Chapter 155

"They blew my house up?"

Poor Adam. He sounded so incredulous. Having one's home taken away, and so violently, had to suck. But of worse import than the loss of his property was other news.

A petite Latina, smelling strongly of smoke, gave her report in a raspy voice. "I never even saw it coming. The bastards dropped a bloody bomb on the place. A bomb, for fuck's sake."

"Who dropped it?" Adam asked.

"The fucking military, who else?" snapped Anastasia. Pointing a remote at a television bolted to a living room wall-a room, which mind-boggling enough, featured faded velour couches with crocheted afghans slung over the backs-she raised the sound on the newscast that showed a video of billowing clouds of smoke.