Frankenstein

right. Let me tell you about her mother. Before it’s done, this is going to be worse than New Orleans.”
    “It’s already worse,” Deucalion said. “I’ve got a few things to tell you, too.”

    Jocko’s online path was through the satellite dish on the roof. Once online, he backlooped through the downtown-Denver telephoneexchange. He sidelooped from Denver to Seattle. Seattle to Chicago. Hiding his origins. Not as easy to do when starting from a satellite uplink. But doable if you’re Jocko. Banzai!
    He started with a light touch. Soon he hammered the keys. They kept spare keyboards in a closet. Sometimes Jocko busted them up a little when he used his feet for the keyboard, his hands for other tasks.
    He wore his hacking hat. Green and red with silver bells. When he was plinking passcodes like ducks in a shooting gallery, the room filled with a merry jingle.
    This was the best. He had never been happier. One of the good guys! Cyber commando! The only thing that would make it better was a bar of soap to nibble.

    He calls himself Victor Leben these days.
Leben
is German for “life.” He is the creator of life and the ultimate destroyer of it. His life is
about
life.
    The wall-size plasma screen is blank. He remains in the chair, thinking about what has occurred.
    He is not concerned about the unexpected direction of events at the roadhouse. There are contingency plans for everything.
    Besides, already many Builders are finishing in their cocoons, and as they come forth, the pace of the assault on Rainbow Falls will accelerate dramatically. The first should mature by morning.
    He is confident that Jarmillo and his team will prevent anyone from leaving town. At their disposal is an extraordinary array of tools to quarantine Rainbow Falls, including a fleet of Predator drones equipped with night vision, and armed with missiles; they will henceforth ceaselessly circle over the surrounding fields and hills. Any hiker, off-road vehicle, or rider on horseback will be spotted and destroyed.
    Victor Immaculate, unlike the original Victor, does not feel the need to be the puppeteer of all, to keep the many strings strictly in his hands. He has delegated well and can be confident in his people.
    As he has meditated on the roadhouse, someone has discreetly come and gone, leaving a pink capsule in the white dish on the small table beside his chair. He takes the capsule now with a swallow of the bottled water.
    Mentally he reviews the strategy and tactics of the taking of Rainbow Falls. The plan is sublime. No need for adjustments. He has thought of everything.

    Travis followed Bryce onto the porch and watched the old man ring the doorbell.
    “You’ll like this friend of mine,” Bryce said. “Sully York. He’s led a life that any man would envy, with great spirit and on his own terms. He has put himself on the line in ways that most of us would never dare, in exotic and generally inhospitable places, always for the good of his country, and he’s come out of every tight spot in triumph.”
    The door opened and before Travis stood a bald man with one ear, an eye patch, a mouthful of gold teeth, and a livid scar from his right eye to the corner of his mouth.
    “Sully,” Bryce said, “I’d like you to meet Travis Ahern. Travis, Colonel Sully York.”
    “Pleased to meet you,” York said in a low rasp-and-rattle voice, and he held out an elaborate mechanical hand of steel and copper to be shaken.

    Mr. Lyss found a car with keys in it. He said people left keys in their car when they wanted other people to feel free to use it, but Nummy wasn’t fooled.
    “This here is stealing is what it is,” he said.
    They were on Cody Street, heading out of town.
    “I once drove from Detroit to Miami without ever using the brake pedal,” Mr. Lyss said.
    “That’s no more true than people leaving keys for you to use.”
    “Peaches, after all we’ve been through, I think you’d trust me by now. I was bunking in a new car, on a car hauler, and I rode all the way from Detroit to Miami on that big old truck without needing the brakes or the steering wheel. The driver never knew I was there.”
    Nummy saw how that might be true, especially when it was Mr. Lyss, who seemed to know how to do everything at no cost to himself.
    He said, “Well, now I feel bad for saying it was a lie.”
    “You should feel bad,” Mr. Lyss said.
    “Well, I do.”
    “Maybe you’ll be a little more trusting in the future.”
    “I guess I