Tentacles erupted from the ground. They whipped at Ruiz, snatching the machine gun from his grip and tossing it into the landscape. They latched onto his arms, a leg, and twined around his torso. Ruiz grunted, cursed, screamed, but no protest or struggle could free him.
Flies swarmed from the sky. They enveloped everyone, even the stricken Ruiz, bombarding each soldier like flecks of a heavy icy rain. Some landed on their victims, crawling, biting, pushing their way into mouths, working their way into eyes and nostrils. It was chaos with no way to fight it. Even if they had been free of the attacking insects, no one could have fired on the tentacles. They would surely have taken Ruiz in the attempt. The team scrambled, lurched, every man alone and swatting at invading flies.
Then Garrett, in a...
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