Each man prepared silently for the increased street traffic—guts tightened, eyes widened, breathing accelerated, each man became less conscious of the other and more conscious of his own responsibilities.
SSG Turnbeck reported the usual short bursts of information from the lead vehicle, steady and concise. “Pedestrians, left and right. One hundred meters.
“Big bump.
“Motorcycle ahead. Right side.
“The bike’s just sitting. Man on it.
“Vehicle stopped. Left side.
“LNs crossing street.”
The further the Wolfhounds drove southwest the more the landscape looked as remote as the moon. An oatmeal-textured dust clung to the place like chaff in a feed mill. Anything green and alive had been banished.
After about 30 minutes of driving, they were within five minutes of the objective.
Soon the
