Tomorrow War by Mack Maloney Page B

kept at the farmhouse since the dramatic rescue. Asten had learned the night before that Viktor was suffering from shock, exhaustion, and partial amnesia.
    Asten knocked once on the front door, and the Man motioned for him to come inside. Asten did so, snapped off a sharp salute, and removed his battle beret.
    Asten had seen Viktor briefly the day before, but now he was able to get his first full measure of him. He looked very odd, slightly different than most people Asten had met. It was his eyes, his mannerisms, his very being that made him, well … different. In fact, Asten had met only one man before that had this same undeniable yet indefinable alienness about him.
    “You have the search report, I take it?” the Man asked Asten.
    “I do, sir,” Asten replied crisply. He handed the envelope to the Man. “No surprises in there, sir,” he added.
    The Man quickly read the report, then resealed it and put it inside his suit-jacket pocket.
    “I didn’t expect any,” he told Asten.
    They both turned back to Viktor, who was slumped in another chair near the window, staring out at the cruel sea beyond.
    The Man walked over to him, and for a moment Asten thought he was going to pat Viktor on the shoulder. But the Man kept his distance. He lowered his voice.
    “I’m sorry to have to tell you this,” he began.
    But Viktor simply lifted his hand.
    “I know already,” he said, his voice dripping with sadness. “No one else survived.”
    The Man just nodded—and the room was suddenly filled with intense melancholy. Asten himself felt a mist come over his eyes. Why was this happening? He’d been in war before. He’d seen brutal combat, the most intense here on this very spot a month before, during the invasion by the Japanese. He’d not had any sense of weeping then. So why now? And why so intense?
    It was a most eerie feeling.
    “I didn’t expect there’d be anyone else left,” Viktor said slowly. “Not after seeing what I saw.”
    The Man stood hovering near him. Asten was sure that if it had been anyone else the Man surely would have touched him to comfort him. But the Man still kept his distance.
    “Well, you should take heart in the fact you saved so many children,” the Man said softly.
    Viktor remained silent.
    The very awkward moment continued. The Man looked over to Asten for help, but the British officer could only shrug weakly in return. The sadness in the room was now so thick, it seemed to be dimming the daylight
    “I, for one, would like to hear how you were able to save those kids,” Asten suddenly heard himself say.
    Viktor just shook his head.
    “I don’t really remember how I did it,” he said. “I was in charge of the children on the ship. I used to be a rower but they put me in charge of the kids and I loved it. And we’d sailed these waters and others before—but never through a storm like that. And now—now, they are all gone. Now, it’s just me … and the kids.”
    At this point Asten became aware of someone stirring in the kitchen. A moment later the Man’s wife walked into the room. She was an attractive, middle-aged woman with a bright smile and large blue eyes. But as soon as she stepped into the room, something happened to her. She was carrying a tray of coffee and sandwiches—but she dropped it. A stunned look went across her face. She put her hand to her chest and grasped it. Then she collapsed to the floor.
    Asten and the Man reached her at the same time. Her face was already turning blue. Her lips were trembling. Her eyes were open, but she could not speak.
    “I’ll get my corpsman!” Asten yelled, dashing off.
    Asten ran down the hill, literally dragged his medic out of the command tank, and ran back up to the farmhouse.
    But by the time they arrived, Asten knew it was too late. The woman was no longer breathing. Her eyes were closed. She had already turned cold. There was no pulse. There were no signs of life at all.
    The Man just stared down at her. He