called herself. A pioneer. She
was real proud of it, too. Because it means having the courage to cut
loose from all the old things and try something new when you need to.
Start a whole new world, a whole new kind of life."

She sighed. "I always wanted to be a pioneer, like, but I never
thought I'd get the chance."

"What are you talking about? What's all this got to do with us, or
having a kid?"

"Don't you see? Taking these shots, having a baby this new way--it's
sort of being a pioneer, too. Gonna help bring a new kind of people
into a new kind of world. And if that's not being a pioneer, like,
it's the closest I can come to it. It sounds right to me now."

Minnie smiled and nodded. "I guess I made up my mind just now. I'm
taking the shots."

"Hell you are!" Frank told her. "We'll talk about it some more in the
morning."

But Minnie continued to smile.

And that night, as she lay in the utility bed, the squeaking of the
springs became the sound of turning wheels. The plastic walls and
ceiling of the eightieth-floor apartment turned to billowing canvas,
and the thunder of the passing jets transformed itself into the
drumming hoofbeats of a million buffalo.

_Let Frank talk to her again in the morning if he liked_, Minnie
thought. _It wouldn't make any difference now. Because you can't stop
us pioneers._

6. Harry Collins--2012

Harry crouched behind the boulders, propping the rifle up between the
rocks, and adjusted the telescopic sights. The distant doorway sprang
into sharp focus. Grunting with satisfaction, he settled down to his
vigil. The rifle-barrel had been dulled down against detection by
reflection, and Harry's dark glasses protected him against the glare
of the morning sun. He might have to wait several hours now, but he
didn't care. It had taken him twelve years to come this far, and he
was willing to wait a little while longer.

_Twelve years._ Was it really that long?

A mirror might have answered him; a mirror might have shown him the
harsh features of a man of forty-two. But Harry needed no mirror. He
could remember the past dozen years only too easily--though they had
not been easy years.

Surviving the river was only the beginning. Animal strength carried
him through that ordeal. But he emerged from the river as an animal; a
wounded animal, crawling through the brush and arroyo outside the
southern Colorado canyon.

And it was animal cunning which preserved him. He'd wande