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them。 They simply hadn't known their hearts before。 Now they did。
A woman approached her。 〃How can we leave you？ e with us；〃 she said。 〃Think about it。 You'll be all alone。〃
Miranda smiled。 That surprised her。 She could smile。
〃We'll remember you；〃 the woman said； backing away。
〃Thank you；〃 said Miranda。
Several times she overheard Nathan Lee's name。 They linked her to him and watched her pass among them with pitying eyes。 In their minds she was the tragic widow。Is that all this is？ she asked herself。 Aromantic suicide？ She rejected her doubt。 It was more。 It had to be。 Her grand idea had e to envelop her。 She had set it in motion； and now she'd bee its passenger。 It was carrying her along。 But also it wasn't carrying her at all。 She had already reached her destination。
Every light in every room and along every street had been left on。 It was as if the city wanted to guarantee that not even a shadow might be left behind。 The bright lights made it hard to see any constellations between the clouds。 They wanted one last taste of the stars。 When the clouds parted to show Mars； a great cheer went up。 Every child was raised on shoulders to memorize the sight。
Quickly； within a half hour； the convoy was loaded。
The earthmovers set off first to clean the blistered highways of debris。 There would be no snow down in the valley； Miranda realized。 The bomb would have melted every trace of it for miles。 There would be minimal to zero damage to the highway itself； no blast crater。 It would be more like the aftermath of a typhoon。 The generals knew their business。
Gunships pounced up； flanking the vanguard。 At last the hundreds of trucks started to unwind from Los Alamos； one behind another； ing together into a single black snake that glided off into the depths。 As she started back to Alpha Lab； the convoy passed her going the opposite direction。
It took less than an hour to empty the city。 Silence rushed in。 She watched from the doorway and Los Alamos looked like a kingdom of ice； motionless； its radiance sharp and clean。 After a while； the dogs started barking to each other。
MIRANDA WAS NOT QUITE SUREwhat came next； and so she decided to make herself a cup of hot chocolate。 She didn't particularly like hot chocolate。 But she felt cold； and it was a wintry night。 Hot chocolate sounded nice。
As she made her way through the building； the lab was alive。 puter screens glowed in darkened rooms。 Machinery hummed。 The smell of burned coffee and microwave popcorn drifted through the air ducts。 The PCR robots were still at work； automatically stamping out more and more copies of DNA fragments。 A centrifuge was whirling a blood sample in infinite orbit。 This was her inheritance。
Descending to C floor； she went to the small kitchenette and put a pot of water on the oven plate。 She rooted through the cabinet and found the packets of chocolate； and took her time cleaning a mug。 The simple tasks let her not think too much。
She felt sleepless and dazed and guilt…ridden。 The world seemed vile。 With each passing minute； it was increasingly clear that the nuclear slaughter had been a gift。 In one stroke； it had scraped the valley clean； incinerating not only their enemy； but the immediate threat of plague。 She was thankful； but did not want to be。
She placed her cellphone on the table beside the mug； trying to decide when to call her father。 She wanted to punish him。 Before the convoy reached the WIPP sanctuary； she wanted to tell him herself that she had disowned him forever。 It seemed like a first step。 His atrocity was not her reason for staying； but she would make it sound that way。 It was important that he understand the gulf between them。 She wanted to hate him。 She wanted to weep。 She wanted to quit thinking about it。
Her blood sugar spiked with the hot chocolate。 Miranda wiped her nose； raised her chin； and reached for the phone。 Time to bear him the bad news。 Let him reap what he had sown。 She braced herself and pressed the key。
Searching for service；the window read。 That was odd。 Their cellphones normally worked without a hitch； even four stories beneath the surface。 She went to one of the regular phones； and there was a dial tone。 She dialed her father's number； only to get a recorded voice：All lines are temporarily busy； please try your call again。How could the lines be busy； though？ There was no one left。
