The group pressed forward, the stench of blood and rot thick in the air as they neared the Bradley. The remains of the last guard lay in their path—a horrifying sight.

  His torso and lower body had been completely severed, the cut jagged and brutal, as if something had ripped him apart with sheer force rather than slicing cleanly. His intestines were spilled across the sand, coiling like grotesque ropes, steaming in the cold air. His ribs were shattered outward, fragments of bone jutting from the gory mess of his chest cavity.

  James let out a whistle.

  His face was still contorted in agony, eyes frozen wide open, mouth twisted in a silent scream—whatever had done this, he had felt every second of it.

  Aurora knelt briefly, examining the corpse, her fingers gliding over the mangled remains with unsettling precision. “Torn apart. Something strong did this. Not a blade. Not claws. Just… raw power.”

  James nodded grimly. “Let’s move.”

  They stepped around the ruined corpse, pushing on towards the Bradley.

  And that’s when James stopped in his tracks.

  The inside of the armored vehicle was a slaughterhouse.

  Through the open hatch, James could see bodies piled on top of one another, their forms so torn and mangled that it was impossible to tell where one ended and another began. The interior was painted red, blood coating every surface, dripping from the ceiling in thick, slow-moving rivulets.

  Limbs.

  Chunks of flesh.

  Pieces of armor and torn clothing, embedded in the walls like shrapnel.

  James couldn’t even count how many bodies were in there. There was no distinction between them anymore—just a pulped, shredded mass of what used to be people.

  Then Laim saw it.

  He stumbled back, his breath hitching. “Jesus… holy fuck…”

  Laim bent over removing his mask and vomited violently onto the sand. His entire body shook with each heave, retching up everything in his stomach.

  James didn’t blame him it was a nasty sight.

  Aurora, however, just stared.

  Her violet eyes flicked over the scene, expression unreadable, but James saw the way her jaw tensed. Even she wasn’t unshaken by this.

  James took a slow step forward, gripping the hatch for a better look. The stench hit him full force—coppery, thick, and suffocating.

  James spotted him—Ryan’s body, half-buried beneath a pile of rubble and twisted metal, his limbs sprawled unnaturally, like a discarded doll. His face was barely visible, his head slumped forward, a deep gash running from his temple down to his jaw, dried blood matting his dark hair.

  His torso had taken the worst of it—his chest plate was caved in, jagged metal piercing straight through him, pinning him to the debris. His arms, once tense with life, hung limply, one bent at an impossible angle. His fingers twitched slightly, but James knew it was just the nerves shutting down.

  James exhaled, stepping closer. He crouched down beside the wreckage, taking in the kid’s final moments. A brutal death. Probably quick. Probably.

  “Damn, kid,” was all James said.

  His face didn’t change—not a flicker of emotion. At this point, almost nothing fazed him anymore. Death was a part of the job, but that didn’t mean it didn’t leave something behind. A quiet, lingering disappointment settled in his chest.

  Ryan had been tough, resilient despite the odds, despite the shitstorm this job had thrown at him. But dumb luck runs out eventually.

  James reached down, gripping the chain around Ryan’s neck, lifting it free from beneath the torn remains of his gear. A simple silver cross, its surface dull and scratched from years of wear. A personal thing. Something that had mattered to him.

  James slipped it into his pocket.

  Then, with practiced care, he reached up and closed Ryan’s eyes, holding them shut until the cold did the job for him.

  James stood, turning toward the others.

  Aurora was rummaging through the wreckage of the Bradley, retrieving something—he didn’t ask what. Laim, however, was kneeling beside Raven’s lifeless body, his head bowed, whispering a quiet prayer over her.

  James watched as Laim finished, pressing his fingers to his forehead, chest, and shoulders—the sign of the cross—before standing. His movements were slow, heavy. He looked drained, his face pale and hollow.

  James spoke, his voice steady. “Let’s not wait around for whatever did this.” He slung his rifle over his shoulder. “Everyone back to the jeep.”

  No one argued.

  They moved with purpose, silent, no words needed.

  James climbed into the driver’s seat, starting the engine. As the jeep rumbled to life, he cast one final glance back at the blood-soaked battlefield.

  Then he drove.

  It was time to get the hell out of here.

  The drive out of the desert wasteland was eerily peaceful. Too peaceful.

  James kept one hand on the wheel, the other resting lightly on his holster, scanning the horizon. No movement. No more mutants, no swarming insects, no sign of the horrors that had pursued them just hours before. The only sound was the steady hum of the jeep’s engine, the occasional creak of their gear shifting with the bumps in the sand.

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  The silence felt wrong.

  James had seen it before—the calm after the storm. The world didn’t just let people walk away from places like DC. But for now, it seemed content to let them leave.

  The remnants of the ruined city faded behind them as they approached the irradiated forest once more. The trees, once twisted and gnarled, had been blackened to their roots by the fire. The inferno James had set back at the Vaulter Vine incident had done its work—entire sections of the forest had been reduced to smoldering husks, clearing the once-dense, suffocating path ahead.

  James drove slowly, navigating around charred logs and fallen debris, the ground beneath them still cracking from the heat. He could see where the fire had burned hotter than it should have, where the mutated plant life had reacted violently to the flames. In some areas, strange pulsating growths had burst open, leaving behind nothing but ashen craters.

  They didn’t see a single living thing.

  No scavengers. No stalkers. No remnants of whatever had once ruled this place. It was as if the forest itself had accepted its fate, its monsters burned away in exchange for their passage.

  James’ grip on the wheel tightened as they pushed through the last leg of the journey. The hours dragged on, the road a long, winding path through destruction. The farther they went, the thinner the air became—not in a physical sense, but in that unnatural, oppressive way that reminded him of places that had been tainted for too long.

