It was pouring when they arrived in District 5.


    The rain stormed from the skies to the earth with blinding intensity, hazing everything such that they needed to shield their eyes and squint somewhat to see properly. The choppers touched down just beyond the boundary of the district, and they all alighted at once, clad in simple clothes rather than tactical gear, duffel bags with them that contained their gear and other clothes.


    They were soaked, along with their bags, by the time they’d covered the distance between the landing point and the district’s primary entrance. Thunder rumbled overhead and lightning flashed through the skies and through all of that, they could still hear the humming of the electromagnetic fences that shielded the district.


    At the primary entrance, they were halted by helmeted guards. Human, not Pandoran, and clad in gear.


    “What is this?” one of the guards demanded as he saw them, one hand already inching toward his holstered pistol. “State your business.”


    “We’re with Capital,” Andre answered, presenting a gold badge that bore House Lincoln on it. At the sight of the badge, the guard’s stance shifted slightly, a noticeable discomfort spreading across his face. He walked to the other guard, said something to him that was lost under the roar of the rain, then he raised his shoulder slightly and spoke into the walkie talkie pinned there.


    A few seconds passed before he returned to them. “Come with me,” he said and led them through the primary entrance to a closeby shed where three trucks had been parked. He had them place their bags in the back of one of the trucks, then climbed into the driver’s seat while the others stuffed themselves in. The front passenger’s seat could take two so Chloe and Jon went in there while Jin, Lucas, Aiden, and Andre stuffed themselves in the back.


    “Bit late,” the guard said as he steered the truck out of the shed, hastily rolling up the windows so the rain wouldn’t get in. “Chancellor won’t be able to see you till dawn comes. You can stay with the boys up in the Quarters, ‘less of course yeh’ve got a place of your own to stay in here.”


    “Miguel’s Home,” Andre said.


    The guard frowned at Andre through the rearview mirror. “The orphanage?” He sounded slightly confused. “Well, alright then.”


    District 5 was circinate.


    The buildings, mostly of brick or concrete were laid out in circles, and there were multiple layers. The outer layer mostly had crooked brick buildings and shacks, granite path going round it. Then there were taller brick buildings in the next layer, some of which were wide too. On and on it went, multiple circular layers of buildings and tents and whatnot, with the innermost layer having a suburban sort of feel to it, appearing like it’d been ripped right out of TV dramas about cheating housewives and whatnot.


    The district had a nightclub, one that looked rather old, its neon signs barely functional, flickering every few seconds. Outside the nightclub had been peopled on sleeping bags, or even just sprawled on the porch, bottles and empty wrappers littered around them. The windows were cracked in places, and broken entirely in others. Inside the nightclub, there were lights, but no music or anything of the sort.


    Chloe deduced it mustn’t have been a club in a long, long time.


    At the center of the district, a mansion supported by Greek-style columns. Every balcony of the mansion had turrets mounted, as well as a stationed guard armed with a sniper rifle.


    “Bridge’s mansion,” said the guard driving them when the mansion came into view. “Heavily guarded recently, no doubt because of the recent shit been going on.”


    “You mean the missing kids?” Jon asked.


    “Uh-huh.” The guard grunted. “And an entire unit of Pandorans wiped out, a few other soldiers parted gruesomely from their limbs and heads. Got everyone here spooked, on high alert. Used to be that there’d be stragglers and Outsiders desperately trying to get in the districts, seeking shelter, food.”


    “And that’s not the case anymore?” Chloe looked at the guard.


    He snorted. “Far from it as can get at the moment,” he answered. “Now we’ve got to deal with small riots multiple times a day, people trying to flock out of the district, try their luck someplace else, maybe even head for one of the others. But other districts are at capacity or so they say…you ask me, I think they just don’t want any part in the shit going on here.”


    “Christ,” Jon murmured.


    “Christ’s about right.” The guard snorted again.


    A few minutes later, he brought the truck to a stop outside a two-storey brick building, with flowers hung on the walls and placed on the ground outside in pots. A set of stairs led up to the building’s front porch and on the porch, a couple benches around a table, a chess board left on the table, its pieces scattered all over, no doubt blown about by the wind.


    Lights shone through a few of the building’s windows, but more of them were entirely dark.


    One after the other, they alighted from the truck, and hurried onto the porch with their bags, eager to get out of the rain.


