I opened the cold water tap more. With nobody else showering, the high water pressure splashed cold water onto Caffeine's lower legs. She flinched.

"Oops," I said.

"I'm going to pound you," Caffeine said. She stepped forward, raising her fists.

I reached up and flipped the shower head up, spraying her from head to foot.

She screamed and charged through the water at me. I jumped past her-and I don't mean "hopped"-to the doorway. Behind me I heard her slam into the wall, slip, and fall to the floor.

I didn't look back as I grabbed my towel, but listened carefully as I went to my locker, dressed quickly, and left.

SEVEN.

Millie: Roadblock Millie checked her e-mail every morning, but it wasn't as simple a matter as booting up her computer.

First of all, they didn't have network access in the Yukon. They could've done something with a satellite dish, but that could be tracked back to the general area of the cabin. They did have Internet access in New Prospect, but if their enemies ever connected Millie, the fugitive jumper, with one of her e-mail accounts, checking those accounts from that IP address could lead them directly to the new house.

Instead, each morning she used a program to randomly choose from a list of open WiFi access points across the world, then jumped her laptop within range, downloaded, and returned to the cabin. It usually took less than thirty seconds.

If she needed to answer an e-mail, she composed it offline, had the program spit out another access point, and jumped there to send. This morning, when she read her e-mail, she answered it in person.

Patel's office was in one of the few permanent structures in the camp, a brick building with a metal roof. She knocked and entered. It was a bit warmer inside, but not much.

Patel was sitting behind his "desk,"-two boards across two cut-down oil barrels. His eyes widened when he saw her. "How did you get past the roadblock?"

Millie shrugged. She was wearing a hijab and a heavy wool coat over that. It was colder than her last visit, when she and Cent had dished lentils in the camp.

"I came a different way. Where is the roadblock?"

Patel stood and took some binocular hanging from a nail in the wall and said, "I will show you." He led the way back outside.

There had been some snow on the mountains the last time. Now the hills were solid white, and crusted snow crunched under her feet in the camp itself.

"They've been there all week. The refugees can just detour through the hills or along the river below, but the trucks can't. The militia won't let the aid convoy by unless they can divert half the supplies." He rounded one of the tents and pointed, then handed her the binoculars. "They don't have enough men to just take the supplies, but they can keep them from passing."

She focused the binoculars. The roadblock was where the road cut into a steep hillside. Above, the hillside rose steeply to the ridge top. Below, it dropped off cliff-like, fifty feet above a rocky, but mostly dry, riverbed. "What is that? A tank?"

"It's an old Soviet armored car. Amphibious. But that turret has a heavy machine gun for shooting armored targets-14.5 millimeters. If they have ammo, it could tear the convoy to pieces."

"Where did they get it?"

"Over the border, I'm sure. The Soviets abandoned hundreds when they left. The Afghan army still operates a lot of them, but I'm sure some ended up on the black market."

"How many men?"

"Eight."

"What does the Pakistani army say?"

Patel shook his head angrily. "I think they paid off the regional commander. His forces are 'otherwise' committed, and I should talk to the militia's commander! If something isn't done soon, we'll have to concede and give them a cut."

Millie handed back the binoculars.

Patel wrapped the neck strap around his hands. "I was hoping we might be able to get some supplies in your way, to hold us over. My people are working on the army from Islamabad."

Millie mentally reviewed the contents of the warehouse. They could help, but if there were rations just ten kilometers away, waiting ... if something could be done about the roadblock ... She thought about moving those supplies, instead, with Davy's help.

One way or the other.

"Let me see what I can do," she said.

"How about tear gas?" Millie suggested. "To flush them out?"

She couldn't see his face but she thought Davy sounded appalled. "How about not? With my luck, they'd have asthma, and I don't want to haul any of them to a doctor."

They were on the ridge crest above the roadblock. While it was early afternoon in New Prospect, it was black predawn here. Davy was studying the scene below. The armored car was idling, its headlights shining up the road away from the camp. Two sentries leaned against the armored car, and several men slept away from the headlights, nestled between the hillside and a fire.

"Uh, besides," Davy said, "I don't think there's anybody in the armored car. You said there were eight, right?"

"That's what Patel said. We can't be sure."

"Right." He vanished.

Millie swore and looked down at the campfire. Something flickered, and then Davy was back beside her, six rifles in his arms.

"They notice?" he asked.

She looked back down the hill. The two sentries continued looking up the road, away from the fire.

"No."

"Well, help me set these down without making a lot of noise. They're not as light as you'd think."

