Chapter 24

Caleb Vance moved through the undergrowth with the deliberate, agonizing slowness of a man who knew that a single snapped twig could be his death warrant. Every ten meters, he stopped, crouched, and waited. He ignored the dull throb in his broken ribs and the stiff, drying blood on his back, focusing instead on the rustle of leaves and the distant, rhythmic chirping of insects that shouldn't exist on a world like this. He spent two hours scouting the perimeter of his camp. The explosion that...