    “Sure hope you’ve got more luck on your side than the last unit of Pandorans,” the guard said, before rolling out of view in his truck, the lights of the vehicle very quickly reducing to nothing more than an ambient glow in the downpour. In a few more seconds, the lights vanished entirely from view.


    Jon pressed the doorbell and waited. Overhead, thunder rumbled, more furiously than it had been before. A brilliant flash of light came a few more seconds later and Chloe saw of bolt of lightning shoot downward, somewhere in the distance.


    Jon pressed the doorbell again, and then a few more times. After what must have been the seventh attempt, Chloe heard the heavy thuds of boots moving inside the house, climbing down wooden stairs.


    She heard a scraping sound, then something akin to a gun being cocked. A click followed, then the footsteps again, getting nearer and nearer to the door.


    There were a series of clicks as the door was unlocked and then a few seconds later, it opened very slightly and very narrowly, and the barrel of a shotgun emerged between the crack, aimed right at Jon who was closest to the door.


    “State your business,” came a raspy no-nonsense voice from behind the door. Through the crack, she made out somewhat tanned skin and fierce brown eyes, but much else of the person’s appearance was hidden.


    “Hey, let me,” Andre said from behind, making his way to the door, positioning himself right in front of the loaded shotgun. “Pastor Miguel, they’re with me.”


    “Andreas,” said the man, distrust not yet faded from his voice. “I did not expect you at this time. Or in this weather.”


    “Andre, not Andreas,” Andre replied.


    There was a three-second pause. Then Miguel breathed in relief, as though Andre had just passed a test. The shotgun barrel withdrew from between the crack, and then the door opened fully.


    There was Miguel, clad in a fastened, velvet sleeping robe and in oversized sandals, rough brown hair on his head and face. At his side, the lowered shotgun. Behind him, two fearful-looking boys, neither of which could have been older than twelve or thirteen.


    “Apologies,” Pastor Miguel said, bowing his head courteously. “I trust that you understand my wariness of sudden arrivals. It has been a concerning recent few weeks here in the fifth district. And I had to verify that you truly were Andre as for all I know, we may be dealing with an enemy who can wear many faces.”


    “Hopefully not,” Chloe said and shuddered.


    Pastor Miguel and the two boys, who he addressed as John and Jace, took their bags from them and headed off. Pastor Miguel returned almost immediately, and without his shotgun. “Clothes will be dried before morning,” he said. “I am Miguel Navarro, and this is my home, as well as the home of children who do not have one.”


    “Jonathan,” Jon said, stepping forward and offering a handshake to Miguel. Miguel accepted the handshake with a pleasant smile. “That’s my sister, Chloe and then my friends, Lucas and Aiden. And uhh, Jin. We’re truly grateful that you’ve offered us a place to stay here.”


    “Ah, it is you I should extend gratitude too if I am to be honest,” Miguel said, leaving Jon with a slightly confused frown. Miguel scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “See, uhh, the truth is I did not offer room or shelter out of the goodness of my heart. Or perhaps I should say charity, for I did still do it out of goodness…but the consideration was not for you, but the children here.”


    “I don’t understand.” Jon frowned.


    “The children are safer if we’re staying here,” Andre explained.


    “Yes.” Miguel nodded. “They have been frightened lately, all the disappearances…and the sad deaths of those other soldiers. Your presence here would do much to alleviate much of their fears. Mine too, in all honesty. But that is enough for now, I do not wish to wake the ones who already sleep, we will have time to talk in the morning. Come, let me show you to your rooms. I hope the arrangements will be convenient enough.”


    Miguel locked the front door properly, before gesturing to be followed. He led them through the orphanage, past a spacious living room that had several bookshelves, toys lying around, and an entertainment center; past a neat dining room, and the adjoined kitchen; past a brown door that led into a basement which he said was for storage purposes; and then down a hallway with doors that led into other rooms, to the room at the end of the all.


    The room was moderately spacious. It was simple. There was a single bunkbed in the room, a bedside table, a desk and chair and a boarded-up window that was already missing some boards. There was a small dresser in there too, but it was empty, except for clean bath towels. Aiden and Lucas took this room, and Miguel pointed out to them where the bathroom was—everyone downstairs shared one bathroom but it was spacious and had enough toilet stalls and shower stalls for six people at a time.


