Resistance: A Hole in the Sky

^{CHAPTER SIXTEEN} FRIEND, OR FOE?

Mr. Potter’s cane was already falling as Kawecki pulled the trigger. The wooden shaft hit the officer’s forearm with a thunderous boom and the Magnum went off.

Capelli felt the bullet nip the top of his right shoulder while the revolver clattered to the floor. He was surprised to be alive as the soldiers raised their weapons. But Susan’s Fareye was aimed at Kawecki by that time. “Hold your fire,” she said grimly, “or the captain dies.”

“That will be enough of that,” Potter said firmly, stepping into the space between the potential combatants. “All of you will lower your weapons and do so now.”

A long silence fell, during which Kawecki and Capelli glowered at each other. It ended when Kawecki said, “You heard the man. Lower your weapons.”

The soldiers obeyed, but with obvious reluctance.

“That goes for you, too,” Potter said, as he directed a look to Susan.

Susan brought the rifle’s barrel up and back so that it was pointed at the ceiling and rested on the front surface of her right shoulder. A position from which the weapon could be brought to bear very quickly.

“Good,” Potter said, as his eyes shifted from Capelli to Kawecki. “It appears that you two know each other.”

“You could say that,” Kawecki replied. “Capelli was a soldier once. And a reasonably good one. Back before he chose to kill our commanding officer.”

“Who had started to turn,” Susan stated flatly.

Kawecki looked at her and frowned. “Excuse me! But who the hell are you?”

“My name is Susan Farley. I’m Nathan Hale’s sister and Joseph Capelli’s wife.”

A look of astonishment appeared on Kawecki’s face. He opened his mouth but nothing came out.

“Which brings us to you,” Capelli put in. “Is that uniform for real?”

“The simple answer is yes,” Potter replied sternly. “The President of the United States sent Captain Kawecki and his men here. And we are citizens. So regardless of what took place in the past, you will find a way to get along with these soldiers or leave Haven. Is that clear?”

Capelli nodded. “Yes.”

“Good. That’s enough for tonight. Everyone is tired. We’ll come back together tomorrow.”

Susan took Capelli’s arm. “Come on,” she said gently. “We’re tired, and you’re bleeding.”

Capelli looked at his wife. He knew that when she said, “We’re tired,” she was referring to both herself and the baby. Somehow the past, present, and future had all come together in a single moment of time.

As the Capellis left, Kawecki bent over, retrieved his revolver, and returned the weapon to its holster. It was, he reflected, a very small world.

A strategy session was convened the following day. The entire city council was present, as were Kawecki, his soldiers, and leading members of the community. That included Mel Tilson, his strongest allies, and the Capellis.

Mayor Locke chaired the meeting. The first hour was spent listening to an off-the-cuff presentation by Kawecki, who brought the group up to date regarding the attack on Freedom Base One, the subsequent trek to Freedom Base Two, and the status of the Hale vaccine.

Capelli looked at Susan when Hale’s name was mentioned. She was clearly determined to keep it together, but he saw a tear trickle down her cheek, and was reminded of the way she had been willing to kill for him the night before. Love, he decided, is a very complicated thing.

“So,” Kawecki said, as his talk wound down. “My men and I were sent here to do something about Judge Ramsey. The problem is that we lack the manpower required to get the job done by ourselves. So I figured that communities like this one might be willing to lend a hand. Because if you don’t fight the bastard off, he’ll take over. Either by bribing people with stolen Hale vaccine or by force of arms.”

That led to a short presentation by Terri, who reminded those present of the fact that the community had already voted to reject Ramsey’s proposal. “And,” she said, “thanks to the Capellis, Mr. Tilson, and all the other members of the party that risked their lives to reach the Suzy Q, we are much better armed than we used to be.

“Not only that,” she continued, “we have what may be a very important ally in the Osage nation. They are going to consider a formal relationship—and we hope to hear from them during the next couple of days. In the meantime, I think I speak for the entire city council when I say that we not only have an obligation to cooperate with Captain Kawecki, but it’s in our self-interest to do so.

“I’m going to assemble a delegation that will visit other communities in the area in an effort to build an alliance strong enough to conquer Tunnel-Through.”

Though not entirely unexpected by some members of the audience, the notion that Haven should switch from defense to offense was new to others, and a moment of silence followed. Mel Tilson was taking copious notes. Things were moving quickly—and Judge Ramsey would want to know.

