While Harv rolled down the driveway and killed the engine, Nathan worked his way into the row of trees to a point parallel to the sedan and focused his NV monocular on the gravel driveway. Nothing. He didn’t see any trip wires or other deadfalls. The eaves above the front door didn’t appear to have any motion detector lights. A porch light to the left of the door looked to be the only exterior fixture—currently dark.

“You’re good to go,” he whispered.

“Copy.”

A small gust of wind rustled the trees, then died.

Harv climbed out, crossed in front of the sedan, and opened Julio’s door. Hunching over to disguise his height, Harv put his right arm around the wounded man and began a slow shuffle toward the house. In the gloom, with the dark backdrop, it looked believable.

Nathan worked his way down the middle of the trees to the east until he was opposite the van. Keeping the van between himself and the house, he advanced. “I’m in position at the van.”

“Copy.”

The house seemed awfully quiet and totally silent. Not unusual in itself, but Nathan’s internal antennae went active. He focused on the windows to see if anyone cracked the curtains. No one did. His sense of caution climbed another notch.

Harv and Julio closed to within ten yards of the door.

A gust of wind moved past him.

Eight yards.

He inhaled through his nose. Deeply.

And caught an odor.

A sour smell. Like a septic tank.

Six yards.

He breathed the air again. Caught another whiff.

Three yards.

Shit. Not a septic tank—

“Harv. Bolter! Bolter!”

Harv let go of Julio and sprinted back up the driveway.

Seizing the opportunity, Julio used his freedom to hobble toward the front door.

Nathan yelled, “Get down!”

Harv dropped to the gravel just as Julio grabbed the doorknob and pushed.

The house ignited.

A fireball shot through the front door, turning Julio into a flaming bowling ball.

From a prone position, Nathan squinted as the man tumbled across the gravel and smashed against the side of the van. Simultaneously, every window blew outward, spewing glass and flames. The roof seemed to bulge for an instant before releasing from its walls. In a macabre ballet, burning plywood and shingles flew fifty feet into the air.

“Harv?”

“I’m okay!”

“Roll left!”

Harv scrambled laterally as a sheet of smoldering plywood landed where he’d just been. He saw Harv pop to his feet and dash into the citrus trees.

Burning debris rained out of the sky, starting satellite fires in the grass field to the north.

Nathan kept his head up as the last fiery chunks descended. In a running crouch, he formed up with Harv.

“Dalton’s girls,” Nathan growled.

“There’s nothing we can do for them.”

“I should’ve shot Julio before he reached the door.”

“Nate, there wasn’t time.”