    Afterward, he led them up the stairs, to a hallway identical to the one downstairs, with more rooms. The room he led them to here had more space than the one downstairs. There was a bunk bed on one side, a single one on the other. Every thing else was about the same arrangement as the downstairs room, except the dresser had three bath towels instead of two.


    Chloe, Jin and Aiden took this room, largely because of Aiden’s insistence that he also get to observe Jin, which Jon decided made enough sense. This meant Jon would share a room with the two boys that had been with Miguel downstairs—John and Jace.


    “I wake the children every morning at six,” Miguel said. “It’s a bell, sounds a little like an alarm. If you hear it, do not panic. When they wake, they take their showers and then file for breakfast. I would invite you to join us at breakfast, but I am aware of the dietary restrictions most of you have and I do not have…err—,”


    “It’s fine.” Jon smiled. “The rooms are enough. Everything else, we will sort ourselves.”


    “Very well then.” Miguel nodded. “I suppose that’s it for now.” He let out a long yawn. “I really must turn in now, it was the doorbell that woke me earlier. If you need anything, feel free to look around, help yourself. Andre here knows the lay of the building.”


    “Thank you,” Jon said.


    “Good night then,” Miguel rubbed his head sleepily. “I will see you in the morning.”


    With that, he left them, heading to his room, which was in the same hallway. Once he’d vanished into the room, Jon looked to Andre.


    “You trust him?” Jon asked.


    “Yes.” Andre nodded. “Implicitly. He’s a good man. A little aloof, I’d say…but I trust him.”


    “Okay,” Jon said, sounding a little relieved. “You guys rest tonight. We’ve much work to begin with when morning comes.”


    Jon left them, and then Andre locked the door to the room once they were in. Chloe and Jin took the bunk bed, with Chloe taking the bottom one. Andre took the single bed, stripping from his shoes at once and placing them by the window.


    He stripped from his shirt too, hanging it over the dresser, then grabbing one of the bath towels and drying his hair much as he could with it. The entire time, Chloe watched, heart thumping a little quicker as she did.


    When he was done, he turned and met her gaze. He frowned. “What? I’m not going to sleep in wet clothes.”


    Chloe cleared her throat. “Right,” she said, glancing down at her own shirt awkwardly.


    Andre saw this and chuckled a little. “I won’t be looking,” he said, before climbing into his bed and drawing the blanket over himself immediately, turning so his face was pointed to the wall.


    The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Chloe glanced at Jin. The two of them exchanged shrugs and then, like Andre, they removed their shirts. Jin climbed into bed as soon as she had but Chloe felt far too uncomfortable to sleep just in her underwear with Andre there, and so she fetched a bath towel from the dresser, wrapping it around her chest.


    She climbed into bed afterward, drew the blanket over herself and turned so she too was facing the wall.


    For a while, there was silence in the room, except, of course for the roaring rain outside.


    Then Andre broke the silence. “Good night,” he said softly.


    “Good night,” Chloe and Jin echoed a moment later.


    ***


    Andre wasn’t in the room when Chloe woke the next morning. She stirred awake, rolled over in bed to find his bed was empty, the sheets already made, only slight wrinkles revealing that someone had slept in it through the night.


    Her shirt was gone too, but stacked atop the dresser were her other clothes and gear. Dry already.


    She laid in bed a few more minutes, before poking her head out slightly to confirm that Jin was still there. She was. The alien sat on the top bed, back against the wall, knee curled up, a worn copy of Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy in her hands, eyes intensely focused on the book’s pages.


    “Morning,” Jin greeted, without diverting her gaze from the book.


    “Mhm.” Chloe rubbed her face, returning her head to the comfort of her pillow. She allowed herself a few more minutes of rest, before finally climbing out of bed. She glanced at Jin again. “Didn’t peg you for the reading type.”


    “It’s quite good,” Jin replied, again without taking her eyes off the book. “I do not typically enjoy the literature of your people but this is…pleasing. So far, at least.”


    “Where’s Andre?”


    “Breakfast.”


    Chloe nodded, and then headed to the bathroom to freshen up for the day. When she returned to the room, she changed into a new set of clothes at once, tucking a white shirt into the pants of her tactical gear and throwing her top on like a jacket. Once she’d fastened her boots, she straightened to her feet then tapped Jin’s bed.


    “Come on,” she said. “Let’s go meet the others.”


    “Must I?” Jin asked, voice a little whiny, closing the book around her index finger and shooting Chloe a displeased expression.


