“You remember PFC Richardson.” Her voice had a strange, trembling lilt in it. But the figure—it was the Dr. Hicks he remembered, certainly. Beside her was a soldier in dirty fatigues. George recalled that there was a Richardson in Bryan’s unit. The quartermaster, wasn’t he, or the driver, perhaps? George had not met them all.

They came over to him.

“Let’s do this outside,” he said. He turned to leave, but before he could reach the door, Richardson blocked his way. He was now trapped between the two of them.

“What’s going on?”

“He wants to know what’s going on,” Richardson said. He and Linda seemed to share a private joke.

Linda said, “George, we’re blind.”

“They blinded us,” Richardson said, his tone funereal.

“Blinded?”

“One moment we could see,” Richardson said. “Then not.”

George was appalled. “You’re casualties. You need medevac.”

“We have a job to do,” Linda said.

“Where is Gina?” George asked. “Is she blind?”

“She’s separated. We can’t find her. Probably she’s blind, too. Wandering in the woods.”

“We’ll find her. We’ll use the satellites to find her.”

“You do that.”

“Why are you blind? Were you attacked?”

“It just happened.”

“Was there a flash? An explosion?”

“We lost communication.”

What was that supposed to mean? George wanted to get into some kind of a medical facility himself, because there was no way to tell what had blinded these people, if some sort of toxicity or radiation was in the area.

“My orders are to go to the proposed drop zone,” he said. “We’re supposed to do detail recce. But I don’t see how you can.”

“George, don’t leave us!”

“But if you can’t see—”

“Do not leave us in this place.”

“No, of course not. I’m calling in medevac right now.”

“We have a truck,” Richardson said. “Which you need to drive. To clear the drop zone.”

George put his satphone to his ear. “We need a medical evac—”

Linda’s hand came up, felt along his arm, and grabbed the phone. “We have to clear the drop zone. Then you can evac us.”

That was courage. “Of course,” George said.

Moving carefully, Richardson shuffled outside and into the middle of the street. “Our truck is in front of the motel.”

“I see it. Boy, that motel took one hell of a beating.” It was a blackened shell. The truck itself was a scorched shambles, but it appeared to be intact.

Linda grabbed his hand. “Lead on.”

Inside the truck, he input the coordinates into her handheld GPS. The drop zone was less than two miles away. He started the vehicle.

“Once we’ve confirmed the drop, I’m getting us all out of here,” he said.

“That’ll be a relief,” Linda replied.