Netoshka's boots crunched over broken shale as her squad stumbled across the rocky stretch. Their lungs burned from running—each breath thick with grit.
"Don't stop," she rasped, checking her ammo count. "They're still out there."
Rue staggered beside her, clutching her bleeding shoulder.
"We cleared them, I swear! There's no motion behind us!"
Taran shook his head, glancing over his shoulder as his visor flickered with static.
"That's what they want us to think. They stalk in pairs. Always two or three more behind the noise.
"Then we keep running until we hit that turbine," Netoshka replied, pointing toward the faint silhouette rising out of the horizon—a steel monolith jutting from the sands like a grave marker. "Battery said it's only a few miles east. Genrihk's team should be waiting there."
The ground trembled.
A shrill, guttural screech tore through the canyon, echoing off the rock walls. The squad spun around. Shapes emerged from the shadows—sleek, twitching, with blades glinting from their limbs. Decapitators.
"Contact!" Zev shouted, pulling the pin from his frag and hurling it into the darkness. The explosion lit up the cliffs in a flash of white fire, illuminating at least four of the creatures crawling along the ridges.
"Taran! Suppressive fire!" Netoshka ordered.
Taran dropped to a knee, his rifle's burst cutting down two of the monsters mid-leap. The others charged through the smoke, shrieking. Netoshka met one head-on, sliding under its blade and driving her combat knife into its chest. It convulsed, spasming before collapsing into the dust.
"Go, go!" she yelled. "Don't stop!"
They ran. Rocks split under their boots, and plasma bolts zipped past their heads as the last Decapitators chased them through the narrowing gorge. Taran stumbled but caught himself, firing a round back into the pack.
"We're almost there!" Zopi shouted, pointing toward the flickering lights of the wind turbine ahead. "I see the beacon!"
The Bloodhawk's signal light flashed faintly against the dim skyline—a promise of safety.
Netoshka gritted her teeth.
"Move faster! Genrihk and the others better be ready for us!"
Behind them, the screams of the Decapitators began to fade, drowned by the roaring wind that carried through the canyon's mouth. But Netoshka didn't relax. Not yet. She knew better. These things never truly stopped—they only waited for the next chance to strike.
As they finally crested the last ridge, the turbine came into view—looming and rusted, its blades spinning lazily in the stormlight. Figures moved near its base.
Zopi gasped, half in disbelief, half in relief.
"That's them… Genrihk's squad!"
Netoshka lowered her weapon slightly, her voice low but steady. "We made it… but stay sharp. The last of them won't go down easy."
She turned her gaze to the dark horizon where the canyon met the dying sun—an endless line of fire across the wasteland.
"This isn't over," she murmured. "Not yet."