Funeral detail had sucked ass, to put it politely. Burying friends always was. But they had never buried more than one or two at a time. The Scorps had killed seven in their attack. Drake wasn't the religious sort, but he had prayed for them earlier, and for the rest of his group after.

He stood near the garden, where crosses marked the fallen. It was the only bright spot in the area, where someone had planted annual flowers that came back year after year. He wouldn't admit it, but he hoped whoever had planted the garden hadn't suffered from the Virus. He took a breath, and began reciting.

"Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death..."