The Serpent Shield: The Coming Tide

1

A terrified scream pierces the dense forest of mesquite trees. Heart pounding, I sprint forward, guided by my Guardian serpent’s sharp vocal clicks. Jax emits a faint burst of electricity from beyond a cluster of thorny huisache leaves.

Jax’s heat signature in my eyepiece shows his long, muscular body gliding through the underbrush ahead on my left. He’s the perfect weapon—a bio-engineered serpent to counter the Dregs’ unique physiology. This breed is the only reason we’ve survived these ruthless invaders and their relentless attacks since before I was born.

My pulse races, as it always does at this point in the hunt. I take a deep breath to sharpen my focus.

Just one more kill for Xander and Jax to tie at the top of the leaderboard, says the play-by-play commentator in my earpiece, excitement building with every word. What an unstoppable up-and-coming duo.

A deafening cheer erupts from the massive viewing audience, blending the fervor of those online with the wild energy from the crowd at the packed awards stadium. Hearing my name called out over the airways still sends a thrill through me.

A twig snaps to my left, opposite Jax’s direction, a jolt of adrenaline surging through me. I scan the spiky thicket and spot a humanoid shadow slipping behind gnarled branches ten feet away. The stench of sour body odor from my prey’s scent glands overpowers the earthy aroma of the forest. I wrinkle my nose in disgust.

I take a silent step to expand my view into the murky foliage. Is that…? Transparent skin and dark green vein—yes, it’s an adult male Dreg. Imagine a double kill.

Vibrations from Jax’s electric waves raise the hairs on my arm. That’s the signal—he's cornered the other Dreg. He’s not allowed to attack until I arrive, so I need to get over there. An order from a big spender came in to take this one down in a swallow whole style move. I’m going to add a twist, with his fangs trailing venom along its body. My fans will go crazy!

I slip out my dart gun with a tagger dipped in Jax’s neurotoxin.

Leaving a dangerous invader without calling over a guardian teammate from our Serpent Defense Unit is kind of against the rules. But this one is my winning chance, and it’s not outright cheating since the drug will slow the monster down until I can return with Jax. The micro tracker injected when the tip penetrates will ensure the creature can be found.

The look on Marcus’s face will be priceless when they crown me champion, and soon team lead. My top rival can’t stand losing, especially to me. I’m going to savor throwing his own words back at him. Not everyone’s cut out for this.

A shrill yelp echoes from Jax’s direction. I jerk in surprise and the dart thunks against a thick tree trunk. Damn it! My quarry springs to life and scrambles away.

With practiced precision, I load another and hold my breath, my finger steady on the trigger, while I zero in. I wait for the perfect moment, then squeeze. A faint cry erupts as the tip finds its mark.

I race away, following Jax’s crackling electricity and escalating vocal clicks. The prickly underbrush snags my uniform, but I push through, gaze fixed ahead. Four more steps, and the overgrown bushes relent, giving way to a breathtaking expanse of gentle rolling hills. A broad, winding river stretches out before me, gleaming under the relentless sun. The air carries a subtle hint of sagebrush and mesquite, mingling with the distant buzz of insects and the rhythmic murmur of the water.

On the steep bank, Jax’s scales shimmer with a metallic luster, displaying vibrant emerald greens and iridescent blues. Streaks of gold rings dance across his thick, sinewy body. The rippling pattern traveling up his length indicates that he’s cornered his quarry, and he’s awaiting my signal for how I want the kill.

The Dreg's vibrant red eyes almost appear to glow in the sunlight as they flick to me from her position trapped inside Jax’s coils. There’s just enough room for the female to pace a few steps before a razor-sharp spike on his spine will inflict another wound. Blood trickles down her arms from a previous impact with the knife-like protrusions. The crimson flows in a stark contrast to the dark green veins etched along her flesh.

Pliss... gna’t hrung—vraak… lizo, she says in a raspy, guttural tone.

Although the words are foreign, the slurred speech shows that the neurotoxin from Jax’s spikes is taking effect.

Crush the cockroach! Destroy the invaders! the bloodthirsty viewers chant in my ear, like a rhythmic pulse. Electricity buzzes under my skin, and I wish I could witness their reactions.

These deadly foes have killed so many of our citizens over the years in their quest to take down our country. I won’t let another cross the border to inflict their terrorist acts on my watch. Pride and purpose swell in my chest.