For the next few minutes she experimented with the phone system。 Calls worked within Los Alamos。 She reached a half dozen answering machines and listened to the voices of people she would never see again。 It was the long distance service that was down。 At a satellite recon booth； she paused to check the convoy's status。 Expecting a long chain of thermal images； she found instead。。。nothing。 The screens were all static。 Finally it occurred to her。 The lines were fried。 The transceivers and microwave stations and cell towers had been scrambled by the bomb's electromagnetic pulse。 The satellites were blinded。 She was more alone than she'd known。
Her isolation came flooding in。 She hadn't really thought about it； but now it was obvious she'd counted on some form of munication with the WIPP people。 Suddenly Miranda wasn't sure she was strong enough for this。 She could go mad up here； wandering the streets； distilling nonsensical potions； talking to ghosts in their apartments。 The city was small； but more than large enough to bee her labyrinth。 The reactor would keep pumping out electricity for decades to e； but one by one the lights would go out。 She couldn't hope to maintain the plex； much less go out into the world searching for survivors。 What had she been thinking？ For a bad moment； her resolution crumbled。 It wasn't too late。 With a moon suit； in a humvee； if she started now； she could still catch the convoy； go down into the earth； ask her father's forgiveness。。。。
Then her panic spent itself。 She was too tired。 And cold。 She couldn't seem to get warm。 A blanket； a little sleep； that's what she needed。 After that she could start to inventory what was left of Eden。
SHE WOKE； on the floor of someone's office； to the sound of elevator doors opening and closing at the end of the hallway。 Had someone returned？ She almost turned on the light； then heard the crash of glassware。 A door banged open。 More glass broke。 Men's voices filtered down the corridor。
She edged the door wider and darted her head out。 At the far end of the hall； hunched like a hunter； a man was carrying a broken pipe for a spear。 He disappeared around the corner。Dear god； she thought。Survivors。
It was nearly seven in the morning。 Time enough； she realized； for anyone to have ascended the highway from the valley。 Nathan Lee's words floated to her。Be careful what you wish for。 You want them to be lambs。 But what if they're wolves。
The bomb must have spared hundreds； if not thousands of the pilgrims。 Huddled in their canyons and arroyos miles away； the blast might have passed right over them。 And now they had e； for theirhajj or simply for their pound of flesh。 They would destroy the city。 She tasted the bitterness。You destroyed yourself。
More doors crashed open。 Furniture tipped over。 The ransacking went on。
Footsteps approached。 She tried to reckon their numbers。 One； it seemed。 Limping。 Images of Hiroshima sprang at her； flash…burned victims； skin hanging。 Mad as hell。
A tall silhouette rippled across the door's opaque glass。 The footsteps passed。 She waited a minute； then eased the door open an inch at a time。 The floor was spotted with bloody； barefoot prints。
Glass splintered in an office door。 Miranda heard yelling； wild men； a babel of words。 They were hunting。 They would find her eventually。 She armed herself with a champagne bottle left over from someone's office party； then put it down。
Her only hope was the elevator。 Miranda's thoughts raced。 Once up to the first floor； she could bolt for the back exit； hide in the forest or in a cave。 The mesa walls were pockmarked with them。 She could outwait the invaders； raid for food； at night make a fire。 Food！ She stuffed her pockets with food； little packets of crackers and candy。 She found a box of kitchen matches。 An idea came to her。
More crashing； more shattering of glass。 They were searching room to room。
She took one of the matches and scratched it on the box； and held the flame beneath the glass rod on the fire detector。 It took forever； it seemed。
Abruptly； the sprinkler system bucked on。 Chemical mist hissed from the ceiling nozzle。 Office and hall lights winked off； and were replaced by strobes。 The alarm began honking savagely。
She heard men running past； shouting； bare feet slapping the wet floor。 One slipped； skidded； banged hard against her door。 His shadow rose up； ran on。
At last their voices dimmed。 She opened the door。 The elevator was only fifty feet away。Walk or run？ She did both in small bursts。 Broken windows on office doors gaped like ragged jaws。 Glass lay everywhere。 Chairs and desks had been thrown so hard against the walls they hung from the dry wall。 Books had been ripped to shreds； papers scattered。 They were in a fury； laying waste to everything。 Their hatred made her weak。
Miranda reached the elevato