The Sweepers
1179 Words
POV: Phoenix Kade
Then I see them. The sweepers.
They're like nothing I've ever seen before. Completely n***d, but their bodies are covered in cancerous growths that look like tree roots or knots. From head to toe, they're covered in gnarly, wart-like lumps. Large tumors bulge from their skulls. Their legs bend backward at the knees like a rat's, giving them unnatural speed and leaping ability. They wield long knives, spears, and stone hammers.
So the excavators told the truth about one thing. There really are sweepers here.
I've seen mutants before. Everyone in the Shatterlands has. But mutations are usually random, uncontrollable. Every mutant looks different. These sweepers all look the same, like they're part of some organized breed. And they've kept their intelligence. That makes them far more dangerous than any mindless beast.
One of the scavengers tries to fight back. His knife bounces off the sweeper's thick, root-covered skin without leaving a mark. The sweeper swings its stone hammer and crushes the man's chest. The impact pulverizes flesh and bone, reducing him to a flattened chunk of meat in tattered clothes.
Fighting them head-on means death. These creatures are far stronger than any human. And more of them keep appearing, their stone hammers turning scavengers into bags of pulverized meat with every blow.
We've completely broken down. No matter which way we run, death waits. The horror and despair eat away at our minds, our sanity. All we can do is cry and howl as we flee.
The anguished screams mix with the sound of bones crunching and shattering. It forms a terrible music that echoes through the tunnels, a song composed by the devil himself. I know I'll never forget it.
One warm body after another is broken and destroyed. One life after another is snuffed out.
I never truly understood what hell meant before this moment. All my courage, all my dreams of leaving this place and seeing the world, they all vanish as I listen to those hideous screams. The only thing left is a desperate gambler's hope as I follow the few surviving scavengers toward a passage with fewer sweepers.
Crunch. Another body explodes behind me.
One of the men running beside me falls to a sweeper's hammer. More sweepers swarm the corpse, smashing it with their stone warhammers until there's nothing left but refuse on the ground.
Blood sprays everywhere, and the sight gives me a surge of adrenaline. All my energy focuses into my legs. Only one thought fills my mind. Get out. Get out. Get out.
"AHH!" The scavenger in front of me screams and falls. Some kind of beast has clamped onto his feet with massive pincers, crushing the bones so badly they poke through his skin.
"Help me! I'm begging you, save me!"
I run past him without thinking, but he grabs my ankle. I lose my balance and hit the ground hard.
His face is covered in tears and snot. "Help me!"
"I can't save you! Let me go!"
"Then give me a clean death!" His face twists with despair. "If those devils get their hands on me... I'd rather die now!"
I hesitate. I've never killed anyone before. But I can see a dark figure moving toward us through the shadows.
"Give me a clean death!" The scavenger howls with everything he has. "I'M BEGGING YOU!"
I let out a guttural roar and raise my shortsword, then plunge it into his neck. Blood sprays out, hot and stinking. I wipe my face, leave the sword buried in him, kick free of his grip, and run.
My first time killing another human being.
I can't forget the look of utter despair on his face. It's burned into my mind, into my soul.
My eyes are bloodshot with shock and horror. I feel like a volcano is rumbling inside me, making me want to scream with rage and anguish. But there's no time for that. The tunnels stretch out like spider webs, filled with dangerous creatures I can't even see.
The sweeper behind me drops its blood-covered hammer and pulls a javelin from its back. It throws the spear directly at me.
The javelin howls through the air. I sense the danger and lean sideways on pure instinct. The sharp tip scrapes past my face, so close it cuts a few strands of my hair.
I know death just brushed past me. I keep running at full speed. When I see a turn ahead, I dash around it without hesitation. The tunnel branches into three different passages. I choose one at random and hide myself toward the back.
I'm at my limit. If I keep running, the sweeper will catch me. My only chance is to trust luck and hope it doesn't choose this tunnel.
The dark figure stops at the three-way split. It hesitates, listening. This sweeper is an experienced hunter. It knows I didn't run far, knows I'm hiding nearby. So it doesn't rush blindly forward. It waits, listening for any sound that will give me away.
I'm less than ten meters from it. My heart hammers so hard I think it might burst from my chest.
I'm finished. The sweeper isn't leaving. It's waiting for me to make a sound, to reveal myself. If I make even the slightest noise, I'm dead.
Then another premonition of danger fills my mind. I feel something approaching from my left and turn to look.
The fluorescent moss on the walls casts enough light for me to see the shadow. An incredibly large black silhouette with eight slender legs, joints covered in needle-like bristles as sharp as knives. Twelve blood-red eyes gleam with savage light.
A mutabeast spider. Enormous, at least two meters long.
It's on the ceiling, crawling slowly toward me. It's already found me.
The sweeper hears something too. It pulls another javelin from its back and starts walking in my direction.
Sweat pours down my face. I can't control my fear anymore.
Time to try something crazy.
I shut my eyes and howl as I jump from my hiding spot.
The spider flexes its eight legs and launches itself at the same moment. It's faster than me, a powerful predator certain it will catch its prey mid-leap.
The sweeper's arm flexes as it hurls its javelin with enough power to punch clean through a man's body.
Time slows. The mutabeast closes in through the air. The lethal javelin streaks toward me. I twist my body frantically, and the javelin slices a deep wound across my chest as it flies past.
I barely dodged it.
The enormous spider strikes with its limbs, reaching for me. Then the javelin hits it almost perfectly in the head. The spider lets out an agonized screech.
The sweeper stares, stunned. It didn't expect that.
I hit the ground and roll to my feet, clutching my bleeding chest as I run into another tunnel. The sweeper starts to chase, but the injured spider clamps onto it, and they begin tearing each other apart.
I disappear into the darkness, leaving them behind.
- Writer
