They can hear the planes directly overhead as they dart into the darkness of the underground tunnel.

The first of the bombs hit as the group thunders down the stairs and into the crew quarters. The entire underground structure shakes and men and women are thrown into walls and over tables as they struggle to move away from the conflagration overhead. Kirsten’s knees buckle, but the arm around her waist keeps her from falling. It is all she can do just to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other. Soaked, freezing, numb and dizzy, survival is the only thing that matters.

The anger will return later, and when it does, Kirsten will give these people a little King-sized conflagration of her own.

Through the swaying bridge and into the crew’s quarters they run, resisting the instinctive urge to duck and cover as gigantic explosion after gigantic explosion shudders the underground complex. It’s like being inside of an earthquake.

Kirsten trips going up the first set of stairs. Her weak and numb legs simply do not have the feeling or the strength left to do the job. Instead of falling, however, she is borne up with the tide of bodies running for their lives.

Shooting out of the crew quarters, the group runs into the tunnel and its swaying, never-ending bridge.

Then falls the most titanic explosion yet, seemingly directly overhead. Trapped on the bridge, the group collapses to their knees, grabbing the struts for dear life as it sways alarmingly. A series of massive explosions follow like the finale of a fireworks show. With each concussion, the bridge swings more violently until it is almost sideways. Her half-frozen hands useless, Kirsten wraps both arms around the center strut, placing her face against the icy metal, and holds with all her will.

Ramirez, a young airman, shouts as he is toppled over the guardrail. Dakota and Andrews both manage to snag the young man before he plummets to what likely would be his death.

“Stop kicking!”

His fear sweat provides a greasy grip and Koda feels her hand slipping. The bridge rocks again and Andrews loses his grip on the young man, who screams loud and long.

“Goddamnit, Ramirez! Stop kicking!!!” With a grunt, Koda readjusts her grip and manages to keep hold of the panicking airman. “Andrews! Get back up here and give me some help!”

Stumbling to his feet, Andrews manages to shoot an arm out just as another bomb falls and rocks the bridge. “Fuck! I’m losing him! I’m losing him!”

“On three! Pull! One, two, three, NOW!”

With the last of their strength, Koda and Andrews yank Ramirez up and over the guardrails. The young man grunts as he lands on his back, driving the breath from his lungs. Bending over, Andrews grabs the man by the front of his jumpsuit and hauls him to his feet. “Now move! Move!!”

Kirsten feels hands on her arms, and she looks up into concerned blue eyes. Her implants are ringing so loudly that she can’t hear what the tall woman is trying to say to her. Even lip-reading is out of the question as the bridge continues to rock back and forth at an alarming rate. She feels her death grip on the strut loosened, and a second later, she’s pulled back to her feet and herded through the tunnel like a steer to market.

Finally outside the interminable tunnel, she sees, for the first time, the objects sharing this underground bunker with her. Long and sleek, they are earth’s total destruction in fragile metal shells.

Her eyes go wide with shock, and the anger, so much a part of her anymore, comes roaring back. She turns to the woman behind her, lips spread in a snarl. Though she can’t even hear the sound of her own voice, she’s sure it’s loud enough to be heard on the moon.

“A nuclear missile silo?!? You brought us into a nuclear missile silo with half the world’s bombs dropping on our heads?!?!?”

“Keep moving!” Koda orders, punctuating her shout with a shove to Kirsten’s back which starts her legs moving again.

Another set of steps rises up seemingly to the heavens and, once again, Kristen allows herself to surge along with the tide of humanity. Anything to escape the deathtrap she finds herself in. Even being in a factory full of androids hadn’t scared her this badly.

Up ahead, like a beacon of hope, an open door stands, letting in the meager light of a newly dawned day. Kirsten feels the strength surging into limbs made dead by the cold, and she pushes for the door and freedom.

Suddenly, the light is cut off as the door slams closed, plunging them into darkness once again. A hail goes down the line. “What’s happening?” “What’s going on?” “Hey! Who turned out the lights?”

“Firefight,” Johnson replies, leaning against the now closed door and breathing heavily. “There must be a hundred of ‘em out there!”

