The convoy had been driving for nearly two hours, cutting across the vast wasteland under the oppressive midday sun. It was so bright, yet the temperature sat at a frigid 15°F. James sat comfortably in the passenger seat of the jeep, resting his arm on the door, taking in the peace. For once, there were no bullets flying, no creatures lunging from the darkness, and no scientists breathing down his neck. Just open land, an empty sky, and the distant hum of their convoy moving steadily toward its objective.

  Ryan, gripping the wheel, seemed more at ease now than he had been at the start of the journey. He had survived a firefight, mutant insects, and a near-death experience, and somehow, he was still here. James couldn't help but find that amusing.

  “You really don’t die, do you?” James mused, glancing over at him.

  Ryan chuckled, keeping his eyes on the shifting dunes ahead. “I’d like to think it’s skill, but honestly, I’m starting to think it’s just dumb luck.”

  James smirked. “Might be both. How’d you even end up on this job, anyway? SDS doesn’t just hire anyone.”

  Ryan shrugged, his grip tightening on the wheel as the terrain grew rougher. “Used to be with a trade caravan. Good at driving, good at not getting shot. Got picked up as a contractor. Figured I’d be running cargo, not dodging RPGs and giant worms.”

  James let out a short laugh. “Yeah, welcome to the real world. You get used to it.”

  Ryan scoffed. “Do you, though? You seem to handle it like it’s just another Tuesday.”

  James exhaled, watching the endless dunes roll by. “After a while, you either learn to deal with it, or you don’t last long enough to complain.”

  Ryan shook his head. “See, that’s what bothers me. You’re too good at this. You don’t flinch when bullets fly, you don’t panic when things go sideways. Hell, you barely reacted when that bug almost gutted you.”

  James said nothing for a moment, his gaze fixed on the horizon. Then, with a smirk, he replied, “Maybe I’m just lucky too.”

  Ryan huffed, clearly unsatisfied with that answer, but he didn’t press further. Instead, he focused back on driving as they crested the next dune.

  That’s when they saw it.

  The alleged satellite site wasn't visible because something else was in the way and it caught James’s attention.

  There were other vehicles surrounding the location.

  And one of them was a Bradley.

  “What the hell?” James muttered, his muscles tensing.

  Ryan barely had time to react before James grabbed the steering wheel and yanked it hard to the right, forcing the jeep into a sharp, jarring turn.

  Then, the explosion hit.

  A shell tore through the air where they had just been, impacting the dune behind them in a fiery blast. Sand and debris rained down as Ryan fought to regain control of the vehicle.

  James didn’t hesitate—he grabbed the radio, his voice sharp and commanding. “FIRE BACK!”

  The roar of the Bradley’s cannon echoed as it launched a retaliatory shell. The impact struck the enemy Bradley square in the side, sending a shockwave of dust and flame into the air—but it wasn’t enough. The enemy vehicle held firm, its armor absorbing the brunt of the attack.

  Bullets ripped through the air as the enemy forces opened fire. The jeep swerved violently as rounds pinged off the reinforced plating. James ducked low, gripping his rifle tightly as he surveyed the battlefield.

  Ryan’s knuckles were white against the wheel. “What’s the plan, boss?”

  James locked eyes with him, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “Get us as close as you can.”

  Ryan didn’t hesitate—he floored it.

  The jeep barreled forward, weaving through the incoming fire as the two Bradleys exchanged explosive rounds. One shell struck the sand just ahead of them, sending a geyser of dirt skyward. Ryan swerved, barely avoiding the blast.

  James steadied himself, raising his rifle and firing controlled bursts at the enemy soldiers taking cover around their jeeps. One dropped instantly, another staggered back, clutching his gut. The return fire was relentless, but James kept his focus sharp.

  The enemy Bradley adjusted its aim, its cannon swiveling toward their advancing jeep.

  James cursed. “We need to take that thing out now!”

  Before another order could be given, the ground beneath them trembled.

  At first, it was subtle—a deep, rumbling vibration beneath the sand. But then it intensified, turning into a violent quake that sent small dunes collapsing in on themselves.

  And then the worm came.

  It erupted from the ground in a monstrous surge of sand and debris. It moved with horrifying speed, its segmented body writhing as it lunged toward the battlefield.

  The enemy Bradley didn’t stand a chance.

  With a deafening screech, the worm crashed down upon it, its massive jaws snapping shut around the armored vehicle. Metal groaned and twisted as the Bradley was lifted from the ground, its treads dangling uselessly before being crushed in an instant.

