The primitive gun lay on the ground, its flare hanging above them like a low-budget fire-work. So Andrea could expect the cavalry to arrive any time now. Or whatever it was you called soldiers who got around by spanking dinosaurs.

Chris stood, heat vanes rising from his back like stunted wings. Blood stained the mouthpiece of his mask, dribbled down his chest, coated his forearms. The former geek trembled all over, constantly.

Andrea's own powersuit hung limp around her ...