The air in the tunnels was thick and stale, the faint, acrid tang of voidspinner ichor hanging in the back of their throats. Jenny moved cautiously, her steps light and deliberate as she followed Reed. The ground beneath them was uneven, the jagged edges of cobbled-together cables and natural rock making every step a potential hazard. The faint upward slope of the path was almost imperceptible, but Jenny’s legs felt it—an ache growing in her calves as they pressed forward.
Reed moved ahead of her, his focus entirely on the path. His movements were careful but determined, his hand grazing the wall now and then as if seeking some hidden sign of direction. His profile, illuminated faintly by the pearlescent glow of the walls, seemed different now. Sharp but calm, his jaw tight with focus.
Jenny’s eyes lingered, a habit she hadn’t quite realized she’d formed. At first, it was just to watch his movements for cues—to see where he placed his feet, when he froze, when he pressed on. But now, it was something else. Something slower. She noted the way his broad shoulders moved under the straps of his gear, the faint sheen of sweat on his neck, and, yes, even the way his pants fit as he crouched to inspect a corner.
This is not the time, Jenny, she thought, shaking her head as her cheeks flushed. But she couldn’t shake the growing awareness of how much he’d done for her. How he’d kept her alive, carried her when she couldn’t move, and pushed her when she could.
“Stay close,” Reed muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.
Jenny nodded, even though he wasn’t looking at her. “I am,” she replied softly, tightening her grip on the knife Reed had given her.
The faint skittering of voidspinner legs in the distance sent a chill down her spine. The noise would grow louder, then fade again, a maddening reminder that they were deep in the creatures’ nest. They paused at every turn, every faint movement in the shadows setting their nerves on edge. The tunnels twisted and branched in ways that felt almost purposeful, and Jenny couldn’t shake the sensation that they were being funneled somewhere.
“Reed,” she whispered after what felt like an eternity. “Are we going in circles?”
He didn’t stop, his eyes scanning the dim passage ahead. “No,” he said quietly. “It’s uphill. We’re getting out of here.”
She wanted to believe him, but the creeping dread in her chest was hard to ignore. Still, his confidence was oddly reassuring. He moved with such purpose, such unshakable determination, that she found herself trusting him instinctively.
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They rounded a corner and froze. Ahead, the tunnel opened into a massive chamber filled with voidspinners. The creatures moved in unsettling synchronicity, their glossy black carapaces reflecting the faint glow of the walls. Some skittered across the floor, while others clung to the walls or ceiling, their legs tapping out a discordant rhythm. In the center of the chamber, a larger voidspinner stood motionless, its many eyes gleaming as it oversaw whatever alien ritual was unfolding.
Jenny’s breath caught in her throat, and Reed’s hand shot up to signal her to stay still. The two of them pressed against the wall, their bodies rigid as the creatures continued their movements, seemingly unaware of their presence.
After what felt like an eternity, the pair edged backward, retracing their steps until the sounds of the chamber faded. They didn’t speak, the tension between them palpable as they navigated another twisting passage. Eventually, the tunnel shifted, the jagged, cable-laden walls giving way to smoother, more structured surfaces.
Jenny blinked as the space opened into something more familiar—a manmade structure. The walls were reinforced with metal plates, and the floor felt sturdier beneath their feet. Ahead, a pair of large double doors loomed, sealed tightly.
“Finally,” Reed muttered under his breath, approaching the doors. He ran a hand over the surface, frowning as he searched for a mechanism to open them. “Locked,” he said after a moment, glancing at Jenny.
Beside the doors was a smaller tunnel, narrow and crudely carved. It was barely wide enough for a person to squeeze through, its edges jagged and uneven. Reed’s frown deepened as he studied it. “We’ll have to—”
“I’ll go,” Jenny interrupted, stepping forward.
“What? No,” Reed said immediately, shaking his head. “It’s too tight, and if anything happens—”
“I’m the small one,” she shot back, already kneeling at the opening. “You won’t fit, and we don’t have time to argue.”
Reed looked like he wanted to protest further, but the faint sound of voidspinner legs approaching made him clench his jaw. “Fine. Be careful.”