The delegation sent out to visit the surrounding communities consisted of Mayor Locke, Capelli, Kawecki, and six heavily armed security people: three from the community of Haven and three from Kawecki’s contingent of soldiers. They intended to show that at least one group of survivors continued to trust the government in spite of the mistakes that had been made by the preceding Grace administration.

The first community on the list was called Pop-Up. A name inspired by the fact that, like the citizens of Haven, the locals lived underground. But they did not live in a town or the remains of one. Instead each individual, family, or group of families occupied its own underground habitat. Some were very small, some were said to be pretty elaborate, but all had one thing in common: they were located at least half a mile apart. It made for isolated living conditions, but it meant that even if the stinks located one of the homes, the rest could possibly survive.

The area in question was near what had been the town of Kildare. A community so small the Chimeran juggernaut hadn’t even paused on its way through. The complete insignificance of the place was its best defense. Nor did the residents share any common infrastructure other than a loosely knit co-op–style government that was mainly focused on providing some rudimentary health care and education.

But despite the fact that they were spread out, the people of Pop-Up were known for their volunteer militia, which could field as many as thirty soldiers. And that was a fighting force well worth trying to recruit.

The area was mostly flat and generally open, with groves of skeletal trees, streams that had to be crossed, and scattered homes. All of which were eerily quiet except for the soft whisper of the wind, a flapping blind, or the occasional caw of a crow. Capelli yearned for the sound of a car or the laughter of children in a schoolyard. The sort of background noise he had once taken for granted. But that, like so many other things, had been stolen from humanity.

Their scout was a man named Tom Riley. He had been a mailman back before the stinks came. So he knew the area well, and when Riley raised a hand, the column came to a halt inside a grove of trees. The only sign of a human presence was a fifty-foot-wide circle of wooden stakes. Each was topped with a Hybrid skull, and all of them were staring at a central fire pit. “This is the clearing where the local families meet,” Riley explained. “They have lookouts, so they know we’re here. All we have to do is wait. Somebody will come before darkness falls.”

“Okay,” Terri acknowledged. “What should we do as far as security is concerned?”

There had been very little interaction between Capelli and Kawecki up till that point. But because they had joint responsibility for security they couldn’t ignore each other forever. And while Capelli would have preferred to set up the defensive perimeter by himself, he understood the dangers of a split command. Not to mention the fact that Kawecki’s soldiers wouldn’t take orders from a civilian. Especially one with his background. So he took the initiative. “I suggest that the rest of us place ourselves under Captain Kawecki’s orders where military matters are concerned.”

Capelli saw a look of surprise appear on Kawecki’s face, followed by what might have been wary respect.

“I think that’s an excellent idea,” Terri responded. “Captain? How would you like to position your troops?” The last was delivered with a smile.

Kawecki responded by putting four lookouts in place and cautioning them not to shoot any of the locals. That allowed the rest of the group to build a fire, heat some food, and rest for a while.

Time passed, the light faded, and just as Capelli was beginning to wonder if the locals knew they had visitors, four men and a woman appeared. They were dressed in odd combinations of wool clothing, buckskin, and furs. And they seemed to materialize out of the gloom. That made sense, because anyone who hadn’t mastered all of the various aspects of field craft wasn’t likely to survive for very long.

Once in the glade, and crouched around the fire, Capelli realized something else about the citizens of Pop-Up: They smelled worse than the stinks did. Not too surprising given the lack of running water in their underground burrows. But it was off-putting nevertheless.

If Locke was aware of the odor, she gave no sign of it, as she thanked the locals for coming, and gave them five thousand rounds of ammunition in a variety of calibers. The gift was intended to convey goodwill and attest to Haven’s strength. Once the formalities were out of the way, it didn’t take long to discover that the community had been contacted by a man from Tunnel-Through, who claimed to represent Judge Ramsey and wanted Pop-Up to become part of something called the American Empire.

Pop-Up’s spokesman had long, stringy hair, leathery skin, and eyes that looked like chips of turquoise. The fire lit one side of his face and left the other in darkness. “He called it an ‘invitation,’ ” the man named Moxley added, “but it sounded like an order. So Harvey shot him.”

“What?” Terri exclaimed. “Just like that?”

