AARON The video froze. Miriam’s face filled the screen. Her eyes were red and swollen. Her cheeks looked tight from crying. She turned her face slightly away from the phone camera, and it struck me that she could not bring herself to look straight at what was happening. “This video started spreading online about an hour ago,” Miriam said. “Blackstone has confirmed the identities of several of the victims. Brother Moore. Brother Alvarez. Sister Feldman and her two little angels…” Her voice faltered. One finger lifted into view as she struggled to keep control. Her eyes darted away again, and tears slid down her face. “… Noah and Lily.” “They were all members of our faith,” I whispered. Elena nodded beside me. The image changed. The screen split into two panels, both filled with still images of armed men and women. Beneath each face were official government photographs and identification records. Federal markings stood out clearly. “At least two of these people are federal employees with the Department of Homeland Security,” Miriam said. She paused and took a slow breath, steadying herself. “We still have not confirmed every victim. The video has no audio, so we cannot hear the names being called. But it is clear they were all members of our faith. For those who do not know, I live in Hawthorne Ridge, Alder State. Blackstone International Terminal is only twenty minutes from my home.” Her voice hardened. “Our people know persecution. We know violence. The words ‘Never again’ matter to us. I will not let these creatures guide my family to their deaths. We are heading to the Haven Assembly Hall here in Hawthorne Ridge. Anyone in northern Alder State or south-central Baycrest State should come. Safety will be found in numbers.”She leaned closer to the camera. “District leaders have been instructed to direct their congregations to the nearest Haven or large assembly site. Please do not face this alone. The roads are mostly clear. Our enemies know we are aware of their plans. Now is the time to protect your families. Be safe. God bless you. I hope to see you soon.” Elena shut off her phone and slipped it into her pocket. Silence filled the room. Thoughts pressed in from every direction, heavy and sharp. She looked up at me. Her eyes were bloodshot, but focused with terrifying clarity. “Blackstone is twenty minutes from her,” Elena said. “It is ten minutes from us.” “And where do those monsters go after the terminal?” the question slipped out before I could stop it. Elena grabbed the box. Urgency poured into her movements. “We need to leave now.” The Lockwood Residence shook.Our eyes met. A tired breath escaped my chest. “Not again.” Elena shook her head. Her gaze locked on the front door. “This is different.” A low vibration rolled through the house. It began in the foundation and climbed into the walls. This was not the sharp shock of artillery. The sound kept growing. A high, thin whine crept into the air. Both of us ran to the front window. The shutters opened just enough to see. My heart slammed hard. Sweat broke across my forehead. “Oh God.” A Siege Crawler rolled down the center of our residential lane. Its electric engine moved an impossible amount of weight with silent force. Nearly a hundred tons of armor glided past our home. The machine had a name, something Caleb would have known, but the name no longer mattered. The turret looked thin and flattened, shaped like a crushed diamond. The short barrel pointed straight ahead. Two rotating domes sat on top, spinning fast. Enough war footage had taught me exactly what those were. Laser weapons. They could burn through missiles or flesh in seconds. A memory flashed of Owen in college, laughing as he showed me a video online. A soldier had used one of those systems to burn through a brick wall and kill someone hiding behind it. Five soldiers moved alongside the Siege Crawler. Their exoskeletons blended into their camouflage. Their faces were hidden behind dark visors. Weapons swept across houses, windows, rooftops. Nothing was ignored. “Aaron,” Elena whispered. Fear trembled in her voice. Her phone was glowing in her hand. A live feed filled the screen. “That’s the Olivas’ backyard,” I said. “I think so,” she said. Her voice shook.“That’s across the street.” The volume was low, but movement told the story. People rushed past the rock waterfall the Olivas had installed near their pool weeks earlier. The footage came from one of those hovering personal drones that followed you without gear or straps. The person filming slammed against the side wall of the house. A cautious peek around the corner followed. The Siege Crawler was visible in the distance. Sound came up. “… and we’re going to show these army sons of bitches that you can’t kill people and walk away!” the voice shouted. “This country belongs to the people, not bureaucrats!” The face on the screen was painfully young. He knew he was being watched. He knew an audience was there. Recognition hit hard.“That’s Marco Gonzalez’s son,” the words came out dry. Elena stared. Horror spread across her face. “You’re right. Andy. His name is Derek.” A warning tried to form, but Andy kept talking. “We have to fight for what matters,” he said. “They say it’s too dangerous. They always say that. They never understand why this has to be done. But we do.” He pointed past the camera. The view shifted to three young boys and a girl with short hair streaked with green. Their faces were thin. Facial hair barely showed. Each of them held a semi-automatic rifle. Weapons that did not belong to them. Weapons that would change everything.