  The men who had been taking cover nearby screamed, scrambling to flee, but there was no escape. The worm, having claimed its victim, dove back underground.

  Then the swarm came.

  James shouted into the radio, “FALL BACK! NOW!”

  Ryan needed no further encouragement—he spun the wheel, the jeep kicking up dust as they tore away from the carnage. The remaining soldiers, now in full retreat, ran for their lives as the bugs descended upon them, the massive swarm devouring everything.

  James reloaded his rifle, though he knew there was no fighting all of them. “We need to get out of here before they finish their appetizers and decide we’re next!”

  Ryan nodded furiously, pushing the jeep’s engine to its limits. The Bradley followed suit, speeding away as the monsters ravaged what was left of the enemy forces.

  As they put distance between themselves and the chaos, James glanced back—only to see the horizon swallowed by an incoming sandstorm. A massive wall of dust and debris surged forward, dark and unrelenting, like a tidal wave of earth set on devouring everything in its path.

  Shit.

  They would lose visibility in seconds.

  James snapped his head around, scanning the terrain. Through the thickening haze, his eyes caught the remnants of a city block—crumbling towers, skeletal remains of once-thriving buildings, half-buried in shifting dunes. He couldn't tell if it had once been part of a city or just a densely populated district, but right now, it didn’t matter. It was cover.

  "Over there! Go!" James barked, pointing toward the ruins.

  Ryan didn't hesitate. He yanked the wheel hard, the jeep swerving violently over the uneven sand, tires barely finding purchase. James grabbed the radio, trying to contact the others. Static.

  God-fucking-damn it.

  The sandstorm slammed into them like a sledgehammer. The world turned to chaos. The sky disappeared, swallowed by a churning, suffocating cloud of grit. The force of the wind nearly flipped the jeep, and for a moment, James thought they were done for. Ryan fought to keep control, knuckles white on the wheel, but the storm had its own plans.

  The jeep skidded wildly.

  “Shit—HOLD ON!” Ryan shouted.

  Then, out of nowhere, a looming shadow—too late.

  Ryan slammed the brakes.

  The vehicle screeched to a halt, missing the shattered remains of a concrete wall by mere inches. The impact sent a shockwave through the frame, nearly throwing James forward. The sudden stop combined with the relentless wind almost tipped the jeep over. James grabbed the dashboard for support, the entire vehicle trembling under nature’s fury.

  “We need to get out of here!” James yelled over the howling wind.

  Without waiting for a response, he yanked his scarf around his face. He turned to Ryan, who was still gripping the wheel like it was his lifeline.

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  “Hold onto my backpack—don’t let go, no matter what!” James ordered.

  Ryan gave a shaky nod, reaching out and grabbing a strap. With that, they disembarked into the storm.

  The moment James’ boots hit the ground, he felt the full force of the wind threaten to rip him off his feet. The sand was a living thing, pushing, pulling, trying to bury them alive. He could barely see more than a foot in front of him, his enhanced vision barely piercing the suffocating veil. The world was reduced to nothing but sound and sensation—deafening roars, biting sand, and the oppressive weight of the storm bearing down on them.

  It felt like an eternity of struggling against an unrelenting force, their bodies bent forward, every step a battle. The wind was so strong it threatened to lift Ryan off his feet, forcing James to tighten his grip and drag him forward. Seconds stretched into minutes—or maybe it was the other way around. Time had no meaning in the storm.

  Then, as suddenly as it had started, the wind eased for just a moment, allowing a fleeting glimpse through the swirling chaos.

  There.

  The outline of the building they nearly crashed into.

  James wasted no time. He maneuvered around its wrecked foundation, pushing forward until he found what was left of a standing corner—half a wall that could serve as a windbreak. It was barely standing, its edges crumbling but it was better than nothing.

  He turned to Ryan, voice sharp. “Get in front of me in the corner. Move!”

  Ryan stumbled forward, pressing himself against the fractured concrete. James followed, shoving his own body against the younger man to shield him from the storm. The wind clawed at them viciously, dragging at their clothes, their gear, as if trying to pry them from their fragile sanctuary.

  James gritted his teeth as the sandstorm lashed against his back like a whip. He could feel the grains grinding into his skin, tearing at the exposed patches where the storm had already eaten away at his leather jacket and undershirt. His body became a barrier, absorbing the worst of the storm’s wrath, shielding Ryan from being torn apart.

  Pain flared along his back and arms, the relentless abrasion wearing through layers of fabric and flesh. Every nerve screamed in protest, but James remained unmoving.

