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((Carla Conners continued from The Various Downsides of Becoming "Paranoid as Balls"))

Carla had been laying low since the fun fair, laying low and trying to avoid getting into any unnecessary altercations. She knew what was going on, of course. It was hard to miss the implications of those special announcements. It was also hard to really find it in herself to do anything about them. Some girl she didn't even know had annoyed the terrorists. She hadn't gotten free, though. Hadn't changed anything at all in the long run. It just didn't really mean anything to Carla.

All that changed when she was near the tunnels.

She'd seen the group making its way towards the entrance, but she hadn't thought much of it. A boy carrying a girl, another three or four in their wake. Just some team fleeing Lombardi or something like that. It suggested to her that she should head off in a thoroughly different direction, so she did. She assumed that she'd hear some more names on the announcement the next day, probably in conjunction with an epic shootout, and that'd be it.

Then she stumbled across the soldiers.

They were headed in the same direction as the group she'd seen, on what looked like an intercept course. There were six of them. It was clear at a glance that they weren't her classmates. They were armed to the teeth, decked out in combat uniforms, and moving with precision and purpose. One of them, a woman, was consulting her wrist. She seemed to be setting their course.

It didn't take much to put things together. That group she'd seen before was the one causing trouble, and these were Danya's troubleshooters. Carla had heard the helicopter. It all made sense.

Carla took one look at her gun, then back at the terrorists. The woman who'd been looking at her wrist glanced straight at Carla's position, said something to one of the others.

Carla ran.

She ran back the way she'd come. At first, she wasn't sure what she was doing. She just wanted to get away, wanted to hide. She wanted to live, though. That meant getting off this island. And there was a group that had caused enough trouble to warrant attention. There were people on the ground. That meant this was serious. That meant that there was a chance.

So Carla was going to warn them. She was going to tell them to run, tell them the terrorists were coming. Give them a shot at fleeing, or at accomplishing whatever they were trying to do. In return, she'd ask to join them. She'd ask them to let her come with them, help them, escape with them. They'd all survive.

Carla could see the entrance to the tunnel, could see people vanishing into it. If they went in there, they might be able to lose their pursuers. They might also get trapped in a dead end. It wasn't gonna be pretty if that happened.

Carla ran to the people in back of the group, not even taking time to see who they were. Her gun was stowed. She didn't want to alarm them. Well, okay, she did, just for valid reasons.

"Guys," she gasped. She was panicking. Hyperventilating. She forced her breathing to slow.

"Guys, maybe I'm wrong, but if you're the group with what's-her-name that Kwong talked to, you should know that people are coming. They've got guns and they're right behind me. They're coming here. They know where you are, because they've—"

And then, Carla's collar detonated, and her headless corpse dropped to the ground.

G111, Carla Conners: DECEASED
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