The question was who was there and how many of them there were. It took him five minutes to reach the origin of the smoke, running full sprint through the woods. Keo ran with one hand on the submachine gun and the other on his radio. “Norris, come in. Norris!” Norris answered after a few seconds. “You sound like you’re running, kid.” “Smoke in the northeast. Can you see it?” “Wait…” A brief pause, then, “I see it. Where’s it coming from?” “The bungalow.” “I thought it was abandoned.” “It’s supposed to be.” “Shit. Where are you now?” “Almost there,” Keo said. “I’m going silent. Get over here when you can.” Keo turned off the radio and put it away, then burst out of the woods and into a clearing. He went into a crouch, sucking in a lungful of air, thankful he had approached the house from the side so he could see its doors and windows, but whoever was inside probably couldn’t see him. He hoped, anyway. The bungalow was a long, squat building about twice the length of their house.
