Story 1270: Ambush at Riverbed

The tunnel spat them out at dawn.

After days of darkness, fire, and whispers, the world beyond felt unreal—lush trees leaning over a cracked riverbed, golden light filtering through the canopy. The air smelled like moss and memory. Water trickled quietly in the distance.

But none of them relaxed.

“Too quiet,” Shade said, scanning the treeline. “No birds. No insects. No rot. It’s wrong.”

“False calm,” H-13 muttered. “I’ve seen zones like this before—designed as psychological decompression chambers. Precursor to trap zones.”

Juno crouched near the riverbed, dipping her fingers in the water. It shimmered unnaturally, refusing to ripple.

“No flow,” she whispered. “The river’s dead.”

And then she saw it: not water—liquid mesh.

A thin film of bio-organic nanogel, transparent and alive, laced across the river like a net.

Before she could warn the others, the ambush sprang.