“Anyone can die,” the LT said. “High or low, doesn’t matter. That’s not your problem, soldier.”

Stork shut up. Ocho watched the lieutenant. Sayle didn’t look worried. He looked completely calm. As if the 999 wasn’t a threat at all. The blond man stood tall as another round came down and hit the north wing of the building. He didn’t take cover. Didn’t even flinch as the explosion rocked outward. Just watched the hit with his cold gray eyes.

“Don’t worry, boys,” the LT said, smiling. “The Colonel has a plan.” He smiled again and looked down into the barge. “Army of God won’t know what hit them.”

Ocho followed Sayle’s gaze to the unconscious half-man. What could it do? But he didn’t have a chance to question, as their barge bumped up against the steps of the palace.

TamTam and Stork and Ocho rolled out and ran to grab one of the abandoned sledges that the workers had been using to move marble. The LT pointed his pistol at the barge pullers, and put them to work rolling the half-man onto the sledge, urging them to hurry up as everyone watched the sky for more shells. Ocho sweated and swore with everyone else. It felt like they were working in molasses. Waiting for the next shell to drop right on their heads at any moment.

Finally they had the half-man secured and the workers were hauling the monster up the steps. They passed inside, dragging the half-man. Colonel Stern’s elite squads watched, interested.

Inside, it was almost cool: out of the sun, surrounded by marble halls. Ocho had never been in the palace. He tried not to stare at the gleaming marble or the vaulted ceilings with their paintings, the intricate carvings marching around their edges.

It was a strange, echoing place. He didn’t like being in it at all, not with the 999 trying to bracket them. He kept waiting for another shell to come crashing through one of the beautiful domed ceilings, but the artillery seemed to have stopped for the moment.

Was the Army of God just trying to show they could put rounds wherever they wanted, or were they trying to actually hurt them?

Either way, Ocho didn’t savor being blown to pieces. He didn’t think he was going anywhere but straight to hell when he died, so he wasn’t eager for the afterlife the way the Army of God boys were.

They followed the sledge, and finally got to a spot where Stern’s elite all wore black uniforms. Eagle Guard. The best of the UPF. Every one of them was older and more experienced than anyone except maybe the LT. Survivors. They’d grown taller than all the warboys except Stork and the LT, and they looked down on the rest of the platoon.