Moxley looked surprised. “Sure, why not? Who the hell was he to tell us what to do?”

Kawecki tried to conceal a smile. “Then what happened?”

“There were six of them altogether,” Moxley replied, as vapor drifted away from his mouth. “Only one of them escaped.”

“So Ramsey knows what happened,” Capelli observed. “I reckon he does,” Moxley agreed noncommittally. “And once Ramsey has enough people, they’ll be back,” Kawecki predicted.

“Maybe,” Moxley allowed.

“And maybe not,” Terri put in. “We’re trying to create an alliance for the purpose of attacking Tunnel-Through and destroying it.”

“Sounds good,” a fierce-looking woman said. She was wearing a ratty fur coat and a necklace made out of what might have been Hybrid finger bones. “Let’s kill the bastards.”

“You know what?” Kawecki said, as he pulled a fifth of carefully hoarded whiskey out of his jacket pocket. “I think we should drink to that.”

Having successfully enrolled the citizens of Pop-Up in the alliance, the delegation traveled west towards the sprawling brick factory that had once been a major source of employment for the area. Because according to Tom Riley, some of the Acme Brick Company’s managers and employees had moved into the factory and were eking out a living there. If so, they were well within Judge Ramsey’s reach and therefore potential allies.

But long before the Brickyard’s chimneys and buildings came into sight, the group saw an ominous column of black smoke rising to point at the sky. “I don’t like the look of that,” Kawecki said grimly, and Capelli had to agree. Suddenly he was glad that Susan had agreed to remain in Haven.

Once the factory’s chimneys and buildings became visible, Kawecki signaled the group to stop while he and Capelli elbowed their way onto a rise where they could examine the facility through their binoculars. Huge piles of finished bricks obscured the source of the smoke.

But Capelli knew that whatever had caused the fire couldn’t be good. Because if humans had been living in the factory they would try to avoid bringing attention to themselves.

“It’s my guess that they were clobbered,” Kawecki said darkly, lowering his glasses. “I reckon somebody should go forward and take a look.”

Capelli turned to meet Kawecki’s gaze. “Me?”

“If you’re willing.”

“So the stinks will do the dirty work for you?”

“No,” Kawecki answered levelly. “Because you’re the person Hale would have chosen for the job. The man he could count on.”

It was a peace offering of sorts, and Capelli surprised himself by accepting it. The truth was that he cared what the Kaweckis of the world thought of him. Even if that was stupid. “Give me your radio.”

Kawecki did so, and once the device was secured, Capelli made his way forward. A rusty fence barred his way. But after following the barrier north he came to a ragged hole, bright metal, and what he knew to be Stalker tracks in the patchy snow.

He paused to listen for a moment and then entered the inner compound. Huge stacks of red bricks formed a maze that had to be negotiated before Capelli could see the source of the smoke. The brick buildings were intact. But lesser structures were made of wood and one of them was on fire. Capelli could hear the crackle of flames and smell the tangy smoke. He could also see scorch marks, cratered concrete, and a scattering of bodies.

Capelli advanced with his rifle at the ready. The first corpse he came across was that of a Hybrid. Its body had been riddled with bullets. But there was no snow on the body, no signs of bloating, or damage from scavengers. A relatively recent kill, then. Probably no more than twelve hours old. That was one of the many things that made stinks different from humans: They never bothered to bury their dead. Even when they won.

And there were humans, too: a mélange of men, women, and children. All clustered around four fully loaded carts. Some of the bodies had been partially eaten. Not by crows or vultures, but by the Chimera. Other bodies were untouched. It was sickening. Capelli had seen such sights before but never got used to them.

He had the radio out, and was about to press the transmit button, when one of the bodies groaned. Capelli went over to kneel next to the woman. She’d been hit in the abdomen and the front of her shirt was wet with blood.

“Carl? Is that you?”

“No,” Capelli said gently. “My name is Joe.”

The woman blinked repeatedly as his body blocked her view of the gray sky. “Is Carl dead?”

Capelli looked around. The smoke eddied, but everything else was still. “Yes.”

“Good. He isn’t in pain then.”

“No.”

“I’m thirsty. Very thirsty. Could I have a drink?”

The water wouldn’t be good for her. Capelli knew that. And he knew it wouldn’t matter as he freed the canteen, unscrewed the cap, and cradled the back of her head. She got some of the liquid down; the rest ran off her cheeks onto the ground. She coughed. “We were going to move… Going to be safe.”

