Chapter 2 Not the Agurts You Know

After driving through the night and the next morning, they were on the outskirts of Agurts. They had waited for their convoy to receive clearance passing through the great bastion of Baluard. To see the stalwart mountain city had been a special joy for all of them. Bob had pointed out the places on the wall where you could see the damage caused during the Estancian assault of the Unwelcome War, and they even had time to pick up some of Baluard’s famous “hot pig rolls” - juicy sausages dripping with greases on a fluffy bun with melted cheese on top. Even Corporal Djemai seemed to enjoy herself. “See here, soldiers! Now this is a city. None of that Soncetan extravagance-” A pointed look at Petar - “or the defenceless brick lanes of Auth -” a nod to Alex - “no, this is a city carved out of the solid rock of the Tritan Mountains! The unbreakable shield of the Agurts Federation.” 

Petar snorted and whispered to Damien, “She forgot to insult Armaria.” 

Damien grinned around a mouthful of sausage and bread. “All well and good. She’s just proud. I think she might be from here.” 

Yet time marched on all too quickly, as it usually does, and before too long they were ordered back onto their convoys. When they exited Tomas Pass and dipped down into the hills on the other side, even the corporal couldn’t resist a final longing look at Baluard as it drifted below the horizon. She sighed, then turned to the squad, all business once again, but with just a touch of compassion. “Alright team, listen up. Sergeant Han has told me to tell you that you need to get yourselves ready. We’re outside of the heartlands now, in the borderlands. This is still Agurts but...not the Agurts you know.” 

They all looked outside. It didn’t look any different to Damien than the other side of the Tritans. Rolling hills, mostly bare, except for a few hardy weeds and gnarled trees. The hills themselves were covered in a patchy grass that was green in places, splotchy yellow and brown in others. It was a somewhat empty landscape. “Who even lives here?” asked Petar. “And how do they live?”

Alex gawked. “You don’t know? Didn’t you pay attention in lessons at school?” 

Petar winked at him. “I preferred learning on the streets from the school of life.” 

Schertling shook his head woefully. “A nice way of saying you were skipping class.”

Damien mused: “I think...it’s mostly farmers around the hills and refugees in the city. My teacher said it was best to avoid going beyond the mountains if you could. Too close to the Gray Zones. Too many desperate people.” 

“The farmers here have been here for generations,” Bob cut in. “Some even before the Collapse.” 

Schertling whistled. “That’s a long time...over a hundred years, plus some. They must know the land well.” 

Bob nodded. “No one better. But…,” he grimaced. “It hasn’t gotten easier over the years. The desert’s approaching from the east and from the west, you’ve got the acidic rains of Niah that kills the crops…” he sighed. 

Damien asked, “What do they farm?” 

“They’re mostly grazing sheep, goats, a cow or two if they’re lucky, or rich enough. Quite a few chickens too, these days, I think.” 

Alex shook his head despairingly. “Tough life.” The group was silent for a few minutes before Bob burst out laughing. “Oh it isn’t that bad. You all are acting as if they’re miserable! Don’t be so quick to look down on others. They may not have much, but they make it work, and treasure what they have. Many of them trade at Zamaii on the weekends, so you may even have the chance to meet and talk to them.” 

Djemai added: “Duty permitting.” 

The hours rolled by like the hills outside, the team settling into a rhythmic silence. It was fast getting on for evening, and the sun was just beginning to set. Damien was watching the sunset as he liked to do when he noticed...something. In the shining light of the sun, it looked like there was a glint off somewhere to the right, behind them. 

He tried to peer closer, but the convoy just dipped below the crest of another hill and blocked his view. “What is it?” Bob said. 

“Nothing,” Damien shrugged. “Just a trick of the light.”

“What was a trick of the light?” Corporal Djemai stood up tensely. Suddenly everyone was looking at Damien. He raised his arms in protest. “I just thought I saw...there was a glint of sun off of something metallic…” 

“Shit. Shit shit shit,” Corporal Djemai ran to the front of the convoy and rammed open the window onto the driver’s compartment. “Possible bogey spotted on our tail, radio Sergeant Han!” She turned back to the team, worry and apprehension written all over her face. “Hold on, we’re going to speed up, just in case.” 

