“You can see behind me the town square of this place where people had once lived.  They had worked and played.  They had dreamed and feared, and they had loved and hoped.  They had raised families, and buried loved ones.  There is no one here to bury them now,” said Walter to the camera that Cynthia was holding through the thick sealed rubber gloves of her hazmat suit.

            Walter’s microphone was inside his sealed helmet, his face partially obscured by the secondary respiration filter in the case that his air supply ran out while still in the field.  It only added to the effect of the report that he was giving to the folks back home.  It illustrated the gravity of the situation, the sheer lethal truth of what ot...

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