at another deserted airport. I think it’s Heathrow. I know the drill by now: No one except military personal, civilians nowhere in sight.

I'm only a little wrong.

This time, there’s literally no one here.

We get off the plane and greet the barren tarmac, not a soul in sight. In the distance, jets screech on, and the occasional explosion shakes the ground beneath our feet.

I can't help but find it odd that literally no one is here, but it's not long before I find out why.

A roar echoes—a raspy feminine growl.

She's far too close.

Soon, though, her cries are smothered by the chopping blades of a Chinook helicopter. We were told we'd need to be airborne during this mission—apparently Quiora is more of a threat than s...

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