Shots rang out in the chilly night air as I advanced towards a Piggly Wiggly.

Okay, I should explain.

The name's Margaret, but call me that and I'll tell you where you can stick your AK-47—if you couldn't figure it out, I don't like Margaret. I go by Maggie. I'm a fighter for the Second Massachusetts Militia Regiment, or 2nd Mass. About ten months ago, planet earth was invaded by a race of aliens we like to call "skitters" and their robots—mechanicals or "mechs" for short.

Our leader's a guy called Weaver. Many fighters didn't like him too much when he was assigned to command all of us. He's kind of a crotchety old man, but he gets the job done.

I vaulted over a shopping cart filled with alarming amounts of Benadryl. I scooped some up and stuffed them in my coat. Our medic, Anne Glass, could always use some more.

Anyway, where was I? Oh, yeah, Weaver. His second-in-command is Tom Mason—I am, or at least was, what you could call "more than friends" with his oldest son Hal. Four months ago, Tom walked right onto a spaceship full of skitters and we didn't get him back until three months later, when his middle son, Ben—who had been harnessed until Anne removed the damned thing—"accidentally" shot him. No one was sure if he meant it, but he still seems to feel awful about the whole thing . . . and his spikes never disappeared.

I collected a can of tuna from the curb.

Which brings us to right now. Oh, sure, Tom's fine, but Pope has his Berserkers thinking the skitters messed with his head. And people just can't seem to lay off Ben.

But that's the least of my worries at the moment. I don't know where I am, I just know that I'm dying. Maybe going through what started it all will help ease the burning pain.

I had a mech on my tail, and was almost out of ammo. Not good. I hid behind a column, nearing the entrance to the supermarket. Me and Hal had split up with Tom and Anthony about ten minutes before to raid the place, looking for food. Not much luck so far, unless you count low-sodium albacore and allergy meds. Which Anne did.

"Maggie, duck!" I heard somewhere to my right. I hit the deck just as Hal let loose several rounds, finishing off the mech. All was silent for a moment, until we both let out a barely audible cheer. We couldn't risk alerting more mechs or skitters of our presence, so we stayed fairly quiet.

I darted into the abandoned Piggly Wiggly while Hal entered from the back entrance. I grabbed a shopping cart with a squeaky wheel; it worried me at first, but I calmed myself down. It wasn't loud enough for anyone, or anything, to hear.

Pleased to find so much food, I started loading the cart with non-perishables, avoiding the smelly fish section. Eurgh, that stuff had been rotting for who knows how long. Hal met up with me by the pickup truck that we drove there, out in the parking lot. He managed to get his hands on some pretty fine foodstuffs.

We cautiously made our way back to the 2nd Mass, keeping an eye peeled for skitters. None crossed our path.

Cheers erupted as soon as we pulled into the camp with enough food to keep us going for a good amount of time. Hal grinned at me with those heart-melting eyes, giving me a quick peck on the cheek before anyone could see, and I smiled contentedly back at him. Looked like a success. Oh, who was I kidding, definitely a success! Hal went off to hang with Ben, but I went straight to the food.

I enjoyed a warm meal with Lourdes before meeting up with Tom and Weaver to debrief. To tell the truth, I hadn't expected their faces to look so grim.

"What's wrong?" I asked, foreboding creeping up my spine.

They exchanged a glance and Tom inquired in a perfectly calm voice, "When was the last time you saw Hal?"

"About an hour ago, right when we got back. Why?" I was starting to get alarmed.

"We can't find him," he said, looking troubled.

"I saw Hal and Ben talking together before dinner! Maybe he just went to bed early," I said frantically, not wanting to think about what could happen if he was out alone.

"I checked," said Tom, lines of worry etched on his face, and continued, "His bed is empty. Hasn't been slept in since last night. But no weapons are missing from our stash. Wherever Hal is, he's unarmed."

Weaver didn't give me time to respond. "We want you and Dai to go out looking for him with Tom."

I shook with fear. "Like a search party? But he's only been missing for an hour!"

Tom looked as though Hal was already dead. "Maggie . . . there's signs of a struggle, and some civilians are saying they heard yelling."

Weaver finished for him. "We have to face the facts. And the facts are saying that Hal has been kidnapped."

I blacked out.