The shrieking dual-tone wail of the klaxons shook Alex’s skull the moment she leapt from the camper trailer into the snow. A brilliant flash beyond the hospital threw the building into ghostly contrast against the haze. A concussive blast followed, sweeping through the outpost and beating at the tents and vehicles. Another explosion followed, then two, and then more-and-more until they united into a continuous eruption of the world tearing itself apart. Some of the detonations were far-off while others seemed only a few hundred meters away. With each explosion, the ground trembled and quaked. Alex started toward the team’s tent but Nicole grabbed her shoulder.

“The hell you think you’re going?” Nicole shouted over the alarms.

“My team—”

“No way. I’m getting you the hell out of here.”

“I’m not going without my team!”

Nicole pulled hard on Alex’s shoulder, forcing her to turn back toward the trailer. “They don’t matter. You do. The Committee wants you safe back at Peterson. I’m making sure you get there in one piece.”

“What?”

“Harrison’s orders. You think I was sleeping on your floor just because I like your company?”

Shepherd emerged in full combat gear from the team’s tent. A fresh bandage covered the side of his face. Alex glanced over to see the door of Shepherd’s trailer wide-open and flapping in the wind. He jogged over to them, looking surprised to see Nicole. Before Shepherd could say anything, Nicole yelled, “I’m taking her somewhere safe. Get your team to one of the bunkers!”

“I’m not going anywhere without them!” Alex said.

“My team is ready to move,” Shepherd said.

As if on cue, the men barged out through the flaps on both ends of the tent. Murray jogged toward them. Stubble stood out along his jawline and chin. Alex was glad she had been awake prior to the explosions; most of the men were still blinking sleep from their eyes. “We’re all up,” Murray said to Shepherd.

Shepherd looked at Nicole, who shrugged. “Fine. I’m assuming control of your unit. We’re going to the command area.”

A shrill scream passed overhead. Then a shipping container a hundred meters away split in half. The fire blew away the darkness as the shockwave slammed into the two trailers and collapsed the surrounding tents. Fragments of blackened steel tore through the lot, ripping through burlap and aluminum and burying into the packed snow. The wind brought smoke from the burning container.

“Let’s get out of here!” Murray said.

“What’s going on?” Alex said. “Is it the NEA?”

“Must be,” Nicole said with unnerving calm. “The last update has us out of range of their indirect fires. I’ll bet they’re skirting Kansas City and using the storm as cover. The damn analysts said they weren’t going to attack. So much for that.”

“We need to move,” Shepherd urged.

“I already told you, Captain,” Nicole said. “We’re going to the TOC. Make it happen.”

As the ground trembled from another explosion, Shepherd turned and began shouting commands. Alex reached to her helmet and flicked on her headset. Immediately, Shepherd’s voice blasted into her ear. “We’re going west to the command area! Keep team integrity! I want wide spacing!”

“Alpha, move!” Wilson pointed to the west, and the members of his fire team started off at a run.

“Let’s haul ass!” Murray said.

“Alex! Come on!” Shepherd gestured for her to follow as he took his place between the two fire teams. She ran and took up pace next to him.

The team’s cantonment disappeared as they rushed through the valley of tents and trailers. Alex focused on following the boot prints of the men in front of her while avoiding the intermittent patches of slick ice. When they emerged at the edge of the lot, she saw the full extent of the attack. Soldiers and vehicles fled in all directions around the Topeka Medical Center as artillery rounds hammered the outpost. Flames and smoke were everywhere. Somehow, the hospital remained untouched as if the NEA were targeting the adjacent lots and ignoring the medical center itself. But the NEA shouldn’t be capable of precision like that. They’re just a bunch of… The thought died as she recalled Kansas City. Before the battle, everyone in the Directorate had thought of the New England Alliance as a ragtag band of militiamen and conscripts. But she had witnessed the NEA deploy main battle tanks, indirect fires, and infantry equipped with the same weapons and technology as the Directorate.

The wail from the klaxons intensified closer to the hospital. The shrill noise seemed counter-intuitive, blocking out the howl of the incoming rounds. She tried not to think about how one of them could land dead center on the team. But I stopped those artillery shells in Kansas City. Could I do that again?