Suddenly the convoy sprang forward like a rabbit from a trap. That brief movement saved them - a couple of seconds later, and an explosion erupted where they had just been. Everything was moving too fast. Fire and the smoke filled the convoy. Damien was holding onto the vehicle for dear life as it sped forward when he was thrown forward by a sudden stop. The driver shouted at them, coughing. “Roadblocks! Everyone out - now!” There was a scramble, everyone fiddling with their harnesses and gear and rushing and pushing and what the fuck was going on he couldn’t find his gun they were all going to die - 

“ORDER!” Bob’s voice cut through the gloom. They all stopped and looked at him, corporal included. Bob was standing up, rifle at the ready. His face was a picture of calm. “We’ll get through this, everyone, but we need to stick together. Damien, you’re a good shot - stick with Petar. Schertling, you’re with me. Alex - follow the corporal. All clear?” They nodded. Bob roared, “I said - ALL CLEAR?” “CLEAR!” came the shout back. “Good! Everyone out, and watch each other’s backs. We’ll try and stay together, but if we can’t, stick with your partner. Let’s go!” The veteran hauled Schertling up and the two jumped out the back. The corporal, gritting her teeth, motioned to Alex, and they went out next. Damien looked at Petar. The young man was white with terror. Damien held out his hand, and Petar grabbed it. “Stick with me, Petar, I won’t lead you wrong.” Petar tried gamely to smile. The two checked their rifles and jumped out the convoy into the fight. 

Time is a funny thing, Damien thought. In the convoy, hours passed into other hours like seconds into minutes. It was slow into fast. But this battle...it was like hunting. Seconds became minutes became hours: fast into slow. Once he realized this, he did the same thing he did while hunting. He deliberately slowed his breathing. He tried to prepare himself for the coming of the enemy, his prey. But that was where the similarities stopped. Because out of the gloom and chaos, he could see that they were fighting other humans, not animals. Humans with their own lives. Humans who had mothers, fathers, sons, daughters, sisters, brothers, lovers. He couldn’t - how could he kill another human? He was shaking. They had lost Bob and the corporal. They were standing near the convoy like missing children looking for their parents. Then suddenly, out of the gloom, a shape. Damien squinted. “Petar!” He shouted. Petar turned in the same direction. Suddenly they could see that it wasn’t an ally. It was a human figure wrapped in loose fitting clothes - a dusty cloak obscured his or her outline. Its face was covered by a mask, and it was pointing a gun at them. It fired, narrowly missing Petar. “Damien!” the young Soncetan shouted, dropping to the floor. 

It was over in a heartbeat. Muscle memory took over. Damien aimed, cocked, and fired. It was a clean shot, right through the left eye of the mask. He saw a spray of blood blossom into the air behind the figure, which then collapsed. He lowered his gun. He moved quickly to the body. Was it? He tore off the mask. The left side of the face was a grisly mess, but the right side showed a lifeless eye in a man’s face. There was stubble around his chin. Had he forgotten to shave? Damien looked at him in confusion. What was going on? He felt sick. Petar grabbed his shoulder and spun him around, worry on his face. “Damien! Damien snap out of it!” Damien was breathing. He wasn’t dead. He wasn’t lying there unshaven in the mud. He stood up shakily. He realized it was dark. Had it always been this dark? He couldn’t remember.

Suddenly another figure from the gloom. Petar fidgeted with his rifle, but the figure was faster, and knocked it out of Petar’s hands. Petar screamed. Damien watched in a stupor. He was frozen in the darkness. It was cold. It was terrible to be dead. Suddenly he was being slapped - hard. He tasted warm blood in his mouth, and started to feel his own breathing again. He was looking at Bob, the old man’s face equal parts fury and sympathy. “Get a grip, son! We’re pushing them back. It’s an ambush, they hit us from multiple angles but we outnumber them.” The old man peered past Damien and saw the dead body. His gaze returned to the young man, a knowing look in his eye. “Hang in there, Damien.” Turning to Petar, he shouted. “Watch Damien, he’s in shock, but this fight isn’t over yet. Follow me! Schertling, you see anything?” “Nothing, sir, it’s all clear!” “Good! Let’s find the corporal, I think I saw her off to the left. Together!” 

