Throughout a long and moonless night, the colony loads up and manhandles into line the vehicles that are to transport you west to Tucson. Preparations for the breakout did not begin until an hour after sundown, for Amex Gold has men positioned on nearby Signal Mountain with orders to observe and report all activity within Big Spring. These lookouts are especially vigilant; their leader is expecting the colony to attempt an escape and they know that their lives will be forfeit should they fail to predict exactly when it will occur.
In near-blackness you service and refuel your roadster by sense of touch alone, while all around you the chill night air is alive with movement and whispering as your fellow colonists furtively attend to their allotted tasks. Although you cannot see them, you know exactly the positions of the five other road vehicles that comprise the convoy. At the head of the line, twenty paces back from the west freeway gate, is the armoured tow truck that will lead the breakout. The driver is ‘Pecos’ Pete Tyler, and beside him you can picture his brother Rex riding shotgun. In the open back of their truck is Rickenbacker, a former flying circus stunt pilot, who has chosen to ride out in the open so that he can look after ‘Icarus’—his motorized hang glider—which by now he will have carefully dismantled and strapped aboard. Next in line are two Amcorp Landcruisers—solar-assisted road buses that carry the Big Spring colonists, and behind them is positioned the gasolene tanker with Uncle Jonas at the wheel. The DC1 school bus is next and your roadster last, the back marker until the convoy is clear of Big Spring.
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Once your preparations are complete you leave your vehicle and feel your way along the side of the school bus towards the boarding door. Cutter is sitting in the driver’s seat, staring thoughtfully at the night sky, his face lit by the faint green glow of the instrument panel.
‘Cal, you’d better get back and watch out for Pecos Pete’s signal,’ he says, on seeing you at his side. ‘We’re outta here in fifteen minutes.’
‘I’ve decided I’m not goin’ to Tucson with the convoy,’ you reply, your voice steady and resolute. ‘I’m not gonna abandon Kate. I’m the only hope she’s got of cuttin’ loose o’ that psychopath Mad Dog Michigan, and I’m not gonna betray that hope. He’s sure to have taken her with him to San Angelo, and I’ve thought out a plan to spring her from there while he’s busy fixin’ a deal with the Angelinos gang.’
‘I understand how you feel, Cal,’ says Cutter, sympathetically, ‘but you’ve a duty to the rest o’ the colony that you can’t just ignore. You’re the convoy scout, the convoy’s eyes and ears. We’re gonna need you to get us across the mountains in one piece.’
‘Rickenbacker in his micro-glider can scout for the convoy. With a CB on board he could stay in radio contact with Pop and be your eyes in the sky. He’d make the best scout the convoy could ask for,’ you reply, convincingly.
Cutter stares at you in silence. Begrudgingly, he nods in agreement. ‘OK, Cal. As soon as we’re safely away from here I’ll talk to the others and get them to listen to your plan. But first we’ve gotta concern ourselves with gettin’ out o’ here in one piece—agreed?’
‘Agreed,’ you reply, relieved that at last you have told someone your decision to rescue Kate.
Suddenly the discordant blare of an auto horn splits the silence: it is Pecos Pete’s signal to the other drivers to start their engines. Quickly you return to your roadster and, as you fire up its engine, you see the twin tail lights of the school bus shrinking in the dark as it heads towards the now-open freeway gate. The breakout has begun.