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That couldn’t be true, couldn’t be; there had to be hostiles in the building.

“You guys got it all wrong,” Clarence said. “Margaret didn’t kill anyone.”

“Get your a.s.s up,” Bosh said.

Clarence stood.

Ramierez’s aim didn’t waver. He seethed with visible fury — if Clarence gave him a reason, he knew Ramierez would put him down.

Bosh pushed Clarence down the hall.

“Move,” Bosh said. “See for yourself.”

Clarence felt so lost, so disoriented. He didn’t resist.

Another push on his back as he stumbled into Room 1812.

Clarence saw two bodies: the bloated thing that Cooper had hid beneath and, sprawled on top of it, Bogdana. A small hole in his CBRN suit, right at the back of his head, told the story.

“Point blank,” Bosh said. “Bogdana’s a SEAL, a.s.shole — you think one of those gibbering idiots could have gotten that close to him?”

Clarence shook his head. No … not Margaret … she was immune, Clarence had seen her take the tests.

“We have to find her,” he said. “She … she’s in danger.”

The words rang hollow, even to him.

Bosh tossed Clarence’s pistol onto the bed.

“Ram and I are going to the fifth floor,” he said. “Setting up a sniper position. Look for her if you want. But when you see her, if you don’t shoot first, it was real nice knowing you.”

The two SEALs ran off down the hall.

Clarence thumbed his “talk” b.u.t.ton.

“Margaret, answer me.”

He waited. No response.

“Margaret, please, please answer me!”

Nothing.

Clarence stared at Bogdana.

Bosh was right. Tim was right.

Margaret had done this.

She was infected.

The brutal reality hit home. He leaned against the wall. His wife, his love, the mother of his child … she was one of them.