“I’m sorry,” Capelli replied lamely. “Where were you headed?”

But there was no answer. Just a blank stare. The woman was dead.

Capelli closed her eyes and lowered her head to the ground. After thinking about it for a moment, he drew his knife. The cloth parted easily as the razor-sharp blade sliced through it. His suspicions confirmed, he went over to examine another body.

Capelli put the radio to his lips. There was no point in using military radio procedure. “This is Capelli.”

“I read you,” Kawecki replied. “What have you got?”

“A lot of dead people. They made the stinks pay, though. There’s at least a dozen ’brids lying around.”

“Anything else?”

“Yeah. I think the residents were planning to move to Tunnel-Through.”

“How so?”

“They were packed to leave, and they had been vaccinated,” Capelli answered. “And recently, too. All of the human bodies have Band-Aids on their upper arms. And you can see the needle marks.”

After a moment of silence, Kawecki replied. “So Ramsey is making progress.”

“That’s the way it looks.”

“What now?”

The smoke swirled and rolled away as Capelli eyed the battlefield around him. “We bury Ramsey’s citizens. Or cremate them.”

“We’re on the way. Over.”

Capelli thumbed the transmit button twice by way of an acknowledgment. Over? Would it ever be over? The fire crackled and black smoke rolled away.

After cremating Brickyard’s citizens, and leaving the factory, the delegation paid visits to three more communities. Two of them agreed to join the alliance. Members of the third fired on the visitors and they had no way of knowing why. Fortunately no one was hurt.

Now, three days after the group’s return, the citizens of Haven were preparing for war. And Capelli was worried. It didn’t take a four-star general to know that an attack on a fortified position like the railroad tunnel was an iffy proposition at best. Especially without air power, armor, or artillery to break the place open.

In addition, Terri had to work around the clock to keep personality conflicts and politics from tearing the alliance apart. Fortunately, she had been able to convince the various players that Captain Kawecki should be in overall command because of his status as an emissary from the President, the depth of his military experience, and his neutrality where local politics were concerned.

In an effort to provide Kawecki with a reliable command structure, all of his men had been assigned to act as advisors, with at least one of them being incorporated into each unit. The hope was that the soldiers, plus the heavy weapons and hand-held radios recovered from the Suzy Q, would be enough to overcome the advantages Ramsey’s forces had.

Capelli wasn’t so sure. He had argued for at least a week of joint training prior to the attack. But while acknowledging the dangers involved, Kawecki, Terri, and senior members of the alliance pointed out the importance of surprise and the fact that exercises like the ones Capelli had in mind couldn’t be carried out without being noticed by the stinks. The latter represented another potential problem. What if they dropped out of the sky right in the middle of the upcoming battle?

The whole plan was fraught with danger. But, as Susan said when Capelli expressed his concerns to her, “This is our home now, Joseph. We will live with these people or die with them.” It was a statement that left no room for doubt or backup plans. And the way she said it reminded Capelli of someone else. A man named Nathan Hale.

The community of Haven held a communal meal the evening before the scheduled attack. It was a somber affair, and rightfully so in Capelli’s opinion. Because even if the alliance was able to win an overwhelming victory, lots of people on both sides were going to die. That’s what he was thinking as Susan left the buffet line and took the seat beside him. Capelli eyed the huge mound of food on her plate. “Eating for two, are we?”

“Yup! We have to keep our strength up.”

Capelli chuckled. “You’re getting fat.”

“That’s the plan.”

“Yeah, I guess it is.”

“Joseph?”

Capelli looked at her. “Yes?”

“The Tilsons, the Wexlers, and the Haneys are missing. They left most of their belongings behind. As if they plan to come back and reclaim them soon.”

Capelli felt his heart sink. A montage of images flickered through his mind. He saw Tilson pumping the Osage warriors for information, Tilson flipping switches in the Suzy Q’s cockpit, and Tilson taking notes. Lots of notes. “The bastards.”

“Yeah.”

“So Ramsey knows.”

Susan held her tea with both hands. “I think we should assume that.”

“Maybe Terri and the rest of them will cancel.”

