Terra Preta

The night before the assault

The night before the army's assault, the stench of death choked the makeshift camp. Blood and decay filled the air, a grim reminder of the battle looming over them.

The air thrummed with a nervous energy, the silence before a storm. Every rustle of leaves, every snap of a twig, seemed to echo in the silence.

On a makeshift platform, the flickering fire light danced across his face, as his gaze swept over the assembled survivors, their faces illuminated by the flickering flames. He saw fear in their eyes, but also a glimmer of hope.

When the government fell, hope of surviving seemed like a luxury they could no longer afford. But Marlow, with his gruff voice and unwavering gaze, had united this ragtag group of survivors, igniting a flicker of hope in a world gone mad.

"Listen up!" Marlow's voice, echoing across the camp, silencing the nervous chatter.

"Those creatures are swarming the impact site, but we can use that. We lure a horde of them to the old plaza – the army's rigged the whole place to blow. Once the explosives are triggerered, taking out a chunk of them, we make a run for it. Twelve miles to the escape route then straight to the refugee camp."

He paused, his gaze sweeping over the anxious faces. "Any questions?"

A young woman, clutching a rusty pipe, spoke up. "What if we can't get enough of those things to follow us? What if they scatter?"

A man with a scarred face added, "And how do we know the army will be in position when we blow the plaza? We don't want to end up trapped between those creatures and the explosions."

Marlow held up a hand, calming the rising anxieties. "We'll have scouts positioned to guide the horde towards the plaza. As for the army," he continued, his voice firm, "they'll be ready. They're coordinating their advance with our signal. They'll be in position."

"A diversion?" Ren snarled, stepping forward, her voice cutting through the tense silence. "That's what you call this suicide mission? You think we're fools? Those fuckers are sending us out there to be slaughtered like sheep!"

She looked around at the faces of the others. "We don't stand a chance." She said, her voice dropping to a bitter whisper.

"Maybe not," he admitted, "But simply sitting here waiting for death won't change anything. We stay here, we starve. We fight, we might just carve out a chance to live."

A ripple of anxiety mixed with grim determination passed through the crowd. The plan was desperate, risky, but it was their only shot.

Marlow's piercing gaze swept over the assembly, locking eyes with those closest. "We must be quick and decisive. The creatures are evolving, growing stronger and smarter." He said, "But we've been adapting too. Some of you have been made weapons from the bones of these monsters. That's our best chance to pierce their hides."

***

Orion, Elara, Ren, and a dozen others, including Anya and Ronan, a towering and muscular man, with a thick beard. His fiery red hair is often unkempt, and his blue eyes twinkle with mischief, adept with both weapons and strategy, formed the core of the assault team.

"Let's review the types of creatures we've encountered," Marlow began, lighting a cigarette. The acrid scent of smoke mingled with the persistent odor of decay and fear. He exhaled slowly, regarding the group. "We've identified three primary types."

"First, the Crawlers," He stepped forward, his voice steady. "Fast and relentless. They skitter across the ground like oversized lizards, attacking in packs. They may not be as tough as the others, but their numbers make them deadly." His tone was grave, echoing the group's shared dread. "They never relent."