Jenny flashed him a small, defiant grin. “Always.”
She crawled into the tunnel, the jagged walls scraping against her arms and legs as she moved. The space was stifling, the air heavy and filled with the faint smell of copper. She wriggled forward, inch by inch, her movements slow and deliberate. Her knees and elbows protested against the rough surface, but she pressed on.
Her breath quickened as the tunnel narrowed even further, forcing her to flatten her body against the floor to squeeze through. When her arm brushed against a particularly sharp edge, she bit back a curse, her eyes narrowing in determination. The tunnel opened slightly ahead, revealing a metal table she could use for leverage. She stretched out her hand, her fingers brushing the edge before she grabbed hold and pulled herself through with one final effort.
Jenny collapsed onto the floor, gasping for air as she rolled onto her back. The room she’d emerged into was quiet, its walls lined with more metal reinforcements. A lever stood out on the far wall, its surface dusty but intact. She pushed herself to her feet, her heart pounding as she approached it.
“Let’s see if you still work,” she muttered, gripping the lever and pulling it down.
The sound of grinding gears echoed through the space as the double doors creaked open. A moment later, Reed stepped through, his weapon at the ready. The doors groaned again, sliding shut behind him with a loud metallic clang.
Reed’s eyes darted to Jenny, relief flickering across his face. “Nice work,” he said.
Jenny smirked, brushing the dust from her clothes. “Told you I’d be fine.”
Reed chuckled softly, shaking his head as he scanned the room. “Yeah. Let’s just hope this isn’t a dead end.”
The faint sound of voidspinner claws echoed somewhere in the distance, but for now, they were safe. For now.
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Jenny leaned against the metal wall, a faint grin tugging at her lips. She chuckled softly, the sound breaking the tense silence.
Reed glanced up from inspecting the dusty room, his brow furrowing. “What’s funny?”
She smirked, shaking her head. “Just thinking… if I still had both arms, we’d be stuck behind that door.”
Reed blinked, confused. “What?”
“I wouldn’t have fit in that tunnel,” she said, gesturing back toward the tiny opening she’d crawled through. “So yeah… silver linings, I guess.”
Reed rolled his eyes, though the faint smirk on his lips betrayed his genuine admiration. “They don’t make them like you anymore, do they?” He glanced her over and frowned. “But you don’t look like you’re holding up too well. Sit down. Let’s see what we can find in here.”
Jenny straightened, waving him off. “I’m fine. We don’t have time to stop. We need to keep moving.”
“You’re not fine,” Reed said firmly, stepping closer. “We’re not getting far if you’re leaving a trail of blood for the spiders to follow.”
Jenny scowled but reluctantly lowered herself to the floor. “Fine. But make it quick.”
Reed crouched beside her, scanning the room. His eyes caught on a cabinet in the corner, its door slightly ajar. Inside, he found a dusty medkit, the edges of the plastic case yellowed with age. He opened it and grimaced. Most of the contents had deteriorated beyond use, but there was a roll of gauze nestled among the ruined supplies. He held it up with a small nod. “No expiration date on this. Lucky us.”
Reed shook his head as he glanced around the room, his gaze lingering on the strange combination of reinforced walls and scattered equipment. “This place a hospital?” he wondered aloud.
Jenny’s eyes scanned the surroundings, taking in the metallic fixtures and the faint remnants of what looked like machinery. “No,” she said, her voice thoughtful. “It’s a lab. Makes sense, I guess. Probably some experiment gone wrong back in the old world days.”
He returned to her side, crouching down to inspect her injuries. The bandages on her right shoulder were crumpled and discolored, and her thigh was streaked with dried blood from the cut she’d earned stumbling out of the cocoon. Her elbow was scraped raw, the skin reddened and angry.
Reed let out a low sigh, gesturing toward her harness. “You’re going to have to take this off. Can’t get to the shoulder with it in the way.”
Jenny hesitated for a moment, then nodded silently. She shifted awkwardly, reaching for the straps, but her movements were clumsy and uneven. Reed leaned in without a word, his fingers deftly loosening the fastenings. The harness slipped off with a faint creak of leather, and he set it carefully to the side.
