The person occupying this place had done exactly as expected: hidden in the pile of corpses. He had creatively built the bodies into a bunker, leaving only a tiny firing slit.
Back at the entrance, his weapon had been fitted with a flash suppressor, so they had not spotted him hiding there at first. But the moment they entered the hall and Deathstroke noticed him, it was over.
"Come on in. It's safe now."
Thomas waved toward the doorway, signaling that the two women could enter. Then he climbed the mountain of corpses and pulled out the enemy who had died inside.
He was a standard american soldier. He wore no uniform, so his rank was impossible to tell. He only had on a green T-shirt, with jungle camouflage painted across his face. Even with a hole blown through his forehead, his expression remained crazed.
Beside his body really was a small pile of food: chocolate wafers, potato chips, crackers, and more. Even when he died, one hand had been operating the heavy machine gun while the other clutched the food.
It seemed the food he had mentioned earlier was actual food. He was not a cannibal.
But judging from the other bodies, all of them had been shot dead. That meant that, to ensure he had enough to eat and drink and could survive longer in the apocalypse, he had simply killed all his colleagues and the staff members they had originally been protecting.
He was crazy, but not completely crazy. His latent antisocial personality had merely been triggered, and then something in his brain had gone wrong.
Deathstroke had already guessed how he had done it. When the crisis first broke out, the person in charge of the observatory had likely gathered everyone here for a meeting, either