Alex and Shepherd arrived at the team’s encampment soon after leaving the command trailer. The camp lay in another parking lot near the hospital. Neatly aligned grids of tents stood alongside camouflaged RV camper and lanes of packed snow cut by tire ruts.

They kept quiet during the walk. Alex had asked if everyone was all right. Shepherd replied that the team was fine with only minor scratches and bruises. Yet the unspoken hung in the air between them like a wall: the men who were not all right, who were back in Kansas City buried under the ruins. Park, the young man who had cried and embraced her in New York City. He had bled out in front of her while she held onto his hand, and she had been unable to help him for all of her training and abilities. Fletcher and Williams were gone, too. She hadn’t known them as well as Park, but they had been part of the team, part of the family – like brothers. And there were thousands of others, men and women wiped out by an invisible force without even the chance to fight for their lives.

Shepherd stopped in front of a burlap tent beside a parked Humvee and a stack of MREs. He unzipped the flap and held it open. They went inside.

Alex felt the heat immediately. A cylindrical gas heater occupied the center of the tent. The mesh cage surrounding the device was red hot. Sleeping bags lay spread out on rows of cots along the walls. The propane lantern hanging from the crossbeam offered a dim glow that revealed the men, some sitting on their cots while others stood around the heater bundled in cold-weather jackets, black knit caps, and wool gloves. Alex counted eight of them including her and Shepherd. Sergeant First Class Norm Wilson’s Alpha team was reduced to Specialist Jarden and Sergeant Ziegler while Master Sergeant Robert Murray’s Bravo included Staff Sergeant Atkins – the quiet replacement who had joined them for Kansas City – and Specialist O’Brian.

“Alex!” Murray bellowed and then came over and embraced her, smothering her against his bear-like frame. When he stepped back, he gave her a wide smile. “It’s good to have you back.”

The other men stood from their cots or moved away from the heater to cluster around her. Shepherd went to Murray. “I’ll be at headquarters for a few hours. We’re leaving for Peterson at 0630. Does anyone need anything?”

“No, sir,” Murray said.

Shepherd looked at each of the men. They all looked back, silent. The mood felt restrained. Even Murray’s grin had fallen back into a somber expression. She had seen those same looks before, during the funeral at Peterson for Hensley and Neill, the men they had lost in New York. Shepherd turned and left the tent. Alex listened to the crunching of snow until the sound disappeared against the mild roar of the gas heater.

She tried to keep from fidgeting under the team’s gaze. When was the last time she had felt this nervous around the men? Not since the early days of her training when she had worried about what they would think of her, a young woman, inexperienced, and invading their close-knit family. Now she was part of the team, the family. Yet she was still somehow outside the group despite Murray’s reassuring hug; they were all wondering if she was the cause of the disaster at Kansas City.

“How are you doing?” Wilson said finally. “You look beat.”

Alex pictured herself, a walking skeleton wearing fatigues and body armor. She knew it was an exaggeration, but it was close to how she felt. “I’m all right.”

“Why don’t you drop all that stuff?” Murray gestured at the vest, her helmet, and the rest of the equipment. He stepped forward again and took her assault pack, setting it down on an empty cot. Alex undid her ballistic vest and put it on the floor with her helmet. She left her thigh holster and handgun attached to her leg.

“Looks like you could use a bite,” Sergeant Ziegler said and then walked to an open MRE box in the corner of the tent. “Gourmet courtesy of the Directorate.”

Alex cringed, but her stomach growled. Ziegler handed her an MRE. She took it and opened it.

“Have a seat,” Wilson offered.

Alex sat on one of the cots close to the heater. The warmth made her yawn and added weights to her eyelids. But sleep wasn’t an option – not yet, at least. The men wanted answers. She saw it in their eyes, the same look, the same worry and uncertainty she had seen on Shepherd’s face.

Murray and Wilson sat across from her while the rest of the men went to their own cots or stayed standing. She looked down to avoid their gazes while she opened the MRE. She took a few bites from one of the cold meals. Then she looked up at Murray and Wilson. “You can ask me if you want.”

Wilson straightened. The other men looked away. Murray was the only one who kept still, leaning slightly forward with his arms resting on his thighs. “Captain Shepherd asked us not to bother you about it.”

