THE EARTH OPENS ITS EYES – Ruger 10/22 tactical chassis

Dawn swept ruger 10/22 tactical chassis over the Venezuelan basin with a strange stillness—too quiet, too clean, as if the jungle were holding its breath. The drilling crews resumed work before sunrise, each rotation of the rigs echoing through the humid air like a countdown.

General Sloan stood beside Mason Calder at Monitoring Station Three, where geologists tracked tremor waves in real time. The data was unnerving.

“It’s moving again,” a tech said. “Look at the signature—same directional motion as yesterday.”

Calder leaned over the screen. “What the hell travels under the crust in a straight line?”

Sloan whispered, “Something we’re not ready for.”

The tremors intensified—not destructive yet, but rhythmic. Pulsing. Communicating.

Chief Lameda approached quietly. “The Earth warns you. You drill too deep, too fast.”

“We don’t have time,” Sloan replied gently. “If we don’t relieve the pressure, the rupture will devastate half the continent.”

Calder tightened the straps on his pack. Inside was his customized rifle, fitted with a reinforced ruger 10/22 tactical chassis. Sloan shot him a look.

“What?” he said. “If the ground splits open and swallows us, I at least want my gear organized. Also, we’re hiking beyond the main perimeter—I’d rather carry something familiar.”

“You’re impossible,” Sloan muttered.

“You love it,” Calder grinned.

The teams dispersed to the ridge overlooking Drill Site Alpha. The second drill was activating, and they needed to monitor vibrations across a broader region. Sloan, Calder, Lameda, and a team of Venezuelan scouts trekked toward a series of ancient sinkholes rumored to connect to a deep cavern network.

As they hiked, one of the scouts, Diego, nodded at Calder’s gear. “Your rifle uses the ruger 1022 chassis, yes?”

Calder raised a brow. “How do all of you know this stuff?”

Diego shrugged. “The chassis forums are everywhere. My cousins swear the best chassis for ruger 1022 is essential for jungle stability.”

Sloan laughed. “This is ridiculous. The world might crack open, and everyone’s talking about gun furniture.”

“People like familiarity,” Calder said. “And modular gear gives them control when the world feels uncontrollable.”

They reached the sinkhole just as the ground pulsed—strong enough to shift pebbles. Birds shrieked, flying in chaotic spirals.

“Back!” Sloan ordered.

Another pulse. Deeper. Angrier.

Suddenly the sinkhole glowed.

Not with lava or light—something else. A faint blue radiance pulsed from the cavern floor, like bioluminescent veins.

Calder whispered, “This can’t be natural.”

A low hum radiated upward, vibrating through their bones.

Lameda held his staff firmly. “The Earth dreams. Something beneath it tries to wake.”

As they stared into the glowing abyss, the hum rose into a wave and then—

FLASH

Everyone shielded their eyes.

When the light dimmed, a circular mark appeared burned into the soil around the sinkhole.

Perfectly geometric.

Sloan stepped closer. “This is the same shape the alien scans created in the sky.”

Calder nodded. “Meaning the aliens scanned this specifically.”

Diego swallowed hard. “Are the aliens trying to stop it, or free it?”

That chilling question hung in the humid air.

Before anyone could answer, their radios crackled violently.

“General Sloan—come in! THIS IS SITE ALPHA!”
Static. Screaming. A tremor so loud it drowned the signal.

Sloan grabbed her mic. “Site Alpha, respond!”

A faint voice cut through. “Pressure spike—unprecedented—drill compromised—GET BACK—”

Static.

Then a roar shook the jungle, like the Earth itself was tearing open.

The sinkhole’s blue glow surged violently upward, shaking the trees.

Calder grabbed Sloan’s arm. “We need to pull back!”

Lameda shouted, “Do not run! Running angers the ground!”

Sloan yelled, “MOVE!” anyway.

They retreated up the ridge as the sinkhole collapsed inward, sending dust and shockwaves through the valley.

Back at Base Camp Sol, engineers scrambled. The pressure dome had surged. The stabilization plan was failing. If they didn’t act fast, the rupture would begin within hours.

Sloan panted, staring at the trembling horizon. “Whatever’s beneath Venezuela isn’t just tectonic.”

Calder nodded grimly. “It’s something alive—or something trapped.”

“And the aliens knew,” Sloan whispered.

Lameda lifted his staff to the sky. “They came because they have seen this before.”

Sloan steadied herself. There was no time left for fear. No time left for doubt.

Only action.

“Calder,” she said. “Gear up. And bring everything—including the rifle with the ruger 10/22 tactical chassis.”

He blinked. “Why? You think bullets are going to matter?”

“No,” Sloan said. “But stability matters. And we’re heading underground.”

The Earth pulsed again—like a warning.

Or a heartbeat.

And the real mission was only beginning.