Elias managed to crawl to a slightly elevated ridge, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He was about to give up when he felt a faint, rhythmic vibration against the ground. He pressed his ear to the dirt, closing his eyes to focus. Thump. Thump. Thump.
He froze. It wasn’t the truck—it was too heavy, too powerful. It was the distinct beat of rotors combined with the high-pitched whine of heavy engines. It had to be the sanctuary’s response team. He lay there, his fate hanging on the next few seconds, praying they were scanning this sector. If they were, he needed to make himself seen. If they weren’t, he was a sitting duck in the vast, unforgiving dark.
He watched the horizon, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his broken ribs, waiting for a sign. Then, the dark horizon was sliced by a blinding white beam. It was a spotlight, cutting through the scrub like a celestial blade. It was a sanctuary interceptor unit.