Susan shook her head. “Not from what I heard in the kitchen. They feel the alliance has to attack at this point. If it doesn’t, Ramsey will. Besides, all of the necessary arrangements are in place. Who knows if we would be able to bring everybody back together again.”

That made sense in a horrible sort of way. But Capelli discovered that his appetite had vanished. He put his fork down. “You’re staying home tomorrow.”

Susan frowned. “First, I don’t take orders from any man, and that includes you! Second, I’m the best shot in Haven, and that could make a difference. So little Joe and I will be there.”

The “Little Joe” thing had become a running joke between them, but Capelli didn’t smile. He moved to push his chair back but stopped when Susan put a hand on his.

“Don’t be angry, Joseph. I know you’re trying to take care of me. Of us. And I promise to stay way back. Okay?”

Capelli looked at her, saw what was in her eyes, and felt the resentment melt away. “Okay.”

Capelli heard peals of sardonic laughter inside his head but didn’t care. Perhaps Hale didn’t realize it—but he was dead.

Dawn was still half an hour away as the alliance closed in on the habitat called Tunnel-Through. Because his mostly civilian army had never been able to train together, Kawecki figured it would be a mistake to try and launch the sort of massed attack that could fail due to inexperience or miscommunication. Plus the enemy knew the alliance was coming and was well entrenched.

So rather than rely on brute force, Kawecki chose to give each group a job it was uniquely suited to do. Once he gave the command, Kosmo and most of the fighters from Haven were going to attack the north entrance to the tunnel.

Then, as the defenders swarmed to that location, Shaw was going to lead Capelli and a small group of carefully chosen men to the side entrance through which he and his daughter had been ejected. The job was to blow the door, enter the underground complex, and hunt Ramsey down. Because if they could capture or kill Tunnel-Through’s leader, the battle would end quickly. Meanwhile if the regulators came out to play, Bo and a group of mounted warriors would engage them, thereby giving Kosmo and his people an opportunity to withdraw with minimal casualties.

Smaller teams, made up of people from Pop-Up, Junk Yard, and a community called Marsh, had been given maps. That included copies of the one Kawecki had drawn while spying on Tunnel-Through. They were to target specific sentries and weapons pits, take them out, and penetrate the complex via whatever doors and tunnels they happened across.

That was the plan. But Kawecki knew it would be disrupted once the fighting began. At that point he would have to rely on hand-held radios to redeploy his troops. Were all of them in the proper position? Kawecki put out a call and listened as the answers came back. Some of the transmissions were consistent with military conventions, but most weren’t.

“The Two Team is in position. Over.”

“We’re here.”

“Ready when you are,” and so forth, until the correct number of people had answered.

“Okay,” Kawecki said, “light the place up.”

More than a dozen flare guns went off, a series of pops were heard, and a number of miniature suns were born. They jerked as tiny parachutes were deployed, swayed gently when a breeze hit them, and began to descend. The bright lights threw harsh shadows across the half-frozen land as one of Kosmo’s men fired a Pulse cannon and scored a direct hit on the rockslide that blocked the entrance. The battle for Tunnel-Through had begun.

Ramsey was sitting astride Thunder about half a mile to the west as the flares went off and the bolt of energy from the Pulse cannon struck. “You were correct,” the judge observed, peering through a pair of binoculars.

Tilson’s horse was standing to Ramsey’s right. The businessman felt a sense of satisfaction. There had been a good deal of risk associated with spying for Ramsey, and subsequently sneaking out of Haven, but the gamble was about to pay off. Because even though he hadn’t been privy to every detail of Kawecki’s plan, he was familiar with the general outlines of it. And that meant Ramsey was, too. So shortly, within a day or so, he would be sent back not just to live in Haven but to govern it. “Yes, sir,” he said out loud. “It looks like the idiots are sticking to their plan.”

“As we will stick to ours,” Ramsey replied confidently. “While the main group attempts to suck us in, we’ll circle around behind them and take out their command structure. Then, once the beast has been decapitated, it will die. Are you ready, Mr. Tilson?”

Tilson felt a terrible emptiness at the pit of his stomach but managed to keep his voice steady. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. Let’s ride.”

Capelli and his team were already in the ravine when the flares went off and the battle commenced. He whispered, “Go,” and followed the dark blotch that was Shaw up a steep bank. Rocks clattered as they fell; a guard detached himself from the surrounding murk, and staggered drunkenly as Tenkiller put an arrow in his throat.

