Dümped

Ray was still recovering from his injuries, but that didn't stop him from teaching Sandra how to shoot. He sat in a chair, watching as she struggled to hit the target—a simple paper silhouette just three feet away.

She fired again. The shot went wide.

Sandra groaned. "This isn't working. I keep missing."

Ray exhaled, patient but firm. "Finger off the trigger until you're ready to fire. And remember—slow squeeze while breathing out."

Sandra adjusted her grip and tried again. Another miss.

Ray studied her stance. "Hold it with both hands. Support it with your non-dominant hand—thumbs forward."

She repositioned her hands, biting her lip in concentration.

Ray leaned forward slightly. "Now, focus. Don't rush the shot."

Sandra took a breath and fired.

Sandra took a breath and fired.

The bullet hit the edge of the target—closer, but still not center.

Ray gave a small nod. "Better. You're jerking the trigger less. Now, control your breathing. Inhale… exhale… slow squeeze."

Sandra steadied herself. This time, she focused not just on pulling the trigger but on keeping her body still, her grip firm but not tense. She exhaled, squeezed—

The shot rang out.

A hole appeared near the center of the target.

Sandra blinked, then turned to Ray, her face half-surprised, half-excited.

Ray smirked. "Told you."

She let out a breath and grinned. "I think I'm getting the hang of this."

Ray leaned back in his chair. "Good. Because next, we move the target back."

Sandra groaned. "Of course we do."

Sandra fired another shot, her confidence growing.

"Soon, I'll be taking down Gensengs," she said, resetting her stance.

Ray gave a quiet chuckle but didn't argue. He simply watched as she lined up her next shot.

Meanwhile, along the river, the boys continued their search.

They had been traveling for days, following the winding current, hoping for any sign of her. But so far—nothing.

No tracks. No messages. No sign that Sandra had ever been here.

Merlin kicked a rock into the water. "We're running out of time."

Jackfrost adjusted his pack, scanning the tree line. "We keep going."

The river stretched ahead, endless and silent.

Sandra pointed at the assault rifle resting on the table. "When do I learn to shoot that one?"

Ray chuckled. "Whoa—baby steps."

Before Sandra could argue, a sharp shriek cut through the air.

She froze. That sound—she knew it.

Heart pounding, she rushed toward the noise.

When she reached the other room, her breath caught.

Mike. Genseng Mike.

He was hunched over, his body tense, the same eerie wail escaping his lips. The last time she heard that sound, a Genseng had appeared.

"What—what's wrong?" Ray asked, cautiously following Sandra.

"Don't you hear it? That shrieking sound," she said, eyes locked on Genseng Mike.

Ray frowned. "I hear it… so what?"

Sandra didn't answer. She was too busy watching Mike, the way his body tensed, the unnatural pitch of his cries. She had heard that sound before—right before the Gensengs appeared.

Later that day, Sandra worked on restraints.

She found an old belt and reinforced it with chains, threading them through a sturdy metal pipe. The belt went around Genseng Mike's neck, the chains passing through the pipe before being locked in place with a padlock.

Just as she tightened the last link, a voice cut through the dim room.

"What are you doing?"

Sandra looked up.

Moses stood in the doorway, watching her with wary eyes.

She exhaled, wiping sweat from her forehead. "I think the Gensengs can sense when their kind are near."

Moses glanced at Mike, then back at her. "And this is your solution?"

"Of course not," Sandra said, tightening the restraints. "He made the same noise earlier. That means there's another one nearby—at least one. I'm going to use him to track it."

Moses studied her for a moment—then smiled.

"I'm coming with you." He stepped forward and helped her lift Genseng Mike.

"No, you're not," Sandra said firmly.

Moses scoffed. "Why? Because I'm old?" He shook his head. "I've got better aim than you, you know."

Sandra shot him a look. "That's a low bar."

Moses chuckled. "Then you'll need me."

Sandra sighed but nodded. "Fine. Let's go."

Keeping low, they slipped out into the night, following Genseng Mike as he led them toward the woods. The creature moved erratically, its shrieks cutting through the quiet.

Then—

A gunshot rang out.

A split second later, a bullet struck the ground inches from their feet.

Moses froze. "I'm good, but not that good." He turned to leave.

Sandra grabbed his collar, yanking him back.

Without a word, she raised her hand and released Genseng Mike.

The creature bolted toward the direction of the shot.

Another crack of gunfire—

Mike's head snapped back, a bullet piercing his skull. He collapsed mid-stride, motionless.

Sandra and Moses exchanged a look.

They weren't alone.

They raised their hands and walked toward the source of the gunfire.

Another shot rang out—this one even closer.

The bullet struck the dirt just inches from Sandra's foot. She flinched but kept moving.

Then, silence.

Sandra glanced at Moses and gave him a small smile. He sighed but followed her lead, keeping his hands up.

A rustling came from the bushes. They both stopped, tense.

Then—they saw them.

Gensengs.

Moving fast.

Moses fired, but they were too quick, darting through the trees like shadows.

Just as the creatures lunged, something yanked them back—metal chains snapped taut around their necks.

A voice rang out from the darkness.

"What do you want?"

Sandra steadied her breath. "We noticed Gensengs near our camp. We came to clear them out."

A pause. Then the voice spoke again.

"These monsters are with me. I won't let them attack your camp."

Sandra and Moses scanned the area, trying to pinpoint the speaker. The silence stretched, thick with unease.

Then—

A gun cocked behind them.

"Drop your weapons."

Sandra and Moses slowly lowered their guns to the ground.

Footsteps approached. A man stepped into view.

He was fully geared—a bulletproof vest over camouflage, a sniper rifle strapped across his back, a pistol holstered at his side. His hands were gloved, his boots heavy. He looked ready for war.

And he was staring right at them.