The Last Survivors
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It’s been three weeks since the attack, and they still haven’t gotten a clear view of where we are. We’re stuck on a hill in a valley that has no name. I have to admit: I’m pretty damn hungry right now.
The food is gone from our packs and there’s nothing for miles around—not even a rock with edible lichens on it. So we can’t exactly go out into the open to hunt anything, not unless we want to get shot at by the enemy. And so far, the enemy hasn’t shown any inclination toward shooting at us just to kill us.
I guess if you were going to do something like that, then why not just send a whole battalion to wipe you out? It would be easier and faster than sending one guy here or there to snipe a few of you. If you had an entire platoon to shoot at you, they could probably get all of you. But the way things stand right now, it looks like we’re the last remaining members of our group.
I’ve been thinking about what we should do next, but I don’t really know what to come up with. We need to find someplace safe, maybe somewhere where we can dig holes in the ground for cover. Maybe there’ll be food left when we get back home; there might even be more people who survived the attack as well. That’s what I keep telling myself anyway…
But I’m beginning to suspect that I’m wrong. I think the odds are pretty good that this is the end.
We’ve got about thirty-five men under my command right now. A lot of them are injured in one way or another, though. The ones who aren’t wounded all seem like they’re ready to give up, which isn’t surprising given how long we’ve been holed up here.
They just sit around all day staring out at the enemy camp below us. Some of them are already starting to lose their grip on reality. One man is convinced that he sees a woman running out of her tent every now and then, carrying some kind of package. He’s certain that she must be his wife, but whenever he goes outside to follow her, she vanishes before his eyes.
One of my comrades was wounded yesterday when we spotted a couple of enemy soldiers walking toward us across the snowfields. My men opened fire on them, and the bullets hit him in the leg. He lost control of himself completely after that. He tried to crawl away but ended up falling down in the snow, screaming at the top of his lungs while tears streamed down his face.
He kept repeating over and over again: “My wife! Where’s my wife?” Even though the two enemies lay dead on the ground, he refused to believe that they were dead until I personally put his hands on their bodies to check for signs of life.
I’ve seen some pretty bad stuff during these past few days, but I have to say this incident is by far the worst. I didn’t realize that he’d been shot in the leg until the blood started flowing freely from the wound, and I didn’t take any action to stop it, because I wasn’t sure who I should trust anymore.
I mean, I couldn’t exactly call an ambulance or anything either, not when the enemy might shoot at us as soon as we leave the safety of our tents.
There’s nothing I can do for my comrade now except bandage him up and let him recover. I wish I could do more, but all I can do is pray. I’ve prayed a lot of times today. It seems like the only thing I have left to do.
I keep asking myself why they did this—why they took our food supplies. I don’t think there’s any way that they could possibly have thought that we’d be able to hold out for so long without help or reinforcements. They must have just wanted to wipe us out, and they succeeded.
I wonder if I’m going to see my family again—if anyone else will survive. I hope so, but I’m not so sure anymore.
***
After a couple of weeks, we managed to set up a perimeter that we can defend against attacks from the enemy. We dug out trenches and built barricades around our camp to hide behind when they come charging over the ridge at us.
I’m glad we did that because we’ve seen a couple of patrols coming this way ever since, including some big machines. Our guys are good shots with their rifles, and we’re also keeping the rest of the area quiet. I don’t know if they’re planning on using some kind of new weapon or just regular guns, but I doubt the bullets will be any match for our armor suits.
The enemy soldiers are too busy fighting each other in order to pay much attention to us. They haven’t attacked once yet, so we’ll be fine unless they send some of those bigger machines over or try something completely different.
We don’t want to risk going outside and meeting them in a direct fight either, so our men have to stay here. There’s no telling how many of them there might be in the enemy force. It would be easy enough for them to overwhelm our defenses with superior numbers, so we’ll wait for them to come closer before doing anything.
If we go outside right now, they might catch us unawares and end up killing a lot of us. We won’t make any moves until they get close enough. That’s what I keep telling myself, anyway. But I still have a feeling that I’m being fooled. What else could be out there in this wasteland but human beings?
We’ve been trying to keep things running smoothly inside our makeshift base, but it’s starting to look like a real hellhole. We’ve taken to digging latrines out of the dirt nearby, and they smell awful. The air feels thick with the stink even when you’re indoors.
Our morale has suffered as well. A few days ago someone decided to start drinking alcohol smuggled into camp by one of our comrades. When the booze ran out, he started shooting people who hadn’t had anything to drink. I was lucky enough to slip out unnoticed before it turned ugly.
That’s the worst thing about living in a tent. You never know when you might run into a crazy person who has lost everything except the will to live and wants to take everyone with him.
I’ve been spending every day thinking that it can’t last forever, but then another night passes, and I have to start all over again.
***
My friend’s leg finally got amputated, so his pain is gone at least. The doctors said they couldn’t save the limb, so they cut off the damaged part of his leg and gave him a prosthetic to replace it. They made it out of carbon-fiber-reinforced plastic, so it’s really lightweight and doesn’t cause him much trouble at all.
He says it feels strange having his stump replaced. He keeps forgetting where his foot ends and his ankle begins. His friends and I tease him and say that he can’t feel anything anymore, but he’s not laughing.
They’ve started rationing food again now that we don’t have any left. We have three meals a day, and we eat whatever we have left after eating the first portion. Sometimes we get lucky and find something that wasn’t cooked in oil, and we can actually enjoy our meal instead of feeling sick all the time.
But it’s hard to believe that we were ever hungry. We’ve become so accustomed to these conditions that we no longer even notice how terrible we’re living.
***
I’ve been getting a little restless lately and taking it into my head to leave the camp to explore the area around it. It would have been fine if there weren’t any enemies anywhere near here, but there are, so I don’t dare go out. My friend told me not to go outside anymore, and I decided to obey him.
One day I heard a voice out there in the distance. It sounded like someone talking, and I got excited, thinking maybe someone had survived the battle and wanted to meet us. I went over to the entrance of our camp and shouted as loud as I could, “Hello!” but nobody answered.
It was probably nothing but an echo from some rock formation, but I couldn’t help but feel disappointed. I guess I’m still hopeful after all.
***
We’ve been waiting for the enemy for a while now. The weather isn’t good—it’s been raining for a week now without stopping, and the raindrops pelt our metal roofs like bullets. I wish the sky would clear up so we can see the clouds moving past. If we could see them, we’d know whether or not they’re getting closer.
If only the rain would stop for a day or two! At this rate, we’re going to run out of drinking water soon. I wonder how much longer we’ll be able to go on like this…
***
“The storm has finally broken!” one of my friends called out yesterday evening. I jumped up off the sofa and hurried outside. I looked up at the cloudy night sky, hoping against hope that the rainclouds had parted at last, but I saw only the same gray haze as always.
I sat down and sighed in disappointment. I knew it would happen, of course, but I just had to try it anyway. Maybe I’ll be more successful next time.
The End