    “I can’t take my eyes off of you. In case you’ve forgotten, I’ve been tasked with—,”


    “I’ve been with you for weeks now. Little over a month actually. You really still think I’m up to any—,”


    “Doesn’t matter what I think.” Chloe interrupted her. “Matters what I know. And despite how willfully cooperating you’ve been, what I know about you and your people is that you’re responsible for everything and everyone I’ve lost, and that you’re capable of taking a lot more. So no, I have no intention of letting you out of my sight.”


    “Ugh.” Jin groaned, then rolled off her bed. She landed perfectly on both feet. “Fine, let’s go meet the others and the dull creatures.”


    “Dull creatures?” Chloe repeated, raising an eyebrow.


    “The snot-nosed whining children.” Jin sounded irritated. “They’re all over the place.”


    “It’s an orphanage.”


    “Whatever.”


    Chloe sighed and shook her head. She made her way out of the room, Jin just behind her and shutting the door. Immediately, she could hear playful squeals and laughter coming from down below. There was also the nauseating scent of pancakes and syrup.


    She made her way down with Jin to the dining where near all of the children were currently gathered, the rest of them being in the living room. Andre was there and aiding Miguel in dishing out food to the kids. Every few plates he handed out, Andre would help himself to a pancake slice and then squeeze the syrup into his mouth. The children always almost reacted with wide-eyed grins and clamoring for Miguel to scold Andre.


    “No fair!” one boy squealed. “You don’t let us do that!”


    “This is hell,” Jin said, slapping her hands over her ears and trudging toward the living room. Chloe made after her and as she went in the direction of the living room, Andre caught her gaze, smiled at her softly and nodded gently.


    She found herself smiling back instinctively before quickly shaking her head and turning her face stern again.


    The kids in the living room were playing, either with toys or with Jon and Aiden on the console. Aiden, in particular, seemed rather engrossed with the game they were playing. Mortal Kombat.


    “Man, it’s been more than a decade since I saw a PlayStation 5,” Aiden was saying to Jon. “Surprised this thing still runs.”


    “Where’s Lucas?” Chloe asked.


    “Working out,” Jon answered, then gestured to double doors in the living room that led out back to a small sort of garden. There, Lucas was doing sit-ups, bare-chested and with an intense expression on his face. Standing around him were two kids who counted each sit up, much to Lucas’s evident annoyance.


    “Is he going to be grumpy for the rest of his life?” Jin asked, staring in Lucas’s direction. “Doesn’t that get boring?”


    Chloe glared at Jin and for a split moment, felt a strong urge to smack her in the back of the head. Instead, she slipped her hands into her pockets and tightly clenched her jaw. “Go read your book,” she muttered to Jin, who was more than happy to go plop down in a small seat in the corner of the living room and return to her book. Chloe headed toward Jon and Aiden, standing behind them and watching as they gamed, her arms folded.


    “When’s the meet with the Chancellor?” she asked.


    “Ten,” Jon answered. “Miguel’s leading us there, think he’s got a sort of relationship with Bridge. Of course, that just means at least two of us gotta stay back here at the orphanage, keep watch over the kids.”


    “Not me,” Jin said immediately, without looking up from her book.


    “Lucas and I could stay,” Aiden said with a shrug.


    “Are you being kind or do you just want to stay on that game all day?”


    Aiden grinned mischievously and chuckled. “Does it matter which? You want babysitters, you’ve got babysitters.”


    Once breakfast and every other morning activity was out of the way, Miguel joined them in the living room, clad then in a neatly-ironed white shirt tucked into all too long black pants, a pair of gleaming loafers on his feet. Around his neck dangled a chain with a crucifix attached to it. He gave Aiden and Lucas instructions on supervising the orphanage while he was away.


    “Contrary to what the dastardly devils might say, they are not permitted to go on walks,” he said and with great emphasis. “Not at all a good time for those right now. Keep them in here, and try not to play nice.”


    “Sure.” Lucas grunted. “I can play nice.”


    “I’m sure of that,” Miguel said, a slightly wary expression in his face as he said so. He turned then to Jon and the others, gave them a nod. “Alright, we may leave now.”


    They had to walk to Bridge’s mansion.


    “I’ve only got a broken-down truck and a two-seater bike,” Miguel explained.


    “What kind of pastor rides a bike?” Andre queried.


    “One who knows how to ride one.” Miguel shrugged.


