The electronic padlock hung loose, already clicked open.

They were waiting for me.

I pushed the gate open with the bumper of the truck.

The metal screeched as it swung back into the wet brush.

I drove through, parking the truck beneath the low branches of a weeping willow.

I grabbed my rifle and checked the magazine.

Ten rounds left.

I slipped my combat knife into the sheath on my thigh.

I stepped out of the truck into the cold mud.

The air smelled of ozone and wet earth.

Ahead of me lay a low-slung, concrete bunker built into the side of a hill.

It looked like an old Cold War munitions depot.

Only the modern security cameras mounted on the concrete pillars gave away its true purpose.

The lenses of the cameras tracked me as I walked toward the entrance.

The heavy steel door at the front of the bunker was slightly ajar.

A sliver of warm, yellow light spilled out onto the wet gravel.

I raised my rifle, checking the corners of the entryway.

Nothing moved.

I stepped through the door into a wide, sterile hallway.