“He probably heard us fall out of the tree,” Kira whispered. “I don’t think he’s seen us yet—he’s not trying to hide, just checking something out.” She pointed to the far side of the underpass. “You crawl over there. He’ll see you and walk right past me.” Samm seemed nearly rigid with tension, like he was clenching every muscle in his body; he’d been like that for a while. The other Partial’s too close, she thought. I don’t have time to see if he’s injured. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Fine,” he grunted. He turned and crawled through the underbrush, working his way to the far pillar, then across to the next in line. Kira nodded, impressed at the tactic. This way the rebel scout won’t pass as close to my pillar, she thought, so he’ll be less likely to look behind it. Samm moved stiffly, almost painfully, and she wondered again if he’d hurt himself in the jump to the tree. But no—he was already acting strange on the road above. What’s going on?

“Hold it,” said a voice, and Kira was shocked to hear that it was female. She froze in place, hoping her plan had worked and the Partial wouldn’t notice her. Samm stopped as well, pausing on his hands and knees in the thin weeds below the bridge. He didn’t speak. Kira heard footsteps behind her, to the side, then held her breath as the Partial walked past in a straight line toward Samm. Seen up close she was obviously female: thin in the waist, round in the hips and chest, a bun of jet-black hair done up behind the strap of her gas mask. Her eyes had a marked epicanthic fold, like she was Chinese, which Kira couldn’t puzzle out—the Chinese were the enemy in the Isolation War. Why make a Partial the other soldiers might mistake for an enemy? She held a menacing rifle trained on Samm’s back, the muzzle tipped with the fat black cylinder of a suppressor. Kira recognized it as a sniper rifle.

The girl stopped just a few yards away, maybe two good strides if Kira sprinted—probably not enough time for the girl to react. Kira nodded, gearing herself up for the attack. She’d learned a little hand-to-hand in school, though not much; the Defense Grid figured if a Partial got that close you were screwed anyway, since they were so much stronger. Kira hoped it wasn’t true, and rose to the balls of her feet.

“Don’t say anything,” said Samm. His voice was strained, like he was speaking through teeth clenched as tight as he could make them. “Don’t speak.” He put his hand to his face, covering his mouth and nose. Kira stood, placing her feet carefully, coiling her muscles for a charging tackle.