It. They all know what it is, but they won’t say it. Did you kill all those people, Alex? Did you wipe out Kansas City?

“I don’t know what happened,” she said, hoping but not entirely sure she was telling the truth. “We were on the overpass. I remember everything going red. I saw myself attacking the NEA. And then what I did to Captain Shepherd… I don’t remember anything after that. The Committee wanted to know what happened, too, but I just don’t remember.”

“You talked to the Executive Committee?” Atkins said in surprise.

Alex nodded.

The men gathered closer. “Face-to-face?” Jarden said.

“Yes.”

A surprised murmur came from the men. How many of the Directorate’s personnel had ever met a member of the Committee in person? She suspected she could count the number on one hand.

“Did you see Agent Ellzey?” Wilson said.

“He was there when I woke up.”

“If you ask me, everything was that asshole’s fault,” Ziegler said. “You were all right until Ellzey passed his knife to that kid. I mean, I don’t know if it was you that… but…” His voice trailed off helplessly.

“Did you guys see anything after I passed out?”

“It was like a goddam earthquake,” Murray said. “Half that overpass collapsed.”

“We all got knocked out,” Wilson added. “I was the first person up except for Ellzey. He was already walking around as if it was nothing. I don’t know about him, but most of us were out for maybe ten minutes. When I got up and looked around, everything was gone. There weren’t any buildings left. It was just like an earthquake, but worse.”

“What about… everyone else? The rest of our soldiers? And the NEA?”

“That place was dead,” Jarden said.

Wilson nodded. “No one else made it out. If there was anyone left alive when we took off, they were keeping their heads down.”

Alex set aside her MRE and tried to read the eyes of the men, searching for an accusing glare or any hint they blamed her for the death and destruction. If the men felt that way, they were not showing it.

“That’s the second time you’ve pulled our asses out of the fire,” Murray said, reading the troubled look on her face.

“More like the third or fourth,” O’Brian added.

The others nodded and echoed their agreement.

“We’d be in a prison camp right now if it wasn’t for you,” Wilson said grimly. “You got us out of there. I don’t know what happened to everyone else, but it’s because of you we’re heading home in a few hours instead of sitting in the back of an NEA cattle car going god knows where.”

“The Committee told me we’re being taken off the line for the rest of the war.”

“We’re combat ineffective,” Jarden said, looking around the tent. His gaze lingered on the empty cots.

O’Brian sighed. “This is the second time we’ve left our guys behind. They’re probably still out there.”

“We didn’t have a choice,” Wilson said.

“We just left their bodies in the middle of the street.”

“We shouldn’t even have been there,” Jarden said. “At that goddamn intersection. We should have been taking it slow. We didn’t follow SOP for crossing the road. Captain Shep—”

“Enough.” Murray’s deep voice was firm. The men went silent. He looked at each of them. “It was a shitty situation. None of us like that we left our people behind, but we had a mission to do. I will not hear any more second-guessing. Got it?” Murray stared at Jarden.

“Roger, Pops,” Jarden said.

“I miss them,” Alex said.

“We all do,” Wilson said.

“I keep wondering if there was anything I could have done to save them.”

“You did do something,” Wilson said. “Just like on that overpass – you got us out of there. You knocked down that building for cover.”

“Yeah, but it was too late for… for them.”

“There wasn’t any time,” Ziegler said. “If you had tried to do anything, you’d have gone down just like them.”

“And then none of us would have made it out,” Wilson said.

Alex looked down at the ground. Ziegler was right. The events played slow in her mind: Williams torn apart by tracers, Park spinning like a top to the ground, and Fletcher rushing out into the intersection to fire a missile at the attackers before a string of rounds stitched across his chest. Even though the scene seemed long and drawn out in her memory, it had all happened in the space of seconds. She had been too far back to do anything, just like in New York City where the team had suffered their first two casualties. There had been a gunshot and then Hensley was dead before hitting the ground. Neill died just as fast from a grenade thrown into the bus terminal that no one saw until it was too late.

She remembered something Shepherd had said after New York: But when someone gets hit, you have to let it go! If you don’t, it will eat at you until you’re no good to anyone.

