Everyone was on edge. Several times they stopped, crouched, and waited, making sure they were alone in the jungle.

Peyton had had basic training in voice procedures for two-way radio communication, and it had come in handy on many of her deployments when interacting with armed forces, police, fire, and aviation personnel. The training had certainly come in handy of late.

Peyton’s father spoke the first words over the comm, a whisper. “Target three hundred yards.”

The group stopped, and three soldiers departed, moving quickly. When they returned, they motioned for the group to follow.

The forest gave way to a cleared area. From a hill in the trees, Peyton made out rows of small houses in a Caribbean style: clapboard sides, metal roofs, hurricane shutters, and large front porches. A massive canopy hung over the homes, supported by metal poles set in concrete footings. An electric vehicle that reminded her of a golf cart with clear plastic sides zoomed away from one of the houses.

A Marine spoke over the comm. “Overwatch, units Bravo and Zulu. We are at location Tango. Proceeding.”

“Bravo, Zulu, Overwatch. Copy that.”

William and four soldiers departed from the group, made their way to the corner of the settlement, and sat for a moment, working their binoculars. The remaining troops spread out in the forest and took up sniper positions, most lying on their stomachs, peering through the scopes of their rifles, sweeping across the small settlement.

On the ship, Peyton’s father had insisted on leading the advance recon teams. Colonel Jamison had argued against it, but William had insisted that he had the most first-hand information about the terrain and their adversary. In the ship’s infirmary, he had made Peyton wrap up his ankle again, administer cortisone shots, and give him some oral painkillers. He had tucked the pills in his pocket, but hadn’t taken one.

William and the four soldiers accompanying him darted to the closest home and entered through the back door. The older man brought up the rear. His limp slowed him down some, but Peyton thought he was moving well, considering.

She counted down the seconds, but nothing occurred. Minutes passed. Then two soldiers slipped out the back door, ran back into the tree line, and exited farther down, by the fourth house from the corner. They entered that house in a similar way.

A soldier spoke urgently on the radio. “Zulu leader, request backup at location two.”

Orders then came quickly over the comm.

Six team members sprang up, raced along the tree line, and burst out, into the second home the troops had entered. Peyton was amazed at their speed. She swallowed. Her father was in the first house. Is he okay? The thought of losing him now terrified her; she only realized it in that moment, when his life was at great risk.

Desmond looked at her and nodded slightly, a gesture only she could see, trying to reassure her.