I raise my left arm in a dramatic gesture for the drone camera broadcasting high above. My fingers curl into a circle with my thumb. I pause, letting the anticipation build for my kill signal.

The audience hushes as if they were holding a collective breath. My skin tingles, every nerve alive and buzzing. All the long hours of training, all our hard work… it all comes down to moments like this. I love the intoxicating thrill of the viewer’s eager excitement.

The fingertips of my right hand squeeze together into a single point. I plunge the converging digits through the circle. As they touch, I shift two fingers of the circle out to mimic fangs, scraping my right hand and forearm as they travel downward.

"A dive bomb with venom trail!" someone shouts from the distant spectators. The viewers explode in joyous revelry.

Epic! My social media score must be skyrocketing. The team lead promotion practically has my name on it. I force myself to maintain the required stoic demeanor of a Peacekeeper, as a grin threatens to break free. After all I’ve sacrificed, my dream job is coming true.

Jax’s tail vibrates like a spring under tension, and he emits a rapid succession of clicks and chitters. His scales coalesce into golden rings rippling down the length of his coiled form, signaling his readiness to strike. His prey raises its arms, dark green veins snaking underneath her transparent skin. Her face contorts, but the thick, bony protrusions on her nose and cheeks make her expression unreadable.

The serpent tightens the space around the female. His jaw unhinges, blade-like fangs extending. His head sways in a hypnotic back and forth.

The female’s red eyes widen in terror. She shuffles backward, tripping on his scaly body. Her hand slices along Jax’s back spike, and a whimper escapes. She scrambles up his side, leaving a trail of blood. He flicks her back with his tail. She stumbles and falls to her knees.

Jax’s head rises, his mouth opening to four times wider than his body. He dives with lightning speed, fangs piercing flesh and injecting his lethal poison. The wretched creature’s final scream cuts short as it vanishes inside his cavernous throat with a visceral slurp, the sound of victory.

Hell yeah! A fierce heat of triumph explodes through me. I pump my fist into the air.

Xander and Jax score a kill, the announcer exclaims, his enthusiastic voice rising in pitch and tempo. "Neck and neck now—what a nail-biter, folks! Just minutes away from crowning our champion."

The crowd screams in wild hysteria. A flood of raw excitement courses through me. A cha-ching accompanies the substantial dollar amount displayed in my eyepiece—a tip from the high roller who requested the dive-bomb finish. My bonus will be huge from this offensive.

No time to celebrate. My victory awaits not far away in the forest.

Jax slithers over and nuzzles his head against my leg. I pet his favorite spot between the eyes, eliciting a deep rumbling purr. The remnants of the prey bulge from within the serpent, inching down his digestive track.

Come on, Jax. We can take this. I point toward the orange tracking dot in my eyepiece, which represents the male attempting to hide in the forest.

Jax lifts his head, zeroing in on that direction. His nose sways back and forth, searching for his target’s scent and electrical signature, a trait courtesy of the Great White shark DNA infused in him.

He takes off, but not at his top speed. Ingesting a kill is often reserved for the final hunt, because of the lethargic impact on the serpent’s body after consuming such an enormous meal.

I walk through a slight opening in the foliage, matching Jax’s slower pace. Not far in, he clicks and freezes, locking in on the prey. My muscles tense, nerves stretched like a drawn bowstring. A human-like shape shifts behind a scrubby bush. I whistle and nod. Jax flicks his tail and glides through the underbrush with eerie silence. I wipe away the sweat beading on my forehead.

When Jax sneaks within striking distance, he pops his head up in a threatening manner, like a hooded cobra. The male Dreg gasps. He jumps up, scrambling in a slow-motion race. He drags his left leg from the paralyzing effects of the neurotoxin dart that tagged him earlier.

My nerves crackle. I step into the path of the fleeing vermin, my body primed to tackle him. The Dreg halts, almost toppling. His piercing red gaze locks onto mine. Jax holds the ready-to-strike position, his tail lashing side to side. An acidic odor of fear wafts from the invader.

"Hold up," the announcer shouts to the audience. "Eyes on Xander, folks. Last chance to place those bets. Don’t let your government bonus go to waste."

I raise my hand, intending to give a quick kill order. I can taste the victory.

