by neetha Napew
personnel at the base—but they're afraid of radiation." He looked away from
her—it
207
would have been green before the Night of The War. Now it was brown and dead.
There were wounds to treat—the man on the ground seemed the most serious.
"Natalia—when you can, take care of O'Neal's bleeding."
Rourke started toward the missile technician on the ground—like O'Neal, his
missiles fired, he was out of a job. Rourke bent to check his pulse—he was out
of life as well.
If the warheads still existed, to get them out past the wildmen would be nearly
impossibler Rourke realized.
And there was still Cole.
He thumbed closed the eyelids of the dead man, stood up and removed his
sunglasses.
"We can rest here for a little while—move out into the valley in a few
hours—Paul and I'll take the geiger counters and run point for radiation."
He found another injured man, mechanically starting to treat him—it was minor.
He wondered who cared for his wife and two children—were they alive? He closed
his eyes and told himself they were, and that he would find them, then opened
his eyes and inspected the injured man's wound. "Paul—get my medical kit—got a
bullet to take out here."
