"By the way, now will be an excellent time to say this—almost forgot… You should be very careful when you're in the desert. Lots of nasty little bugs and animals are roaming around. A rule to keep in mind for this place: If it looks edible, don't eat it. If it looks cute, don't trust it," Damon called from the top of the yacht.

  Zoe nodded, hopping from the deck and dropping onto the waiting dinghy.

  The motor roared to life, and the boat quickly sped towards land, almost flying over the water.

  The sky was a late orange, casting faint light over the rippling surface of the ocean. Visibility was poor, the encroaching night swallowing everything more than ten feet ahead.

  They rode silently for several minutes, the chilly morning wind cutting through their black clothing like a cold knife plunging into their skin.

  Several speed boats collided with the beach several miles away, sending sand into the air. Men disembarked with military precision, their movements quick and practiced as they fastened gear to their bodies.

  Seven mercenaries made up the group, each hired to complete a single job. They moved silently, communicating through gestures as they sprinted up the beach toward their vehicles: a sleek black jeep and a hulking black-and-green military transport truck.

  The leader of the band of mercenaries held his hand in the air, turning back to the rest. "Weapons and armor check."

  "Secure and ready," came the unified response, their voices low and clipped.

  "Good," he nodded, satisfied. He was about a head taller than the rest of them. Tattoos covered the exposed skin on his arms and legs. "Alright, load up into the vehicles. We gotta get there quickly before the sun comes up—no time to waste."

  Deep in the desert, miles inland, three wildlife researchers trudged across the barren landscape, their breaths visible in the cold. The lead researcher, Leo, stopped abruptly, pointing to a fresh skeleton sprawled on the cracked earth. "There," he said, his voice tense. The remains were disturbingly fresh, with chunks of flesh and cartilage still clinging to the bones. "Right there," he indicated to his colleagues.

  "Ooh," One of them cooed as she stepped forward. The second researcher, a younger woman, crouched down, her face inches away from the skeleton and the footprints that led away from it. "So this is the same one from Crater?"

  "Yup," Leo nodded. "They said to release it away from civilization and study it for a few months."

  The third researcher frowned, glancing around the desolate terrain. "You weren't here for it, but it has been pretty damaging to the local ecosystem here. Doesn't seem to have much of a consistent diet—just kinda eats whatever it wants whenever."

  Leo exhaled heavily, "Depending on what we find, we have a choice of moving it to a better, more stable environment or putting it down."

  Deep below the compound, the dim hum of machinery echoed faintly through the concrete halls. A soldier, his boots clicking softly on the polished floor, stopped in front of a reinforced metal door. He swiped his ID card across the scanner, and the door slid open without a sound, revealing a small, sterile corridor bathed in harsh fluorescent light.

  He carried a food tray, its contents meticulously arranged: a small pile of scrambled eggs, a slice of dry toast, and several colorful pills resting in one corner. The faint aroma of the eggs mingled with the faint metallic tang of the air, a smell he had grown used to over the months he had worked here.

  He walked up to the thick plexiglass that divided the room. It had several holes for airflow and a small opening to slide objects back and forth.

  He glanced at one of the several security cameras in the room. He tapped lightly on the plexiglass, his knuckles making a muted clink. On the cot pushed against the far wall, a small figure stirred, barely discernible in the gloom. The figure shifted under a threadbare blanket. Sluggishly, she sat up, looking toward the sound.

  An orange lava lamp on the bedside table gave the small cell some very low visibility; its light splashed against the drab concrete walls, but Palmer knew it wouldn't have mattered whether or not it was pitch-black or if they put an overhead light inside.

  "Palmer?" The girl called out, crawling on the floor toward the glass, putting her hands in front of her to feel for any objects in her way.

  "Yeah, it's me," the soldier said with a soft smile, crouching down to slide the tray through the slot. "An early breakfast."

  Her eyes slowly opened once she felt the slick plexiglass. Her large pale grey eyes were almost milky, squinting, trying to fixate on where his voice was coming from.

  "Here," he slid the metal tray into the cell and closing it.

  The girl felt around the tray. Eventually, her fingers brushed over the pills, and she immediately recoiled with a wrinkled nose. "Eugh," she muttered, pushing the tray away slightly.

  Palmer chuckled, resting his arms on his knees. "Come on now, kiddo. You know the deal. You gotta eat everything on there, okay?"

  Melody sniffed at the eggs suspiciously, her small face scrunching with distaste. "Even these?" She flicked a pill away with a pout.

  "How about this? You know those donuts and candy bars you really like?"

  Her eyebrows raised as she nodded excitedly.

  "Word is that someone's gonna be bringing them. I'm willing to be a little risky and grab some for you and give 'em to you tomorrow morning."

  A wide grin spread across the child's face, "Really!" She said eagerly.

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  "Mhm, yeah. But only if you eat everything on here, alright. I know the pills aren't too fun going down, but you gotta do it."

