“Now it was her turn to tell a story. “Fly,” she began, passing to gulp water from a bottle we’d extracted from the crate, “I don’t want to see anything like that first assault ever again.”
She sat with her back to a wall, and I stood where I had a good view of anything coming or going. I had to find out what happened to Fox Company. Munching on a bland, fast-energy bar that tasted as fine as a steak at that moment, I gave her my undivided attention (and a chocolate bar of her own).”