Bob set off with Schertling, Petar, and Damien in tow. Damien slowly began to return to his senses as they marched up the line of convoys. Some of them were on fire. There was a lot of chaos - quite a few bodies. But wherever Bob walked, he rallied the troops. Together they became a unit, a wedge, a hammer, a sword - cutting their way forward. At first there was some resistance. But Bob was a crack shot: he took out one - two - three - the rest melted away. Damien began to grow in awareness and confidence. “Petar,” he said. “What? Everything ok? More enemies?” Petar looked at him nervously. Damien put a hand on his shoulder. “We’re ok. I’m...ok.” Petar let out a sigh of relief. “Good...I...I saw what you did. You saved my life.” Damien shook his head. “Don’t...let’s not talk about it now.” Petar nodded. “Later then. But I won’t forget it Damien, don’t you worry.” 

Eventually they reached the front of the convoy. Sergeant Han was standing with some of the other officers. It looked like they had secured the area. The battle - or the ambush, or whatever it was, seemed to be over. It had been a relatively quick affair...maybe half an hour, all told. They - whoever it was - had done a lot of damage, though. Bob saluted the sergeant, who nodded at him. “What news, soldier?” “Sir! We have fought off enemy combatants and secured the left-side perimeter of the trucks.” “Good. Everyone accounted for?” “Not yet, sir, we haven’t had time.” “Well get to it, it looks like those fucking cowards have pulled out of it for now.” “Yes sir!” Han turned back to the other officers, his eyes lingering on Bob for just a moment. Bob came back to Damien, Petar, and Schertling. “I’m going to see what I can do for some of the other squads, make sure we’re in order. We’re going to want to get moving again soon, we can’t stay here forever. See if you can find the corporal and Alex.” He saluted them, and they saluted in return, then he marched off. Damien looked at Petar and Schertling, who were both staring at him expectantly. Well, he thought. I did kill someone. Guess that makes me the leader. He turned around and said, “Let’s head back towards our convoy. We were at the back of the line and it’s likely they got lost in the chaos when the ambush started.” Schertling and Petar nodded in agreement, and the three set off. 

It was dark, and hard to see. The convoy lights were on, and they had flashlights, but there was also fire’s lurid glow that made everything seem slightly unreal. There were bodies lying in the dirt, lending a nightmarish edge to the whole scene. This certainly wasn’t the Agurts any of them had ever known. Schertling nudged Damien: “We should probably...check some of these bodies. Just in case...well, you know.” Damien nodded. He felt sick to his stomach. He wanted to vomit up the pig roll he had eaten earlier that day, but Schertling was right. “Let’s do it.” They started passing over the bodies, flipping them over onto their faces when necessary. It was an arduous and taxing process, both physically and mentally. Every time Damien turned a body over, he would hold his breath before exhaling in relief when it turned out to be - not them. Another body - more queasiness - holding breath - release. Another body - feeling sick - holding breath - release. Another body - nausea - holding breath - release. Another body - “Wait!” Petar yelled. Damien and Schertling spun round. He was pointing at two bodies lying in the dirt. “I hear something there!” Damien and Schertling joined Petar and ran over to the two bodies. Was it them? As they got closer they could make out the sound - sobbing. Someone was crying. Oh no, Damien thought. Don’t let it be them. Don’t let it be one of us who is crying. Please. We just met. We were supposed to be a team. They reached the figures. It was them. Corporal Djemai was lying over the body of Alex from Auth, the young engineer. It looked like he had gotten shot in the chest somewhere. The corporal appeared to be trying to stem the bleeding. But from Alex’s unblinking eyes, it was obvious that the bleeding was no longer a concern. Petar’s eyes welled up with tears and he began choke-crying. Schertling hung his head. Damien gritted his teeth. Those fucking bastards. He closed his eyes and saw Alex’s lifeless stare, saw the man he had killed with the unshaven jaw. He could feel tears flowing down his face. Corporal Djemai was speaking as tears streamed down her face. She was trying to contain her emotions, and failing. “They...came down from over the ridge. There must have been six or seven of them. I shot one and they shot him.” She sat there with tears flowing down her face. Damien opened his eyes and kneeled down next to her. “We’re here for you, corporal.” She looked at Damien, her eyes glistening with tears. “But I wasn’t there for him, when he needed me.” Schertling came in and put an arm around her. “You were there, corporal. Right until the end. There was nothing you could do.” Djemai shook her head. “You know what he kept saying? ‘Don’t let me die, please, I don’t want to die, I want to live, I want to go home to Auth, please, don’t let me die.’ He kept saying it until he couldn’t say it anymore.” Petar came up and joined the group. “We need to bury him. We’re going to be moving again soon. We need to bury him. He was part of our team.” The others nodded in agreement. Corporal Djemai wiped her face and let out a breath. “Ok. Ok, let’s bury him.” 