  Just a little longer.

  The wind roared, demanding submission.

  James refused to give it.

  Through sheer will, he pressed harder against the wall, his muscles locked in defiance against nature itself. The sand burned, but he held his ground.

  He didn’t know how long they stayed like that, braced against the storm, but eventually—mercifully—the howling winds began to ease.

  The chaos lessened.

  The world, once nothing but a violent, screaming void, started to settle into silence.

  James exhaled sharply, the taste of dust thick in his mouth. His body ached, his skin raw, but he was still standing.

  With the storm finally gone, James felt an overwhelming urge to collapse. The pain radiating across his back and shoulders was enough to make any normal man pass out. But his neural implant refused to let him succumb to exhaustion. The artificial override kept his mind sharp, forcing him to stay alert despite his battered state.

  As he took a moment to survey his surroundings, he finally had a chance to take in the sheer scale of the ruins around them. They were in what was once a city, no doubt about it. Stretching in every direction, the skeletons of old skyscrapers and collapsed buildings loomed—it was the remains of a fallen civilization. Twisted rebar jutted from broken concrete, and shattered glass sparkled faintly under the thin, cold light filtering through the dissipating storm clouds. It looked like the remnants of a warzone, frozen in time.

  A noise caught his attention—Ryan, pushing himself upright with a groan. His clothes were caked in dust and sand, but aside from a few minor scrapes, he seemed unharmed, though James noticed a slight bluish hue to his skin. He was probably freezing. While his clothing allowed him to endure the cold, it had been a long time since he had gone without direct heat.

  "Your back," Ryan muttered, eyeing the damage James had taken.

  "It's fine, kid. I heal fast," James replied, rolling his shoulders with a wince. His enhanced regeneration was already kicking in, stitching torn flesh back together at an accelerated rate. Still, the pain wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. "I'm more worried about you freezing to death."

  James turned his attention to their jeep. The vehicle had flipped during the storm, lying on its side, half-buried in sand. The windshield was shattered, the roof dented inward, and the tires still spun lazily, as if the machine hadn’t quite accepted its fate yet.

  He exhaled sharply. "We need to find the others. I can’t flip the jeep in my state."

  Ryan nodded, still shaking, and followed James' lead as they began sifting through the scattered wreckage. The storm had ripped open the cargo compartments, strewing supplies across the ruined street like discarded debris.

  James crouched, picking through the scattered gear. Most of it was either buried or damaged beyond use, but there were a few salvageable items. His first priority was finding the heating packs. It took some searching, but he eventually found them, handing them to Ryan to tuck under his jacket. Then, he focused on securing their water supply. While James had enough for two days in his pack, there was no telling how long they’d be stranded here without a vehicle. He grabbed the remaining canteens from the wreckage and secured them in his bag.

  Next, he took stock of their weapons. Ryan’s rifle had been flung several feet away, half-buried in a mound of sand. James retrieved it, checked the magazine, and then handed it back. Ryan gave him a nod of thanks, still trying to warm up.

  Further searching yielded some extra rations—mostly protein bars and dehydrated meal packs—and a few undamaged flares. James pocketed the flares, knowing they might come in handy if they needed to signal the others. A broken radio sat half-crushed near the wreckage, sparking uselessly. No chance of making contact.

  Finally, James picked up a broken gas mask and removed the filter, tucking it into his pack in case Ryan needed to switch his out. James would be fine as long as another toxic storm didn’t hit, but Ryan wasn’t as genetically blessed as him.

  James sighed, rubbing a hand through his dust-covered hair. His back still burned, the exposed patches of skin raw from the sandstorm’s merciless assault. He wouldn’t be at full strength for a few hours at least, and until the pain fully subsided, flipping the jeep was out of the question.

  With the looting done, the duo set off toward the tallest standing building in the ruins, hoping to catch sight of the others from a higher vantage point. The remnants of the city stretched before them, a jagged skeleton of a once-thriving metropolis, now reduced to silence and decay. The distant sun cast long shadows over the wreckage, making the ruins appear even more desolate.

  James adjusted his gear, tightening the straps of his backpack before slinging his rifle over his shoulder. His back ached but he pushed the discomfort aside. Ryan, now warmed up thanks to the heating packs, walked beside him, his rifle held tightly in his hands, eyes darting to every dark alley and collapsed structure.

  "Any idea what this city used to be?" Ryan asked, his voice cutting through the eerie quiet.

  James scanned the ruins. "Hard to say. Could’ve been part of D.C.'s outskirts, or maybe just a dense suburb. Either way, it’s just another dead city."