She remembered the chaos, the burning air, and the anger she had felt upon seeing the shrapnel wound on Shepherd’s cheek. The memories were all a blur of light and fire and noise. She had no idea how she had managed to pick the incoming rounds out against the night sky and then detonate them with a sweep of her hand. And even if she could figure how to do it a second time, she was hesitant to use her abilities. What if she lost control again in the middle of a Directorate outpost?

“Phantom Main,” Shepherd spoke into his microphone, “this is Echo 1-6. Do you copy, over?”

Even with the freezing wind against her face, Alex was sweating beneath her ballistic vest. She was short of breath as well, and the stitch in her side sent hot needles into her ribs. Next to her, Shepherd looked comfortable with the quick pace, and he was carrying over twice her load in ammunition and equipment. At the front of the formation, Nicole seemed to be holding herself back from sprinting off without the team. Occasionally, she would glance over her shoulder at Alex, then at Shepherd with an exasperated expression. She obviously viewed the team as a burden.

“Phantom Main,” Shepherd repeated. “Do you copy, over?”

There was no reply.

They crossed a street and entered the perimeter of the headquarters area. She looked for the command trailer, but darkness, smoke, and burning tents and vehicles hid it from view. Sergeant Ziegler halted at the front of Alpha. He held up his right hand and knelt. Immediately, the rest of the team came to a stop.

“Gunfire,” Ziegler reported.

There had been a blast, but Alex had thought it was another artillery impact, not a gunshot. It took her a moment to realize Nicole was no longer at the front of the formation. She looked around. Her friend was gone.

“Distance and direction?” Shepherd said.

“Not far,” Ziegler said. “Straight twelve o’clock.”

“Some idiot probably had a negligent discharge,” Murray muttered.

Alex touched Shepherd on the shoulder. “Where’s Nicole?”

“What?”

“She’s gone.”

Shepherd cursed and shook his head. “Keep going to the TOC. Keep it slow. We’ll find out what happened and—”

Gunshots sounded through the wind and alarms and explosions. Shepherd switched off his weapon’s safety. Wilson glanced back. Shepherd nodded and waved forward. One-by-one, the three members of Alpha disappeared around the corner of a shipping container to the right. Alex and Shepherd followed while Bravo crept behind.

She heard shouting as the team maneuvered down a narrow corridor of snow-covered burlap tents. The area looked familiar. Ahead, through the opening in the tent line, she saw a clearing with a burning tent and a shattered shipping container. Three silhouettes rushed past her field of view, casting long shadows down the team’s path. At the corner of the last tent on the right before the clearing, Ziegler knelt and shouldered his weapon. Wilson stopped at the corner of the tent on the left and gestured back at Shepherd. Then she realized where they were: the edge of the command area.

Shepherd hurried forward. Alex followed several paces behind. The shouting was now much more distinct – voices calling out in an undisciplined roar. Her view of the clearing widened as she approached Wilson’s position.

The towering radar mast had collapsed into a skeleton of bent and twisted metal. Suspension cables and support bars lay tangled amongst warped and burning tents. A shipping container on the opposite side of the clearing belched smoke. The command trailer was a black husk ripped in half. The front was shredded and burning, and the rear appeared to have exploded into the air, landing on its side several meters away. A dark crater separated the two broken sections. Severed limbs and ruined bodies stood out amongst the wreckage. A man missing his lower torso lay sprawled face down on the ground just a few feet ahead of the team’s position. A pool of blood, starkly contrasted by the snow, expanded outward from the gore and entrails where his legs should have been.

“Get back!” It was Nicole.

Alex spotted Nicole kneeling in the snow close to the trailer’s remains. Next to her, a man in a Directorate uniform lay with one of his hands pressed to his forehead. Nicole was aiming her handgun at a group of a dozen people gathered along the edge of the command area. Some of them carried broken pieces of wood sharpened into stakes while others hefted metal pipes, chains, and bricks. One man held a Directorate assault rifle while another fiddled with a handgun. Alex squinted and saw three soldiers slumped in the snow at the feet of the crowd. A shard of metal protruded out the closest man’s neck while a stake jutted from another’s back. Bullets had torn apart the last soldier’s chest. The crater-like wounds poured blood into the snow.

