Get in. Get out. We have to prevent the disease from spreading. No one is living there anyway. Just don't let it bother you."Flying toward Los Angeles, the objecting pilot crossed himself. His conscience was not eased by his flight leader's remarks. How could we be doing this? These are Americans. This is American soil. "God forgive us," he spoke into the radio, "I don't see how anyone else can."The first hours of the day were long and carried heavily with dread. Only those who had passed out got sleep. Everyone was exhausted and hungry. Rest was elusive and food was lacking.Bodies cluttered the floor. Every bench was occupied. Many tables housed a form or two as well. With the number of people present in the room, it should have been louder. No one wanted to make noise out of respect to everyone else. Quiet as a tomb would be a poor yet fitting way to describe atmosphere.The vampires all tried to sleep inside through the day. As tired as they were, none of them wanted to fight the. She was even more sure after knowing him for a few hours that she could work with him.She was heartened at the party in the bar downstairs, by the obvious genuine respect and affection his crew had for him, and the dismay that had been expressed by almost everyone, at losing him. However, the big hurdle was yet to come. She had avoided all sexual contact since her disastrous marriage of a few years ago, and now to have to climb into bed with a strange man, was for her a bit nerve wracking. She knew though, that it had to be done, the Gestapo were no fools, and any inconsistency in their cover story would be fatal for both of them.Anne-Marie was 24 and had been born of a Belgian mother and a French father, and she had been brought up in a small town on the Belgian coast not far from Zeebrugge. They were a relatively wealthy family, her father was a local banker, and well known and respected in the area. After school she had not had to work and had stopped at home to help her ageing.
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