Marcus crouched in the lee of a crumbling cinder-block wall—an old garage, he guessed. There was a car inside, visible through a hole in the wall, with the driver’s skeleton still sitting at the wheel. Marcus tried to imagine why the man had died here, in the car, still sitting in a closed garage, but it hardly mattered now. If the Partials found his patrol, Marcus would be as dead as he was.

“We can’t afford to protect the farms,” said Private Cantona. His voice was an urgent whisper, and he never took his eyes off the forest. Marcus had come to hate him, but he couldn’t deny he was an effective soldier. “Or the farmers.”

“We’re not going to abandon them,” hissed Haru. He’d been leading the patrol ever since Grant died. He glanced at the four farmers hiding beside the soldiers—two men and two women, eyes wide and terrified. “As near as I can tell, the Partials are capturing every human they can get their hands on. We’re supposed to be protecting people, so we’re going to protect these people all the way back to East Meadow.”

“We’re supposed to protect civilians,” said Cantona. “That was a work farm—for all we know, these four could be convicts.”

“If the Partials want them,” said Haru, “then I will die before I give them up.”

Marcus looked at the farmers, minimally armed with three guns between the four of them. It seemed unlikely that prisoners would have access to weapons at all, but with a Partial army bearing down on you, who knew? I’d give them all guns, he thought, and hope for the best. When the enemy are Partials, every human is an ally.

“They’re going to get us killed,” said Cantona. Their unit, once twenty soldiers strong, had been reduced to seven plus the farmers; half had been wiped out in the ambush, and the rest as they’d retreated, running almost headlong through the forest to stay ahead of the invaders. “They can keep up with us fine,” said Cantona. “That’s not the problem, it’s that they’re noisy. They don’t know how to stay hidden.”

The farmers’ faces were sunburned and weathered, but Marcus could see their skin grow pale as they listened to the soldiers argue their fate. He shook his head and butted into the conversation. “They’re no worse at it than I am.”

“I’m not throwing away our medic.”

“But he’s right,” said Haru. “With Marcus in the group, we’ll make enough noise to be found no matter how many civilians we have.”

“Well, I’m not that bad,” said Marcus.