Zac
The Xakul were here.
Zac cursed the dust storm. Its combined effects, combined with all the concrete in the building, meant there was very little comm signal. Zac and Oren had tried repeatedly to contact Laila, but could not reach her.
Zac hit his comm unit again. Static. In the short time they had been in the building, the storm had moved in; eliminating any chance of establishing communication with Laila or the shuttle. But that also meant that the Xakul and their ship weren't going anywhere.
Zac checked the time. They had left the shuttle almost thirty minutes ago. There was no time to waste. Oren and Zac sprinted through the building, quickly clearing each room.
They approached the front entry where Laila had entered the building. Zac could see daylight beyond, though it was difficult because of the red sand swirling into the hallway. He scanned the old Xakul corpses, dismissing them, and almost missing the footprints in the dust. Those were Laila's footprints. Her feet were much smaller than his and the Xakul had distinctive feet, and plenty of them.
“Oren, those must be Laila’s prints. She’s already left.” Zac pointed to the marks in the dirt on the floor.
“I hope she had better luck than we did then. Let’s go.”
Zac let the other Taurean warrior take the lead and, breathing a sigh of relief, slipped out of the door. They hugged the building as they moved, keeping out of sight of the Xakul ship that had landed at the building’s rear. The storm had picked up, visibility now down to mere metres.
He quickly scanned around him, the lack of engine noise from the Xakul ship showing it had now powered down and was settling, the mechanical sigh of a landing ramp was unmistakable.
It was now or never.
So far, this had been just like the simulations he’d practiced, but firing at an enemy? Zac’s heart raced. He took a deep breath and dashed away from the command post. With every step, he expected to hear a shout in the harsh buzzing tones of the Xakul, but none came. Breathing through the filter in the mask was difficult, but he pushed harder, his only thought to get Laila… to get the team, to safety. He thought he heard something off in the distance, shooting? He couldn’t be sure. The storm winds howled, and the pounding of blood in his ears was deafening.
It felt like forever before he and Oren were sliding over the top of the rise, where they had surveyed the buildings only a short time before. How long ago had that been? He swore. If they had any chance of making it back to the landing zone in time, they needed to get going now.
Zac scrambled down the slight rise and raced towards the boulder where they had stashed their packs, the wind howling around him. Despite being covered almost entirely in his camouflage uniform, mask, and goggles, the dust still got to his skin. It stuck to his sweat, leaving him feeling gritty.
Where was Laila? Where were their packs?
He stopped, spinning on the spot, squinting to see through the thick dust, his goggles steaming up from the heat coming from his skin.
There! The winds shifted, and he saw the boulder loom briefly before disappearing from sight. Zac quickly reached it and rummaged in the drift of sand and dirt for the packs. He pulled on a strap and his pack came free, and he threw it over his shoulders, tightening the straps. Oren’s was next, he handed it to him and received a nod of thanks in return.
Laila's pack was nowhere to be seen. She must have been here already and started back to the shuttle.
Zac lifted his wrist to check the comm unit and stared at the blood that covered his hand.
What?
He turned his head to see the strap of his pack was soaked with blood. Neither he nor Oren were injured, so that could only mean that something had happened to Laila.
His stomach suddenly felt filled with lead. How badly was she hurt? How far had she gone?
Zac scanned the ground. There was evidence of blood in the dirt, but the stiff wind quickly obscured it. Her footprints were rapidly disappearing, erased by the swirling winds of the storm.
He had to find her.
Zac shot a look at Oren. “Can you get her on the comm?” He took a deep breath to steady his nerves as the other man shook his head.
She was tough, resourceful and experienced. He had to trust that she would make it back to the shuttle at the landing zone. Night was rapidly descending, the already long shadows now merging as the sun dropped low over the horizon. Trying to find her in these deteriorating conditions would be difficult, if not impossible. Even if she wasn't injured, the cold that came at night would lower her energy to dangerous levels.
Laila would know all of this, of course. He wasn’t doing her any good standing here. Zac nodded to Oren, and the two took off at a jog, moving nimbly through the raging winds of the storm, retracing the path back to the landing zone. Buildings emerged like ghosts in the storm, visibility becoming so poor that they had to stop jogging and walk.
Zac paused, blinking to clear his vision as a shape appeared in the gloom ahead of him. Oren tapped him on the shoulder, pointing ahead, and Zac nodded. He knew that the light could play tricks, but he was certain that it was Laila ahead of them. He picked up the pace, gaining on her rapidly, Oren matching him stride for stride, weapon ready in case of ambush.
He reached for Laila and put a hand on her shoulder. She spun, taking a stumbling step backwards, lifting her plasma rifle to level it at Zac. Her eyes were wide as she stared at him, then crinkled at the sides as she smiled behind her mask and lowered her weapon. She moved stiffly, her arm held awkwardly against her side.
“Laila, are you hurt?” He stepped towards her, eyeing the makeshift bandage she had tied on her upper arm, blood seeping through it. She flinched under his gaze. Zac pulled her under the eaves of a building, feeling better with a solid wall at his back, Oren turning to keep watch over the path, or what little of it they could see in the swirling dust.
