End Of Silence

The sun beat down like a hammer. For hours, Rex and Colt trudged through the wastes, sweat soaking their clothes, boots dragging through scorched sand. Their canteens grew lighter with every sip, and their lips were cracked from the heat.

“Not a cloud in the sky,” Rex muttered, raising a hand to block the light. His skin burned red under the sun, and the horizon rippled with mirages. Colt stumbled behind him, dragging his feet.

Finally, Rex raised his hand. “We stop. Shade or not, we’ll drop if we keep pushing.”

They slumped behind a cluster of rocks, their packs thudding to the ground. Just as Rex reached for his canteen, movement on the horizon caught his eye.

Dozens of riders. Camels, long-legged and snarling, carrying men with rifles across their backs. Dust clouds billowed around them as they cut across the desert like a swarm of locusts.

“Bandits,” Colt whispered, fear flashing in his eyes.

“Down,” Rex ordered. They pressed tight against the rocks, hearts hammering.

For a moment, it seemed they had gone unnoticed. But then, a sharp voice rang out. “Over there!”

Rex’s blood went cold. One of the riders had spotted them, pointing their way. Shouts rose as the others turned their camels and charged. The ground shook with hooves, the riders closing in fast.

“What do we do?” Colt asked, panic rising in his voice.

Rex’s hand went to his revolver. “Stay close. If they reach us, we fight.”

But the desert had other plans.

The ground trembled. A low, clicking rumble echoed from beneath the sand, followed by another, sharper sound — like stone being split. The bandits slowed, their camels restless, stamping and pulling against the reins.

Then the sand erupted.

A creature burst from below, its massive body armored in jagged, blackened plates. An Ash Scorpion — its claws as long as wagon wheels, its stinger towering high, dripping with venom that hissed when it touched the sand. The beast shrieked, a piercing, unnatural cry that rattled the air.

Chaos exploded across the desert. Camels bucked and screamed, throwing riders to the ground. The bandits fired their rifles, but the bullets sparked harmlessly off the creature’s armor. With one swing of its claw, the scorpion crushed a man flat, his cry cut short. Another bandit tried to run, but the stinger lashed down, pinning him to the ground in a spray of sand and dust.

Rex and Colt clung to the rocks, their eyes wide, the sounds of agony filling their ears. The Ash Scorpion tore through the raiders with terrifying speed, smashing, stabbing, and scattering them like dry leaves in a storm.

“Don’t move,” Rex whispered, voice trembling despite himself. “Don’t even breathe.”

Colt’s teeth chattered as he stared at the creature. “That… that thing isn’t natural…”

The screams grew fewer, drowned by the monster’s shrieks. One by one, the bandits fell, until the desert fell silent again. The Ash Scorpion raised its stinger high, gave one last screech, then burrowed back into the earth. The ground rumbled, then stilled, as if nothing had ever happened.

Silence pressed in on the rocks.

Rex slowly lifted his head, staring at the blood-stained sand where the bandits had once been. “We… we’re not alone out here,” he muttered.

Colt only nodded, his face pale.

For a long while, neither of them moved. Finally, when the sun began to sink and the air cooled, Rex pulled Colt to his feet. “We keep moving. Before that thing decides to come back.”

They walked in silence, shaken and hollow. Every gust of wind, every shift in the sand made them flinch. The desert no longer felt empty — it felt alive, watching.

By the time the sky turned red with sunset, they stumbled upon a cave cut into the side of a rocky bluff. It wasn’t much, but it was shelter. Exhausted, they dropped their packs and lit a small fire, the glow bouncing against the stone walls.

Their meal was simple — beans and stale bread — but after the terror they had witnessed, it felt almost like a feast. For a moment, the firelight made them feel safe, as if the horrors outside couldn’t reach them here.

But safety was an illusion. Rex checked his canteen, his stomach sinking. Barely a swallow of water remained. Colt’s was no better.

Rex set it down quietly. “We’re running dry.”

Colt poked at the fire, eyes heavy. “We’ll find more tomorrow. We have to.”

Rex didn’t argue. For now, he let the thought hang in the air. Tomorrow would come, and with it, the wasteland’s trials. Tonight, they had fire, food, and each other. That was enough.

Still, as the fire crackled and the cave filled with shadows, both boys knew the truth: the desert had shown them its teeth. And the silence of the wastes would never feel safe again.

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