She helped set them down, barrels pointed away. "What are those, AK-47s?"

"Chinese version: the Type 56." Davy grinned. "They had them stacked, leaning against each other, just like in the movies."

They looked back down at the sleeping men.

"You're sure no one is in that thing?" Millie asked.

"Sure? No. But it's the first thing I'll be checking, right? You don't let them point their rifles at you, okay?"

"Right." Millie took off her coat and laid it on the ground. She was still wearing a hijab, and was grateful for the chador over her head.

She jumped down to the road, beyond the range of the headlights, and started walking. Her clothes were light colored and her scarf had silver thread worked into its trim, so the headlights soon lit her up. She saw the sentries straighten, but they left their rifles slung over their shoulders.

Behind them, she saw Davy appear on the roof of the armored car, by the open hatch over the driver's seat. But the guards still looked in her direction. Davy stuck his head down into the hatch and disappeared.

Millie held her breath.

Davy had spent some time the day before in Russia, at the Museum of Artillery in St. Petersburg. The museum had two different models of the BRDM-2 armored car. He'd told Millie, "It has a steering wheel, accelerator, and a brake pedal. If I can get it into gear, we'll be good to go."

There was a mechanical sound from the armored car and both sentries twisted around, then ran to the side of the road as the car lurched toward them. They began shouting and the men sleeping around the circle sat up.

Millie jumped back to the hilltop and looked down in time to see the armored car turn sharply to the right and off the cliff.

Davy appeared beside her in time to see the armored car crunch nose first into the rocks below, then fall over onto its turret in shallow water.

Millie said, "Ha. They'll never-"

"Cover your ears!" said Davy, following his own advice.

The explosion came in stages: a sharp, loud bang; a fireball as the fuel tank detonated; and then the ammo, en masse. A hunk of metal whizzed by and they both stepped back away from the edge of the ridge.

In the glow from the fireball, Millie saw Davy's teeth gleam. He said something, but Millie's ears were ringing. She cupped her ear.

He spoke louder. "They had eight of these on a bandolier behind the driver's seat." He reached into his pocket and took out a grenade.

"Why did you take that?"

He pointed at the six rifles lying on the ground. "Thought I'd just leave it with when we go. But take the pin."

Millie scooped up her coat. "Fewer guns the better, I guess," she said.

"Right." Davy made a shooing motion with his empty hand. "You go first, okay?"

Millie jumped away, but not home. Instead she jumped to the edge of the camp, a kilometer away, where Patel had first shown her the roadblock. She waited, frozen, looking toward the glow of the burning armored car. People were coming out of tents and looking in the same direction, wakened by the explosion. Then, from the hilltop, came a flash and the sharp crack of a grenade exploding.

She looked around and found Patel, struggling into a coat as he came around a tent. She got his attention by grabbing his sleeve.

"What happened?"

She pointed at the glow from the riverbed. "Someone stole their armored car and pushed it into the gully where it blew up."

He frowned.

"No one was hurt," she added, "But I'm betting the convoy can get through now."

When Patel turned back to look toward the roadblock, she stepped behind him and jumped back to the Yukon.

Davy was there, looking for her, anxious.

They both exhaled.

Millie said, "Remember the time you gave Cent so much grief for blowing up all her firecrackers at once?"

Davy blushed. "What's your point?"

"Like father, like daughter."

Millie looked at her watch. "If you want to go car shopping with Cent, she gets out in twenty minutes."

EIGHT.

Cent: "Daddy! Look at me!"

In art class, the last period of the day, Mrs. Begay took roll. "Where's Caffeine?"

A girl I didn't know said, "She fell in the shower after PE. They took her over to the ER to X-ray her wrist." She looked over at me as she said it, then away.

I blinked and looked straight ahead.

After class, as I walked to my locker, kids were glancing my way and whispering to each other.

Great. First day of school and already notorious. Oddly enough, even though the halls were just as crowded they'd been in the morning, I had no trouble walking. They didn't clear a huge path, but they also didn't bump and jostle me. I should've been glad, I guess, but it just made me more aware of the watching eyes. My ears were hot and I put my head down and walked faster. It was just above freezing outside and the cold air felt good on my hot face.

I heard feet scuff the ground and a voice said, "Hey."

I jerked my head around, eyes narrowed.

It was Tara. She flinched back when she saw my face and I held my hand up and smiled weakly. "Hey."

She still looked at me warily.

"Sorry," I explained. "Thought you were someone else."

"Someone else like Caffeine Barnett?"