On the roof the two children took up positions overlooking the tarmac. Below, dozens of Organics raced toward Overton. Both boys lay down on the metal surface and aimed their rifles. Sophie watched their precise, practiced movements in awe. The reality of the situation finally set in: With the majority of the adult population dead, only children who had managed to survive the first stages of the invasion would be left to fight the Organics.

It was a sobering thought. She imagined most of the children who had been lucky enough to survive in those first few hours would probably perish in the weeks to come, if they hadn’t already. But as she watched the two boys take out several of the creatures with a few well-aimed shots, she began to wonder if they had a chance after all. Could the younger generation take up arms against an enemy that had effectively wiped out their parents?

Highly unlikely.

The chirp of high-powered rifles joined the chatter of Overton’s pulse rifle, and she returned her focus to the battle below. She watched the slaughter with a grim smile on her face. Without their shields, the Spiders had no chance. Limbs and eyeballs rained down onto the tarmac in all directions, the blue goo washing over the blacktop like the innards of a gutted whale.

Minutes later it was over. The boys wasted no time reloading their weapons and heading back to the ladder.

“There’ll be more. We need to move,” the larger boy said calmly.

Sophie nodded and followed them back to the tarmac where Overton waited, his foot tapping, watching the gory mess for signs of survivors.

“If you want to live, come with us,” said the larger boy.

“What the fuck is going on?” Overton said, jamming another magazine into his rifle.

“There are always more,” the smaller boy said. “Please, come with us.”

Sophie grabbed Overton’s arm, silently persuading him to follow instead of argue. He pulled free and snorted into his com. The boys jogged at a steady pace toward the smaller hangar. Inside was a room furnished with modern desks, holographic consoles, and rows of monitors. NTC labels on metal crates revealed it to be the portable command center for Secundo Casu.

The two boys strolled through the equipment and stopped at a metal desk. The larger boy threw his rifle strap over his back and, with a short grunt, began pushing the desk across the concrete. Before Overton had a chance to help him, a hidden circular latch was revealed, similar to the one they had used to enter the train tunnel back at the Denver Airport.

“Get inside,” the boy said, opening the lid and motioning them forward.

“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what the fuck is going on!”

“Suit yourself,” the boy replied, climbing down the ladder. The other boy shrugged and followed him.