    The walk to the mansion took only a fair bit of time, about twenty minutes. For the most part, Chloe was glad they had to walk since it meant she got to see more of the district than she’d been able to in the deluge when they arrived. There were puddles of water around that made things a little annoying but seeing market stalls along streetsides and corners, item auctions outside small homes, some children huddled around at a playground while others flew kites—it made it all rather nostalgic.


    Here they were, at the end of the world they’d known and there still existed fragments of what it had once been.


    “Used to be a lot more light and joy than this,” Miguel said, noticing her expression as she took it all in. “Streets would be a lot more packed than this on a good day. But hasn’t been a good day here in a long time.”


    “No patrols?” Jon asked, noticing the absence of guards on the streets.


    “Most of the guards cover the district entrances in shifts, and the others at Bridge’s mansion. There are still a few patrols that pass through the district routinely, but not nearly as much as there should be.” It was Andre who’d answered and Chloe thought there was a hint of suspicion in his voice when he spoke.


    “Doesn’t help that the special unit got wiped out,” Miguel added. “Much of the responsibility of ensuring our own safety falls entirely to us now.”


    They were expected at Bridge’s mansion. Once they arrived outside the mansion, the two guards stationed at the mahogany doors that led in took one look at Miguel, nodded, and then signaled them in.


    “Library,” one of the guards said. “Take the stairs up, second door on your left.”


    The mansion was as could be expected on the inside. Glamorous. Chandeliers hung from ceilings, larger than logical paintings and portraits were hung on the wooden walls. The carpets were thick and rather elegantly comfy, giving the feeling that it was possible to sink into them. There were multiple living rooms downstairs and no expenses had been spared in furnishing any single one of them.


    Spiral tiled stairs led upward, into yet another living space connected to a hallway that led to other rooms. With Miguel in the lead, they headed onto the hallway and stopped at the second door on their left.


    It was cracked slightly open.


    Miguel gave them all a look before clearing his throat. He raised a hand to knock on the door but before he had, someone spoke from inside the room.


    “You may come in. I’ve been expecting you.”


    Miguel lowered his hand at once. He stepped forward, pushing the door fully open and stepping into the rather spacious, magnificent library.


    It wasn’t a library in the sense of a home library. It was a library. Hell, it could have been an archive.


    It was long, spanning a great distance on either side of them, rows and rows of stacked bookshelves filling the room. Some shelves held items—globes, pens kept in jars, wristwatches on displays and whatnot. But most of the shelves were filled with books, and each shelf was labeled, boasting everything from historical fiction to biographies to printed screenplays to dark academia fantasies. Whatever genre of literature there was or had ever been in the world, there was a shelf for it in the library.


    But just ahead of them, where a reception would ideally have been placed in an actual, standard library was a long desk, dark and expensive-looking. The desk had been positioned right in front of a set of windows, all of which had curtains drawn over them.


    On the desk, a computer screen, a bunch of documents in folders labeled CLASSIFIED and a single high-power pistol that was within reach of the man who sat at the desk. A man who resembled rather perfectly the image they’d seen of him back in the Capital, with the bushy eyebrows and deep set eyes and gray streaked hair.


    Chancellor Bridge had his hands intertwined beneath his chin, an intended-to-be-welcoming-yet-awkward smile on his face. His brown eyes twinkled. Standing just behind him on his right, poised like a bodyguard was a person clad in black tactical gear, face hidden behind a black helmet with a visor.


    “Chancellor,” Miguel greeted with a slight bow of the head.


    “Pastor.” Bridge leaned back in his leather and rather comfy-looking seat. He gestured them forward with a nod.


    They all stepped forward, getting closer and closer to the desk. At a point, the black-clad bodyguard behind him stiffened and they all halted, taking that as a sign that they were as close as they needed to and were allowed to be.


    “Which one of you wants to take the lead and explain to me why there’s a special unit of Lost Ones from the Capital here in my district?” Bridge asked. His voice was warm, but his tone was not. “A unit composed, if my data’s correct of course, of the soldiers involved in the District 7 annihilation.”


    Jon stiffened and made to speak but before he could, Miguel took another step forward. The black-clad guard twitched slightly.


    “Chancellor, I think we both know why they’re here,” Miguel said gently. “We have an emergency on our hands. People are out in the streets scared to death, worried about what might come for them.”