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
“Let’s start with the shoulder,” Reed said, his voice quieter now. He peeled away the old bandages carefully, revealing the stump beneath. The wound wasn’t infected—a stroke of luck given the circumstances—but it was still tender, the raw edges of granulating tissue showing the early stages of healing. The skin around the stump was pink and slightly swollen, a normal sign of the body’s effort to rebuild itself.
Jenny winced as he worked, her jaw tightening against the discomfort, but she didn’t complain. “It looks like it’s doing okay,” Reed murmured, his focus entirely on cleaning the area with what little antiseptic remained in the medkit. “You’ve been lucky.”
“Lucky,” Jenny echoed with a faint, wry smile. “If you call constant running and no sleep lucky.”
Reed nodded grimly. “That’s probably slowing it down. The moving, I mean.” He glanced up briefly before returning to his work. “Rest would help, but…” His words trailed off. They both knew rest wasn’t an option here.
He wrapped fresh gauze tightly around the stump, his touch surprisingly gentle as he secured it. “At least it hasn’t reopened,” he added. “That’s something.”
Reed retrieved the harness from where he’d set it aside, holding it out to her. “Alright, let’s get this back on.”
Jenny adjusted her position, allowing him to help guide the straps back into place.
As he helped her adjust the straps, he smirked faintly. “I guess Chan’s project paid off after all.”
Jenny chuckled softly, shaking her head. “Don’t let him hear you say that. He’ll never shut up about it.”
His hands moved with practiced ease, pulling the fastenings snug but not too tight. She shifted her shoulder experimentally, feeling the harness settle into place.
He moved to her thigh next, crouching closer to examine the cut. Jenny tensed as he dabbed away the dried blood, her fingers tightening on the fabric of her pants. His head was so close to her now, the rough edges of his stubble catching the dim light. She could smell him—an unappealing mix of sweat, alcohol, and the strange metallic tang of the tunnels—but somehow it wasn’t entirely off-putting. There was something grounding about it, something human.
Her cheeks flushed faintly as she watched him work, the closeness suddenly more intimate than she’d expected. Reed’s brow furrowed in concentration, his fingers steady as he wrapped gauze around her thigh. When he looked up, their faces were barely inches apart.
Her breath caught. His eyes met hers, a flicker of something unspoken passing between them. His gaze darted to her lips for a brief second, and she felt her heart skip, her own eyes locked on his. Time seemed to stretch, the weight of their shared days together settling heavily in the silence. The things they’d been through, the way he’d cared for her—adapted with her—it all pressed against the edges of the moment.
Reed blinked and pulled back abruptly, breaking the spell with a casual grin. “Well, there you are. You won’t die on me yet.”
The moment shattered, replaced by the practical reality of their situation. Jenny exhaled, forcing a laugh that came out awkward and clipped. “Guess that’s a relief.”
Reed stood, offering her a hand. “Come on. We need to figure out how to get out of here before our luck runs out.”
Jenny took his hand, letting him pull her to her feet. Her thigh ached, and her shoulder throbbed faintly under the new bandages, but she felt steadier somehow. “So, what’s the plan?”
Reed glanced toward the far side of the room, his expression hardening. “Same as always. We keep moving and hope we’re smarter than whatever’s waiting for us.”
Jenny smirked faintly, shaking her head. “Great. Let’s get to it.”
The faint sound of voidspinner claws echoed somewhere beyond the walls, a chilling reminder that the nest was still alive around them. But for now, they had a moment of reprieve. For now.
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The tunnels had given way to more structured hallways, their walls reinforced with metal plates and lined with doors that hinted at a world long gone. Reed led the way cautiously, his eyes scanning every shadow, but the oppressive sense of the voidspinner nest felt farther behind them now.
Jenny trailed behind Reed, her eyes scanning the remnants of the lab as they moved. The narrow hallways and jagged tunnels had given way to something more structured—metal walls lined with machinery that hummed faintly, as if still clinging to life. Some rooms resembled operating theaters, with rusting tables and shattered glass, while others had the faint, sterile disarray of offices abandoned in haste.
