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the horses down, the others whinnying in terror. Last of all she saw the building—a smoking ruin between two other structures, like a tower of wooden blocks thrown down by an angry child. One of the soldiers was dragging another by the hands, pulling him clear of the wreckage. Kira dropped next to the fallen man, one hand on his wrist to check his pulse while the other probed his chest and neck for injuries.
    “I’m fine,” the soldier coughed. “Get the civvies.”
    Kira nodded and sprang back to her feet, staring at the shattered house in shock—where should she even start? She grabbed the standing soldier and pulled him away from the fallen one.
    “Where are the others?”
    “The basement,” he said, pointing down. “This corner.”
    “Then help me get in there.”
    “The building was two stories tall—they’re completely buried.”
    “Then help me get in there,” she insisted again, pulling him toward the house. Kira was already picking her way through the rubble when Marcus arrived, still out of breath.
    “Holy … crap.”
    Kira delved deeper into the ruin. “Mr. Turner!” she called. “Ms. Cantrell! Can either of you hear me?” She and the soldier froze, listening, and Kira pointed to the floor on her left. “Down there.”
    They knelt down, flipping aside a wide piece of ruined flooring. She paused, and heard it again—a faint flutter, like a gasp or a muffled cough. She pointed at a section of brick and the soldier helped her move it, handing up bricks to Marcus and Sparks and the other soldiers, all scrabbling at the wreckage to clear it away. Kira shouted again and heard a feeble answer.
    “Right here,” said a voice. Kira recognized the feminine timbre, knew it was Gianna, and hefted up a piece of fallen furniture. The soldiers pulled it up and out of the hole, and underneath, Gianna grunted in pain. “Thank the gods.”
    Kira slithered farther into the hole to help her. “Are you still pinned?”
    “I don’t think so,” said Gianna. Kira grabbed her hand firmly, bracing herself on another section of overturned floor. She lost her grip, slid down, and felt a strong hand grab hers from behind.
    “I’ve got you,” said Kira, “and they’ve got me. Keep coming.” Slowly Gianna pulled herself free of the broken wood and bricks, and Kira hauled her up inch by inch. When Gianna was high enough, the strong hand on Kira’s pulled them both to the top of the pile, and Kira turned to see Jayden straining with the effort.
    “Thanks,” said Kira.
    He nodded. “Help me find the other one.”
    Kira turned back to the hole. “Mr. Turner! Can you hear me?”
    “He was next to me when the bomb went off,” Gianna panted. “He can’t be very far.”
    Kira scrambled back down the hole, still calling his name. “Mr. Turner! Andrew!” She paused, listening closely, and bent down as far as she could. Nothing . She leaned back, examining the wreckage, trying to guess where he might have ended up.
    “Behind that stone,” said Gianna, pointing past her to a large, flat rock standing upright in the rubble. “There was a fireplace in the basement, like a big chimney, all done in stone instead of brick. Probably the oldest part of the house.”
    “We’ll never be able to move it,” said Marcus. Kira slithered down next to it, leaning in close.
    “Andrew Turner!” shouted Marcus, but Kira shushed him.
    “Quiet, I’m going to try something.”
    The dust settled, and the air was still. Kira opened her medkit and pulled out the stethoscope—one of the digital models with sound amplification. She thumbed the switch, silently praying that the battery hadn’t degraded, and pressed the scope to the rubble.
    Pom, pom, pom, pom …
    “It’s his heartbeat,” Kira called out. “He’s right under the fallen chimney.”
    “Those stones are propping up half the house,” said Marcus. “We’re not moving them.”
    “As long as his heart’s beating, we are,” said Jayden. “Out of the way,