August and Rosek returned to find an angry-looking group waiting for them at the overgrown gas station. General Wolf stormed at the pair before they even got off the street. “What the Hel was that noise?” His eyes bulged behind a yellow face shield.

“I’m sorry, General,” Rosek said. “I take full responsibility.”

“Great,” Wolf snapped. “That doesn’t answer my question.” He glared at August as if he knew the rookie was responsible despite Rosek trying to take the blame.

“I found a car,” August said. There was no point in withholding any truth. “There was a key in the ignition, and I turned it. I never thought in a million years that that thing would start, but—” He lowered his eyes and stopped mid-sentence. “I should’ve known better not to mess around like that. Rosek tried to stop me. I should’ve listened.”

“I’m not sure if you know this,” Sterling stomped his way over. “But there are thousands of flesh-eating monsters out there just waiting for some idiot to come along and announce himself for supper. You’ve just rung the bell and served us up!”

Wolf put up a hand. “I have it under control, Colonel. Go back and join the others.”

Sterling didn’t move. His dark eyes bore into August’s and spoke without needing words. “I’d kill you right now if the general weren’t here,” they seemed to say.

“Colonel!” General Wolf spun and took a mean step to stand face to face with Sterling. They held a long stare before Sterling finally eased off and joined the others near the pumps. “We’ve got to be more careful.” He spoke softly with his back to Rosek and August. “It’s discouraging to me that you didn’t learn your lesson back in the fields when that dead thing stung you.”

“I did, General, it’s just—”

Wolf held up a hand again. “If you did, you’d be taking every precaution you can. What you did was reckless and could’ve possibly cost us some lives.” He looked up and swiveled his gaze in every direction. “Looks as though we got lucky this time,” he turned to face the rookie. “But if you ever do anything like that again, there will be consequences. I’ll see to it myself if the dolo don’t do it for me.”

He hadn’t expected such chilling words from the general, but they did drive the point home. He’d been so excited to see that damn car that he’d lost all sense. That must’ve been the exact thing the colonels had feared when it came to having a rookie on board, and he justified their concerns instead of proving them wrong. There wasn’t anything special about him. He was just another rookie. He was starting to think that he’d only been brought along as a sacrifice—to be sent into the nest ahead of the others like a canary in a coal mine. I’m just an expendable piece of meat.

“Let’s move out while we can,” the general said once the squad was reunited around the pumps. “I was planning to camp out in this town since it offers a lot of shelter, but our rookie had other plans.”

August’s face turned red, and his eyes dropped under the weight of scornful looks. So much for ‘part of the squad.’

“We’re sleeping in the bush, then?” Sterling asked, making no effort to hide his displeasure.

“Deal with it, Colonel,” Wolf said.

“Shouldn’t we look around a bit more?” Belmont asked. “There’s got to be some kind of useful stuff here.”

“I agree,” Wolf said. “But we don’t know what might be on its way. That car was loud and not just to the ears. Those bastards can feel vibrations in the ground a lot more than we can. We’ve got to be as far from this town as possible by nightfall.”

“There’s a city not far from here,” Vern Slupman said. “Westendale. It started as another fizzore boom-town back in the cowboy days, but where most of those towns faded out in the industrial age, this one became a manufacturing giant. Probably made every car in this here town.”

August avoided eyes after hearing mention of cars.

“Alright, we don’t need a history lesson,” Sterling said. “If you knew as much about engines as you do about that city, maybe we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“Shut up, Sterling,” Wolf snapped.

The exterminator glared at the general, insulted. “I’m just saying—”

“Shut your mouth!”

August was just as shocked by the general’s tone as Sterling looked. Then he heard it.

It started as a low rumble but quickly devolved into something August had never heard before. A mad chorus of clicks and clacks, almost like a roller-hockey team tapping their sticks on the court. The general froze with a fist held firm in the air. The rest of the squad halted, their eyes wandering all around, hunting for the source of the sound.

It didn’t take long for them to find it. A line of dark shapes approached with haste from the direction the squad had come. They were the size of wild boars and wielded massive horns like rhinoceroses. Sets of six angular legs carried armored bodies upfield, and a high-frequency hiss assaulted the ear as the stampede drew nearer.

“What are those?” Belmont shrieked.

“I…” Sterling was at a loss for words. “They shouldn’t…”

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Slupman’s voice shuddered. “I would have never agreed to all this if…” He let the words hang.

The ground shook. August closed his face shield and readied his skybeam. He hadn’t fired it for weeks—not since his last training session. He wondered if his skills would stand the test of such tremendous pressure. Even if it does—there are so many. A quick, nervous count saw at least a hundred but no more than one-fifty. Did they have enough shots? Wolf had fired his rifle once, but the sun would have easily recharged it by now.

“Hold tight, squad!” The General shouted. His voice barely carried over the stampeding beasts. “Heavy, up front. Sniper, find a spot. The rest of us will find cover and stay close. The last thing we want is for anyone to be surrounded.” That seemed to give him an idea. “Runner!”

“Yes, Sir?” August stood at attention despite the oncoming force.

“Do a quick skirt around the perimeter, find out if they’re coming from any other direction.” He flipped his safety off and grimaced at the approaching horde. “Scout out a good path for a retreat, too.”

“Yes, Sir!” He started right away.

West climbed some rubble and perched himself on the slumped gas station roof. His massive rifle and its scope were all August could see from the ground. Sterling was assembling a gun from a bunch of parts along his belt. He screwed on an empty canister, flicked a switch on his gas-filled backpack, and some of the green fumes seeped into the empty canister. He completed the process with an unsettling grin.

General Wolf, Luna Belmont, and Vern Slupman each took a pillar as cover. The general aimed his skybeam while the others clutched at pistols. Belmont’s eyes ran over her squadmates instead of the enemies.

The sight of Rosek standing alone in the open yard awaiting the swarm stopped August in his tracks. Sure, she had the mech suit to withstand their assault, but there had to be a better position for her. His training had taught him that the mech pilots—or heavy, as some called them—were built for the front lines, but this was ridiculous as far as the rookie was concerned.

“Dammit, Ace!” Wolf screamed. “Do as you’re told!”

August jolted at the general’s voice and followed his orders. It wouldn’t be his fault if anything happened to Rosek, though it would be his fault if the battle failed because of a surprise attack from behind or not knowing a clear path of retreat.

He sprinted around the town, pain stirred up in his leg. Whichever foot was planted on the ground felt the rumble of the dolo—at least, he thought they were dolo. He ran around the neighborhood where he’d foolishly started the car. Nothing. He raced through a small downtown area that was a single fat street flanked by stout brick structures. Nothing.

His face shield fogged up as he huffed and puffed, pushing the limits of his speed. He must’ve gone three miles in a circle around town as he arrived at a place he couldn’t quite identify. It was a flat, open stretch of sand, like a dried-up lake. A few patches of shrubbery were defiant enough to thrive, but it was otherwise empty of all but ugly, rust-colored sand. No dolorium. He was about to hurry back to the gas station. His worry for the squad had been increasing with every step, but he spied a way out. A trail ran through the sandy flats and disappeared into a clearing in the woods on the other end. The path led all the way through, even up to where he stood. He stepped off the tracks as if they were some fragile artifact he’d been marring. The tracks were fresh. Too big to come from a typical car—too deep as well. Whatever left them weighed as much as four Montag Phoenixes.

He filed the findings away and sprinted back to join the group. The grip on his rifle tightened as he heard the scream.