Leoneska’s heart pounded as he thumbed the bullets into their magazine. The repetition of the action over the last hour had his fingers long since burning with pain.

As the cellar door swung open Leon stood abruptly, reaching for his handgun, but relaxing as a familiar face stepped through, an old rifle slung over her shoulder.

“Kellen! Yours are ready.” He said sliding a pile of small cartridges across the tabletop to the senior rebel.

“Callsigns Arrow,” said Kellen as she retrieved them, and began sliding them into pouches across her bandolier.

Leon shook his head. “Right, Thumper. Sorry.”

“It’s okay we’re not on comms, but you can’t forget.”

Arrow mouthed the callsign a few more times.

A blast sounded in the distance. Leoneska turned, eyes wide. Thumper stood silent, listening.

“Tank shell… it didn’t go off. That was too close, we need to leave.”

“I’m not finished reloading for them yet.” Arrow looked up to Thumper motioning to the table, bullets and empty magazines still scattered about it.

“Arrow… pack Convoy’s things, leave the rest.”

“What?”

“Listen that shell was too close, they were supposed to warn us, and they didn’t.”

“What are yo-”

“If they’re not dead they’re not coming back. We need to leave.”

Arrow blinked a few times, still processing what Thumper had said as he gathered the things into his pack and hoisted it on to the clinking of the various munitions inside.

“Alright, let’s go.”

“Your gun. You’ll need it.