INTO THE HEART OF VENEZUELA – Ruger 10/22 chassis

General Sloan had Ruger 10/22 chassis been granted something no American commander ever expected in her lifetime: full operational access within Venezuelan borders.

The helicopter ride from Caracas into the southern basin was like flying into another world. The dense green canopy shimmered, rivers curled like silver veins, and mountains cut the horizon. But what unsettled her was the air itself—something heavy, tense, waiting.

Calder sat beside her, equipment case in his lap as always. Sloan caught him checking the fit on a ruger 10/22 tactical chassis despite the situation. “You know that’s not going to fix the tectonic plate,” she said.

“No,” he answered, “but if we get stuck out here overnight, I’ll be glad it’s ready.”

“Superstition?” Sloan asked.

“Stability,” Calder said. “It’s the same reason people debate the best chassis for ruger 10/22 chassis like their lives depend on it. Reliability keeps fear away.”

Sloan conceded the point with a nod.

They touched down at Base Camp Sol, a temporary joint command center built between two rivers. Venezuelan engineers were already constructing the drilling rigs. Indigenous representatives waited to greet them with stern faces but calm eyes.

Chief Lameda, an elder with deep lines across his cheeks, stepped forward. “General Sloan,” he said. “We welcome your cooperation. But understand—this land remembers everything. And something beneath it has awakened.”

“We’ve seen the data,” Sloan said respectfully. “We believe the pressure dome is unstable. Your people’s insight may be essential.”

Lameda nodded. “The Earth is speaking. You must listen.”

He led them to a clearing where the soil pulsed faintly—as if breathing. Sensors confirmed the movement wasn’t wind or superficial tremors.

Calder crouched to examine the ground. “This is insane,” he murmured. “It’s like the crust is alive.”

A Venezuelan geologist disagreed. “Not alive—reactive. Something deep underground is shifting pressure in a uniform pattern. The alien scans likely stimulated it.”

“Meaning what?” Sloan asked.

“Meaning,” he said, “they came to warn us before it erupts.”

Sloan processed that. Aliens scanning Venezuelan crust pressure was strange enough. But aliens trying to prevent a catastrophic quake? That was something else entirely.

As the drilling rigs activated, the ground trembled again—stronger this time. Birds scattered. Leaves shook loose from trees. A roar echoed from far beneath the surface.

Calder steadied himself. “That wasn’t normal tectonic movement.”

“No,” the geologist said gravely. “That was directional.”

“That’s impossible,” Sloan said.

Yet the Earth growled again—moving in a straight path, south to north, as if something were traveling below.

The teams scrambled to deploy additional sensors. Chief Lameda simply watched the earth, whispering to it like a parent calming a restless child.

When the first drill broke surface, the tremor paused.

Then—

A spike of energy burst from the ground, invisible but strong enough to make every metal object vibrate. Calder’s rifle case rattled. Tools jumped. Helmets buzzed. Even the rig itself jolted sideways.

“What was that?!” a Venezuelan engineer shouted.

Sloan yelled, “Shut down the rig! NOW!”

The tremor faded instantly.

The Earth had responded.

Chief Lameda approached the rig, placing his palm on the soil. “The land fears something. You must understand—whatever lies beneath is old. Older than our people. Older than your borders.”

Calder whispered to Sloan, “Aliens didn’t cause this. They detected it.”

Sloan swallowed. “Then we’re not preventing a natural disaster. We’re preventing something waking up.”

In the tense silence, a Venezuelan officer checked his gear anxiously. “If things get worse, ma’am,” he said to Calder, “what setup do your survivalists recommend?”

Calder sighed. “For a scenario like this? Something simple, reliable. Maybe a ruger 1022 chassis or the lighter ruger 10/22 chassis. Keeps weight down if evacuation becomes necessary.”

Sloan smirked. “You’ve created an international chassis seminar.”

Calder shrugged. “Better than an international panic attack.”

The tremor rumbled again—long, slow, exhausted.

As if whatever lived below was struggling to breathe.

The sun dipped red across the jungle. Engineers prepared to resume drilling. Calder double-checked his equipment. Sloan coordinated satellite feeds. And Chief Lameda whispered warnings that the Earth was reaching a breaking point.

Tomorrow, they would drill deeper.

Tomorrow, they would discover what the aliens already knew.

And nothing would ever be the same.