  By the time they emerged from the burned-out woodland, twenty minutes had passed—a fraction of what it took them to get in.

  As they left the DC Wastes, the others finally pulled off their masks, breathing in what passed for fresh air in the Virginia Wasteland. It wasn’t clean, it wasn’t great—but at least it was breathable.

  The jeep shook violently as James maneuvered it back onto I-81, the worn asphalt groaning under the weight of their battered vehicle. The road ahead stretched long and empty, a desolate ribbon cutting through the wasteland. And just like that, they were finally heading back.

  James exhaled, easing his grip on the wheel as the tension settled, if only slightly. “We should be back in about seven hours,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

  Then, in an attempt to break the heavy silence, he glanced over at Aurora, smirking. “Still expecting my pay to be increased since the other two died.” His tone was casual and joking.

  Aurora gave him a sidelong look, raising an eyebrow. “That wasn’t in the contract, but… I’m sure something can be arranged,” she replied, her voice carrying a rare trace of amusement.

  In the backseat, Laim perked up at the exchange. He had been quiet, the reality of the past three days of hell still settling in. He felt the loss but at the same time, it was a strange kind of grief. They had only known each other for a short time.

  Still, even in that short span, they had fought, bled, and survived together.

  Laim leaned forward, resting his arm on the front seat, flashing a tired smirk. “You better split that with me.”

  James let out a chuckle. “Hell no.”

  Aurora scoffed. “I thought mercenaries were all about honor?”

  James grinned, shaking his head. “We are. But I’m also about getting paid.”

  For the first time in hours, laughter filled the jeep. It wasn’t forced, it wasn't hollow. Just three survivors, riding through the wasteland.

  As the hours rolled by, the tension from earlier faded, replaced by the rhythm of casual conversation. Three hours had passed since they got back on the road, and for once, the ride was smooth. The wasteland stretched endlessly around them, the cracked asphalt of I-81 a rare piece of stability in the shifting, chaotic landscape.

  Laim leaned back in his seat with a sigh. “Feels weird… actually having some quiet after everything.”

  James smirked, eyes still on the road. “Don’t jinx it.”

  Aurora chuckled from the passenger seat. “You really believe in that?”

  “I believe in not tempting fate.”

  Laim stretched, rolling his shoulders. “Well, when we make it back, I already know what I’m spending my cut on.”

  James glanced at him. “Yeah? What’s the plan?”

  Laim grinned, his voice carrying something rare—genuine warmth. “I’m putting my kids through college.”

  James gave him a skeptical look. “They still have those?”

  Aurora laughed, turning toward him. “Yes, they do. But they’re expensive. We have two in Norfolk.”

  Laim shrugged. “Well, someone’s gotta give them a better life.” There was no hesitation in his voice. No bitterness. Just a simple truth.

  Aurora smiled, seemingly caught off guard by the sincerity. “That’s actually a good answer.”

  Then she turned to James. “What about you? What are you gonna do with your cut?”

  James kept his eyes on the road. “I’m buying a battery.”

  Silence.

  Laim blinked. “A battery?”

  Aurora frowned. “That’s it?”

  James shrugged like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Yeah. An off-the-line fuel cell—only the best for my car.”

  Laim looked genuinely baffled. “You’re telling me you survive all that bullshit, get a fat payday, and you’re spending it on your car?”

  James smirked. “Yep.”

  Aurora shook her head in disbelief. “That’s ridiculous. Where are you even planning on going?”

  James tapped the wheel, a subtle smirk tugging at his lips. “That’s my business.”

  Laim scoffed. “Man, I was expecting you to say ‘a bunker’ or ‘enough booze to wipe a country off the map’—but a damn battery?”

  Aurora crossed her arms. “Are you secretly a machine? Is that why you don’t freeze to death?”

  James chuckled. “Nope. Made of flesh through and through. And got every bit a man should have,” he added in a light, teasing tone, his eyes never leaving the road.

  Aurora rolled her eyes. “You’re dodging the question.”

  James shrugged. “And you’re asking too many.”

  Laim laughed, shaking his head. “Man, you’re seriously the weirdest merc I’ve ever met.”

  The radio crackled to life, the static breaking through the peaceful lull inside the jeep. All three of them instinctively turned their heads toward it, their moment of ease instantly shattered.

  A distorted voice, calm yet menacing, cut through the interference.

  “Pull over NOW and you will be spared.”

  James frowned, his fingers tightening around the wheel. “What the hell—”

  Before he could finish his thought, a gunshot thundered through the air.

  James barely had time to react before Laim jerked violently, his body slamming against the seat as a massive hole exploded through his chest. Blood sprayed across the dashboard, hot and thick. His head lolled forward, eyes wide in shock as a gurgling sound escaped his throat..

  James cursed, instinctively yanking the wheel to the right just as a second shot rang out. This one tore through the left side of the engine block, sending a burst of steam and oil spraying into the air. Almost simultaneously, another round punctured the front left wheel.

  The jeep lurched violently.

  James fought for controls, but the vehicle had already lost its stability. The back end swung hard to the left, sending them into an uncontrollable spin. The tires screeched against the cracked asphalt, the entire world outside blurring into a chaotic swirl of dust and sand.

  Aurora braced herself against the dash, her breathing frantic. “James—”

  “HOLD ON!” James roared.

  The jeep slammed sideways into a jagged dip in the road, flipping once, twice—glass shattering, metal screaming as it twisted and crunched under the violent force. James felt his body whip forward, his seatbelt biting into his torso. Aurora’s form was tossed violently against the passenger door before everything blurred into darkness.

  The final impact sent the jeep rolling into a ditch, metal scraping against stone before it came to a violent, jarring halt.

  Silence.