Stepping up to the table with my M-4 at the ready and fully expecting a night runner to launch at me, I look over the edge. A female night runner lies on the linoleum-tiled floor. It looks up at me and emits another low growl that turns into a whimper. The light colored blouse is dark with blood and the jeans are soaked. The trail we are following leads directly to her. She was obviously injured at the railing and crawled here. Her eyes are full of pain she looks up and meets my gaze. I lower my carbine a touch and we just stare at each other. I direct Charlie to search the kitchen area without taking my gaze off the night runner almost at my feet with only a table between us. She must have been shot in the abdomen or someplace near judging from the soaked blouse and the amount of blood lost. I haven’t seen a live night runner this close before without being pumped full of adrenaline and fighting for my life. The eyes still have a humanistic look to them as much as I can tell with the night vision goggles on. They reflect in the greenish glow like a night animal. The light gray skin shines in my sight and I make out the pulsing, dark gray veins beneath the translucent skin. I hear her shallow, panting breath over the noises of Charlie Team clearing the kitchen area.