They chose a spot on top of one of the hills. There was a gnarled tree shading the spot, which they thought Alex might have liked, maybe. To be honest, they knew very little about him. But it was as good a spot as any, and they were short on time. They found a couple of shovels in the convoy, and got to work. Petar and Djemai held flashlights while Schertling and Damien dug. Damien appreciated the chance to dig. It was a chance to clear his head through hard labor, to escape from the visions of death clinging to the inside of his eyes. He dug away his fears, and his anger. Who were they, who had attacked them? What gang? Soil Ghosts? He was furious at them. But he was also furious at himself. For he had killed, just as Alex had been killed. Was there someone on the other side digging a grave for a dead comrade? Yet he couldn’t get rid of his anger. They were complex feelings. And so instead of dealing with them, he dug and he dug and he dug until…

“That’s enough, Damien,” Djemai said. Damien looked up out of the hole. He hadn’t even realized how deep they had dug. Djemai and Petar gently lifted Alex’s body and passed it down to Damien and Schertling, who laid it in the bottom of the hole. Djemai and Petar then passed down hands to help them clamber up. They stood there for a few minutes in silence, not sure what to do next. “Umm…” Petar spoke up. “I guess we should say a few words.” The others nodded. “Well...I didn’t know him all that well. And maybe that’s part of the reason I’m so sad. Because now I’ll never have the chance to get to know him. I wish that I could have. He was one of us.” Petar finished. Schertling spoke next. “I...have seen death before. But it is harder, so much harder, when such a young life is cut short. Rest in peace, Alex. You will be in our thoughts.” He stepped back. Damien was next. But he couldn’t think of what to say. He just stared at the hole and the body as if he were mute. “I…” He began, not knowing where he would finish. “I’ll miss you, Alex.” Djemai was last. She was breathing deeply, holding back more sobbing. A tear rolled down her cheek, but she quickly wiped it away. “He died defending Agurts. He was a hero.” She saluted. They all saluted. Then Damien and Schertling began the work of filling in the hole. 

When they got back to their convoy, Bob was waiting for them next to Sergeant Han. “Where were you all?” Bob asked, his face concerned. “And where’s Alex?” “KIA,” responded Djemai. Her face was blank. “We buried him.” Han looked at their group. “You buried him? Then where’s his gear?” The corporal looked at the sergeant in shock. “We...buried it with him. Like a soldier.” The sergeant shook his head. “That’s a nice gesture, but we don’t have the resources to be burying soldiers with their gear. The price of the stuff will be deducted from your salaries equally. Corporal, see that it doesn’t happen again next time.” Djemai looked at Han in shock, but the sergeant was already on the move, shouting to another squad. “Let’s get moving, we’re behind schedule! Go!” Bob moved up to Djemai and patted her on the shoulder consolingly. “It’s alright, corporal. The sergeant isn’t scolding you, it’s just, well...it’s a tough age we live in.” The corporal looked down at the ground, took a deep breath, and shook herself. “Ok. Well, let’s get back in the convoy anyway and get out of here.” They climbed back into their seats and - after several minutes of waiting - got moving again. It was silent for a while. Then Damien heard Petar quietly gasp, followed by a quick elbow in the ribs. He whispered, “We forgot to get the shit coffee from Alex’s clothes! It’s buried in the ground now…my god, all those dreams. Up in smoke.” Damien sighed. “Nothing we can do now.” Petar moaned by way of agreement, then fell quiet. People slowly drifted off to sleep. But Damien couldn’t sleep. Every time he closed his eyes he saw Alex, or the dead face of the man he had shot, or sometimes a strange amalgamation of both. So he sat there, letting his consciousness drift. He had hoped that life would be more interesting in the army. But he realized he had been wrong. He wanted to go back to a dull life.