It had been several hours since they got onto the remnants of I-81, passing through the shattered vestiges of the old world. Whatever quiet they enjoyed quickly faded—it was time to enter the DC wasteland. The jeep shook violently as it veered off the cracked pavement onto rough, uneven earth. A dense forest towered before them, and clearing a safe path through would take hours. Fortunately, that job belonged to the grunts, not James.

  He watched with mild amusement as seven guards, each clad in a full-coverage exo-suit, hopped out and began carving a route through the thick undergrowth. It was a slow, painstaking process, but at least they wouldn’t have to do it again on the way back. They managed several miles without incident, nearly emerging from the forest. All the while, the toxic levels steadily rose—normally expected as you approached any wasteland epicenter, but here the increase was nearly double what James would have anticipated.

  Then he noticed a discrepancy: there were only six guards. “Hey, where’d the other one go?” he asked over the radio.

  “What do you mean?” came a reply. Then someone else called, “Hey, Luke, where are you?”

  No response.

  “He’s pinging over this way,” another guard said, glancing at a readout on Luke’s exo-suit locator. Curiosity getting the better of him, James quickly donned his rebreather—he preferred not to reveal his own peculiarities to onlookers—and followed the guards deeper into the woods. Suddenly, they halted and began to back up. Spurred by urgency, James jogged forward to see what had rattled them.

  It was a gruesome sight: Luke was entangled in a massive snarl of vines, which had corroded his exo-suit and started burrowing into his flesh. “Damn, never get used to seeing a Vaulter Vine,” James muttered. Without hesitation, he pulled out a grenade, set a thirty-second timer, and lobbed it near Luke’s feet before sprinting back to the jeeps.

  A moment later, a roiling fireball engulfed the twisted vines, incinerating the tree and everything nearby. The blaze would likely spread, devouring a large portion of the forest—but no one was about to step in and stop it.

  With the path cleared, the convoy emerged from the forest into a sight that caught everyone by surprise: an actual desert. Most wastelands had scrub, or jagged patches of mutated foliage, but here there was nothing but rolling dunes of fine sand. No streams, no lakes, no half-dead bushes—just an endless, pale-yellow expanse shimmering under a toxic sky. As soon as James set eyes on it, he felt his chest tighten. The Toxic counter clipped to the side of the second jeep screamed, indicating a sharp spike in the radiation and chemical toxicity levels. They still had three hours of driving to reach the target coordinates, somewhere just outside of old DC, and if the environment was this hostile here, he dreaded what awaited them the closer they got to the epicenter.

  “Sand. Actual sand,” muttered Laim over the radio. His voice carried a mix of awe and unease. “I just don't get it, we're hours from the shore and for there to be this much .”

  James nodded to himself, though no one could see the gesture. Sand definitely meant easier traveling—no more undergrowth for the vehicles to trudge through. But the desert’s lifelessness felt uncanny, even by wasteland standards. He watched as Mason checked his instruments in the lead jeep; he looked unsettled. Then James looked at his own, the air scrubbers that clean every breath they took had been modified to heavier toxicity levels, but even they seemed to be struggling. James didn't know if his Physiology would let him live if he got exposed for too long to this toxicity level.

  They pressed forward, the two remaining jeeps and the heavily-armored Bradley rumbling across the dunes. The lead jeep—Mason’s ride—picked up speed, raising a plume of dust in its wake. James sat in the second jeep, scanning the horizon for any sign of trouble. Even though they had a vantage in every direction, the desert’s hazy mirages made it hard to distinguish illusions from threats.

  Suddenly, the sand several yards ahead rippled like water. Before anyone could shout a warning, something colossal burst from beneath the surface. James had seen giant worms before—one even tried to eat his car but it was only 20 or so feet long. But this beast made those look like children’s pets. At nearly the length of five school buses end to end, its massive, segmented body towered above the desert floor, glistening with greenish yellow slime.

  The worm opened a maw lined with rows of hooked teeth and, with terrifying speed, swallowed the lead jeep in one bite. Metal crumpled like paper, and James thought he caught a glimpse of a single, horrific moment—Mason’s wide eyes behind the windshield—before the vehicle disappeared into the creature’s gullet. The worm roared, a sound like grinding metal, then slammed back into the sand, causing the earth to quake.

  Chaos erupted on the radios. “Jesus Christ, did you see that?” one of the guards shouted. “It just… it ate them!”

  James clenched his jaw, forcing down a surge of shock and regret. Mason might have been young and reckless, but he didn’t deserve to go out like that. The second jeep and the Bradley gunned their engines, the drivers desperate to put distance between themselves and the monster. But an even greater threat appeared in the worm’s wake: the ground where it had emerged collapsed, forming a wide crater. From that hole, hundreds of mutant insects poured out—each roughly the size of a large dog, carapaces glinting with acid-green streaks.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “Open fire!” someone yelled over the radio. The Bradley’s cannon boomed to life, sending explosive shells screaming into the swarm. Chitin and green ichor splattered across the sand as the shells impacted, ripping through the first wave of insects. Limbs and torsos flew, painting the dunes with a grotesque collage of gore. Yet despite the devastation, the horde pressed on, driven by primal urges or some savage hive mind. Within seconds the horde had caught up.