“Put it down, kid!” the man with the rifle yelled at Nicole.

“Screw yourself!” Nicole shouted back.

“Wilson, a bead on the one with the rifle,” Shepherd said. “Ziegler, you’re on the one with the pistol.”

Wilson shifted his aim. “Got it.”

Shepherd gestured at Jarden, who had traded his carbine for O’Brian’s machinegun. Jarden crept forward next to Shepherd and planted the gun’s bipod in the snow.

“Don’t fire unless they rush us,” Shepherd said to Jarden. He looked at Wilson and Murray and then spoke softly into his microphone, “Pops, if we have to initiate, take Bravo forward and form a wall between here and the front of that trailer.”

“Wait.” Alex recognized the men and women as the workers from the camp. They wore the same ragged clothes, mostly jeans or cargo pants, long-sleeved shirts, and winter jackets. Had an artillery round or a fallen guard tower torn a hole in the fences? Even if that had happened, it seemed absurd that the workers had tried to flee, had perhaps even killed the guards to arm themselves, and were now pointing their weapons at the deadliest person in the Directorate.

Are they lost? If they’re trying to escape, they’re not even going the right direction. And why didn’t they just stay put? Even if they’re prisoners, our camp has to be better than anything outside of Topeka.

“We don’t have to shoot anyone,” Alex said. Traces of worry lingered in her mind, warning her against using her abilities. But even if the workers were criminals, she didn’t want any more bloodshed. “I can just disarm them.”

Shepherd nodded. “I’m counting on it. Can you get both of those weapons away?”

Before Alex could answer, one of the workers shouted at Nicole, “Just drop it and get out of our way! We’re only looking for a way out!”

“I’ll give you bastards a way out!”

A flash erupted from Nicole’s handgun. The right eye of the man closest to her became a black hole. A pink mist and shards of bone and brain matter exploded out the back of his head. At the same moment, the handgun flew from the other worker’s hands. The firearm spun around in the air and then discharged in his face. His lower jaw disintegrated, and he let out a wet, gurgling cry as he collapsed to the ground and tried to stifle the flow of blood.

Alex immediately focused on the man with the rifle. But before Alex could act, Nicole fired three rounds in quick succession. Two puffs of blood sprayed from the belly of a young woman holding a rusty pipe. The third bullet tore through her left eye socket and exited just behind her right ear. She was dead before her body hit the ice.

The worker with the rifle opened fire. The recoil nearly shook the weapon out of his hands as the bullets sprayed across the clearing. Nicole pivoted to aim at the man. Wilson fired a short burst. The rounds caught the man in the side of the face. His head snapped to the side, and the momentum shoved his body to the ground.

“No one move!” Shepherd said.

A man sprinted toward the fallen rifle. Alex flinched and almost fell backward as Jarden fired the machinegun. The roar wiped out all sound except for the ringing in her already battered eardrums. Overlapping clouds of red stitched the man’s chest. He stumbled for a few feet before Wilson fired, catching him in the arm and spinning him to the ground. At the far edge of the clearing, two workers, a man and a woman, caught the remaining bullets from Jarden’s barrage. The woman’s left kneecap shattered from the first hit and her stomach exploded with the second. The man took the last bullet in his thigh and fell screaming.

“Hold fire!” Shepherd said.

Only one worker remained standing. He dropped his metal shiv and stared at the carnage. A wet stain ran from his crotch down the left leg of his jeans.

In addition to the bodies of the three guards, there were now seven workers slumped on the ground. The man shot in the thigh held his leg and groaned. The woman next to him lay either dead or unconscious; the bullet had torn open her belly. The man with the obliterated lower jaw was no longer moving although blood poured from his wound. The snow had turned from white to red.

Nicole fired again. The remaining worker looked down at a bloody hole in his chest. He looked appeared and confused. He began to move forward, but a second shot hit him between the eyes. He fell to his knees, and his upper body slumped forward as if bowing down. Alex stared at Nicole in disbelief.

