Page 119 of Deadly Strain

“Any evidence of more traps?”

“No.”

“We weren’t meant to survive,” Grace said softly. “I’m not sure how we did.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Smoke rolled more rocksoff Sharp while Grace checked March’s arms, legs, and torso for any other injuries. He had a couple of bumps and cuts on his head. One had bled quite a bit, and while he wasn’t really as responsive as she’d like, he was coming around.

“Doc?” he said, his voice as wobbly and frail as that of an old, old man.

“Hi there, big guy, how are you feeling?”

“Headache,” he said, confused. “Hurt, everywhere.”

“That’s ’cause you got hit by rocks, everywhere.”

“Rocks?”

“What country are we in, March?”

“Um, the United States.”

“How old are you?”

“Eighteen. Did I get drunk and drive?” He sounded worried. “I wouldn’t do that.” He tried to get up.

“No, no. Lie down, you didn’t drink and drive. We’re in a cave and there was a cave-in.” He was also twenty-six years old, not eighteen. She’d have to watch him close to make sure he didn’t develop a bruise on the inside of his skull to match the ones on the outside of it. It didn’t take much brain swelling to kill a person.

“Oh.” He lapsed into silence. “Where are we?”

“Afghanistan. Do you remember Sharp and Smoke?”

“Yeah, they’re on my team.”

“Hey, buddy,” Sharp said, raising his voice. “Smoke and I are over here.”

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