Page 2 of Beast in the Badlands
The world blurs, twisting into a kaleidoscope of colors before collapsing into darkness. My heart thunders in my chest, adrenaline surging as I brace against the seat.
“Shit.”
My voice echoes in the silence, swallowed by the void. The ship rattles violently, a creature thrashing against invisible chains. I fight against the restraints biting into my shoulders and thighs, muscles straining as panic coils around my gut.
The nav core spins out—coordinates gone haywire, leaving me adrift in a black sea of nothingness. The alarms continue their shrill wail, a relentless reminder that I’m losing control of everything.
I grip the controls hard enough to feel pain shooting through my fingers. My instincts scream for action, but what can I do? This is beyond me now.
“AI?” I shout at the empty cockpit, knowing full well that its voice has long since faded. “Status report!”
Panic surges through me as I assess the damage. The system’s fried, the AI dead. Nothing responds to my commands. I glance at the flickering displays, frustration boiling over.
“Come on!” I slam my fist against the console, but it only mocks me with silence.
A warning light blinks red—failsafe engaged. My stomach drops. This isn’t good.
Before I can react, the ship shudders violently, locking me in place. I brace for impact as the controls slip from my grasp.
“Shit.”
The ship lurches into a blind emergency jump. The stars warp and stretch around me, a surreal tapestry of light folding in on itself like a cruel joke. I’m trapped in my seat, every muscle tense as gravity plays tricks on me.
The darkness swallows everything—light, sound, reason—until all that remains is an abyss closing in.
No time to think, no time to prepare. Just the weight of failure heavy in my chest as the universe blurs away.
CHAPTER 2
EMRY
The soldier howls as I push the needle through his skin, threading it with the half-melted dermal sealer.
“Grow up,” I snap, focusing on the wound. His leg’s a mess—shrapnel deep in the muscle, torn flesh glistening under the flickering overhead lights. The old facility groans around us, its cracked ceilings looming like dark clouds ready to drop.
I shoot a glance at Fry, my drone assistant, hovering near a pile of rusted medical equipment. “Prep antibiotics!”
It beeps an error, the display flashing “Insufficient Resources.” Great. Just what I need—another reminder of how we’re running on fumes.
“Figure it out!” I grit my teeth and keep stitching, ignoring the way he winces with every pull of the thread. The walls close in around us, sagging rebar threatening to collapse at any moment. This isn’t a hospital; it’s a tomb dressed up in faded coalition colors.
“Why’d you even come here?” he gasps between breaths, sweat pouring down his face.
I keep my eyes on the work. “Because someone has to,” I mutter. It’s not like anyone else will step up when it counts.
The soldier's screams cut through me like knives as I tighten the last stitch. He’ll live—but barely. I apply pressure to slow the bleeding and turn my back to him for just a second, scanning the room for supplies.
Old bandages litter the floor like discarded memories from better days. The faint scent of antiseptic hangs in the air but does little to mask the decay surrounding us. Factions circle outside like vultures waiting for scraps, each one eyeing our dwindling resources with hunger.
I kick a crate that’s been shoved into a corner; it rattles ominously but holds nothing of value—just broken glass and shattered hopes.
“Damn it,” I mutter under my breath.
“Are we safe?” The soldier's voice shakes as he shifts on the table, trying to catch my eye. His gaze flickers toward the entrance where shadows loom.
I shoot him a hard look as I clean my tools, already tired of his whimpering. “As safe as you can be here.” My words hang heavy in the stale air—this isn’t just about him anymore.
He swallows hard but doesn’t argue again. A siren blares somewhere outside, distant but echoing through these crumbling walls like an omen.
