Dance Moms Bodyguard (10) White Jackal

Chapter 10 : Nameless

My head was baking under the burning sun, so hot I removed the goat skin and tore away the bandages. It was excruciating having my wounds roasting under the scorching sun, but it was either that or cooked under those blood stained bandages. I didn't care anymore.

I walked for hours, but I didn't seem to make any progress, the landscape didn't change a bit, the horizon was still the horizon. I didn't seem to be moving at all.

The only thing that kept me sane was to study my tattoos, trying to decode them. They were a combination of alphabets and numbers, maybe coordinates, others were in Arabic, locations or maybe contacts.

Sometime hard knocked me over, I fell back and landed on my butt. I looked up and saw a wreckage of a tank. I laughed silly, of all the flat land in the vast desert I walked into a tank.

I wanted to climb inside the tank to take shelter, but the iron armor was sizzling hot, enough to fry an egg. Then I tried to get under it, there I found a hatch into the belly of the beast.

The interior was like an oven, so hot the air burned into my lungs, but right now it made an acceptable shelter.

The tank has been striped to its bare structure, down to every pipe and every gage, but there was also a corpse, possibly the driver or passenger, it was so dry the skin shrank to the bones, so dry it didn't even smell.

I removed the soldier's clothes, put on the field jacket and pants, and the best of all - a pair of boots on my feet.

There was a little notebook in the breast pocket, it has written notes, logs of some kind, recording the route they travelled. I compared them to the tattoos on my arms, they matched.

I took the last item off the dead soldier, his t-shirt, rolled up the top half and tied the sleeves around my head, leaving the rest covering my head and flapping behind my neck. The boots were too large, but offered me protection under the circumstance.

I walked on.