Another shot hit the engine block as Tovah threw the pick-up sharp right and stopped close by the garage’s buckled roof.

‘One up top,’ Bruce gasped, bashing his shoulder as his body slammed the pick-up’s metal casing.

As Tovah scrambled out, Bruce bobbed up and took three quick shots. The last one hit a guy crouching in the buckled roof canopy. It was only a shoulder shot, but Tovah scrambled around the side of the bombed-out gas station and shot him through the chest before he’d landed.

‘One down,’ Tovah yelled.

They circled the canopy, meeting up at the far side. The small garage shop was levelled and offered no hiding place. They were both mystified until Bruce spotted the holes where the underground fuel tanks had blown open.

‘Can’t be anywhere else,’ Bruce whispered, as he pulled a grenade and rolled it into a hole.

‘Laa, laa,’ a small figure shouted as it clambered out of the hole. Not even a teen yet, yelling the Arabic word for no.

Tovah lined her pistol up to shoot, but Bruce saw that the figure was unarmed and knocked Tovah’s hand, sending the shot ripping through the canopy.

‘You already killed one kid today,’ Bruce shouted.

‘I targeted someone I saw running away,’ Tovah yelled furiously. ‘Drones don’t recognise surrender gestures.’

As Tovah backed up, Bruce yanked out the small body, scrambled a few metres and dived for cover. Fortunately, the buckled canopy absorbed most of the blast, and Bruce’s combat helmet took the sting out of a fist-sized chunk of concrete.

With ears ringing and dust subsiding, Bruce thought about the boy trapped beneath him. Why had he taken a dumb risk? What if the boy was about to pull the pin on a grenade?

Bruce flipped into combat mode, grasping the boy’s arms. If he was unarmed, Bruce figured there was no harm in kicking him up the arse and sending him on his way. But when he rolled the boy on to his back, there was a rip in his grubby turquoise T-shirt. Beneath the rip, tightly strapped bandages had slipped down, exposing a boob.

‘You’re a girl,’ Bruce blurted.

‘Come on,’ Tovah shouted to Bruce. Then to Kyle on the com, ‘We’re clear to fly. Start launching.’

The girl looked tearful and started babbling in Arabic. ‘I don’t understand,’ Bruce said. ‘You’re no threat to us. You can leave.’

Tovah shook her head. ‘She’s saying she can’t be seen with her ripped shirt. She says if they find out she’s a girl, the religious police will torture her, and force her to marry a soldier.’

Bruce gawped. ‘How old are you? Who looks after you?’

Tovah looked emotional as she pointed towards the back of the garage. ‘She’s twelve. Her older brother looks out for her, but I think we just killed him.’