Chapter 4

"They were called Ontos, after the Greek word for "thing," in part because they were ugly."

― Mark Bowden

"They want to do what now?"

Rowan and Tex walked down the hallway to the dining area, where a meeting had been called. One of the Survivors had an idea of how to destroy the Thunderers chasing them.

"I dunno, Tex. They just said that they had an idea, and they wanted us to hear it."

"I can't think of anything that would work, Blink."

"You're not really the person who thinks of this stuff."

"Shut up."

They both laughed as they walked into the dining area.

"Ah, that's everyone. Okay, the plan."

A tired bu important-looking man stood on a table with a diagram of the bunker next to him.

"Recently, we've managed to acquire a large amount of explosives, mostly TNT used in building demolitions. The plan here is to set a trap for the Destroyers, to lure them in close to the base and blow them up. Our scouts have tracked the movement of a battalion of about 4 tanks headed in our direction, they'll arrive here in 2 days. By this time, we should have the explosives planted and evacuations underway. We'll use heaters to trick their thermal sensors. Are there questions?"

Right then another man walked into the dining area.

"We've got another group arriving, group of 6. They'll get here in an hour, do we have enough bunks?"

"Yes, but I'm not sure about food and water supplies."

"...well, let's hope they brought their own."

An hour later, Rowan stood atop the crow's nest of the bunker, watching the transport of survivors drive closer and closer with binoculars. "Reckon they'll be a bunch of grumpy army vets?"

"Pretty sure the army and the entire military for that matter basically disintegrated after the Drones decided to be drones."

"Ah, you're no fun." Tex chuckled from beside Rowan. He stood up, stretched, and started climbing down the ladder that led back into the bunker. "Come on, let's give 'em a warm welcome."

Rowan took one last look at the transport that was only a few hundred feet away now and followed Tex down the ladder.

The heavy metal doors, designed to withstand shells from a Hunter, slowly slid open. A man in his late twenties in a standard-issue army combat uniform and cap stood there, extending his hand to shake the hands of the other man who had ordered the meeting.

"Hi, I'm Frags. Thanks for letting us stay with you."

"You're welcome, and you can call me Stud." He waved to the transport behind Frags. "You said group of 6?"

"Yes. Four men including me, one woman and one girl."

"Alright. I'll get someone to show them their bunks, but we'll be leaving in about two days, so don't get too comfy."

Frags gave a smirk and turned around to get the others.

The first one out of the transport was a man in his late thirties with greying hair, wearing overalls and a long-sleeved shirt; he looked like he had been a farmer once. A big "F" was sewn into his wide-brimmed hat.

The next one was a man- scratch that, he looked like he had just graduated high school and was looking for a job. About nineteen or so with the same brownish hair as Tex, dressed in a faded white shirt with a Nike logo on it. Judging by the dark look in his eyes and the way his hands twitched, Rowan guessed he must have lived on the streets of some city.

Next was a woman in a flight suit, which Rowan didn't expect at all. Brownish blonde hair tied back into a tight bun with an expressionless look on her face. There was an eight-chevron insignia on her each of her collars, but rank didn't matter that much anymore.

Another man stepped out, looking very similar to the man before, but slightly older. Brown hair that was slightly longer, dark eyes and twitchy fingers.

Last one out was a girl about sixteen, the same age as Rowan and Tex. Black, elbow-length hair tied into a ponytail, wearing a t-shirt and combat pants. The most surprising part, however, was her oval face, flat cheeks, and slightly larger forehead.

Russian, Rowan thought. What's she doing here?

There had been talks, rumors even, of a Russian invasion. It made sense; once the entire country was thrown into anarchy, gaining control would be easy. So, naturally, everyone was suspicious of anyone Russian.

They each introduced themselves. "Hello, I'm Bale. Nice to meet y'all." The farmer had a slight southern accent.

The woman went next. "Hawkins."

The two... brothers, Rowan presumed, looked up. "I'm Jack. This is Jerry." The taller one motioned to the shorter one.

The girl didn't even raise her head. "Wolf." Her voice was quiet, with a hint of a Russian accent.

Stud clapped his hands. "Alright, now let's get y'all situated. You-" he pointed to Tex, "Show Jack and Jerry their rooms. You-" he pointed to someone else, "Show Hawkins her room. And you-" he pointed at Rowan, "Show Wolf her room."

Making sure she was following him, Rowan turned around and walked back into the bunker.