The Lotus Eaters

Casa Linda, Balboa, Terra Nova

Lourdes never noticed that her knees were covered in McNamara's blood. Perhaps she avoided looking down instinctively. Instead, she paced frantically about the room she shared with Patricio. She heard her children and Arti's crying in the room next door. She went to the adjoining door and opened it, only to be met by a grim faced guard who pointed her back to her own room. Behind that guard, two others were laying Artemisia down on one of the children's single beds.

What am I going to do? What am I going to do? "Anything" Mac's eyes told me. Anything. What is "anything."

Calm, Lourdes, calm. You have to think clearly if ever you did. For your own sake, for your husband's, for your children: Think.

She picked up the phone. Dead. They must have cut the lines. Aha: My mobile . . . She grabbed the phone and flipped it open . . . is dead. Has no signal, anyway. They must have taken control of the wireless system. Damn it! Think, Lourdes, think.

Who is behind this? Not the legions, or not most of them. But maybe some. Who can I trust? Not the police. Who . . . who . . . the Volgans! But how do I get to them?