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That girl loved to read like no one else, and she was making up for the months they spent literally running for their lives, when books were few and far between. The digital kind were all long gone, as far as Mark could guess—wiped away when the computers and servers all fried. Trina read the old-school paper kind.
“They’ve already got a name for it, by the way. They’re calling it the Flare.”
“Scared. That’s good. A fine soldier is always scared. Makes you normal. It’s how you respond to it that makes or breaks you.”
“You know who invented those things, right? Maybe we should call this one Thomas.”
