"You know it," came the unanimous answers, but all three black-uniformed men were indeed hiding frowns under light stubble and blank looks. They didn't even like the Marine, let alone trust him.

"Good. We'll see what happens, and in the meantime, a day in a bowling alley with heat and real lights sounds good. You guys gonna be on my team?"

There were boasts and grins, Adrian in the thick of it, and his inscrutable eyes never hinted at how much he wanted, needed the Marine to be proven right. It would cement Kenn's place here, but more than that, the ability to predict foul weather headed their way was invaluable. It was a skill he hadn't suspected the man of having.

The camp had no problem with getting a break from the expected hours of traveling, and nearly all the Eagles cracked jokes about the calm skies and temperatures that were currently above freezing. Kenn only told them to wait and see, but inside he was terrified of being wrong. He knew Angela wasn't trying to trick him, but what if the storm had gone past them or dissipated? His face hurt from forcing himself to laugh at the remarks, and through it all he could feel Adrian's thoughtful blue gaze on him, watching and waiting.

2

A small town, Kemmerer appeared to be empty, the roads surprisingly clear of abandoned traffic, but there was heavy damage from looters, and even the animal population hadn't been spared. The town's dog pound was the site of a horrific battle that made Adrian drive faster past the decaying canine and human cadavers littering the charred, glassless, brick complex.

Like the other towns they'd been to, Kemmerer had a lot of bodies, dozens of rotting, gruesome corpses, and Adrian was glad to see that none of them slowed obvious signs of radiation sickness. The town itself held burnt frames, broken windows, looted stores, but no wrecked military vehicles, no kicked-in doors. Apparently riots, not the Draft, had conquered this American town.

The parking lot at Sage Lanes was deserted until they pulled in, and Adrian steered into the hard breeze as he keyed his mic, "Back the Mess truck up near the door. Supply trucks in the rear. Double the watch. Eagles ten, seven, and twelve, secure our campsite. Eagle Three, escort and assist Kenn. Everyone else, stand by."

Adrian stepped inside with a frown, running his eyes over arcades, cleaning machines, rows of welded-down tables and hard swivel chairs behind racks of balls and lined-up pins at the end of wide, dust-covered lanes. The maroon carpet, its fine layer of sand devoid of footprints, led to separate bar and food areas, their wooden counters and brick walls covered with glittery signs and unopened party favors. Tired of seeing the heartbreaking reminders of a world gone by, Adrian's sharp gaze picked out mouse droppings on the bar, a ceiling full of New Year's confetti, and he nodded as calls of 'all clear', echoed.




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