She spun and searched the crowd that had gathered around her, frantically looking for Roman, for Attie, for Marisol, for Keegan. It was time for them to flee. She felt it in her gut, and she remembered what Attie had told her the day before.
I mean, the whole time was the time to flee. There was no point in non-combatants and non-medical trained people sticking around as long as they did. It was foolish and stubborn sentimentality keeping the journalists there, when they owed it to their profession to get to safety before the front line moved over them.
