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aid kits at the same time, unzipping the waterproof bags in chorus, pulling the long strips of plastic-wrapped material with QuikClot Combat Gauze written in bold red letters.

Cassie was first to get hers open and I dropped mine as McCole shouted.

“Just one.”

I turned and took a hold of his pale wrist, blood running down the stump of his little finger.

Cassie didn't pause, didn't squirm or turn her nose up at her task. Instead, she scanned the instructions, pushing the gauze down hard and wrapping as his hand went limp; his eyes closing as he passed out.

Blood reddened the gauze as she wrapped but slowed as each layer added. Sticking the end down, she stood, raising the drooping arm as high as she could.

I uncurled the fingers of his left hand from the pistol and rested it on the floor beside him as I drew a deep breath, trying to ignore the coppery taste in my mouth. I turned around in all directions, breath slowing with every angle when I saw we were still alone.

I repacked Cassie's bags, knowing we would have to move at any moment; would have to decide about McCole if any of the scenarios running through my head played out.

Still turning, I watched the hedge-lines, pausing each moment I caught the wind in a tree. I cleaned my face with an antiseptic cloth, disgusted by the red colour returned with each wipe.

Using as little water as I could, I rinsed out my mouth and took a great gulp, forcing myself to stop before it had all gone.

Cassie took the water as I offered and we shared half a Mars Bar which tasted like it was made of pure energy. The glow of sugar rushing through my body came quick and I took my turn to hold McCole's hand high.

“What now?” Cassie asked, as she scanned the horizon, her face full of dread. We both knew these quiet moments were so far apart, but when they happened they always meant something worse would come when we least expected it.

“Nothing's changed,” McCole said, sucking air through his teeth as he pulled his hand from mine. “We get the boy back to the FOB. The hospital,” he corrected himself, remembering his audience.

I nodded and turned to Cassie, shouldering the pack as she did the same.

“But how?” Cassie replied before I had a chance.

“We get the Land Rover back,” he replied, picking up the rifle as he struggled to his feet.

I followed his look towards the road and a column of white smoke rising.

Together we watched as a great explosion tore outward through the hedge, forcing us back as a great plume of black smoke billowed to the air.

72

“There goes the PE-4,” McCole said, stepping around his blood soaking into the grass.

Walking toward the new gap in the hedge, I turned to Cassie as we caught up, my confusion visible as McCole replied without my need to ask.

“Explosives,” he said, taking a hard swallow. The colour from his skin all but drained, despite the tan. “Prepare for anything.”

I raised my brow in Cassie's direction.

McCole winced as he shuffled his shoulders, trying to re-balance his pack.

“Are you sure you don't want painkillers?” Cassie asked.

“You don't want me on morphine. I need to stay alert,” he replied, letting his shoulders relax.

“Have you really not seen those things before?” I said, knowing from his reaction back when it all kicked off, but a sprig of hope lingered it was just from the shock.

He shook his head, dashing hope for the second time.

“No,” he replied. “What the hell are they?”

“I don't know,” I said, looking around. “But they're mean motherfuckers,” I added, and a shiver ran along my spine. “Third time now. We’ve always come off worse. They're so much faster. The others are like sheep, gathering in herds, wandering about, only bothering people when they're seen. They're easy to get away from as long as you're not surprised, but those other things, they were still human once but react so much differently. They're like wild animals. Predators.”

“Top of the food chain,” McCole replied.

I nodded.

“Like two different strains,” Cassie added, not taking her gaze from the horizon.

McCole turned away, shaking his head.

“What have you been told?” I asked.

“Me?” he replied, looking back, closing his eyes for longer than a blink. “I'm a soldier, not a boffin. We know as much as you've guessed already. We should have built the fences so much taller,” he said, shaking his head.

I raised my eyebrows and turned to Cassie, still looking along the hedge line.

“You must have been told more,” I replied. “Why is the army really here?”

McCole turned my way.

“Take this,” he said, offering out the rifle.

I paused, looking him in the eye. We both knew he had more to say, but it was clear he wouldn't be telling me any time soon.

I took the long gun and I laid the pistol in his open palm before he handed it to Cassie.

“Aim and pull the trigger all the way. Don't point at anything you don't want to be dead,” he said, turning back to check I was listening too.

As we walked, he continued with instructions, handing over two new magazines for the rifle. Watching as I followed his words, he released the old magazine and pushed thirty new rounds in its place.

“Same thing,” he finished. “This isn't an action movie. Don't fire from the hip unless it's your last resort.”

I nodded, feeling the grave weight of the rifle in my hands. Pushing the stock into my shoulder, with my right eye through the sight, I took in the magnified view as I let the gun travel across the horizon.

“All clear,” I said.

“Don't believe it,” he replied.

Soon we were within touching

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