The male stumbles forward, grasping my arm. His irises flicker from vibrant crimson to a soft brown and back. My breath catches. I’ve never seen anything like this before. Once they’re in proximity of the serpent’s pheromones, their true nature is always exposed. An icy dread crawls up my spine.

Are they evolving to be able to better hide among us? Command needs to hear about this.

The creature tilts its head, almost pleading. It falls to its knees and puts its trembling palms together as if praying. A lone tear trails down its bumpy, green-veined cheek.

Rich, chestnut brown fills its iris again. Those eyes, so like Pops. A sinking feeling churns in my stomach. A distant memory I’ve tried to bury bubbles up.

"Xander, don’t!" Pops, my stepfather, screams from that time so long ago. I freeze, the world around me fading into a blur. His tortured image flashes before me, filled with the disbelief and betrayal of what I had done.

Nausea creeps up my throat. I rub my hand along the raised three-inch scar on my left forearm. He had always looked at me with such pride and love until that day. The decision still haunts me.

I squeeze my lids tight for a moment, trying to clear my mind of this trick of the light. The Dreg’s not him. Pops has been gone a long time. The creature before me deserves death.

Shwack! The sound of fangs slice through skin. Thud. I open my eyes as the male topples, colliding with the ground. The crowd roars in a wild celebration with this last dangerous invader destroyed.

Damn it! My legs go stiff, rooted in place as I stare in disbelief. I grit my teeth. That should have been my win.

Marcus stands over the fallen enemy in his SDU uniform. His short-cropped blond hair glints in a patch of sunlight. He holds up two fingers in a V for victory, his cold, calculating gaze drilling into me. My chest tightens, and I fight back the urge to slap the smug expression off his face.

Obsidian, his serpent, flicks Jax with his strong tail, eliciting a warning hiss from my Guardian. He glides over to rub against Marcus’s leg.

VICTORY! The invasion has been stopped. We have a surprise winner for the Grand Hunt.

Maar-cus! Maar-cus! Maar-cus! The chant swells from the multitude watching across the country, each syllable grating my nerves like nails on a chalkboard. The social feeds streaming in my eyepiece fill with congratulatory messages for my rival.

Enjoy the view from second place, Marcus murmurs, a cold smirk plastered across his mouth. He turns his stocky frame and steps over the lifeless body without so much as a glance. He strides away with Obsidian by his side, heading toward the river where a transport vehicle has arrived.

Rage simmers beneath the surface, threatening to boil over, but all I can do is stand rigid, fists clenched. I stare at the deceased Dreg, cheers for Marcus still echoing in my ear. With the veiny skin and goosebump flesh, the creature doesn’t appear human at all. The suffocating weight of failure bears down on me. I had him, and I let my victory slip away. How could I have hesitated? Never again.

2

Ladies and gentlemen, exclaims Kavanaugh McMasters, the popular social media celebrity, from the plush leather host chair positioned center stage between Marcus and me.

Let's give it up for Marcus, champion of the Grand Hunt. What an electrifying finish—the stuff of legends!

Booming applause erupts from the massive audience in the colossal stadium, the vibrations reverberating through my chest. Banners and holographic displays of sponsor’s logos line up around vibrant giant screens covering the walls of the enormous space. Throughout, drones and TV cameras capture every moment, broadcasting the spectacle to millions.

Video of what should have been my victory kill rolls across the monitors. The scene replays in an endless loop of Marcus’s steal and my screw-up. Each time through sends a new stab to my pride. I force myself to block out the reason for my error.

Thanks. Marcus glances around the packed space, his expression as stoic as ever. I’m … well, years of hard work and training, you know.

A surge of satisfaction washes over me. Idiot! He just missed his chance to shine. Too stupid to understand how to play the publicity game.

Kavanaugh shrugs and nods to the cameraman to shift focus to me.

A close-up of my blue-eyed face fills the many monitors, like a giant gazing down over the enormous crowd. Despite my twenty-four years, I still have a hint of youthful roundness in my cheeks and a sprinkling of freckles. Without thinking, I run my fingers across my cropped brown hair.

Xander, your tactics are trending. Quite the social numbers—the public loves you, especially the ladies.

Video shifts to positive highlights of Jax and me throughout this last offensive. I’m grateful for the change in focus.

Timing’s everything. All about the right move at the right time. I wink into the camera lens.

