Human.
I signaled the team to cover their ears and triggered the detonator.
The mountain answered with thunder.
The blast tore through the pass, rock splitting open like ice under pressure. Dust and sound slammed into us, flattening the pines along the ridge. When it cleared, half the road was gone—a jagged scar where the raiders would have driven.
Smoke curled upward, thin and gray.
“Good work,” Jalen said.
“Not enough.”
The engines were still coming.
Through the clearing dust, one truck slewed sideways but held. The driver gunned the throttle, forcing it forward. The second reversed, skirting the far edge of the collapse.
“They’ll find another route,” Jalen said.
“Yes. The lower trail.”
Minutes. Maybe less.
“Get back to the colony,” I ordered. “Warn Veklan.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll slow them.”
Jalen hesitated. “That’s suicide.”
I checked my weapon charge. “Only if I’m slow.”
He swallowed, then nodded. “May the mountain hold.”
“It will. Go.”
They vanished into the trees.
I climbed higher along the ridge where the old mining rails bent toward the lower valley. The wind carried the scent of burning metal and oil. I settled behind a fallen log, steadied my aim, and watched.
The lead truck crawled over the broken edge, tires grinding stone. Through the scope, I saw faces—human, ragged, armed with scavenged Enclave weapons.
Not soldiers.
Predators.
The gunner scanned the tree line. His gaze passed over me.
I waited.
Then fired.
The rifle kicked. The gunner dropped.
Chaos followed—shouts, brakes, and one truck slamming into the other. I fired again, aiming low. A tire blew. The first vehicle lurched and went over the edge, crashing into the ravine below.
The second halted. Men jumped out, returning fire. Plasma bolts tore through the pines, bark exploding around me.
