“What’s your name, I wonder?”
The animal wagged its tail furiously and propped itself on the soldier’s knee. Then, as if making his instructions clear, the dog scrambled to the water’s edge and barked.
Shad bent down and surveyed the nightmare. What remained of the bridge fell deep into the stream. The tonnage lying on top wasn’t going anywhere until salvage crews and loader drones arrived on scene – days out at least. The water was frigid.
He flashed a light through a crack no more than a foot wide.
Oh, dear heavens!
He saw two boys locked together – their mouths barely above the water line, no space to move in any direction.
“Hello in there. Can you hear me?”
The younger boy’s teeth chattered as he spoke.
“H-help us. Pu-lease.”
“What’s your name?”
“C-C-Connor.”
“OK. Connor, is that your brother?”
“Un-huh. It ... it’s Trev ... Trevor. He s-saved me.”
“Is he OK? Is he breathing?”
“Un-huh. He hit his head. He’s b-bleeding.”
“OK, Connor. You hang on. We’ll get you out. Is this your dog?”
The boy sneezed on his older brother.
“F-Fritz.”
“Don’t give up, Connor. I’ll be back.”
He laid out the scenario to his Sergeant.
“They don’t have much time. The water is too cold, and they probably have other injuries.”
Sgt. Babb, who had a background in structural engineering, surveyed the predicament. He recommended using a phasic drill. Cut a narrow hole through the rubble. Anything bigger might cause the weight to shift, crushing the boys to death.
“Let’s hope they’re not snagged on anything.”
Babb wasn’t optimistic.
While the Sergeant searched for a phasic drill – much in demand to cut through the wreckage for other rescues – Shad stayed with the boys. An instinct tugged at him, saying today would be a defeat if they died.
“Still with me?” He asked Connor.
“Un-huh.”
“Good. My name is Shad.”
“Wh-what happened, Shad? Was it t-the Swarm?”
“Yes. Were you and your brother hiding under the bridge?”
“Un-huh. It ... it was m-my f-fault. I didn’t l-listen. Please. Help, T-Trev ... or. He’s hurt. He w-won’t wake up.”
The boy broke Shad’s heart. He had tried so hard to squash his emotions. Friends died all around him that day, cut down by the most savage means, but his heart did not move to feel their loss.
Soldiers were warned about the Swarm’s brutality and the need to steel their spines for the expected bloodbath. Shad delivered a clinical, strategic approach to battle.
Why this boy? Why now?
Shad’s son was seven months old, safe in his mother’s arms.
He hoped.
No news from Euphrates must mean good news.
He hoped.
“Connor, can you tell me your parents’ names?” After the boy replied through chattering teeth, saying only his mother lived on Earth, Shad asked: “Where is your home?”
“S-seventeen. To-tower seventeen.”
