Walking the Ruins

Trying to boil water, and a visitor arriving

Anna and I exchange only a few words on our cumbersome walk through the night. Uneven ground and obstacles lurking in the dark make progress slow. Anna keeps stumbling. I help her, guiding her by her arm, the one that's not hurt. I consider stopping, waiting for daylight, but the image of her wound framed by her inky blood lingers in my thoughts, driving my steps through the forest, towards my camp.

I'm not a doctor, and Anna needs one.

At some point, I stop, tear a sleeve from my shirt, and wrap it around her wound, hoping it will stop the flow of blood. 

As I finish, I think I hear voices, a murmur from the dark. Anna freezes beside me. We listen. But the only sound is the mocking whisper of water running in a brook.

We reach the camp at dawn. The first sunlight touches the mountain tips, while the valley below is still haunted by the shadows of the retreating night.

"This is my camp," I say. "My stuff's in there." I point towards the ruin of the small house in front of us.

Anna's face is pale, even paler than usual. Her tears have dried hours ago, but her lips are compressed into a thin line. She still clasps the wound on her left arm. She does not say a word.

"Sit down," I say.

With a sigh, she lowers herself to the grassy ground and leans her back against a wall.

"Let me have a look," I ask. I tenderly pull her hand from the wound. The sleeve is torn. The gash in her flesh is ghastly. The bleeding has nearly stopped, but fresh drops of red appear with each tiny movement.

The bullet has torn through her flesh without stopping, leaving a rift of mangled tissue in its wake.

"I..." I begin, but I realize that I don't have a clue what to do. Taking care of the sick, that's Rose's specialty. "Do you have any experience... do you know what to do with a wound like that?" I ask Anna.

She shakes her head, her despondent gaze on the ground in front of her, her face wet from perspiration.

There must be something I can do for her.

"I think," I say, clutching at a thought crossing my mind, "we need hot water. Then I can wash the wound. And we can boil some cloth for making a bandage. We can use a sleeve for that, maybe."

Anna nods. "Thanks," she whispers.

"Wait here," I say. I leave her, searching for wood.

Shortly later, I have lit a fire in front of the building. My kettle is perched on some stones on top of it, the water within heating slowly. Much too slowly. I blow into the fire until my eyes are burning from the smoke and my head starts to spin. I get up and feel the first touch of sunshine on my back. A trickle of sweat runs down my spine.

The wood is moist and burns poorly. I wonder where I could find something drier.

"Hey." Anna's voice is weak. She is still sitting against that wall.

"Yeah?" I move over and sit down beside her. I feel exhausted, lack of sleep rendering everything around me surreal.

"I'm sorry," she says, quietly staring at the kettle, which is more smoked than heated on top of that fire.

"What? Why are you sorry? You don't have to be sorry. You got me out of there, out of that cell. That's why you're here now. That's why you're hurt. I'm the one who has to be sorry."

"But these were my people. We have locked you into that cell. We have..." She stops.

The wind carries a strange, whirring sound, totally inconsistent with the mountain wilderness around us. I look up. An object is hanging in the air against the sky's blue backdrop, up and ahead of us. It's hard to say how far away it is, or how large. Maybe one or two hundred meters, having the size of an eagle, but looking more like a spider. Something is twinkling above it. Propellers?

"What the hell...?" I ask.

"It's the ... drone," Anna replies. "A machine, from the Reduit, from the bunker, as you call it. It's old technology. Jan can control it. Remote control, he calls it."

"Can he see us through it?"

"Jan has a screen. There you see what the drone sees. He showed us, once."

We both watch the drone, its sound and graceful motions mesmerizing. It approaches us slowly.

It takes an effort to move my eyes from the thing. "The smoke!" I realize. Stupid me. "He must have seen the smoke of our fire."

Another thought crosses my mind, and my heart skips a beat. "Is this thing armed? Can it attack us?"

"I ... yes, I think so. Jan once said that it can drop ... something." She hesitates. "I don't remember what it was. I didn't know the word he used."

I get up. "Come, let's get away from here!"

I help her up and quickly lead her into the forest behind the building.

When we gain the shelter of the trees, we stop and listen. The noise of the drone is still in the air, but it does not come closer.

"Maybe he hasn't seen us. Come!" I say and lead the way, uphill.

We reach a place above the camp. A gap in the trees allows us to see towards the ruin. The drone hovers above it, moving back and forth as if unsure of what to do. Then it slowly gains height, coming to a stop some ten meters higher up.

It drops something. Something small and black. Moments later, the building bursts into a fiery, blinding ball of fire. Then a noise like thunder and a hot gust of wind wash over us.

"Holy crap!" I say.