Cargo

Slaughter In The Night

In the heart of the cold desert, the campfire flickered, casting dancing shadows on the sand. The night desert ambience soothes me, but the chill air amplifies my dread. The flames burn hot causing the bottom section of the barrel to glow. The light it emits illuminates up to a limited periphery. Outside of this ring of light is pitch-black nothingness, the mountains in the far distance made visible only by the urban lights beyond them.

I count eight tents in a perfect circle around me, the starlight reflecting off the silver fabric, enough to make it a visible grey. Not a word echoes from them, the men inside waiting with their weapons, their shadows masking their determination and or any hint of trepidation.

The more I wrestle with the cable ties the further the hard plastic cuts into my skin, so I press against the metal spike and start rubbing up and down, against the surface rust, in an attempt to cut my way to freedom. I have no idea what to do once I'm free. Do I try attacking one of the gangsters, stealing the key and fleeing with one of the utilities?

Do I run out into the desert void, and hope my theory holds true, that this beast won't touch me? Either way, I need to liberate my hands, get mobile, and survive any way I can.

Suddenly, a bone-chilling screech pierces the silence, causing shivers to race down my spine. The eerie stillness that had settled over the place shatters. The sound seems to emanate from the very depths of the darkness that envelopes the encampment, resonating with an otherworldly quality that defies explanation. My heart pounds in my chest, and I strain to identify the direction of this unearthly cry. Is it the call of some nocturnal wildlife, or perhaps the echoing wail of the wind through unseen crevices?

In the distance, I can discern faint rustling, as if the very shadows have come alive with a mysterious presence. Each movement seems to be a whisper of something malevolent and foreboding, hidden just beyond my line of sight. My senses heighten, tuning to every sound, every rustle of the undergrowth, as I try to comprehend the source of this unnerving spectacle.

In a silent battle, fear and curiosity continue to coexist within me. A rush of adrenaline surges through my veins. Whatever awaits us in the depths of the night seems to draw nearer, beckoning with an ominous allure.

I brace myself for whatever revelation awaited me, knowing that the truth might be more unsettling than any fiction my imagination could conjure. In this enigmatic landscape, I stood as both an observer and a participant, ready to unravel the mysteries that lay beyond the veil of silence and darkness.

The desert falls silent.

An unsettling sound pierces the night. Turning my head towards the tent behind me, I strain to pinpoint the source of the commotion. A sudden swoosh of air fills my ears, followed by the distinct tearing of fabric—a telltale sign of something or someone breaching the shelter. Panic courses through me, and my mind raced to comprehend the unfolding chaos.

The pandemonium has begun.

Before I can react, the night erupts with gunfire, the sharp cracks echoing through the darkness like thunder. Each shot feels like a punch to my senses, amplifying the fear that grips me. My instincts urge me to seek cover, to flee from the danger that has been unleashed just meters away, but my body seems paralyzed by a mix of terror and disbelief.

Amidst the tumult, a chilling human shriek pierces the air, sending a shiver down my spine, haunting and primal, carrying with it a desperate plea for salvation. Time seems to slow, each second stretching into eternity, as I struggle to find my bearings in the midst of the mayhem. The darkness that once provided a comforting cloak now feels like a suffocating embrace, concealing the unknown horrors that surround me.