The commander of a failed ambush is trapped in a desert with only twenty soldiers of the ten thousand she led. The desert is nearly lifeless and heavily irradiated from bombardment. The only thing keeping the soldiers alive is their mechanical armor, protecting them from the worst of the radiation. However, the suits’ batteries are slowly degrading, and the communication equipment is completely broken. They have no idea what is happening in the war, and their water supply is dwindling.
When night falls, we start moving once more. We are around seventy percent of the way to Ikel, but our water supplies will run out today. We have food for at least another week, but unless we find water, we’re doomed. The strongest of us might make it far enough to see Ikel break the horizon, but there is no possibility of reaching it.
So many would give up. So many have. Why do I still strive for a goal I cannot achieve?
I don’t have an answer for myself. Maybe this is the curse of humanity. No matter how hopeless something is, we will suffer anything trying to achieve it rather than give up.
Each day feels like a fever dream, an endless trudge through repeating, featureless dunes. Any variation is a blessing, something to focus my attention on for a moment, something to pull me back from the edge of complete insanity.
For the first few days following the bombardment, the sky was red. Now it’s more of a copper, but no less ominous. Or dangerous. Our suits protect us from the worst of the fallout, but we’re all feeling its effects. Blood dribbles from my mouth, pooling with the vomit around my feet.
My throat aches with thirst, but I resist the temptation to lean my head forward and take a drink. The day my desperation overcomes my self-control will be the day I die of thirst.
The absurdity of the situation overcomes me for a moment and I laugh in contempt. I wanted water, and I had enough to sate myself for the day. Why shouldn’t I enjoy the sweet liquid, then let the seams of my suit split apart and the desert make me dust?
The cruel fantasy lasted for a moment before I let it fade. I heard a shout behind me and turned to see a soldier stumbling out of her armor. “No more!” she cried, stabbing a finger at me. “You were supposed to lead us, but instead, you’ve brought us into a living nightmare. I-”
Her last words are lost to time. In a horrifying display of radiation and chill, her skin sags grotesquely and simultaneously freezes. She falls over, dead, and we stare as her flesh dissolves into blackened strips.
No one moves to bury her. No one weeps or falls to their knees. No one professes her honor, curses her mischief, or describes her kindness. The only concession to grief is the moments we spend staring at what was once Katie.
I thought she died in the bombardment. She was the most well-known member of my legion, a friend to all the soldiers. No one would’ve wished this fate on her, least of all me. To know I led her into this, to know she blamed me for it… I nearly join her.
After what feels like an eternity, we begin moving. There’s no consensus or communication. No decision to make. There’s nothing to do but keep going.
I stare at the ground in front of me, too exhausted to lift my head until someone slaps my shoulder. I spin and see the group gesturing frantically in front of us. I look to see our doom bearing down upon us.
The sandstorm races towards us, too large to evade. I make quick gestures to signify the necessity of staying together. We group tightly together and begin to walk as the storm approaches.
It hits like a truck, the force of the wind strengthened by the thousands of grains of sand swirling in them. Our pace slows to a crawl as we fight the wind. Within moments, our visibility is next to nothing. The copper glow above us has been obscured by an impenetrable mass of sand. Grouped up, we stay on our feet, but we lose a member every so often as a mech stumbles and falls. They disappear into the storm in seconds. Going after them would be a hopeless affair, so we press onward.
Without warning, a mass of metal appears out of the storm. I almost slam into the smoldering hull of the attack ship. We all stare in shock, and then my soldiers rush toward it, hoping for supplies of salvation.
I try to herd them back, but it’s no use. Any chance of survival lies within the craft, but I take a fraction of a second to assess the situation.
The ship crashed here not too long ago, having been downed when its engines were destroyed. It’s one of our ships, so it would’ve been traveling light, expecting to return to base or not return at all. Even if the sparse supplies in there were unharmed, they wouldn’t sustain more than a single person. The soldiers will kill each other over it.
I make my way around the hull to the spot of impact. To my horror, a shattered rock shelf teeters precariously over the ship. As quickly as I can, I move back to the fighter and wave frantically at the soldiers. They don’t see me in their mad search for the supplies. I pound my fist on the hull, but the howling wind obscures the sound.
Suddenly, a terrible crack sounds, like a rending of the sky. The soldiers look up to see nothing but sand. The smart ones, including me, scramble as fast as they can to get out of the way. Most don’t.
I watch in devastation as, with a massive noise, the stone crushes the fighter with the soldiers inside. Soldiers who survived more than ten years of war, who survived a full red rain without aerial support, who made it four days across this hellspawn of a desert, are destroyed in an instant by more than one hundred tons of rock.
In a stupor, I reach for the release hatch of my suit. Why should I keep going, when my fate is already decided? I, and everyone on this trek, will die, painfully and slowly, within miles of our destination. Katie died for nothing. All of them died for nothing.
Motion in the darkness breaks my trance. I stare at my fingers, about to flick the switch. It would be so easy.
More movement. I let a tear slide down my face, robbing me of precious water, and then I begin to move through the storm again.
