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... e edge of Kingsbridge. Ahead of them, the mist was so thick it looked like a solid wall of grey wool. If given an option none of the soldiers in the trucks would have chosen to walk into the mist willingly.
If Philip muttered ’the mist is your friend’ one more time, someone was going to break his jaw. And there were many willing ’someone’s’ in the group.
Sunshine grabbed the radio, her voice crackling through every headset in the convoy. "Listen up. Check your pockets. If you hav ...
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