Date: 1:40 AM, April 1, 2025

  Location: Joint Base Lewis-McChord, Washington

  Sarah’s boots pounded the concrete, each step a jolt of pain through her legs as she sprinted down the corridor. Rodriguez was a shadow ahead, the detonator clutched in his hand, its red light blinking—ten seconds, nine, eight. The Hive Tyrant’s roar shook the walls, its claws scraping closer, a relentless force tearing through the bulkhead they’d just fled.

  “Left!” Rodriguez shouted, veering into a side passage. She followed, lungs burning, the bells now a deafening chant in her ears. The air thickened with dust and the sour stench of alien flesh, the Tyrant’s psychic pressure clawing at her mind—flashes of Jake again, his face warping, four eyes pleading. She shoved it down, focusing on the colonel’s back.

  Seven, six. The passage opened into a garage—wrecked jeeps, a toppled forklift, a gaping hole in the far wall where rain poured in. Freedom, maybe. The Tyrant burst through behind them, its massive frame splintering the doorway, blade-arms slashing. Gaunts skittered in its wake, a chittering tide.

  Five, four. Rodriguez skidded to a stop, spinning to face it. “Keep going!” he barked, raising the detonator. Sarah hesitated—two seconds too long. The Tyrant lunged, a claw arcing toward him. He dove, the blade grazing his shoulder, blood spraying as he hit the ground.

  Three, two. Sarah grabbed his arm, hauling him up. “Move!” They stumbled toward the hole, the Tyrant’s roar deafening, its psychic scream buckling her knees. She pushed through, dragging him, rain stinging her face as they cleared the wall.

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  One. Rodriguez thumbed the trigger. The world erupted.

  The blast hurled them forward, a wave of heat and sound that swallowed the bells. Sarah landed hard, rolling across wet asphalt, ears ringing. Debris rained—chunks of concrete, twisted metal, alien limbs. She coughed, scrambling to her knees, searching for Rodriguez. He lay a few feet away, groaning, clutching his bleeding shoulder.

  Behind them, the armory was gone—a crater of fire and smoke, the Tyrant buried under rubble. Gaunts shrieked, some crushed, others clawing free, but the beast itself was still—maybe dead, maybe not. Sarah didn’t wait to find out.

  “Up,” she rasped, pulling Rodriguez to his feet. He winced, leaning on her, the detonator still in his hand, its light dead. The bio-ship loomed overhead, tendrils twitching, but no new horrors dropped—not yet.

  They staggered into the rain, the base a ruin around them. Burning wrecks lit the night, soldiers’ bodies mingled with alien corpses. A Humvee sat abandoned nearby, keys glinting in the ignition. Sarah shoved Rodriguez toward it, climbing in after. The engine sputtered, then caught.

  “Where?” she asked, hands tight on the wheel.

  “South,” he grunted, pressing his hand to the wound. “McChord Field—airfield’s our shot. If it’s still there.”

  She floored it, tires spinning on blood-slick pavement. The bio-ship pulsed, a low groan rolling through the sky. The bells faded, replaced by silence—too quiet, too fragile. Sarah glanced at Rodriguez, his face pale but set.

  “That thing’s not dead,” he said, voice low. “Just pissed.”

  She nodded, eyes on the road. The crater bought them minutes, not safety. Jake’s face flickered in her mind again—four eyes, a stranger’s gaze. She gripped the wheel harder. “We’re not done yet.”

  The Humvee roared south, the bio-ship’s shadow stretching behind.