It was the dirty end of a dirty job. Three of us were hunting horrors in the dark, seven thousand feet below Camelback Mountain. If we couldn't wrap this up before the clock ticked down then the whole place would go into hard lockdown. The Vault would become our tomb. The government would disown us, our own people would have to write us off. But the things we hunted wouldn't care. When our lights and weapons and food ran out, they'd hunt us.