  James braced himself as the jeep slid sideways, trying not to flip under the driver’s frantic maneuvering. He leapt out, hooking his HK416 over his shoulder as he landed in a crouch. He raised the assault rifle and squeezed off controlled bursts. Bullets tore through the grotesque exoskeletons of the insects, sending spurts of neon fluid into the air. Each creature screeched in pain, a high-pitched wail that reverberated in James’s skull.

  A few yards away, the last guards had disembarked from the Bradley and jeep only 4 remained of the 16, exo-suits whirring as they advanced. One of them had a flamethrower with him. Unleashing a torrent of liquid fire, incinerating dozens of the creatures in a matter of seconds. Screams filled the desert as the insects writhed in the flames, exoskeletons popping and sizzling. The stench of burnt chitin and flesh assaulted James’s nostrils.

  The swarm was relentless, closing the distance with nightmarish speed. One guard—a young woman—lost her footing in the sand, and in a heartbeat, three of the insects pounced on her. She managed a single strangled cry before their razor-sharp pincers tore into her exo-suit. Blood sprayed through a breach in the armor, spattering the creatures’ mandibles as they fed. Her screams abruptly died, lost beneath the swarm’s hissing and clicking.

  “FUCK” James swore under his breath. That was one guard down. He fired again in short, controlled bursts, stepping forward to cover another guard retreating to reload the fuel in the flame thrower. The HK416 spat shell casings, each clang of metal echoing over the dunes. Another insect lunged at James, serrated forelimbs slashing the air. He sidestepped and drove the butt of the rifle into the creature’s skull-plate, cracking it before riddling its body with bullets. Thick, greenish slime oozed onto the sand.

  The Bradley’s cannon thundered once more, cutting a swath through the horde, but the insects simply kept coming. Some of them began to circle the rear, attempting to flank the jeep. A guard tried to fend off a half-dozen of the beasts with a shotgun, but one managed to leap onto his back. Its pincers clamped down, crushing the exo-suit’s reinforced plating. In a final act of desperation, the guard rolled, toppling onto the insect. The shotgun barked once, point-blank, and blew the creature apart—splattering gore across the sand.

  Yet, it was too late for him. Another insect sank its stinger-like appendage into his visor, shattering the faceplate. James heard the man’s strangled gasp cut short, replaced by a wet crunch. In seconds, the guard’s body went limp. That made two casualties in under a minute.

  “Fall back!” someone yelled, but there was nowhere to go. The worm was somewhere below, and the insects were everywhere. The jeep driver slammed the engine into high gear, wheels spinning, trying to keep the vehicle from moving forward. The Bradley pivoted to protect the jeep’s flank, its turret rotating methodically to track the largest clusters of insects, raining shells upon them.

  James saw Laim and Raven picking off the swarm from one side—the muzzle flash of their rifles lighting up the swirling dust. Each shot echoed across the desert, accompanied by the sickening splatter of chitin and gore. He tried to move closer to them, kicking aside the twitching remains of an insect that refused to die quietly.

  A renewed wave of insects surged from the crater, streaming across the sand like a living carpet. “We’re gonna get overrun!” a guard screamed.

  James knew they needed a miracle—or at least a temporary distraction—to break away. Gritting his teeth, he reached into his gear and grabbed one of the lure flares. He hadn’t planned on using it this soon, but there was no alternative. Fumbling to tear off the cap, he twisted the activation ring, and the flare hissed to life, emitting a high-pitched screech along with a swirling pattern of bright, flashing lights.

  “Cover me!” he shouted, moving to a vantage point behind a half-buried slab of concrete. Taking aim with the launcher he fired the flare into the air it flickered like a beacon. In theory, this would draw the attention of anything with a pulse. In practice, it was a gamble—if the insects were as attracted to stimuli as their smaller brethren were, it might give them a single chance to regroup. Or it might simply provoke them further.

  Fortunately, the result was immediate. The swarm shifted, a large portion of the insects orienting toward the flare’s noise and light. They scuttled over each other in a frenzied attempt to reach the new disturbance. “Now!” James bellowed.

  Seizing the moment, the Bradley’s driver backed up, turning to create a small corridor. The jeep driver revved the engine, and the remaining guards piled onto the rear cargo bed, firing sporadically at any stragglers that deviated from the lure. Raven took the lead, barking orders to ensure no one else got left behind.

  Firing a final burst into the swarm for good measure, James turned and sprinted after the others. The stench of gunpowder, chemical residue, and burnt chitin hung over the battlefield like a suffocating veil. Behind him, the giant worm roared underground, shaking the sand. He didn’t look back. The lure flare still howled, sparks flying, drawing the insects like moths to a flame—if they could get enough distance, they might have a chance to regroup and continue the mission.

  After a head count only the two guards lay dead in the sand, their bodies left behind for the insects to feed on, and the lead jeep was gone—devoured by that monstrous worm along with Mason and any hope of retrieving vital gear. Yet, for the moment, they had escaped the worst. The Bradley and the remaining jeep churned away across the dunes, battered but operational, leaving the swarm and the worm behind.

  As James climbed into the Bradley, he allowed himself a grim nod. They had managed to keep their clients alive. Above the swirling dust, the sun beat down mercilessly, and the toxic air continued to gnaw at their filters. Though they had escaped certain death this time, James had a feeling the DC wasteland still had plenty of horrors in store for them. Survival here would demand every bullet, every cunning trick, and every ounce of resolve they could muster