It was a bright and beautiful morning, with just a few low clouds in the sky. The atmosphere at the start line was one of frantic activity, interspersed with hurried conversations and people dashing back and forth. At least for the event staff.

  The crews were at their vehicles, with techs performing a few last minute checks with calm professionalism. Any conversations were carried on in normal tones, with one exception.

  "Dillon!"

  The young driver was in his seat, hands on the yoke while his mind drifted down the I-25 route and into Pueblo. He retraced their route, long since memorized, and mentally noted which bends in the road were tighter than others. Hills were noted for the ascent and descent speeds, and it was here that his shouted name registered on his conscious mind.

  With a start, he became aware of the real world. Looking to his left, where the shout came from, he saw Kayla leaning on the window, eyes sparking with anger.

  "Where the hell were you? I’ve been calling your name for two minutes. We’ve got to run our final systems checks." She slapped the door sill with both hands and turned to walk around to the other side.

  He flushed, remembering that this car was more complex than his normal vehicle, and that Kayla tended to err heavily on the side of caution when it came to making sure things worked like they were supposed to. That includes me, I suppose.

  She slid in feet first and landed in a crouch in the space next to his seat. Her eyes still flashed with fury, and she asked, "Well?"

  "Well what?" His confusion at her question only seemed to anger her more.

  "Where the hell did you go? I told you; I was calling your name over and over, and you didn’t answer. Please don’t tell me you’ve got a medical condition we didn’t know about."

  "Uh, no. Nothing like that. I was just… inside my head. Running the first part of the course, you know. Following the route down to Colorado Springs for now."

  Her brown eyes searched his, looking for something more. "That’s it? You were just daydreaming?" The last word was dangerously quiet.

  "No! Not like that. Look, I like to be prepared, okay? I know what this part of the route looks like from the map and overhead photos. It’s something I always did in the arena. I ran through the layout in my head, looking for problem areas and what I could use to my advantage. That’s what I was doing here, at least for the stretch down to the Springs."

  She stared at him, bright eyes on a carefully neutral face. They tracked back and forth over his face, looking for what he didn’t know. A sign that he was lying, maybe? Finally, she huffed and moved to her seat without saying another word. He breathed a silent sigh of relief and turned to the controls, working through the system checks she wanted.

  The AADA had enough clout with the city that the police shut down southbound I-25 for a mile, stretching from East County Line Road to just south of the 470 interchange. They’d rerouted traffic and would hold it open for a couple of hours to keep the lanes clear for the initial start. The Angels, Flammo, and Quikshred, were the top tier competitors and each received their own lane. A random draw put one of the other teams on the fourth lane. The ATSS team was in the second rank, in the number two lane behind Flammo. In all, nine teams were lined up, ready to begin the Mountain West portion of the Dead Man’s Run.

  ***

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  Basher and Eric weren’t at the start line. There was limited space for non-competitors, and sponsors like ATSS received full access to the drone camera footage. They sat in his office, watching the start on his big screen.

  When the starting flag started to wave, the big man closed his eyes briefly. Eric smiled at the screen and looked over at his boss. "It’ll be alright, Nico. They can handle themselves, and they’ve got the best car we can give them."

  "Easy for you to say," he mumbled, stumbling his way through a half-remembered rosary. Then, with a chuckle that was barely forced, he said, "I’m not sure if I’m praying for them or the competition they find along the way."

  ***

  Rebekah watched the racers take their starting positions from high overhead. She was in a specially outfitted news helicopter. It contained extra battery capacity, allowing it to stay aloft for each segment of the rally. The cabin was soundproofed, with a fixed camera on her and an array underneath. The only other occupants of the cabin were the camera and drone operators, and they were bent over their tasks. In addition to her helicopter, there were a half-dozen camera-equipped drones sending their feeds back to the storage banks onboard. Even though the raw data was transmitted back to the main station for post-processing and editing, Rebekah could see the footage live and put it up on her feed for the audience to see while she commented on it.

  Her hair and makeup team set her up with a look that incorporated the headset, making it part of her ensemble look. The live broadcast countdown clicked away to zero, and she smiled to herself. It was time to show that she was the right and best choice for the next anchor job.

  "Welcome, everyone to the kickoff of the Mountain West portion of the Dead Man’s Run. I’m Rebekah Walton, your host for this event. As you can see, I’m not in the studio, because I’m flying over the event." The station cut away to a shot from a drone, showing the news chopper hovering over the freeway.

  "Down below, the racers are lined up in their starting positions. At the pole position, the Angels of Boom. Flammo is next to them, and we have Quikshred at the end. Those are your big three representing the City of Denver and your great state of Colorado. All are experienced autoduellists and our experts are projecting high scores for them. Still, there are nine teams out here to race for the prize, and it could be anyone’s game. We'll be with them all the way on this rally, from Denver to Salt Lake City and beyond."

  The cameraman zoomed in on the starter’s position while a woman climbed up to the stand set over the freeway. The current Ms. Denver, Arlene Gutierrez was the official starter for the event, and she held up the green flag to show the racers what was coming.

  "And here we go. Our very own Ms. Colorado is doing the honors, and the flag is up, the flag is waving. They’re off, on a journey across Colorado, Deseret, Idaho, Montana, and the Dakotas. It’s going to be an exciting time and we’ll be with them every step of the way, and so will you!"

  ***

  Vernon Grant watched the live coverage with interest from the comfort of his own home. He was also recording the feed, so he could go back and take a better look at the cars. His plan consisted of several parts, and the more they knew about their opposition the better it would go.

  Jake left yesterday to meet with Jeb Cannon. The bandit king fixation on Grand Junction played into the plan, giving them a nice opening that couldn’t be directly traced to BLUD. Deseret would soon learn that the BLUDs weren't some kind of tame animal they could make dance to their religious tune. Meanwhile, he had a few other surprises in store. Small ones, with the limited time available to get people into position. It was enough to poke at the AADA, to see how they would respond and how long it would take them to realize what was happening. That information would play in to his bigger plans later on.

  In the meantime, he started on his plans for Salt Lake. Dialing a number from memory, he hummed a small tune under his breath while he waited for the other end to pick up. "Sarah, how are things out in Deseret?"

  The familiar rasp of her smoke-burned throat was a semisweet reminder of the old days. "Vernon, how the hell are you? It's been a minute."

  "Are you tracking on this new thing the AADA is doing? The road rally?"

  Her laugh sounded like gravel falling down a metal chute. "They just now figured out what they should have been doing all along."

  "This is an opportunity for us. I'm doing what I can here, but we're more limited than you. Out there, however, I think we can give them a real wakeup."

  "Be nice to do something other than listen to these youngbloods and their fancy cars. I'm telling you, Vernon, the Brotherhood out here is almost like those pretty flowers in the arena."

  "Do you have someone who still has the fire in them? Someone who's has vision and is willing to take action?"

  "Yeah. Jerrod Baker. He's not just talk. If I had the right place for action, he could make some big waves. Even better, he's smart and kept off the Patrol radar. They ain't watching him."

  Grant smiled into the receiver. "Let's talk about the event happening there in a couple of days. I say we should give them a big surprise."