Nothing stirred. He raised the transmitter, clicking it on. “Scott? Can you hear me?”
Silence.
“Scott! This is Hendricks. Can you hear me? I’m standing outside the bunker. You should be able to see me in the view sight.”
He listened, the transmitter gripped tightly. No sound. Only static. He walked forward. A claw burrowed out of the ash and raced toward him. It halted a few feet away and then slunk off. A second claw appeared, one of the big ones with feelers. It moved toward him, studied him intently, and then fell in behind him, dogging respectfully after him, a few paces away. A moment later a second big claw joined it. Silently, the claws trailed him, as he walked slowly toward the bunker.
Hendricks stopped, and behind him, the claws came to a halt. He was close, now. Almost to the bunker steps.
“Scott! Can you hear me? I’m standing right above you. Outside. On the surface. Are you picking me up?”
He waited, holding his gun against his side, the transmitter tightly to his ear. Time passed. He strained to hear, but there was only silence. Silence, and faint static.
Then, distantly, metallically—
“This is Scott.”