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Stick?

“Is Stick hurt?” Her voice is the voice of a frightened little girl. She hears it. Everyone does.

“No,” comes the flat reply. “Not hurt.”

Stick is dead. Dain Sticklin. Dead.

Rio is paralyzed.

Not Stick. Not Stick!

“What do we do?” comes Cat’s voice through the incessant rattle of machine guns.

“Stick said pull out,” Rio manages to say through the lump in her throat.

Jesus, not Stick!

“Pang is hit!” Geer cries. “Medic!”

There is no medic with this patrol. Geer stops firing and tears at Pang’s buttons, saying, “Come on, Jappo, come on, don’t fugging die on me!”

“Geer! Keep firing that goddamn BAR!” Rio yells.

Pull out. Stay put. Rio’s decision now. Horne may hang her out to dry if she pulls back. And if she doesn’t?

“Mercer! Leave the wounded and pull back behind us! Then you, Cat!”

In the dark, being murdered. They are being killed by people they can’t see. Suddenly Beebee is there, right beside her. Has he been there all along?

“Jenou! Get up there and feed Stick’s BAR!”

She hears gurgling from Pang. No time for Pang. No time for anything but saving the ones who can still be saved.

Mercer’s squad—just five soldiers now—comes running by, hunched over.

“All right, Cat!” Rio says.

But the Germans aren’t having it. Fire erupts suddenly on their right flank, across their direction of escape.

Cat drops beside Rio. “I got three dead, and I’m leaving a wounded man, Richlin.”

“Geer! Enfilade those fuggers on our right flank!”

“They’re cutting us off,” Cat says. “Everyone here will be d

ead in ten minutes!”

My God: do I have to surrender?

“Listen up, Cat. When I say go, you go.”

“What are you doing, Rio?”

“I’m going to back those bastards off our flank.”

“You’ll get yourself killed!”

Rio doesn’t bother to argue. Cat says, “I’m going with you.”