Snippet #2392393

With the rifle hanging loose on the three-point sling, Edward hauled on his moth-eaten greatcoat, stuffing the pockets with more rifle ammunition and a clutch of stun grenades looted from the boot of a police car. He heard his companion's frantic motions, and the authoritative command but didn't look around. As she disappeared down the tunnel, he tossed his overloaded rucksack down after her, already packed with a decent amount of supplies and other essential survival gear, along with another handgun and a flare pistol.

Now his gear was relatively safe, along with his charge he busied himself with a nondescript green crate hidden against one wall. With an almost gleeful expression, he gingerly lifted out the last of the round anti-personnel charges. He buried them under the mound of furs, arranging the bedding to make it look like it was occupied. The act of lifting away the obscuring fabric would activate the mines, filling the bunker with ricocheting shrapnel.

This task complete, he grabbed the one remaining charge and hopped down the hole into the dank tunnel, leaving the explosive at the base of the iron runged ladder as a last surprise for any pursuer. Raising the rifle, he started down the tunnel.

“Aislynn?” His voice was little more than a whisper, conscious that their pursuers could already be in the bunker.