Gina twisted in the air, then headed toward the flat roof of the building they had been seeking. Mark followed, narrowly missing her as he came crashing down.

The sun disappeared and with a buzzing roar like the drone of a thousand diving planes, the bio-insects arrived.

“This way,” Gina shouted. She darted into a familiar doorway and Mark followed. As they threw an old bolt, the insects pummeled the door, which began hopping in its frame.

They ran down the stairs, descending into an interior that was no longer in any way familiar, at least not to Mark.

Behind and above them, the buzzing became much louder. Gina went through another door, this one steel. Following, Mark closed it. Here, the lock was substantial. She leaned against it.

“Fire door,” she said, her voice shaking.

“Do you remember anything of the layout?”

“No. Or maybe. We lived upstairs.”

“There was a classroom. I remember that much.”

From the other side of the door, a sound as if of thousands of hammering fists rose as the insects threw themselves against this new obstacle.

Mark saw that they were in the studio control room of the television station that had taken over the structure. It was dark except for emergency lighting.

He picked up a telephone. Dead.

“We need power if we’re going to get word back to Washington. Even then, what are the odds?”

At that moment, something slammed into Mark’s back. He staggered for two steps, but quickly realized that the weight was not great and the body pliant. Then he heard, in his left ear, desperate human sobbing.

Gina pulled the man off him. He was bedraggled, bald, and looked absolutely exhausted. His left arm was wrapped in bloody paper towels, and an area of his cheek and temple were covered by tissues.

“We’re soldiers,” she said.

Mark could hear the pride she was now taking in that word, and despite his misgivings about their true natures, he felt it, too. Truth was, they were a hell of a team. Always had been.

The man looked as if he were ready to kiss them both.

“It’s just the two of us right now. We’re specialists. This is my commanding officer, Colonel Bryan.”

Mark stepped forward. “We’re detached from the main body. It’s a reconnaissance mission.”

The man’s face crumpled. Then he slapped Mark hard, then leaped back.

Mark ignored the man’s very understandable anger. In any case, he’d hardly even felt the blow.

“We can get help, if you have a working satellite phone. Not a cell phone,” Mark added with exaggerated care, “a satellite phone.”

Gina said, “We need a satellite phone. Do you have one?”