"What kind of freaks are these, not even knowing where to hide!"
"We've searched all around, not a single person in sight."
"If I find out who the bastard is that fired the gun, I really want to beat the shit out of him!"
"Damn it, it's fucking frustrating!"
Complaints abounded, one after another.
Listening for a while, Flossie Wright turned to face Glenn Hutchinson and asked with raised eyebrows, "Aren't you going up?"
The previously still Glenn Hutchinson, hearing this, glanced down at her, then frowned slightly, his voice low and grim, "Cold?"
The dim twilight persisted, with only a few stars left in the night sky, casting a faint light on Flossie Wright's face, making it look ghastly pale.
The pallor of her face was in stark contrast to the camouflage paint on it.
Unnaturally white, she was obviously cold.
"No..."
Before she could finish,
Glenn Hutchinson received a call, tilted his head towards the earpiece, and listened intently with furrowed brows.