But how good am I now? she thought. If it was me that wiped out Kansas City… and even if it wasn’t me, the Committee is still taking us out of the fight.

“Are you all right?” Wilson said.

Alex looked up and nodded slowly. “What time is it?”

“Almost midnight.”

“Time to hit the sack,” Murray said. “I want everyone up at 0500 and ready to go by 0530.”

The men began to disperse. “Which one is mine?” Alex said, looking at the cots.

Wilson chuckled, “You don’t have to stay here in coach with us. That camper outside has your name on it.”

“I don’t mind sleeping here. If all of you have to—”

“Don’t worry about us,” Wilson said. “Get some sleep in a real bed. You deserve it.”

Alex smiled. “Okay.”

They stood up. Alex slung her pack while Wilson picked up her ballistic vest and the rest of her equipment. After saying good night to the team, she and Wilson went outside. The snow continued to fall across the outpost, although it felt almost peaceful now that the wind had died down. Two Airstream camper trailers sat adjacent to the tent a few meters away. Alex guessed the second one was for Shepherd.

“You know,” Wilson said, “I meant what I said in there. You really did save our asses.”

“But what if I…” She couldn’t bring herself to speak the words – what if it was me that killed everyone? – despite the question echoing in her mind.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Alex said as she opened the camper’s door. Wilson set her equipment down inside and then turned to go but paused when Alex called out to him. “Sergeant Wilson? Can I ask you something?”

He shrugged. “Sure. Mind if I come in, though? Pops is going to be pissed if I come back with frostbite.”

Alex nodded and moved out of the way. They both went inside and let the door slam shut. Wilson looked around approvingly at the trailer. It was, she had to admit, a vast improvement from the tent.

“So, what’s up?” Wilson said.

She didn’t know where to begin. The question had evolved since her departure from the Reagan. Yet it was more a collection of feelings and images than a coherent thought. When she finally spoke, it came out as a statement, not a question: “We’ve… all of us have killed people.”

Wilson looked surprised. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“I never thought I’d have to kill anyone. Even when we left for New York, I figured if anything went wrong, I’d just be using my abilities to help out. Then there was that sniper and that guy with the RPG. They must have died when I knocked down those buildings. That didn’t really bother me.”

“It’s what you had to do to stay alive.”

“But in Kansas City… I don’t know if I killed our people like the Committee said. But I did kill all those NEA soldiers. What’s worse is I remember enjoying it. Part of me liked killing them. I didn’t want to stop until I… hurt Captain Shepherd. You don’t enjoy it, do you? It’s not something you’re supposed to enjoy, is it?”

Wilson shook his head slowly. “No. It’s not.” He paused as if considering something and then asked, “You know George Orwell? He wrote 1984, Animal Farm, few other things.”

“I read Animal Farm a long time ago.”

“I’m not sure if it was from his novels, but he said something like, ‘The only reason people can sleep peacefully in their beds is because rough men keep watch ready to do violence on their behalf.’”

“And we’re those rough men,” Alex said.

“Women, in your case,” Wilson said with a smile but then his face took on a serious look. “I know that doesn’t really answer what you’re asking, but here’s the thing… I’m sure almost anyone will tell you that you’re not supposed to enjoy killing whether on the battlefield or off, but when I think of some of the things the NEA has done and remember watching those videos they showed us right after conscription – the videos of the NEA beheading their political prisoners and throwing bodies of women and children into ditches – well, I… I certainly don’t not enjoy it. You know what I mean?”

“Sure,” she said uncertainly.

“Hope that helps a bit. Anything else you need?”

“No. Thanks, Sergeant Wilson.”

“Sure thing.”

Wilson left the trailer. Alex went to her bed and sat down although her gaze went to the small bathroom nearby. The shower stall beckoned her through the open door. As tired as she felt, she had the sudden desire to be clean, to wash away all of the sweat and dirt and grime that had accumulated since Kansas City. As she stood, she considered what Wilson had said. Rough men. We protect all the people here at Topeka, at Colorado Springs, at all our settlements. They can sleep peacefully because of us. But who helps us sleep? Who keeps away all those faces?

Alex shook her head and went to the shower. She was beginning to find, she realized, that more-and-more often, there were no answers to her questions.