jefflong.yearzero-第101部分

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　the　Appaloosa。　She　was　galloping　hard；　one　more　mystery　that　would　probably　never　get　explained。
　They　knew　from　the　remote　cameras　that　Nathan　Lee　had　ridden　her　down　to　the　river；　but　crossed　on　foot。　In　the　aftermath　of　the　bomb　and　evacuation；　everyone　had　forgotten　all　about　the　horse。　One　day　in　January　she　had　simply　reappeared。　It　was　cold；　but　she　wouldn't　take　their　shelter。　The　bomb　had　permanently　spooked　her。　She　carried　burn　scars；　and　wouldn't　let　anyone　e　near。　Through　the　rest　of　winter；　every　week　or　so；　someone　would　throw　a　hay　bale　out　for　her；　and　that　kept　her　alive。　Tara　had　tried　chasing　the　horse；　or　laying　out　apples　and　hiding。　But　the　horse　had　gone　wild；　or　half　wild。　She　seemed　to　enjoy　their　proximity；　though　not　enough　to　ever　be　caught　or　ridden　again。
　Miranda　watched　her　for　another　few　minutes。　The　horse　slalomed　through　the　low　trees；　cutting　right　and　left；　muscles　flashing。　Her　dust　plume　sparkled　in　the　sunlight。　The　fool　thing　was　going　to　go　flying　right　off　the　cliff　someday；　people　said。　Or　run　itself　to　death。　Circles　within　circles；　that's　all　people　saw。　But　that　missed　her　real　mystery。　The　question　was　not　where　the　horse　was　going　or　what　she　was　running　from；　nor　whether　she　would　ever　make　up　her　mind　between　the　city　and　the　abyss。　Rather　it　had　to　do　with　the　race　itself。
　A　shout　went　up　along　the　rim。　Immediately　Miranda　shifted　the　binoculars　downward　to　see　the　highway。　And　there　they　were；　on　foot；　ing　around　the　bend。
　Suddenly　her　breathing　just　took　off。　She　had　to　steady　her　elbows　on　the　chair　arms。　Her　heart　raced。　She　felt　a　jolt　of　adrenaline；　which　woke　the　baby；　who　gave　a　kick。
　Miranda　touched　the　focus　knob　and　the　explorers　grew　sharper。　The　road　had　changed　them。　They　were　brown　from　the　sun。　The　soldiers　had　beards。　Ben；　too。　He　was　near　the　front。　She　moved　through　the　faces。　Some　she　recognized；　others　were　new。　There　were　women　and　children　among　them。Survivors！
　Abruptly　the　expedition　passed　from　view。　The　road　wound　behind　another　finger　of　the　mesa。　All　along　the　canyon's　edge；　people　were　shouting　with　excitement。　They　began　to　stream　away　from　their　perches；　racing　to　greet　the　travelers　as　they　entered　town；　and　the　canyon　slowly　fell　silent。
　Miranda　stood　to　join　them；　but　the　blood　rushed　from　her　head。　She　lowered　herself　back　to　sitting。　The　iron　chair　took　her　weight　without　a　sound。
　It　wasn't　that　she　felt　heavy　or　slowed；　quite　the　opposite。　Her　wings　had　never　been　stronger。　She　had　to　bully　herself　to　sit　there；　to　take　the　extra　moment。　With　the　arrival　of　these　newers；　and　the　ing　of　her　child；　life　was　about　to　get　very　busy。　She　would　not　have　this　kind　of　privacy　again；　not　for　years。　She　pushed　aside　her　crowding　thoughts。　She　sat　there。
　The　sage　and　rabbit　brush　were　budding。　The　air　was　fat　with　desert　scents。　Miranda　took　a　deep　lungful。　Her　faintness　passed。　The　world　had　only　seemed　to　stop　for　a　time。　Everything　was　in　motion　again。　She　started　to　lift　her　eyes　to　the　sun；　but　caught　on　the　sight　of　that　never…ending　horse　across　the　way。　Chopping　up　the　dust；　flying　through　the　trees；　running　like　crazy。　It　was　enough　to　make　her　smile。
　
　Acknowledgments
　
　Year　Zero　began　as　a　medical　mystery　based　at　Los　Alamos。。。then　changed。　As　my　research　broadened；　I　began　to　see　how　the　old　analogy　of　〃religion　as　a　plague〃　has　its　counterweight　in　〃plague　as　a　religion。〃
　In　short；　the　incredible　crisscross　of　science　and　faith　led　me　away　from　my　original　tale。　In　the　early　phase　of　my　research；　the　people　I　consulted　at　Los　Alamos　National　Lab　heard　one　story；　andYear　Zero　may　e　as　a　surprise　to　them。　Chief　among　them　are　Dr。　Lawrence　Deaven；　deputy　director　with　the　Center　for　Human　Genome　Studies　at　Los　Alamos；　who　generously　shared　insights　into　the　project's　work；　and　Todd　Hanson　of　the　Public　Affairs　office；　who　guided　me　〃behind　the　fence；〃　as　it　was　once　called。　Special　thanks　go　to　Cliff　Watts　and　Charles　Clark　who　have　patiently　tried　to　educate　me　on　medical　matters　over　the　years。　I　am　indebted　to　Marcia　Hamilton　for　playing　tour　guide　on　our　excursion　through　the　human　brain。　It　goes　without　saying　that　any　bad　science　in　this　science　fiction　is　my　sole　responsibility。
　Many　thanks　to　my　editors；　Jason　Kaufman；　a　great　young　editor　from　the　old　school　of　editing；　and　Mitchell　Ivers；　ever　calm　within　the　storm。
　I　am　especially　grateful　to　Bill　Gross；　my　manager；　friend；　and　inspiration。　If　there　is　such　a　thing　as　a　muse　withcojones；　he　is　it。
　Finally；　Barbara　and　Helena；　thank　you　for　sharing　this　world　of　dreams。



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