  Ryan exhaled sharply. "Yeah, well, dead cities give me bad feelings. Feels like something’s watching."

  James didn’t respond, but he had the same gut feeling. He’d been in enough ghost towns to know that places like this were never empty. Something always lurked in the forgotten corners of the world.

  They moved carefully, weaving through rusted-out husks of old cars that had long since fused with the asphalt, their frames corroded by time and exposure. Some still had skeletons inside—former citizens who had never made it out when the world fell apart. Their remains sat slumped against shattered windshields or half-spilled onto the pavement, their bones stripped clean by time and scavengers.

  The silence was oppressive, broken only by the sound of their boots crunching over debris. James led the way, his sharp eyes scanning every building, every pile of rubble, every darkened doorway that could be hiding something unwanted.

  Then, as they turned a corner, James stopped abruptly, throwing a hand out to stop Ryan.

  Ryan tensed. "What?"

  James gestured forward. A few hundred feet ahead, half-buried beneath collapsed concrete, was a bloated, pulsing mass of flesh—a mutation, one that had spread its grotesque tendrils across the ruined buildings. The thing looked like an overgrown tumor, veins of dark red and sickly yellow running along its surface. It expanded and contracted as if breathing, the tendrils twitching ever so slightly.

  "Shit," Ryan whispered. "What is that?"

  James narrowed his eyes. "Mutant hive. That thing is alive, and it’s probably got something nesting inside it."

  As if on cue, movement stirred within the fleshy growth. A second later, the chitinous head of a Stray Mutant emerged from the mass, its elongated jaw unhinging with a wet, gurgling noise. It had hollow, sunken eyes that gleamed in the dim light, and its skeletal frame was covered in patches of sickly flesh. It sniffed the air, then let out a low, clicking sound.

  James didn’t hesitate. He raised his rifle and fired.

  The first bullet slammed into the creature’s skull, snapping its head back in a spray of dark fluid. But before it even hit the ground, more movement came from the hive.

  "Move!" James barked.

  Ryan didn’t need to be told twice. The two broke into a sprint as more mutants tore their way out of the bloated hive, their twisted limbs scraping against broken concrete as they lunged forward. They were fast—faster than most wasteland predators. Their long, clawed fingers reached out, their shrill screeches echoing through the ruins.

  James turned mid-run, firing off two more bursts. The first burst caught one in the chest, tearing through its thin rib cage and sending it sprawling. The second burst clipped another in the leg, causing it to stumble.

  But they kept coming.

  Ryan turned and fired his rifle blindly, cursing under his breath. "How many are there!?"

  "Too many," James growled, reloading.

  The ruins worked to their advantage. The collapsed buildings and wreckage made it difficult for the creatures to pursue them in a straight line, forcing them to scramble over debris and squeeze through narrow gaps. But James knew they wouldn’t last long if they didn’t get to higher ground.

  Up ahead, he spotted a fire escape attached to the side of an old building. "There! Climb!"

  Ryan was up first, scrambling onto the rusted metal ladder and hauling himself up. James covered him, laying down suppressing fire as the creatures closed in. He fired short, controlled bursts, each shot dropping another mutant, but it was clear they weren’t slowing down.

  James grabbed the ladder and climbed, his boots clanking against the rusted steps. As he ascended, he heard the creatures below, clawing at the base of the fire escape, their screeches growing more frenzied. He reached the first landing and pulled himself over the railing, breathing heavily.

  Ryan stood at the edge, looking down. "They’re trying to climb!"

  James turned and fired down at them. The creatures were swarming the base, some leaping and clawing at the metal. A few even managed to grab onto the lower rungs, their twisted bodies jerking as they tried to pull themselves up.

  James gritted his teeth and tossed a grenade. "Catch, you ugly bastards."

  The explosive dropped into the mass of mutants below, and a second later, the alley was filled with fire and gore. The blast sent limbs flying, blackened blood splattering across the ruined walls. The ones that hadn’t been shredded by the explosion scattered, screeching in pain and confusion.

  James exhaled. "That should do it."

  They continued climbing, making their way up the fire escape until they reached the rooftop. From there, they had a clear view of the ruins.

  James scanned the horizon. The others had to be somewhere nearby.

  Ryan leaned against the railing, catching his breath. "I never want to deal with those things again."

  James smirked. "You will. Welcome to the wasteland."

  Ryan groaned. "Great."

  James looked across the landscape. Somewhere out there, Aurora, Laim, and the others were waiting. He just had to find them before something else did.