She'll die too faced with his immediate death, surrounded by the diseased and dying as pieces of flaming helicopter rained down from the skies, all Rodrigo Juan Raval could think about was the girl. That, and getting the hell out of the way. - move! He dove for cover behind an unmarked tombstone as the small cemetery rumbled and shook. With a shatter - ing metal sound of high impact, a massive chunk of smoking 'copter crashed into the far corner of the yard, spraying the nearest rotting prisoners and soldiers with burning fuel. Bright, oily streamers of it spattered across the ground like sticky lava - and when Rodrigo hit the dirt, he felt a tremendous bolt of pain in his gut, two of his ribs cracking against a weed-buried slab of dark marble. The pain was sudden and terrible, paralyzing, but he somehow managed not to pass out. He couldn't afford to. A rotor blade knifed into the dirt barely two feet from him, spraying sandy earth into the evening sky. He heard a new chorus of wordless moans, the virus carriers protest - ing the rain of fire. An infected guard shambled by, his hair blazing like a torch, his eyes sightless and searching. They don't feel it, don't feel a thing, Rodrigo desper-ately reminded himself, concentrating on his breathing, afraid to move as the pain edged from shrieking to mere shouting. Not human anymore. The