The desert is a vast, empty expanse, a sea of darkness under the alien sky. The moons hang above us, cold and indifferent, their light casting long, eerie shadows across the sand. There are no landmarks, no familiar points of reference, only the endless stretch of sand and rock.
Hestia is flagging, her steps faltering, her breath coming in ragged sobs. I'm not in much better shape. My lungs are on fire, my legs ache, and a stitch in my side sends a sharp pain through me with every breath.
But we have to keep going.
We have to get back to the base.
My mind races, replaying the events of the past hour over and over. The look on Eric's face. The gun in his hand. The way he looked at me, the silent command to run.
I still can't believe it.
I can't believe it's him.
Eric.
My friend. My...
My...
I don't know what he was to me. But he was something. He was important.
And now... now he's gone.
He's gone, and he's been taken by them, by those... things. He's one of them now.
And Mia...
Mia.
The betrayal cuts deeper than I ever could have imagined. I trusted her. I...
I loved her. Not... not in a romantic way. But she was my friend. She was...like a sister I always wished I could have.
They...
Those can't be...
It isn't possible they really betrayed us - chose the aliens. Our captors. The ones they hated as much as me. Especially Eric. Even if he was always so cynical...
It can't be.
There has to be another explanation. Something I don't know. Something that would make this all make sense.
Something that would make them not traitors.
Not monsters.
I can't bear the thought.
I can't bear the thought that my entire life, the last... I don't even know how long... has been a lie.
That the only people I had, the only family I had left in this god-forsaken place, were never really on my side at all.
I can't.
I can't.
But I can't dwell on it now. I can't let the grief, the horror, the betrayal consume me. Not now.
Later.
Later, when Hestia is safe. Later, when I've warned the others. Later, when we're safe.
Then I can fall apart.
Then I can let myself feel the crushing weight of what's happened.
Then I can mourn them.
Mourn the friends I thought I knew. Mourn the trust I gave so freely.
But now... now I have to be strong. For Hestia. For the others at the base.
For myself.
I have to keep going.
I have to.
I push the thoughts away, focusing on the immediate, on the present. On the sand under my feet, on the weight of Hestia's hand in mine, on the relentless pursuit that I know is coming.
The stars and moons above provide enough light to see by, but the landscape is still a confusing jumble of shadows. I'm not even sure if I'm going in the right direction. I'm just running, running away from the crash site, hoping I'm going toward the base.
Hestia stumbles beside me, a small cry of pain escaping her lips. I stop, turning to her, my heart aching at the sight of her tear-streaked face. She's exhausted, terrified, but she's still trying to be brave.
"Are you okay?" I ask, my voice hoarse.
She nods, but her expression is pained. She lifts her foot, and I see that her ankle is cut and bleeding, the skin scraped raw by a rock she must have kicked in the dark.
I rip a strip from the bottom of my shirt, wrapping it around her ankle as best I can. "It's not much, but it should help a little," I say, my hands fumbling with the makeshift bandage. "We have to keep going, Hestia. We can't stop."
She nods again, her eyes wide with fear. She knows. She knows what's at stake.
I pull her to her feet, and we continue our desperate flight, my mind racing, searching for any sign, any landmark that might tell me we're on the right path.
And then I see it.
A distant light, a tiny pinprick in the vast darkness. A campfire. A beacon of hope in the suffocating night.
The base.
It has to be.
A wave of relief so powerful it almost brings me to my knees washes over me. We're going to make it. We're actually going to make it.
"Look, Hestia," I whisper, pointing toward the light. "We're almost there."
Her eyes widen, a flicker of hope in their depths. She squeezes my hand, a small, silent gesture of encouragement.
We push on, our steps a little lighter, our resolve a little stronger. The light grows brighter as we draw closer, the familiar shape of the factory rising from the sand like a beacon.
We're almost home.
A part of me thinks...it still represents safety, escape, rest.
The things it's been for months.
But....
Really it's a death trap. I know it. It's only a matter of time - not long - before Mia and Eric...
Before they...
I swallow and shake my head. I can't think about that now.
First, we have to get inside. We have to warn them.
We reach the outer perimeter of the compound, the familiar fence a welcome sight. I can see the guards, their forms silhouetted against the light of the fire, their weapons held at the ready. They're on alert, their postures tense. They know something's wrong.
I expected nothing less. An explosion, sirens, and then silence... they'd have to be fools not to be worried. And these people...they are not fools.
"Sarah?" a familiar voice calls out from the darkness. "Hestia? What in the nine hells are you two doing out here?"
It's Arden, the martial arts instructor. He steps out of the shadows, his lanky form a welcome sight. His expression is a mixture of concern and confusion.
"Arden," I gasp, my chest heaving. "We have to... we have to warn you. They're coming. The aliens... they're coming."
His eyes widen, and he grips my arm, his touch surprisingly strong. "What are you talking about? What happened? Where are the others?"
"Dead," I sob, the word tearing from my throat. "They're all dead. Ivan... Sinead... Peter... they're all dead."
Arden's face pales, but he doesn't falter. "And Mia? And Eric? What about them?"
"They... they did it," I choke out, the words like acid in my throat. "Eric shot Ivan. Mia... Mia helped him. They betrayed us."
Arden stares at me, his expression a mixture of disbelief and horror.
He doesn't question me. He doesn't hesitate.
He believes me.