“God damn!” Nicole shouted as she dropped the magazine from her handgun and reloaded in one smooth motion. “About time all of you caught up!”

Nicole holstered the weapon and helped the uniformed man next to her up off the ground. It was General Harrison. Blood leaking from a gash on his forehead obscured his features. He wobbled and almost fell, but Nicole caught him. She put his arm around her shoulder. “How ‘bout some help here?”

Shepherd stared at Nicole. There was something in his eyes. Alex had seen it before at Peterson in the moment before he had struck Agent Ellzey. Then the look was gone, and Shepherd spoke into his microphone in a low, controlled voice, “Pops.”

“Got it.” Murray’s voice was dry.

Nicole dumped Harrison in Murray’s arms. Harrison tried to wave Murray off, but Murray maintained a firm grip and began to examine the wound on his forehead. Nicole started toward Alex but then paused and looked at the man with the bullet wound to the thigh. “You see?” Nicole said. “I warned you! You should have stayed in your barracks where you belong! This is what happens when you screw around with us!”

The man stared at Nicole with wide, frightened eyes. Alex watched the handgun holstered at Nicole’s side. She had no idea what she would do if her friend drew the weapon to kill the wounded worker. After a moment, Nicole shook her head and continued toward Alex.

“Holy shit.” Nicole sounded excited and out of breath. She held out one of her hands. It was trembling. “You see that, Bedford? Now that was an adrenaline rush. I thought I was only going to get two or three of them, but then your whole team finally pulled their heads out of the sand. You really kicked some ass!”

“What were you thinking?” Shepherd said as he put himself face-to-face with Nicole.

“What are you so worked up about? I was just—”

“You could have gotten yourself and General Harrison killed. There was no reason for that firefight. You could have disarmed every single one of them without firing a shot.”

“Well, that wouldn’t have been very fun.”

Shepherd clenched his hand into a fist. Alex touched Nicole’s shoulder and said softly, “He’s right. You didn’t have to shoot anyone.”

“Don’t be a damn pacifist. They killed three of our people. Maybe more. There might be a whole trail of bodies leading back to wherever these bastards escaped from. They’re criminals. Rapists, murderers, whatever. They can all go to hell.” Nicole beamed Shepherd a wide smile. “You should be happy. I’ll bet Harrison gives you a medal for saving his ass.”

“You shot an unarmed civilian,” Shepherd said.

Nicole’s smile disappeared. “Look, Captain. Don’t forget who I am. I can do whatever I want. You’re certainly not someone who should be lecturing me about killing civilians.”

Shepherd was silent. Alex looked at Nicole and said, “What?”

“You haven’t told her about Dodge, have you?” Nicole said to Shepherd. “Why don’t I? I’m sure she’ll love to hear all about how you—”

“Enough!” All of them turned to see Harrison approaching. He looked as if he might lose his balance. Murray followed closely behind him. Harrison had wiped most of the blood from his eyes, but his face remained red. He held a hand out to Shepherd. “Give me your radio.”

Shepherd withdrew his radio and handed it over. Harrison toggled the device’s channel and then hit the transmit button. “This— This is Phantom 6 to all Directorate units at Topeka. I am ordering the complete evacuation of this outpost. All units will proceed… I want everyone back to Colorado Springs. Retrograde west along I-70. Further orders to follow. Phantom 6, out.” Harrison switched the radio off and nearly dropped it as he handed it back to Shepherd.

“How close is the NEA?” Shepherd said.

“Four miles. Less. Two of our patrols made contact before that barrage. I want your team out. All of you. Strykers— There’s some vehicles outside the western ECP. Take one of them. Link up with General Park. I’ll send an Osprey to pick you up and take you the rest of the way to Peterson.”

“Why don’t we stay?” Nicole said. “Bedford and I can kick their asses.”

Harrison shook his head. “Kansas City is gone. There’s no reason for us to maintain this outpost. General Park can deal with the NEA. We’d hold for an hour at most. There’s no point.”

“Whatever,” Nicole said.