She paused by a desk piled with faded papers, her fingers brushing over the brittle edges. Flipping through them, she frowned, her gaze catching on a few key phrases. Diagrams of human cells, annotations about bio-integration, and the bold heading: Nano-research Initiative.
“Figures,” she muttered, shaking her head with a faint, bitter smirk. “That’s what I thought.”
Reed stopped, glancing over his shoulder. “What?”
Jenny held up one of the papers, pointing to the heading. “Nanobots. Classic.”
Reed raised an eyebrow, clearly waiting for an explanation. She sighed, tucking the paper into her belt as she fell into step behind him. “Tiny machines. Too small to see, but big enough to change everything. The tech wizards of the old world thought they’d save humanity. Cure diseases, fix injuries. Cancer, heart failure, you name it.”
Reed looked over at her, uncomprehending. “Cancer?”
Jenny let out a soft laugh, dry and humorless. “Right. You wouldn’t know about that. Cancer’s… bad cells that grow out of control, eating you alive from the inside. It used to be one of the scariest things you could get. But out here?” She gestured vaguely at their surroundings. “We’ve got bigger problems.”
Reed grunted, thoughtful. “So these machines… they worked?”
“Depends who you ask,” Jenny said, her tone laced with skepticism. “The bunker taught us they were the solution to everything. Build them small enough, program them right, and they could go into your body and clean up the mess. They said it would’ve changed everything.” She paused, her lips curving into a faint, ironic smile. “But, of course, there’s always a but.”
Reed tilted his head. “What’s the but?”
Jenny snorted softly, running a hand over the dusty edge of the desk. “Military got involved. Took something that could’ve healed the world and turned it into another way to kill people. ‘Weaponized applications,’ they called it. The archives are full of clean little phrases like that.” She waved at the lab around them. “You know, in case the ways we were already killing each other weren’t creative enough.”
Reed stayed quiet, his eyes flicking over the lab as if seeing it anew. Finally, he asked, “And you believe that?”
Jenny shrugged, her tone guarded. “I believe people mess things up. A lot. But this?” She tapped the edge of her belt where she’d tucked the paper. “This was supposed to be the good stuff. The kind of thing they told us could’ve saved lives. I mean, that’s what the archives said.”
She hesitated, her fingers brushing over the paper absently. “But sometimes... I don’t know. Maybe not everything they taught us was the whole story. Doesn’t mean they were wrong,” she added quickly, her tone firm. “The Bunker kept us alive. They had to get a few things right, right?”
Reed glanced at her, but she avoided his gaze, focusing instead on the dim hallway ahead. The flickering light cast long shadows, making the space feel even narrower.
“I’m just saying,” Jenny muttered, her voice quieter now. “If they had this tech and didn’t use it to help people... maybe there’s more to the story than I know.”
They walked on in silence for a moment, the quiet punctuated only by the faint groan of the old structure. The air was thick, oppressive, as though the lab itself carried the weight of its forgotten experiments. Whatever had been done here, it hadn’t been for humanity’s benefit. That much Jenny was sure of.
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Jenny and Reed climbed the last set of stairs, their breaths echoing faintly in the narrow stairwell. The heavy atmosphere of the lab, with its frozen remnants of the old world, gave way to the oppressive chill of the current one.
They stepped into the ruined city streets, the night heavy around them. Broken buildings loomed on either side, their jagged silhouettes cutting into the starless sky. The faint, relentless sound of voidspinner legs scraping against metal and stone echoed somewhere in the distance.
Reed scanned the desolate landscape, his jaw tight. “Trying to find anyone in this mess is pointless,” he muttered, his voice low. “We head for the edge of the city. If they’re thinking straight, they’ll do the same.”
Jenny nodded, gripping her knife tightly. “Makes sense. Safety in numbers once we’re out of this zone.”
They moved cautiously, weaving between the husks of long-abandoned vehicles and piles of rubble. The city felt alive in the worst way, its silence broken only by the occasional scuttling sound of voidspinners patrolling the alleys. Reed led the way, his dagger ready, while Jenny kept close behind, her eyes darting to every shadow.
