Leva Dorm exited the Pineville Medical Center, totally lost in her own thoughts.  She passed through the glass doors flanked by two armed guards and walked into the open air.  Midnight had arrived and a hush had fallen over the town.  There was still noise coming from the shanty towns of improvised shelters and the neighborhoods of hastily-thrown together homes, but it was a background din, like so many wild cicadas chirping in the night’s heat. 

            Leva looked back at the guards over her shoulder.  The pair held their machines over their shoulders, noting Leva but saying nothing.  Leva felt a pang of fear, worried about those guns they held.  It dawned on her that she’d walked right by them, right in perfect range of guns that could kill her before she even knew it.  She could have walked into a trap. 

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            Elsa Lorrens arrived at the medical center and jumped out of her jeep before realizing she hadn’t turned off the engine.  She spun around and leapt over the door to de-crank the engine, then rocketed for the doors before she realized she’d left the keys in the ignition.  She elected to not turn a second time. 

            She ran for the doors, only for the two Army officers to step forward.  Both armed, the nearer of the two said, “I’m sorry, you can’t go in.” 

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            Colonel Garrett arrived and, taking one look down the dark hallway, spotted Leva immediately.  He exhaled as he removed his hat.  “Good evening, folks.  How are you doing?” 

            “What happened?” asked Jordan as Anna continued to breathe in the oxygen as Dr Oya held the mask to her face. 

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            Dr Oya put the transparent, plastic mask over Anna’s nose and mouth.  The little girl’s huge, watery eyes stared at the woman.  The doctor smiled kindly and nodded, emulating taking a deep breath.  Anna did, then coughed abruptly. 

            “There we go,” Dr Oya said, rubbing Anna’s back as she let the girl lean forward as she hacked up a lung.  “That’s smoke inhalation,” she told the little girl.  “That’s more dangerous than the fire.” 

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            The door of the duplex opened and Simon Reyes entered.  He found Lieutenant Ashemore sitting on the floor, his right hand on his knee.  The Navy SEAL looked at the youngest member of his team and asked, “Report.” 

            “Emergency services are responding, sir,” said Simon.  “There’s a fire truck.”  He shrugged.  “Not much else to say.” 

            Ashemore asked, “Did we get her?” 

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