“You and I need to get moving.” Harrison looked around the command area and then up at the sky. “That Black Hawk should be here in a few minutes.” He paused for a moment and then began walking away, almost crashing into Murray as he went.

“Well, guess I’m not babysitting you anymore,” Nicole said to Alex before setting off after Harrison. “I’ll catch you back home. Don’t get lost!”

Alex watched Nicole and Harrison disappear beyond the command lot’s perimeter. Beside her, Shepherd stared at the bodies of the workers. Jarden and O’Brian had moved up to surround the man wounded in the thigh. The rest of the team had formed a perimeter in the middle of the clearing. Jarden held his machinegun by the carrying handle while O’Brian aimed his assault rifle at the worker. Alex walked over to them.

“What are you doing?” she said.

Both men looked at her. O’Brian said, “Pulling security.”

“Do you have a bandage?”

O’Brian removed a packaged trauma bandage from a pouch on his vest. Alex held out her hands, and O’Brian tossed it over. She caught the bandage, ripped it open, and then knelt beside the worker. The snow beneath his leg was a deep red. He held his hand against the bullet hole to apply pressure but his face was a ghostly white and he seemed on the verge of passing out.

“W-Who the h-h-hell are you?” the man said, shivering despite his heavy jacket.

“Did the bullet go all the way through?”

The man only looked at her with a frightened expression.

She held up the bandage. “Here. Let me help.”

The man continued to stare, but she sensed his focus lay more on her uniform and the Directorate’s patch on her shoulder than anything else. “W-What are— Y-You…? What are you d-d-doing?”

“My name is Alex. I’m going to help you.”

“Y-You shot me. I w-wasn’t even— I was j-just s-standing there. It wasn’t me.”

“I know. I’m sorry. Just let me help you. What’s your name?”

“Fischer. Jake.”

“Keep applying pressure. I have to see if there’s an exit wound.”

She set the bandage aside and then ran her fingers beneath Fischer’s thigh. She felt a semicircular tear in his jeans and then a wet, fleshy opening in his leg. She withdrew her hands. Her wool gloves were soaked in blood.

She looked up at Jarden and O’Brian. “I need a piece of cloth.”

“How about a sock?” O’Brian said.

“That’s fine. Anything.”

O’Brian set down his assault pack and rummaged through the compartments. A moment later, he withdrew a long green sock. He smelled it and then shrugged. “I think it’s clean.”

Alex took the sock and folded it. She maneuvered the sock beneath Fischer’s thigh against the exit wound and then grabbed the trauma bandage. She nodded to Fischer, and he slowly took his hands away from the wound. The entry hole was an ugly, blood-filled puncture that began to overflow immediately. Alex felt lightheaded, but she took a long, deep breath. It’s all right. You can do this. Remember what they taught you during training. Put the bandage on the wound, wrap it, secure it, apply pressure. That’s all you need to do.

She placed the dressing on the entry wound and wrapped the elastic gauze around the leg, fixing the folded sock in place. Fischer groaned as Alex tightened the bandage down through the pressure bar. She continued to wrap the leg until there were only a few inches of gauze left. She hooked the gauze into place and then gestured for Fischer to go back to pressing on the wound.

“How’s that?”

“Hurts,” Fischer grunted.

“I’m sorry. It’s the best I can do right now.”

“I’ll live,” Fischer said through gritted teeth before offering an unsteady laugh. “M-Maybe.” He continued to shiver.

“Why were you in that camp?”

“W-What do you mean?”

“What did you do to get put in there?”

“Nothing,” Fischer said, appearing confused. “I d-didn’t do anything. None of us did. They just p-pulled us out of our towns and brought us here.”

“We need to get moving,” Shepherd said. Alex looked up to see him watching. For a moment, she caught what appeared to be an expression of pride.

“What about him?” Alex said.

Shepherd squatted down and examined Fischer. “Can you walk?”

Fischer shook his head.

“Good. Stay here. But if you cause any more trouble, well…” Shepherd patted his rifle.

“What about those explosions?” Fischer said. “What’s going on?”

“The NEA,” Shepherd said. “I’d try to hide if I were you. Crawl into one of those tents.”