Every step was deliberate, every pause calculated. When they heard the faint click of spider legs too close for comfort, they pressed themselves into the shadows, holding their breath until the sound faded. But the voidspinners were relentless, their patrols erratic, their glowing eyes slicing through the darkness like searchlights.
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It wasn’t enough.
Jenny gasped as one of the voidspinners turned, its many eyes locking onto them with an eerie synchrony. It let out a high-pitched screech, the sound splitting the night. A dozen more joined in, their clicking legs closing in.
“Run!” Reed shouted, grabbing Jenny’s wrist and pulling her forward.
They sprinted through the maze of ruined streets, the voidspinners’ cacophony growing louder behind them. More and more of the creatures joined the chase, their numbers swelling into an unstoppable wave.
Jenny stumbled over a loose piece of rubble, hitting the ground hard. Her knife clattered out of her grip, and her heart seized as she scrambled to recover it. “Go!” she yelled, trying to push herself up.
But Reed was already at her side. He grabbed her arm, hauling her to her feet. “Not without you!” he snapped, his dagger flashing in the faint light.
That was when they saw it.
Emerging from the darkness like a nightmare made flesh, the largest voidspinner they’d ever seen loomed before them. Its legs were like thick, jagged pillars, its glossy black carapace reflecting the faint glow of its smaller kin. Its cluster of eyes glinted malevolently as it let out a deep, guttural hiss that reverberated through the streets.
“Matriarch?” Jenny muttered breathlessly, gripping her knife tightly as she took a shaky step back. “Do they even multiply like normal spiders?”
“Now’s not the time to wonder!” Reed hissed, stepping protectively in front of her, his dagger poised.
The voidspinner matriarch reared up, its massive form blocking their escape as the swarm closed in behind them. Jenny crouched, her knife ready, even as her heart pounded in her chest. Reed’s grip on his dagger tightened, his jaw set.
The end seemed inevitable.
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And then, the voidspinners stopped.
All at once, the chittering legs fell silent. The swarm froze mid-movement, their glowing eyes fixed on something unseen. Jenny and Reed exchanged wide-eyed glances, their breathing heavy as they slowly stood upright.
The silence was deafening.
A faint sound broke through the stillness—the soft clatter of footsteps and the low hum of something mechanical. Turning, they saw them.
Chan and Laura stepped out of the shadows, their faces illuminated by the faint glow of a handheld tablet Chan held in his hands. Denzel followed behind them, Mewlissa padding silently at his side. The cat’s eyes gleamed briefly in the dim light, her tail flicking with quiet confidence.
Chan’s fingers danced across the tablet’s surface, the faint clicks of his inputs barely audible. As he pressed another sequence of keys, the voidspinners retreated as if pulled by invisible strings. The matriarch hissed one last time before skittering into the darkness, its enormous legs disappearing into the ruins. The streets emptied as the swarm vanished into their burrows, taking the eerie news mashup and clicking chaos with them.
Jenny and Reed stood frozen in disbelief, the weight of the moment sinking in.
Chan grinned triumphantly, breaking the silence. “I told you I knew what I was doing!”
Reed stared at him, his breath still uneven. “What... the hell did you just do?”
Chan smirked, holding up the faintly glowing tablet. “Old tech,” he said simply.
“Nano tech,” Jenny cut in, pulling the crumpled papers from her belt. She held them out to him. “We passed through a lab. Found these. Figured you’d want to take a look.”
Chan took the papers, his smirk growing as he flipped through them. His expression brightened with genuine interest. “Now this… this is my kind of thing.”
Jenny gave a small nod. “Thought so.”
Reed shook his head, his gaze shifting between Chan and the now-empty street. “I’m starting to hate how often you’re right.”
Laura crossed her arms, looking unimpressed but relieved. “Let’s move before they change their minds.”
Denzel stepped forward, his towering presence a steadying force. “We’ve got some catching up to do. Let’s go.”
Jenny exhaled deeply, finally lowering her knife. The group gathered themselves and pressed forward into the silence, their paths converging once more.