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in a better tactical position than we would have been without your gift,” he reassured, risking the long communication , somehow sensing how much Meg needed to hear his words. 
    “Right, stand by,” Meg said softly enough to be heard in the room and over the headset.  Quietly, Meg thanked Creed for saying the words that gave her courage to close her eyes and try.  Meg locked her feet to the ground and put the hand that wasn’t holding a gun against the cool wall.  Though terrified, she reached out and slipped toward her enemy again. 
    “He’s stayed back in a van and is watching on monitors.  The rabid dogs have cameras attached to their helmets.  He’s excited that they are nearly able to see the house.” 
    “Can you tune in to the soldiers?  From which angle are they coming?”  Evan asked.
    Meg held still for a moment and shifted her energies to seek the static-filled anger of the rabid dogs.
    “Oh, my goodness.  These souls are metas?  Their emotions are so…wait, they’re here!”  In the same instant Meg knew his rabid dogs found them and had trained their grenade launchers at their windows .  M eg opened her eyes and aimed into the darkness where she sensed the static-filled cluster of mutant metas. 
    Pop, pop !
    Meg heard the fire, but she hadn’t pulled the trigger. 
    “Creed, are you okay?” she whispered desperately. 
    “Two down,” was all he said in response.
    Meg concentrated on feeling out the static spots in her emotional field of vision and aligned them with the red warmth she felt indicating Creed’s emotional signature high in a koa tree.  “Two more at your three o’clock.  Three at your six o’clock and two at your nine o’clock.  You’re surrounded, Creed,” Meg said worriedly.
    “Sitting ducks,” he whispered.
    Pop, pop !
    “Two more down.” Meg couldn’t tell if he’d whispered the words, or if she just felt him think them, but she knew he had already killed four of the fourteen rabid dogs.
    “What’s going on Meg?” her mother’s voice was edgy.  The whole room was staring at her expectantly.  Meg covered the mouthpiece and said, “Creed—he’s already killed four of them.”
    Everyone sighed.
    Meg heard him breathing slow, calm breaths; Creed was so calculating and assured. She took two breaths for every one of his, worried for him —f or all of them.
    “They are looking for you, Creed.  The three at your six are closing and are scanning the trees.”
    Pop, pop, pop, pop!
    “ His s!”  Creed’s breath hissed through clenched teeth. 
    “You’ve been hit,” Meg said anxiously waiting for a response from him.
    More gunfire.
    “Creed!” She called out to him.
    Quickened breathing .
    Grunt.
    Silence.
    “Two more down,” he whispered, grunting, climbing another tree. 
    “Get yourself to a secure location and stay quiet for a while, let us take care of some of these assholes,” Meg reassured him softly, even as she was sure he was working to stifle the pain of being shot, as was his gift.
    “Get a reading, Meg.  Where are they?” Creed asked, ignoring her.
    Biting her lip, so as not to waste time arguing with him as he surely hung in another koa tree, bleeding, Meg closed her eyes and focused. 
    The remaining eight mutant metasoldiers were furiously returning to Williams in retreat.
    “Oh, thank God,” Meg said into the mouthpiece and to the room full of her family.
    “Creed, you’ve got them retreating.  Get back to the house now.” 
    “On my way.  Get to the vehicles.  I’ll meet you there.” His voice sounded worried, but not in pain.  He had switched off his pain. 
    “Let’s move,” Margo called to the house.  “Meg, keep your sensors trained on the soldiers, and let us know what they’re up to.”
    Meg nodded at her mother, grabbed her clips and ran to help get Farrow and Cole loaded into Paulie’s van. 
    Everyone was given assignments, and assuming they were given the time to complete them, they