Dakota pushes her way to the front of the group. Andrews follows on her heels like a well trained puppy. A quick nod is exchanged before Koda grabs the handle and yanks back hard. The sound of gunfire being exchanged is almost inconsequential compared to what they’ve just been through—small, like the pop-pop-pop of a Daisy air rifle shooting at tin cans in a summer hay field.

Johnson wasn’t far off in her assessment. Dakota eyeballs at least one hundred armed androids firing at her handful of soldiers hunkered down behind a small cement abutment. There is a football-field sized span of distance between the bunker door and the beleaguered squad.

Andrews looks up at her, a question in his eyes. The weight of an unasked for command sits heavy on her shoulders once again—an unwelcome guest with no plans of leaving. Her quick mind sorts through and discards several possible scenarios. Suddenly, she smiles and Andrews’ eyes bug nearly out of his head. “Ma’am?”

“Listen.”

He does.

A slow smile spreads across his face as he hears a telltale whut-whut-whut-whut-whut-whut.

The smile morphs into an outright grin as a squadron of BlackHawk attack helicopters come over the rise like a swarm of black, terminally pissed-off wasps. Fire spits from their gunports and droids scatter like autumn leaves in the snow. Line after line of androids fall, blown to bits by the awesome firepower of the flying destroyers.

The small group trapped behind the abutment cheers as the BlackHawks destroy the final androids, and set down in a clear patch of snow. Their rotors still turn at a brisk clip as the pilots jump down and stride over to the group.

One in particular is very familiar, and as he spots Koda, he gives a big, boyish grin and changes his steps to head in her direction.

“Move out, everyone!” Dakota orders, then steps aside as grateful men and women push past her and into the fresh, open air of a new day.

“Didn’t think I’d let you have all the fun, did ya cuz,” Manny grins, wrapping Koda in a tight embrace.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes, Manny, I’ll give you that.” Pulling away, she notices her charge leaning heavily against the door. Wet and shivering, Kirsten looks the picture of misery itself and Koda immediately removes her jacket and walks back to her. “Here.” Easing the young woman away from the door, she slips the large coat around her shoulders and pulls it close around the neck. She notices Manny’s stunned look from the corner of her eye, and turns to face him directly. “She’s one of us.”

“Dayum. Good costume!”

Kirsten gives a short nod, too miserable to do anything else at the moment.

From several feet away, a commotion springs up, and before Koda can turn, a black and silver blur bolts past her and drives Kirsten back down into the snow.

“Shit!” Manny yells, reaching for his gun.

“Wait.” Dakota narrows her eyes, then relaxes as she recognizes the dog’s posture. The big dog is all squiggles as he greets his mistress with mighty kisses and soft whimpers. Grabbing him by his heavy ruff, she pulls him back and looks down into the young woman’s slobber covered face. A slight smirk curls her lip. “Friend of yours?”

“Asimov! M-my dog! Where did you find him?”

“Long story,” Koda replies, reaching down and helping the woman to her feet. “C’mon, let’s get you back to the base and into something warm and dry, alright?”

“Ellsworth?”

Dakota nods.

Kirsten’s smile is anything but pleasant. “Lead the way.”

2

After doing an amazing rendition of a mule refusing to follow the carrot, Kirsten manages to convince Manny to set the helicopter down just away from her dilapidated van. The area is swarming with droids drawn to the copter, but the closest is still a good distance away. Koda hops out after Kirsten and pins her cousin with a look. “Get ready to get this beast off the ground in a split second, got me? Even if you have to leave us behind.”

“Can’t promise that, cuz. You just be careful. I’ll be waiting.”

Shaking her head, Dakota trots off after her charge, gun at the ready.

Already at the van, Kirsten yanks the doors open and dives inside, blindly searching for what she needs. Her spare laptop is pulled out first, followed by her eyeglass case, which she slips into one of the myriad of roomy pockets of her borrowed jacket. Her burning, stinging eyes remind her that her contacts are still in place, and with a quick blink, she removes them and tosses them back into their saline bed. The earbud follows.

Before she can reach for the sack containing what’s left of her clothes, she hears a low voice through the ringing still in her ears.

“It’s time to move. Come on.”

Though the voice is perfectly calm, conversational almost, Kirsten can easily detect the subtle undercurrent of urgency, like the hint of oak in a fine white wine. She responds without thinking, backing out of the truck until she is once again standing in knee-deep snow.