Cyrus Woods wiped sweat from his forehead and stared at the cracked windshield of his old scout truck.The sun beat down hard on the dry road outside New Phoenix, turning everything into a shimmering haze. It was just another supply run,nothing special.Pick up fuel cells from the outpost, drop off spare parts, head back before dark, very simple.He was thirty-five, built like someone who spent too many years carrying heavy gear and fighting things that wanted him dead. Short black hair, a scar running down his left cheek from an old blade fight, and eyes that didn’t trust easily.People called him Woods because he preferred the open land to city walls, cities made him feel trapped.The radio crackled. “Woods, you copy? This is Base Three, Over.”Cyrus grabbed the mic. “Yeah, Base, I’m ten minutes out from the depot.... What’s up?”The voice cut out for a second, then came back tight.“Sky’s acting weird. Sensors picked up something big moving toward the sun, command says stay low, do

Cyrus gripped the door handle as Carrie turned the truck around on the dusty road.Dust swirled behind them like smoke from a bad memory, the dashboard clock blinked 14:32, and everything is the same again.Carrie’s hands shook a little on the wheel, but her voice stayed steady.“We remember. Both of us, that’s new.”“Yeah,” Cyrus said. “Means the loop is catching more people, or maybe it’s because we were together when it reset.”“Or maybe we’re just lucky.” She glanced at him. “Or unlucky.”They sped back toward Depot 7, the gate came into view, same chain-link, same two guards.Riley was already walking out to meet the truck, the same grin starting to form on his face.Cyrus opened the door before the truck even stopped. “Riley! Get everyone out now! East road, full speed!”Riley blinked, a smile dropping. “Woods? What the hell—”“No time!” Cyrus jumped down, boots hitting gravel hard.“The sky's about to crack, shadows drop, beams, people turn into puppets. We’ve seen it twice, mo

Cyrus stepped inside the bunker last, the heavy steel door clanged shut behind him with a sound that felt final, like closing a book on the old world.Emergency lights hummed to life overhead, dim yellow strips along the ceiling that cast long shadows across concrete walls.The air was cool and stale, smelling of old metal and dust that hadn’t moved in years.He turned to face the group, twenty-three people now，the original convoy from Depot 7, plus a few stragglers who had jumped in during the chaos of the last loop.Faces still pale from the adrenaline, but no one was screaming, or crying but they stood quiet, waiting for him to speak.Riley leaned against a crate, arms crossed, Mara sat on the floor, rifle across her knees, checking the magazine out of habit, Tomas stood near Carrie, watching her set the jammer prototype on a metal table like it was the most precious thing they owned.Carrie looked up first. “Power’s on emergency mode, we’ve got maybe forty-eight hours before the b

Cyrus stood at the narrow window slit, arms crossed, staring into the black canyon basin.Night had settled deep, there is no moon, or streaks in the sky, just thick darkness pressing against the armored glass.The emergency lights inside the bunker hummed low, but out there nothing moved, no drones, beams or reset pulse and time felt stuck, like the harvest had paused to catch its breath.He hadn’t slept, couldn’t because every time he closed his eyes, he saw the purple glow building in a drone’s belly, felt the needle burn through his chest from loops one through three, though the fourth loop had ended different—safe, for now but the quiet made him twitchy.Behind him the main room stayed active but hushed, Carrie worked on tweaking the fourth jammer’s range, Riley and Mara had just finished their watch shift and were eating cold MREs at a table, Tomas slept on a bunk, curled tight like he was still expecting the next beam and the rest of the group rotated rest and small tasks—clean

Cyrus woke to the faint buzz of emergency lights and the smell of instant coffee someone had managed to brew on a portable stove, his neck ached from sleeping upright against a crate, but the pain felt almost normal now like background noise he could ignore. He checked his watch....05:47, no reset had come overnight, and the fifth day was stretching longer than any before, he stood, rolled his shoulders, and walked into the main room.The group was already stirring, Carrie sat at the jammer table, final tweaks done, four units lined up and glowing steady green, Riley was checking shotgun shells, Mara sighted down her rifle scope at nothing in particular, and Tomas tested a small handheld scanner scavenged from the armory trying to detect residual drone signals.Vaughn Keller stood near the door, coat on, dampener clipped to her belt. She had cleaned up as much as cold water and a rag allowed, The scar under her eye looked sharper in the low light.Cyrus met her gaze. “You ready?”“Bo