What do I do if Dallas falls? He ran through his finances over and over again, mulling over which European visas he could afford, and how long he’d be able to survive in each country. I could make it a year, maybe eighteen months, in Croatia. He’d been studying German for the last year though. I can learn Croatian in a year, he tried to convince himself.

He also tried to ignore what he’d be leaving behind if he hopped the next flight from Austin to the E.U. He didn’t want to think about Oscar’s wife and child, how they’d get by without their dad’s income. He didn’t want to think about his own father, or the rest of his family, and how they’d fare if Austin fell. You can only afford to take care of YOU here, Manny.

It was two hours before Major Peron found them.

The older man’s skin was a deep, sun-charred brown that seemed at odds with his narrow face and thin wire glasses. He had the look of a high-school history teacher who’d been transplanted into a warzone. There was something drawn and strained in his expression that spoke of deep exhaustion. His eyes were bloodshot and his nose was swollen slightly red. Manny could remember seeing that same face, a bit younger and wearing a t-shirt rather than digicam, at a hundred different slumber parties. Mr. Peron was Hector’s dad. Mr. Peron made them kettle corn and let them watch violent movies on the family projector.

Major Peron, Manny had to remind himself, he’s Major Peron. The Major favored Manny with a sad smile. “Madre de dios, Emmanuel. It’s fucking good to see you. Have you seen your cousin, Alejandro?”

“He was with us last night,” Manny said. “Before the attack.”

A pained look crossed the Major’s face.

“OK,” he nodded and forced a smile back across his lips. “I hear you boys need a ride?”

“Yes,” Manny said. “If you could get us back to Waco I have enough connections in the area to get him,” Manny nodded back to the journalist, “into Austin.”

“And what is your name, sir?” Major Peron asked the journalist as he extended his hand.

“Reggie,” the Brit responded. “Thank you so much for helping us.”

“I’m afraid there’s not much I can do right now. The situation is still very fluid. We’ve set a new defensive line running from the Lakewood Crater to Love Field. With any luck, the Martyrs have spent the bulk of their strength and we’ll hold them there.”

“And if not?” Reggie asked.