Book 4 – Fulcrum

It turned out Loggins wasn’t the best conversationalist—he refused to speak to the Travelers and, when they arrived at their destination, he checked in and turned them over to posted guards. After a subtle nod of acknowledgment, he was gone with the two troopers.
Half an hour passed as they sat outside a large tent, occasionally eyeballed by several guards.
“They don’t seem to be too interested in us,” Devin observed. “Maybe we should boogie out of here . . .” His statement lacked conviction for he knew someone would take a dim view of their attempt to exit stage left.
“You see that guard over there,” Claire asked Devin. “Do you think he’ll hesitate to aerate you with bullets?” Devin didn’t answer—a low grunt was all he could muster.
The tent flap opened, and a soldier gestured for them to enter. Once inside, he pointed to low stools facing a field desk behind which a thirty-ish officer appeared to be studying a terrain map.
After a few minutes of silence, the officer looked up from his table and scanned the foursome, taking his time to consider each. To his far left sat a young man, black-haired with vivid green eyes, sitting casually on his stool, radiating the ability to immediately transcend into raw power and movement. The officer decided Tag needed to be monitored until he sorted things out—there was a niggling safety concern despite one of his armed men standing behind the four young people.

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