Another explosion, but this was more of a firecracker, detonating before it made impact with the parahuman’s head.

“There,” the man in green said. “Who can give medical attention?”

Gary couldn’t. One of the people Ed had conscripted could. He went to the man in green armor’s side.

The parahuman at the base of the hill was coughing violently, now at his knees. Gas.

The situation was resolving. The gunfire had ceased with the arrival of the big craft. Other capes were down in the town below, including the giant robot with the eel in it. They weren’t—he refused to let them be important. Gary could only see the carnage, the massive loss of life. People who had come here hoping for better. They hadn’t even had a chance.

How unjust a thing was that? How galling? They’d had no part in Gold Morning. They’d had no part in the waits or the delays, the plodding efforts to move people through when people were getting more sick or more desperate every day. By whim and the movements of greater players, they had lost their lives.

He dropped the gun. It wasn’t needed, and it wasn’t him. He wasn’t the kind of person who could give medical care.

He made his way down the hill and toward the station, where the road emerged from the portal and concrete walls with a few towers for vantage points helped to secure the area. The people within guided people coming through to other locations. The lights of Dragon’s craft illuminated much of the area.

People were in a daze, as they tentatively emerged from the shelter of the tents and the surrounding crates. They stared around them at the bodies. The trucks had taken enough gunfire that tires had popped and small things like door handles and side-view mirrors had broken away.

“If you’re able-bodied, try to find the wounded among the dead,” he called out. “We need clean water, get it boiling so it’s sterile, for the wounded. Jim, use the coffee machine with no coffee grinds—it handles large quantities.”

Jim got moving.

“Kath—blankets, we have rescue blankets in one of the totes. Recruit help, see if you can find them. They might be under other crates. Lay the ones we aren’t using for people on the ground. Dominic, you—”

He stopped as he saw Heather.

He walked around her body, the words failing him.

So many eyes were watching him, looking to him for leadership. They saw him crack a little in the moment. He’d let them. He clenched his fist, like he was grasping something in front of him, then let it fall. He thought he might cry, but he stopped himself from going that far.

So many.

“What do I do?” Dominic asked. The poor fucking kid, he was only sixteen, and he was trying to hold it together and help.