The first man was still vertical and choking on his own blood when a second one fired. The quick succession of flashes revealed his position. He uttered a choking cry as another shaft sped through the air and buried itself in his chest. His body landed with a thump.

The first guard was on the ground by that time and Shaw had to step over the body in order to reach the door. “This is it,” he said sotto voce. “You can hear the generator through the exhaust port.”

And Capelli could hear the steady rumble and smell diesel fumes as well. “All right! Good job. Move aside so I can place the charge.”

The block of C-4 explosive was ready and all he had to do was slap it onto the metal door and back away. Judging from the incessant chatter of automatic weapons, and the occasional boom of grenades, the feint was well under way. So the sooner he and his team got inside, the better.

There was a flash of light and then a loud bang as the C-4 went off and the door buckled inwards. Capelli kicked it open and entered with his Bullseye leveled. Not having encountered any opposition, he took a moment to thumb the radio’s transmit button. “Capelli here. We’re inside. Over.”

“Roger that,” Kawecki replied. “Good work. Now go after… Just a sec. Hold on.”

Capelli heard Kawecki swear. That was followed by a sudden flurry of gunshots, some desperate shouting, and the thunder of what might have been hooves. Then there was silence. That wasn’t good. Capelli forced himself to stay focused on the job ahead and waved the team forward. “Follow me!”

And they tried. But the group hadn’t traveled more than a dozen steps before lights appeared down the tunnel and Auger bolts flashed towards them. Capelli fired back, but he could tell that his team was outgunned as two of his men fell. “Grab the wounded and fall back!” Capelli yelled, firing from the hip.

But there weren’t any wounded. Just dead men as Capelli, Shaw, and two others backed out through the shattered door.

“Stand by,” one of the fighters said, readying his V7 Splicer. “I have a surprise for those bastards.”

The man fired and a spinning saw blade sped down the tunnel, sliced through the first defender’s head, and tore into the man directly behind him. Then the whirling blade glanced off a wall and cut a third person down before finally losing its momentum and clattering to the floor.

That offered an opening, and Capelli was about to follow up on it, when a voice he recognized as Sergeant Pasco’s came over the radio. “All units will pull back. Repeat, pull back. Prepare to implement Plan B. Over.”

Capelli swore. Plan B was to regroup, withdraw in an orderly fashion, and try to prevent a follow-up by Ramsey. Something had gone terribly wrong.

In keeping with her promise, Susan was well back from the assault on the north end of the tunnel, lying prone on top of a rise. It was cold, but she was wearing four layers of clothing and a piece of canvas kept her up out of the damp.

Kawecki’s command post was a hundred feet in front of her, behind a jumble of boulders. The sun was starting to rise. The clouds had blown away and a golden glow suffused the area. That allowed her to search for targets.

And despite the fact that the defenders hadn’t rushed out to defend the tunnel the way Kawecki wanted them to, she’d been able to pick off three of the defenders by watching for muzzle flashes, and aiming a hair above them. Her instructors would have been proud.

But with no one to watch her back, Susan knew it was important to take a break occasionally and check what Capelli liked to call her “six.” Meaning the area behind her. And that was how she noticed movement off to the west, realized that Kosmo and his team had been flanked, and shouted a warning.

However, Kawecki was on his radio talking to someone. And precious seconds passed before he understood the true extent of the danger, began to shout orders, and turned to confront the oncoming horsemen. Kawecki fired his carbine as he ran forward to drag a regulator off his horse.

That was when a blast from a shotgun blew half of his face away. Within a matter of seconds the rest of the command party fell too—their bodies jerking spastically as a hail of projectiles tore into them.

War cries were heard when a group of mounted Osage warriors barreled in from the east. Regulators were snatched out of their saddles and a confusing melee ensued as Susan fired at the man on the huge Clydesdale.

But the shot missed, another man fell instead, and Ramsey’s cavalry were forced to withdraw to the west. Heavily armed defenders were pouring out of Tunnel-Through’s carefully concealed entrances, dozens of the alliance’s best fighters lay sprawled on the ground, and Kawecki was dead.

As Susan began to elbow her way back off the rise, she thought about her husband and wondered if he was out there somewhere wounded or dead. She wanted to go and search for him but knew that was impossible. So, like the rest of them, all she could do was run.