His breakfast, such as it was, was now cold and untouched on the small table in front of him.  Jack hadn’t eaten since lunch at Sohrab’s home on the northern end of DC, and even then had only picked at it in a desultory manner.  Sohrab’s wife, Marie, was an excellent cook, but Jack had simply not been in the mood to eat.  His thoughts constantly turned to Amber, and or the hundredth time this morning, he picked up his phone and checked to see if she had called.  Mason, sitting across the room on the bed with Sohrab and playing cards, watched him from the corner of his eye.

Getting out of DC had been easier than Jack imagined it would be… once they left Sohrab’s house, that is.  Much of the city had been locked down due to some idiot landing a gyroco...

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