The western forest had been quiet for too long.
Marcus noticed it before the drones did.
He stood beside an abandoned irrigation canal nearly eighteen kilometers from Basa, one knee pressed against damp concrete while rainwater moved slowly beneath him. Around the canal, tall grass leaned beneath the evening wind, and the surrounding trees formed a dense wall that blocked sight beyond forty meters. Nothing about the terrain looked unusual. Central Luzon contained thousands of places exactly like it.
That was what made it dangerous.
Marcus raised one gloved hand.
The twelve operators behind him stopped at once.
No words passed between them. No radios activated. Every man simply froze where he stood, rifles pointed toward separate sectors while their eyes searched the trees.
Sergeant Alvarez crouched beside Marcus and slowly lowered his night vision device.
"What is it?"
Marcus listened.
Wind moved through the leaves.
Water dripped from branches.