  "Okay," she relented.

  Palmer watched as she ate, his eyes soft but tinged with a hint of sadness, "So, Melody," Palmer started Before he could continue, the light in the room turned to a blood red, and a wailing siren pierced the air.

  Melody screamed and covered her ears, crawling backward and covering herself with her blanket.

  Palmer cursed under his breath, taking the rifle from his back and scanning his card to unlock the door to the room. "I'll be back! Don't worry, just an alarm!" He called to her and ran out of the room. He stepped into the hall, the blaring siren reverberating off the walls and setting his nerves on edge. The crimson emergency lights pulsed ominously, casting long, distorted shadows that flickered as he jogged toward the source of the commotion. As he rounded the corner, his grip on his rifle tightened.

  The mercenaries crouched atop the hill, their vehicles parked and silent behind them. The compound loomed below, its weathered walls bathed in the cold blue glow of spotlights. The front gate faced west, while the mercenaries had approached from the southeast to stay out of sight.

  The leader put his night vision binoculars back in his pocket. "I see six on the wall—two on the spotlights and three on the ground level. I'm sure there are more of them inside." Pointing a gloved finger at the compound, "Building number three. The tall one. That's where she is being held." He turned to say something else to his squadron, but he paused. Everyone stared back at him. "Do you guys hear that?" He felt a rumbling deep in his chest. He glanced past his group, seeing if somehow one of the two vehicles had been turned back on, but they stayed off.

  A low rumbling buzzed in the air, vibrating through their boots and deep in their chests. It grew louder, like a massive drumbeat approaching from the distance. One mercenary dropped to his knees, pressing a hand to the ground, "It's like an earthquake. The ground is shaking."

  The leader turned sharply, retracing his steps to the top of the hill. He squinted toward the west, where a growing plume of dust billowed against the horizon. The sound was deafening now—a thundering roar that drowned out his thoughts. Then, a sharp, mournful horn pierced the air.

  "Hit the deck!" he barked. His squad dove flat to the ground, bracing for spotlights to swing in their direction or for soldiers to sound an alarm. But none of that happened. Instead, they heard frantic shouting and the distinct chaos of boots pounding inside the compound.

  He motioned to the rest to stay put as the leader inched back up the hill, pulling his binoculars to his face again.

  'They definitely didn't alert to us. Whatever they're attentive to is what's making that big cloud of dust,' he thought, his heart raced as he took in the scene, scanning the compound and seeing the soldiers inside running around frantically. "They're animals," he said once it came into view. "The stampede is heading toward the front gates."

  "Geez, look at those things," a mercenary hissed beside him, peering through his own binoculars, moving up, lying next to the leader. "More like monsters." The creatures charging toward the compound defied simple categorization. Hulking beasts, some with sinewy arms and massive claws, others with scales shimmering in the moonlight, sprinted at breakneck speeds toward the gates. Bloodied bodies tumbled as bullets rained down from the soldiers on the walls, but the herd pressed on.

  "It looks like they're running from that," he observed, pointing toward a tall figure following the herd about two hundred yards back. He couldn't make anything out through the dust, even with his binoculars—shrouded in the swirling dust. The figure lumbered on all fours, massive and imposing, its reddish silhouette a blur of raw power and malice.

  They both quickly ducked down, hearing the snaps from bullets as they flew through the air.

  Peaking over the hill once more, he watched as the soldiers kept shooting, kicking up dust and blood as they hit their targets.

  He looked back toward the creature in the back. 'It's acting strange, not like an animal, but different. As if it's pacing back and forth—waiting for something.' As the clouds settled, he zoomed in, trying to make out details. "Its eyes. They're very...humanlike."

  Meanwhile, the tan camo jeep bounced along the uneven terrain as Zoe’s group made their approach. Yahd gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles white as the vehicle jostled over rocks and shallow ditches. Kalimba sat in the passenger seat, a map unfolded in his lap, tracing a route with his finger. Zoe and Asher sat in the back, bracing themselves as the jeep rocked side to side.

  Zoe perked up, "Fireworks?" her head turning sharply as a faint popping echoed in the distance.

  "Gunfire," Asher noted, his tone grim.

  The jeep slowed, the engine rumbling as Yahd eased off the accelerator.

  "Yo, what's happening?" Asher leaned forward into the front seats.

  Kalimba pointed out the front windshield, "Too much dust to see very far." he said, squinting at the windshield. The headlights barely penetrated the swirling cloud that had suddenly enveloped them. “Can’t see more than ten feet ahead.” Kalimba glanced at the map, his brow furrowed. "Looking at the topography of the map, we need to find a small path that'll allow us to go at it from the north. We'll miss it if we go too quickly." The jeep came to a crawl as Yahd carefully navigated through the thickening haze. Zoe’s pulse quickened as the gunfire grew louder, the distinct crack of high-caliber rounds mingling with inhuman roars that sent chills up her spine.