Feel free to practice on me anytime, someone shouts from my left. Laughter ripples through the audience, interspersed with flirtatious whistles.

I give a lopsided grin as I gaze across the sea of spectators. I aim to please.

Kavanaugh chuckles, motioning for everyone to settle down.

Impressive camouflage skills Jax showed out there. His Mimic Octopus DNA rendered him invisible during both the water kill, and the attack at the red striped cliffs. We had to use infrared to spot him for the viewers.

Marcus scoffs and frowns. They can all do that. Obsidian⁠—

Speaking of amazing feats, Kavanaugh interjects, ignoring him. Both of you demonstrated superior teamwork during the Rescue Mission Event earlier in the week. Those Dregs didn’t stand a chance.

Damn straight. Marcus holds up a tight fist, his voice louder than necessary. None of the cockroaches’ traps could stop Obsidian and me. Snuck right through their defenses. He narrows his eyes at me. Some on the team just tagged along, scared to get their hands dirty⁠—

What Marcus means. I keep my tone light, although I want to punch him in the nose. We executed the mission with perfection. We saved an important young woman from the scum and their intended torture.

Yes! Kavanaugh jumps to his feet. Her rescue to start this campaign off was almost as impressive as the Grand Hunt at the end. What amazing tactics you both showed in the final event to stop the invaders from crossing the border.

Destroy the Dregs! The chant spreads across the stadium. #FUDregs and #KillTheDregs fill up the social thread running on the right side of each jumbo screen.

I owe my media coach a huge thank you. If I can keep controlling this interview, my subscriber count will guarantee the commanders promote me to the team lead position. I've dedicated my whole life to reaching this monumental achievement.

Kavanaugh motions with his palms for the assembly to settle.

We have a surprise for these two peacekeepers.

He sweeps his arm toward the edge of the stage. The audience hushes, electric anticipation palpable throughout. A thrill courses through me—Kavanaugh's announcements always spike public interest. The numbers will be huge.

The beautiful Jessie Harper.

Jess-ie! Jess-ie! Jess-ie! rolls across the chanting throng. The social feeds cascade with hearts and smiley faces for the popular influencer.

A young woman I’ve fantasized about running into makes her way across the stage in graceful strides. With a radiant smile on her full lips, she exudes an infectious charisma, sending the spectators cheering.

My heart skips a beat. I’ve followed her online presence for the last few years. I can’t believe I’m going to meet her.

She waves to the crowd and blows a kiss. Her shoulder-length, curly blonde hair bounces with every step.

Marcus and I stand. A delicate floral fragrance drifts toward us as she nears. He gives her a stiff handshake.

She grins at the camera. Quite the firm greeting. I’ll take that as a compliment.

Marcus’s cheeks redden and he glances at the ground, his muscular frame tensing.

Although we’ve never met, I pull her into a warm embrace, inhaling the soft scent of her shampoo. Her lips press against my cheek. I can still feel the warmth as we move apart.

I’m glad you’re safe, I say, projecting my words for the viewers. This is why we do what we do.

Her gaze locks onto mine, and my pulse quickens. She winks, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief.

I’m sure I can figure out a way to thank you later.

Me too, a few shout out.

I chuckle and raise a single brow. Looking forward to taking you up on that. Though this is all for show, she’s convincing enough that a flutter of anticipation stirs within me.

She takes a seat in the open host chair, while Kavanaugh remains standing on the side.

You’ve had quite the ordeal. He motions toward the screen where drone footage of Jessie’s rescue loops. Even tear stained and covered in grime, her beauty shines through.

She stares into the camera, a somber, wide-eyed expression taking over. An instinct to comfort her wells up inside me.

When the Dregs grabbed me, they appeared so human… so ordinary, she says, with a tremble in her words. Pretended to be my cleaning crew. I never saw the kidnapping coming.

A buzz of anger escalates in the stadium, while fear grows in her gaze.

If it wasn’t for these brave Peacekeepers and their Guardian Serpents…

Kavanaugh places a comforting hand on her shoulder from his new position standing behind her. She gives him a gentle smile, blinking back tears, and gestures up at the monitors showing Marcus carrying her out.

I don’t want to see that again. Too traumatic.

I long to comfort her and wipe the pain away from her face.

Masters of disguise, those Dregs, Kavanaugh says, giving the sign to roll a different film. Fortunate for us, they can’t hide their true nature when in proximity to the serpents.

