The scout was fast — too fast for someone burdened by heavy equipment. Jack suspected that beneath the gray cloak was tech he'd only heard about in drunken survivor tales: kinetic boots, designed to double a person's sprint speed while reducing fatigue. A relic of a world that barely remembered what science even was.
But even with such an advantage, the scout had to navigate a treacherous landscape. And that was Jack's edge.
The land ahead shifted. What had been cracked earth gave way to metal — vast, rusted slabs, half-sunken into the dirt like the bones of some mechanical leviathan. Towers of twisted steel jutted out at odd angles, cables dangling like veins torn from a corpse.
This was the Graveyard — an ancient battlefield, where war machines had once clashed in a time before the Graylands swallowed the world.
> "What is this place?" Lena asked breathlessly, stumbling behind Jack.
> "Old tech. War machines, drones, tanks... all dead now," Jack replied, his eyes scanning for the scout. "But the stories say some of them still wake up when they feel vibrations."
Lena paled.
> "What kind of vibrations?"
> "Running. Talking too loud. Breathing wrong."
She grimaced but fell silent.
Jack spotted the scout again — a fleeting shadow weaving through the maze of debris, heading deeper into the metallic ruins.
> "Keep close," Jack whispered. "Step where I step."
He led the way, carefully placing each foot on stable surfaces, avoiding loose metal and panels covered in strange, faded markings. Symbols of companies and armies long erased from memory.
Then Jack noticed something unsettling — the ground was warm again. Not from the earth this time, but from the machinery itself.
> "Why is everything heating up?" Lena asked, wiping sweat from her brow.
Jack crouched low, pressing a hand against a rusted slab. A low hum thrummed beneath the metal, like a machine awakening from a long sleep.
> "The energy grid buried under here... it's not dead," he muttered. "The Burrower's noise must've woken something up."
A distant sound echoed — a sharp, mechanical chirp followed by the clanking of metal limbs.
Jack's stomach sank.
> "We're not alone."
From the shadows ahead, shapes emerged — bipedal constructs, their exteriors rusted but still functional. Tall, human-shaped but with elongated limbs and single glowing optics in place of faces. They moved with jerky precision, scanning their surroundings with slow, methodical gestures.
Sentries.
> "What do we do?!" Lena hissed.
Jack's mind raced. These sentries were old, but their sensors could still pick up heat and sound.
> "We keep low. No sudden moves. Don't let your body heat spike."
They crept forward, navigating the ruins as silently as possible. The sentries patrolled in sweeping patterns, their footsteps echoing like hammers on steel.
But then Lena stumbled — a loose plate shifted under her foot, slamming down with a metallic clang.
The nearest sentry snapped its head towards them, optic flaring red.
> "UNAUTHORIZED PRESENCE DETECTED."
Its voice was mechanical and guttural, but the intent was clear.
> "Run!" Jack barked, grabbing Lena's arm.
They sprinted, footsteps pounding against the metal graveyard as the sentry gave chase, its limbs unfolding into sharpened blades.
Ahead, the scout had stopped — watching the chaos from a perch atop a slanted tower of scrap. Their head tilted, almost curious.
Jack gritted his teeth. He wasn't about to die under that gaze.
They veered left, sliding down a slope of tangled cables and collapsed steel beams. The sentry followed relentlessly, limbs slicing through debris as if it were paper.
Then Jack spotted it — a collapsed service hatch, partially open, with the faintest glow of power beneath.
> "There!" he shouted, pulling Lena with him.
They dove through the hatch just as the sentry lunged. The machine's blade scraped the edge, showering sparks, but it was too large to follow.
They tumbled into darkness, landing hard on cold metal.
For a moment, silence.
Then Lena coughed, struggling to sit up.
> "That... was too close."
Jack sat up, wincing. His side ached from the fall, but they were alive.
Above, the sentry's heavy steps retreated, its voice fading.
> "INTRUDERS LOST. RESUME PATROL."
Jack looked around. They were in some kind of maintenance corridor, lit by flickering emergency lights. The walls hummed faintly with power, as if the facility still dreamed of purpose.
> "Where are we now?" Lena asked.
> "Don't know," Jack admitted. "But it's safer than up there."
She nodded, hugging herself.
> "What about the scout?"
Jack clenched his fists. They'd lost sight of the scout, but there was no going back — not with sentries on the surface.
> "We move forward," he said. "There's always another path."
But in the back of his mind, Jack knew they were deeper now — not just into the earth, but into the old world's secrets.
Secrets that had been buried for a reason.
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