When it rains, it pours

I found an old WIP story-entry I had forgotten about, figured I might as well throw it up here for some feedback, see if it's worth finishing up. Yes, no update for 2 months and then two stories in a single night, quite a change I know!
This is currently untitled, names and titles are still likely to change, but the storyline itself should be pretty solid as is.
Enjoy!

A muck covered trooper burst into the dank cellar of an old café, where his comrades were holed up. “They’re coming! We need to leave, now!”
Immediately the room erupted in an explosion of movement, shouting and packing of what sparse supplies were left. Veterans barked orders, men grabbed food and ammunition, and rifles were slung across shoulders. Marcus, who was the closest thing to a commander they had, quickly packed up the charts he had been studying.
He took hold of the man who had burst in and said to him: “I need numbers and an ETA, now!”
“Marcus… sir…”
“Dammit man, spit it out already. There’s nothing we can do about it now!”
“Our forward relay counted at least 15. He spotted them 2 miles from here, coming straight for us. I expect them here in 5 minutes, tops.”
Marcus digested the information with a pained look on his face. He didn’t need this, not now. He had been so close. A day more, perhaps two and he would have found it!
“The relay?” He asked the trooper.
“Dead, sir. They passed straight over his position, he couldn’t have survived.”
“Perfect… Just what we needed.”
Marcus looked at the bustle and raised his voice: “Alright men, listen up! We’ve got 5 minutes before they hit us and John here says there were 15 incoming, so don’t even think about putting up a fight. We’re leaving, now. Everything that’s not vital, we leave behind.
I want everyone outside and moving in 30 seconds!”
“What about me sir?” John asked.
“Grab your rifle and ammunition, take all the supplies you can carry and don’t forget your transmitter. We might still have a use for that thing if we can salvage another one.”

The men were quickly pouring out of the cellar, taking up positions behind debris to cover their comrade’s exodus from what had been their home and base of operations for weeks now.
They had been relatively safe here. Only one Locust had come anywhere near their hideout, but that was still considered one too many by most of the men.
Marcus had heard their complaints and fears, but refused to move to a safer location. He needed to remain here, he knew that here he could find a key, a solution, an answer.

No one remembers what the Locust are or where they came from. Most of the population was wiped out several generations ago. Ever since, what little men remained focused on staying alive and out of their hands. They weren’t concerned with history.
Scattered scraps of information could be found about the Locust if you knew where to look and were lucky, although it was mostly unintelligible gibberish. Marcus had found something better. He said he had found a way to stop them. He said he had found their weakness.