All around the space, the video screens reveal a serene meadow bathed in a golden light. A solitary man, average in stature and features, stares toward a dense tree line at the clearing’s edge. His eyes widen in alarm. A serpent slithers into view, camouflaged in a pattern matching the grass. The Guardian fixates on the man. Its scales ripple, morphing into iridescent rings pulsing along its sleek body.

The man’s brow furrows, and a low, guttural moan escapes his throat. He raises his forearm in front of him, staring at the appendage. Horror flashes across his expression. His mocha-colored skin lightens, becoming translucent. Dark-green veins thread along his arms and neck. He glares at the camera, his irises shifting from hazel to an almost glowing scarlet hue.

Boos and angry shouts swell from all around the massive crowd. An intense desire to crush the Dreg surges through me, a reflex ingrained since my first days at boarding school. I’ve been exposed to the dangers inflicted by these foreign invaders my whole life. The destruction, the aftermath of their attacks, and the fear they instill in our communities fuels my determination to eradicate every last one.

Jessie releases a soft sob. Terrifying creatures… to see them change, and that noxious odor they give off from their scent glands. I knew they would kill me.

She slides her palm onto Marcus’s knee, and a twinge of jealousy knots my stomach.

In my darkest moment, these courageous peacekeepers and their incredible guardians saved me. Not just me—the entire country from the invasion attempt that came several days after.

Kavanaugh holds out his arms toward Marcus and me, his voice booming through the theater. Our heroes!

Applause thunders around us. A wave of movement sweeps across the room as everyone jumps to their feet in a standing ovation.

Pride floods through me, and I break into a broad smile. Hell yeah! We took out those bastards. I love this part of the job.

As the cheers die down and the audience settles back into their seats, our host steps forward with a gleam in his eye.

Ladies and gentlemen, before we conclude this magnificent event, we have a thrilling announcement. Tonight, we celebrate not only our brave Peacekeepers but also one fortunate citizen who won the Ultra Million Jackpot, thanks to our national betting system!

The spectators buzz with excitement as a spotlight sweeps over the crowd, a drumroll coming from the surrounding speakers. The beam lands on a short, middle-aged man standing in the aisle. His expression betrays a mixture of shock and elation, as everyone turns to stare at him.

Our newest millionaire, Mr. William Frances! Kavanaugh swings his arm out, welcoming the man to join us. The roar of approval and applause swells around the room.

William shuffles to the stage, beaming as he clasps hands with the host.

Tell us, William, how does it feel to win this incredible prize?

It's unbelievable! he says, a grin plastered on his lips. I placed my bet with my full tax return for Marcus on the Grand Hunt. And when they called my name… with millions of bets, to be picked the winner of the lottery… I never imagined it​ would be me.

A sudden commotion erupts from the side of the arena. The heavy doors swing open with a loud bang. All heads whip in the direction of the sound. A confused murmur sweeps across the space.

A young woman storms in, her features twisted in a mask of seething fury. Her chaotic auburn hair tumbles around her shoulders, and her gaze blazes with defiance. She grips a bucket of red liquid that sloshes out, splattering droplets in her wake. She charges toward the stage.

A fierce energy floods my veins as I step in front of Jessie, muscles coiling in readiness. Marcus jumps up beside me in a fighting stance.

What the hell is this? I whisper to him. He shakes his head. I glance at Jessie. Her skin pales as she tracks the woman.

Security personnel rush in her direction, but she acts with lightning speed, hurling the bucket's contents across the stage in a crimson arc. The liquid splatters William, Kavanaugh, and the first row in a shocking splash of red.

Their blood is on your hands! She points a finger at Marcus and I. The Dregs are not our enemies—they're victims!

Chaos ensues as audience members shout in alarm that insurgents might have planted bombs around the stadium. Their panicked voices blend with the sounds of scrambling feet heading toward the exits. Some leap from their seats, while others stand frozen. A woman in a bright sapphire dress collapses into the man beside her. A child clutches his mother's skirt, crying out in fear.

The world narrows as I search for the best path to stop the woman. Before I can make a move, armed officers tackle her to the ground, dragging her off amidst the commotion. Her impassioned words linger in the air, casting a shadow over the once-celebratory atmosphere.

A blind fury builds inside me. These traitorous protestors should be fed to the guardians—along with the terrorists they