-elevator and it began to whiz down the wall of the shaft. He looked at his watch.
11:12:30.
11:12:31.
'Well, we can't get out through the top door,' he said.
'Caesar changed the code, and it took my DIA guy ten minutes to crack the lockdown codes. And I don't like our chances of getting out through the EEV in time. It took Book and me a good minute to come down through that vent before. I can't imagine the two of us getting up it in less than ten. And by then, that Escape Vent is gonna be vapor.'
'So what are we going to do?'
'There's one way,' Schofield said, 'if we can get to it in time.'
11:12:49.
11:12:50.
Schofield stopped the mini-elevator at Level 2 hangar, and still carrying Gant, hustled down its length, making for the entry to the stairwell at the other end.
'Warning. Two minutes to facility self-destruct…'
They reached the stairwell.
11:13:20.
Schofield burst into it, leapt down it with Gant in his arms, taking the stairs three at a time.
They passed Level 3, the living quarters.
11:13:32.
Level 4, the nightmare floor.
11:13:41.
Level 5, the flooded floor.
11:13:50.
Schofield kicked open the door to Level 6.
'Warning. One minute to facility self-destruct…'
He saw their escape vehicle right away.
The small X-rail maintenance vehicle still sat right next to the stairwell door, on the track that led out to Lake Powell, in the spot where it had been sitting all day.
Schofield remembered what Herbie Franklin had said about the maintenance car before. It was smaller than the other X-rail engines, and faster, too — just a round capsule and four long struts, with room for only two people in its podlike cabin.
'Forty-five seconds to facility self-destruct…'
Schofield yanked open the pod's door, heaved Gant into it, then he clambered up into the small round capsule after her.
'Thirty seconds…'
Schofield hit the black start button on the pod's console.
The compact X-rail engine hummed to life.
'Twenty seconds…nineteen…eighteen…'
He looked at the tracks in front of him. They stretched away into flashing red darkness, four parallel tracks converging to a point in the far distance.
'Hit it!' Gant said.
Schofield jammed the throttle forward.
'Fifteen…'
The small X-rail pod leapt off the mark, thundered forward, shooting along the length of the underground subway station, crashing through the strobing red shadows.
'Fourteen…'
Schofield was thrust back into his seat by the speed.
The pod hit 50 mph.
'Thirteen…'
The X-rail pod gained speed quickly. Schofield saw the quartet of tracks both beneath and above the windshield rushing past them.
100 mph.
'Twelve…eleven…'
Then suddenly — shoom! — the X-shaped pod entered the tunnel leading out to Lake Powell, leaving Area 7 behind it.
150 mph.
'Ten…'
250 mph.
Two hundred and fifty miles per hour equalled about 110 yards per second. In ten seconds, they'd be nearly a mile away from Area 7.
'Nine…eight…'
Schofield hoped a mile would be enough.
'Seven…six…'
He urged the little pod onward.
'Five…four…'
Gant groaned with pain.
'Three…two…'
The little maintenance pod rocketed through the tunnel, shooting away from Area 7, banking with every bend,