“I’d rather be with the NEA than here.”

“Your choice.” Shepherd stood and gestured to Wilson and Murray. “Let’s get moving! Grab those weapons and take them with us.”

O’Brian picked up the assault rifle and handgun from the snow. The rest of the team assembled in the middle of the clearing.

“You’ll be okay,” Alex said to Fischer. She was skeptical of his explanation for being in the camp. Everyone in prison is innocent, she thought ironically. But even if he was lying, she still felt responsible for his injury, for the gunfire that had turned the command area into a slaughterhouse. “Just try to stay warm.”

As the team departed the ruins, Alex saw Fischer beginning to crawl toward one of the tents on the perimeter. Then he was gone. The team followed the same path as Harrison and Nicole. They passed beyond the inner cantonment fences through one of the gates, open and unmanned. Beyond, the outpost’s layout appeared mostly the same, although there were old brick buildings here and there serving as the center points for many of the tents, trailers, and shipping containers. Alex heard a commotion of voices and engines from somewhere ahead. Then the team rushed out into a clearing along the outpost’s main perimeter. Dozens of Humvees, trucks, and APCs crawled through a narrow entry and exit point into the residential neighborhood beyond. Groups of soldiers were tearing down sections of the outpost’s outer wall, a combination of stacked concrete barriers and sand-filled collapsible wire mesh containers, to create additional exits. The security towers along the wall stood deserted, leaving mounted machineguns, grenade launchers, and spotlights pointed uselessly up into the sky.

We’re running, Alex thought. The NEA is coming and we’re not even trying to stop them.

“Phantom 6, this is Echo 1-6,” Shepherd said. “Do you copy? Over.”

From somewhere above the outpost, Alex heard the thrum of a helicopter’s turbines. She tried to locate the aircraft but the dark haze of snow hid it from view. She scanned the perimeter and noticed a circular formation of red flares sparkling just over a hundred meters away. Two figures stood nearby beside an empty Humvee alongside the wall. Nicole and Harrison.

Harrison put his hand to his ear. A bloody bandage concealed the wound to his forehead. “Echo 1-6, are you on location?” Harrison’s voice broadcast over her headset.

“Affirmative,” Shepherd said. “We’re at the western ECP. Requesting guidance.”

Harrison’s voice came back, “You have a Stryker waiting outside the walls. ID is 3 India 2-1. Get to I-70 and move west to link up with General Park’s forward line. I’ll arrange for an Osprey to meet you there.”

“Understood. Echo 1-6, out.”

A whirlwind blast of ice and snow swept through the clearing as a Black Hawk passed overhead. The helicopter emerged like a specter from the haze. Slowly, the aircraft descended toward the flares. Alex flinched as wind slammed the helicopter’s side and buffeted it dangerously close to one of the guard towers. By some miracle, the pilot regained control and set the Black Hawk down with a rough jolt. Harrison and Nicole disappeared into the screen of snow kicked up by the landing. Then a third figure walked out from the shadows behind the Humvee. He wore black fatigues with a black ballistic vest and helmet. A carbine hung across his chest, and dark goggles concealed his eyes. She had seen that uniform in Kansas City and again on the Reagan.

“That’s…” Her voice trailed off. Shepherd was also watching the figure.

Is that Ellzey? What is he doing here? And what is he doing getting on the same helicopter as Nicole and General Harrison?

Shepherd turned toward the packed gate and glanced into the heads-up display in his goggles. “Let’s go. I’ve got our vehicle on the tracker.”

Harrison’s Black Hawk lifted away from the circle of flares. The rotor wash sent pulses of freezing air and an expanding white cloud across the clearing. Alex shielded her face from the wind and swirling ice. Then the helicopter’s silhouette sped out over the walls and disappeared into the snowstorm, leaving only a fading thrum in its wake. When the going gets tough, Harrison gets going.

The team bunched into a tight formation and jogged toward the packed gate. Nearby, a Directorate main battle tank smashed out through the wall. A flood of personnel and three Humvees in line for the gate altered their course for the new exit. And over the engines and the howling wind, the unsettling, firework-like concussions of explosions and gunfire sounded from the east.