kills Joe's backup

“You want backup, Cap?” he asked. We’d left Baltimore with a crew of three: Hector at the stick; a former field agent with an artificial leg called Slick riding shotgun; and a red-haired woman nicknamed—creatively—Red along as crew chief. They were support staff, but they were also combat vets; each partially disabled but still tough as nails.

“Stay on station,” I told Hector. “I don’t know if this is a hello-goodbye waste of time or if we’re going to need to get this Flynn woman back to the shop. Cut the rotors but stay ready.”

...

I edged outside, fanning the Beretta across the lawn. The only movement was the swaying of tall flowers. With the pistol leading the way, I ran toward the helicopter. It sat there, eerily still in the sunlight.

There was no doubt of what I’d find.

Of what I did find.

Hector, Red, and Slick.

What was left of them was sprawled behind the Black Hawk. That gun—that weird gun—had blown them apart. Three good people were now fried meat and drying blood. Not even recognizable as the people they’d been. Red lines of blood snaked through the grass. Exactly the same color as the red trim on the helo.

-Extinction Machine: Kindle Location 3282-4503