    “I am aware,” Bridge spoke slowly, eyes looking past Miguel and focusing themselves on Jon and the Pandorans. “It was I who authorized a request for aid, after all. So imagine my disappointment when our beloved Capital who pride themselves on being the champions of what’s left of humanity, respond to that plea by sending to me a unit of soldiers with a…questionable track record. Well, at least they had good enough sense to not send as well that clueless oaf, Hardy.”


    “We weren’t sent to you.” Jon spoke then, his tone cold. “We were sent here, to this District, to handle for ourselves what you’ve failed to deal with in your capacity as Chancellor. Imagine how disappointed the Capital must be in your supervision here, if they would rather entrust the protection of your district into those who have…what did you call it? A questionable track record.”


    Bridge’s eyes darkened rather rapidly then, and veins bulged on the sides of his face. His left eye twitched with annoyance. When he spoke again, the warmth in his voice was gone.


    “Watch your tone, boy.”


    “Ah yes, err, perhaps it’s best that we not let tempers flare—,” Miguel began.


    Jon walked forward then, all the way to the desk, placing both hands on it and leaning forward so he could stare Bridge in the eyes. Bridge’s bodyguard looked primed to attack.


    “We’re not here to ask for permission,” Jon said matter-of-factly. “Our presence here is merely a formality. Regardless of how you feel about it, we have a job to do here. We’re not leaving until it’s done.”


    Bridge and Jon remained locked in a staring contest for a full minute, Chloe and the others looking on warily, fists clenched. Chloe’s eyes kept darting toward the bodyguard who she had a deeply unsettling feeling about.


    The tension broke quickly however, when finally, Bridge relaxed his face and his posture. The Chancellor started to laugh. “I like this one!” he roared, pointing a thumb at Jon. “Ah, how much safer I’d feel if we’d had Pandorans with your nerves here. Apologies for my earlier statement, I just had to get a measure of the people I’d be dealing with.”


    Chloe frowned in confusion. “What?”


    “Come on, you didn’t really think I wanted to get into a confrontation with a unit of Pandorans, did you?” Bridge asked, still laughing. He rose to his feet and offered a handshake to Jon. “Stephen Bridge,” he said. “But you can call me Steve.”


    Jon eyed Bridge’s extended hand for a moment, a suspicious frown on his face. After a few seconds, he straightened and accepted the handshake. “Jonathan Taylor.”


    “Do I call you Taylor?” Bridge queried.


    “Jon.”


    “Jon it is!” Bridge exclaimed cheerfully, patting Jon on the shoulder before letting go of his hand. He took his seat again. “So, how would you and your unit like to begin your investigation? Wait, firstly, how are your sleeping arrangements? I could arrange for you to bunk with the soldiers in—”


    “That’s fine,” Andre said then, stepping forward as well. “Pastor Miguel here’s been kind enough to let us stay at his orphanage. We’ll operate out of there.”


    “Really?” Bridge frowned. “Is that conducive? Because, you know, we’ve got pretty impressive, state-of-the-art facilities here…well, almost state of the art, it’s not like we’re Capital level or anything.”


    “The orphanage’s fine,” Jon said.


    “Very well then.” Bridge nodded. “So,” he continued, “Where will your investigation begin?”


    Jon glanced back at Andre then, giving him a gentle nod. Andre cleared his throat, then started to speak. “We’d like to see again where your special unit was attacked,” Andre said. “And preferably, with Captain Voss accompanying us.”


    “Just Voss,” Bridge said.


    Andre frowned. “Beg your pardon.”


    “Voss,” Bridge said. “Yuri Voss. Not much for her to be captain of now that her unit’s gone, is there?”


    “Have any bodies been found?” Jon asked. “Any of the missing Pandorans? Even the children?”


    “None.” Bridge shook his head, looking grim and unsettled then. “But as of now, and considering the sight of the scene, it’s safe to assume that the Pandoran soldiers are dead. Even if they could have survived it, I’m not sure I’d want that for them. The kind of pain they’d have to deal with?”


    Bridge shuddered.


    “We can take pain,” Chloe said.


    “I don’t doubt it,” Bridge responded. “But even people remarkable as yourselves have your limits. And I find it hard to believe that these missing soldiers weren’t pushed well past that limit. But oh well, scene’s not been disturbed so I suppose you’ll see for yourself and draw your own conclusions.”


    “And Voss?” Andre asked. “Where do we find her?”