Back Fall; or, Dodge in Hell
Chapters (77)
  1. Title Page
  2. Contents
  3. Dedication
  4. Book 1
  5. Part 1
  6. Chapter 1
  7. Chapter 2
  8. Chapter 3
  9. Chapter 4
  10. Chapter 5
  11. Chapter 6
  12. Chapter 7
  13. Chapter 8
  14. Part 2
  15. Chapter 9
  16. Chapter 10
  17. Chapter 11
  18. Part 3
  19. Chapter 12
  20. Chapter 13
  21. Chapter 14
  22. Chapter 15
  23. Chapter 16
  24. Part 4
  25. Chapter 17
  26. Chapter 18
  27. Chapter 19
  28. Chapter 20
  29. Chapter 21
  30. Chapter 22
  31. Chapter 23
  32. Chapter 24
  33. Part 5
  34. Chapter 25
  35. Chapter 26
  36. Chapter 27
  37. Chapter 28
  38. Chapter 29
  39. Chapter 30
  40. Chapter 31
  41. Chapter 32
  42. Part 6
  43. Chapter 33
  44. Chapter 34
  45. Chapter 35
  46. Chapter 36
  47. Chapter 37
  48. Chapter 38
  49. Chapter 39
  50. Chapter 40
  51. Chapter 41
  52. Part 7
  53. Chapter 42
  54. Book 2
  55. Part 8
  56. Chapter 43
  57. Chapter 44
  58. Part 9
  59. Chapter 45
  60. Chapter 46
  61. Chapter 47
  62. Part 10
  63. Chapter 48
  64. Chapter 49
  65. Part 11
  66. Chapter 50
  67. Chapter 51
  68. Chapter 52
  69. Chapter 53
  70. Chapter 54
  71. Chapter 55
  72. Chapter 56
  73. Map of The Land
  74. Acknowledgments
  75. About The Author
  76. Also By Neal Stephenson
  77. Copyright

“Packers fans wear big silly hats shaped like wedges of cheese. Why? To show affiliation. All of this”—he waved vaguely toward the machine gun in the back of the Tactical, then patted the grip of his pistol—“is to announce, to anyone looking at us from a drone, that we speak their language.”

“You’re members of their tribe.”

“I wouldn’t go that far, but it’s a way of saying that, A, we can be talked to, and B, we are not to be messed with.”

“It’s . . . disarming to be armed?”

“Exactly.”

Kevin had been staring at output from their drone while Tom scanned the sky around them for drones operated by other people. He was gazing fixedly at one such. It was too small and far away to be seen with the naked eye. Apparently, though, his goggles were running some kind of augmented ware that enabled him to know of its existence and, in some sense, “see” it.

He slid them up on his backward baseball cap and turned toward Pete. “What’s the word, boss?”

Microaggression. Sophia had hired Tom and Kevin to escort them to Sioux City, but now that a middle-aged white guy had entered the picture, suddenly he was “boss.” Sophia was getting ready to say something when she noticed Pete watching her face wryly. Pete held up a placating hand. “I have taken the liberty of hiring these fellas for the extra job that needs doing,” he explained.

“Okay,” Sophia said. “I was kind of wondering why you were following us in the war wagon. Assumed you were just being courteous above and beyond the call of family duty.”

“We do try to extend courtesy,” Pete said.

“Noted. Appreciated.”

“But there is this other thing that has come up. Across the river. Just across the river.”

“Do I get to know what it is? Now I’m all curious.”

Pete looked ready to say no but then thought better of it. “You might hear about it from Jake. I know you are headed out to Seattle and that you might cross paths there. I don’t want you to feel left out. So, yes. You get to know what it is.” Pete exchanged nods with Tom, then continued: “You know that Jake has this ONE thing.”

“The Organization for New Eschatology.”