"Yes sir. We just came from looking at the area. There is still some smoke and a lot of ash, but no visible weapons," Pat told him. We went over the actions of the other groups last night also. They had all been successful, although not quite as successful as we had been.One item kept coming up from each group when they gave their report, and that was the lack of communication with the other groups and with those in charge."We definitely need a better way to communicate than with messengers, which is all that we have now," my Mom said when everyone was finished."They don't have anything better than that here," Pat's Father, Uncle Sean, said."We have the radios that we carry on the tractors, but they are back in our Reality," my Dad pointed out."Are they still working?" Uncle Ed asked."Yes, but some of them may need to have their batteries charged," my Dad replied."We should send someone back to get them, and some binoculars also so we can get a better look at those camps," Aunt Tara. Karen struggled to turn her face away from the forced kiss, making desperate, panicked sounds, trying to push Miranda away. Finally she managed to break loose of the kiss and lunge for the emergency phone, but what Miranda said next made her blood run cold and her face turn ashen. "I know about you and Grant!" Miranda stabbed, playing her ace-in-the-hole. Karen froze. These rapier words shook her to the core. Her vision narrowed and she felt a sickening swoon come over her. Her heart pounded in her ears. It can't be true. it can't be! How could she know? she pleaded to herself. In an uneven voice, she replied, "Grant who?" But her body's visceral response was all the confirmation Miranda needed, and she twisted the knife. "Grant Parrone, in retail ops. Go ahead. I dare you to deny it." Miranda was looking her dead in the eyes. Karen trembled; her vision clouded. She fought to replace panic with anger. "I don't know what you think you know, little girl, but if you don't let.
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