The Swarm Below

The town of Ecster kept its secrets buried deep, hidden beneath the surface. Once a thriving mining community, the tunnels stretched for miles underground. But that was decades ago, and the shafts had long since been sealed—forgotten relics of a boomtown era. That is, until a recent earthquake cracked open a sealed tunnel near The Masshole Crossing. When the ground split, something old and malevolent began to stir.

Mark, a geologist haunted by his past, was called in to assess the newly exposed chasm. The job held a dark significance for him. Over thirty years ago, his father had disappeared into those mines, along with nine other men. Presumed dead and buried under tons of earth, their bodies were never recovered. As Mark descended into the tunnels, memories of his father seemed to echo through the darkness, the sound bouncing off the walls.

His flashlight flickered and died, plunging him into pitch blackness. The air was foul, saturated with the stench of rot and decay. In the silence, Mark heard it—a faint rustling. The sound grew, like a thousand claws scraping against rock. Then, out of the static of his radio, a voice emerged—ragged and weak, but unmistakably his father’s.

“Mark… they… hunger.”

The darkness seemed alive now, the whispers surrounding him like a swarm. His hands trembled as he struggled to reignite his flashlight. When it finally sputtered back to life, the beam revealed a grotesque scene: the tunnel ahead crawled with creatures, their bodies resembling twisted insects. But these were no ordinary bugs; their heads had a disturbing resemblance to human faces, twisted in expressions of eternal torment.

Some of the creatures were the size of rats, while others towered over him, nearly seven feet tall. Before Mark could scream, the ground beneath him collapsed, and he plunged into an even deeper pit.

He landed in a cavern filled with the remains of miners—skeletal bodies scattered like discarded toys. Their bones had been stripped clean, their skulls frozen in expressions of silent horror. Mark’s flashlight beam swept over the cavern, stopping on a pulsating mass that hung from the ceiling. It was massive and grotesque, resembling a queen insect, her bloated form constructed of fused human remains. Among the multitude of faces contorted in agony, one was unmistakably his father's.

The air buzzed with the chittering of the swarm as they moved closer, mandibles clicking in a sickening rhythm. Mark’s heart raced, pounding like a drum as his gaze fell on an old mining pick half-buried in the dirt nearby. It was his only chance. Gripping the pick, he took a breath and prepared to strike.

As he swung, the queen's eyes locked onto his, and a voice emerged—one that was both his father’s and something else entirely.

“Join us, Mark… or feed us.”

He drove the pick into the grotesque mass, tearing at the flesh and bone. The cavern exploded into chaos, a chorus of shrieks filling the air as the insects surged toward him. Mark swung the pick with all his strength, gouging deeper into the queen’s swollen body, black blood spraying in thick, oily spurts. The queen convulsed, her wail so piercing it seemed to vibrate within his very bones.

But he didn’t stop. With one final desperate strike, Mark drove the pick into the heart of the queen. A blinding flash of light filled the cavern, and then… silence.

He awoke near the tunnel’s entrance, barely able to move. The shaft had collapsed behind him, sealing away whatever horrors lay below. Stumbling into the moonlight near The Masshole Crossing, he felt a deep itch beneath his skin, like something was crawling just under the surface.

Back at his hotel, the sensation grew unbearable. He tore at his arms, his nails ripping at the flesh until it bled. The itching intensified, and as he stared at the open wound on his wrist, he saw them. Tiny red eyes, peering out from within.