The Housefly Massacre
The sniping had been bad enough; suddenly out of nowhere, fly after fly after fly down; the rest zig-zagging, or in frantic loop de loops, running laps to evade. Team after team gone, but needed to try and infiltrate. But then came the ultimate, the awful; the strip. Good, decent flies left trapped and helpless, screaming and buzzing, never to escape again. An example. The area was no longer just a hot zone. It was a signal, a personal horror. And worse, the snipers seemed to be herding them all towards the danger line. They should never have come to this house.