"The swarm is coming any second! We don't have time to argue!" Michael barked, his voice cutting through the rising hum of the approaching horseflies. Sweat glistened on his forehead as he paced back and forth, his eyes flicking between the cracked walls and the terrified faces around him. "We've got eight people here. To keep it fair, everyone gets one vote. Whoever gets the most votes… feeds the bugs."

His words hung in the air like a death sentence. The room was suffocating, the stench of fear and sweat mixing with the foul odor from the swarm outside.

Halia was the first to break the silence. Her voice, sharp and unyielding, sliced through the tension. "Fine. I'll go first. My vote is for Michael. He's a thug and completely untrustworthy." She crossed her arms, chin raised defiantly, daring him to challenge her.

Michael's jaw tightened, his bloodshot eyes narrowing as he glared at her. "You better watch it, glasses girl," he growled, his voice low and venomous. "Don't think I won't put a bullet in you right now."

"You made the rules, didn't you?" Halia shot back, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands. "I have the right to choose."

Michael's lips thinned into a grim line as he clenched his fists, but he waved her off with a grunt. "Next!"

When his turn came, Michael cast his vote without hesitation. "Julian," he spat. His reasoning wasn't logical—just petty. He couldn't stand how Naima kept gravitating toward the doctor, laughing at his jokes and casually touching his arm. If Julian were gone, Michael thought bitterly, maybe Naima would finally notice him.

The professor was next. He cleared his throat, his voice shaky but resolute. "Halia," he said, adjusting his thick glasses. "Journalists are opportunists. They create chaos and twist facts to suit their stories. I don't trust her."

Julian, the doctor, spoke up calmly when his turn came. "My vote is for Solara," he said, his tone clinical and detached. "She's too quiet. People like her freeze under pressure, and that's dangerous for all of us."

Naima, the influencer, didn't hesitate. "The professor," she said, gesturing at him dismissively. "He's old, weak, and can barely stand. If anyone should go, it's him."

Thomason, the cop, cast his vote for Orion. Years of chasing criminals had taught him to trust his instincts, and something about Orion didn't sit right. "He's hiding something," Thomason muttered.

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When it was Solara's turn, her hands trembled as she fidgeted with the hem of her shirt. "I… I vote for Thomason," she whispered. Her vote felt random, an act of desperation rather than conviction.

Finally, all eyes turned to Orion. His vote would decide their fate.

The hum of the swarm grew louder, the sound vibrating through the walls like a warning. Sweat trickled down Orion's back as he scanned the faces around him. Each vote felt like a dagger aimed at someone's throat. His breath hitched as Michael barked impatiently, "Hurry up, man! They're almost here!"

Just then, an idea sparked in Orion's mind. He grabbed his phone and turned on the flashlight, the beam slicing through the dim room. "Everyone, use your phones! Flashlights! Now!" he shouted.

The others hesitated, confused, but as the first few horseflies seeped through the cracks, they scrambled to follow his lead. One by one, their flashlights clicked on, their combined beams forming a bright halo of light that scattered the swarm.

Michael cursed under his breath but joined in, reluctantly pocketing his gun to hold up his phone. The horseflies buzzed angrily, their movements chaotic as they recoiled from the light.

For a moment, it worked. The swarm slowed, their erratic flight patterns keeping them at bay. The group stood huddled together, their breaths shallow, their hearts pounding.

"They're backing off…" Julian muttered, his voice laced with cautious hope.

But the reprieve was short-lived. The light couldn't hold them forever. The buzzing grew louder, more aggressive, as the swarm pressed against the barrier of light.

Then, the wall behind them groaned. A deep, guttural creak reverberated through the room, sending chills down their spines.

"What now?" Naima whispered, her voice barely audible.

The sound grew louder, the wall trembling as cracks snaked across its surface. With a deafening crash, the wall collapsed, sunlight flooding the room. The sudden brightness was blinding, forcing them to shield their eyes.

As their vision adjusted, they turned toward the opening, their mouths falling open in shock.

Before them stretched an endless desert, its golden sands shimmering under a brutal sun. In the distance, dark shapes moved—shadows that slithered and shifted like predators waiting to strike.

"What… is this place?" Solara breathed, her voice trembling.

Michael stepped forward, squinting at the horizon. "Whatever it is, it's better than being bug food. Let's move."

Orion hesitated, his gut telling him this was only the beginning of something worse. But with the swarm pressing closer, they had no choice.

"Go," he said, urging the others forward. "But stay together. Whatever's out there, we face it as a group."

One by one, they stepped into the blinding sunlight, their shadows stretching long and thin across the sand. Behind them, the swarm buzzed furiously, but it didn't follow.

The last to leave, Orion glanced back at the room—a prison that had almost become their grave. Then, with a deep breath, he turned and stepped into the unknown.