Swallowing Dust

Every sound reverberates in thе brain. It hurts to think, to blink, to breathe. The pain is subdued only by the bleak cold on the stomach. That horrible feeling of dread that precedes an awful happening. Which was precisely the situation you've found yourself in. Dry mouth, a concussive pain in the head and shaky hands. Your body betrays you, every muscle aches and screams for in incoherent cacophony. You try to move your limbs, but they all feel like lead. Struggling to open your eyes, you wish you didn't. You find yourself crawling out of hell's pit to the hellish landscape. Torn metal, smell of smoke and blood. Dust, dust everywhere. Like the ancient sands below tried to swallow you whole. The air was thick with the non-humid essence of the desert, the smell of battle and the endless feeling of dread.

Another attempt at moving, but your AKM has became heavy. You look to your left, the scene of your plight, the young dying recruit in the arms of the commander, her body dirty and the ugly bullet hole on her flank, the rapidly drying blood around the entrance and coming from her mouth, her contempt, sad smile, as if accepting that it was the end. The commander, held the fading youngster in her arms, her own face twisted in darkness, dirt and pain, unwashed tears sliding through her cheeks. Took a while to register how wild of a view that was, being as she never cried before. And what time more appropriate than moments before the untimely and pitiful demise of oneself? She must have understood, looking at you with similar contempt. Tеars flow from hereyes, flowing. She cannot hold them back . You tell yourself to keep calm. "We're going to die with a smile"

The cacophony of your internal tormented and helpless thoughts, all boiling over until you hear, like the sinister confirmation that it could get worse, you hear them coming. You see a disform mass through the shattered windows of the helicopter, but your vision is so blurry at the distance that you can't make any distinct shape. But you know it doesn't matter. They are coming, to finish you off. All hope is in one magazine. You see that Nadia has pulled her grenade, and held it in her hand, smiling at you. Like a silent farewell, waiting for the moment to pull the pin and end it all.