Jimmie took one last look behind, seeing the ship, now distant, a black dot marking a battlefield, marking a piece of history that would be forever part of this vast planets history. Letting his eyes travel further down, he came upon Dick, with closed eyes and pale face. The wound on his neck looked bad, really bad, it hadn’t healed and had taken a sickly yellow look to it.

Turning forwards, Jimmie tried thinking positive, trying to remember the distance to Warden depot.

Commander had said something about three days. I think, maybe? Was it four- no, no it was three. If I’m quick, it’ll be only two days. Yeah, just two days.

The thoughts came out positive, his steps each a little firmer, a little stronger. He wouldn’t let himself fall into despair, not now, not when he was needed the most.

Day had emerged, bringing with it its strikingly hot rays, their nightly adventure a long-lost nightmare. Jimmie didn’t feel tired, which worried him, but quickly shook the thought. Positive thoughts only, positive thoughts, only.

Each step felt numb, he avoided looking down, didn’t want to see why they were numb, keeping his head forward, looking at the distant horizon. Dust fuming up with each step, forming a thin crust around both Jimmie and Dick and clinging wetly to Jimmie’s legs, forming crusts around his big wounds. An itch slowly forming, only bearable because of the numbness, but it was there, present in Jimmie’s mind.

But he didn’t think bout it; He didn’t dwell on it; He was thinking positive thoughts. He was thinking about the others in his group, those he and Dick had saved. They would be at the base now, maybe even space-side, in a warm shower getting warm food and cold drinks. When they would see Jimmie and Dick, they would celebrate, they would drink and drink and eat and drink. Maybe Jimmie would get to taste beer for the first time.

He dreamed with each step, the alien ship far gone now, the suns set far above, peering straight down. The dryness in his throat making itself known, deciding that they needed a break.

Letting the bag fall off gingerly, he felt its weight leave him and a sense of relief washing over him. Jimmie sat down, enjoying the sensation before rummaging through the bag and pulling out one ration bar. He glanced over at Dick and said.

“Wake up Dick, you need some food in you.”

Dick reacted, opening his eyes slowly and meticulous, eyes still glazed and unfocused. Jimmie moved to give the ration bar to Dick, but stopped himself. Instead, removing a small piece from the ration bar, gently placing it inside Dick’s mouth.

“Eat” Jimmie mumbled, his fingers still within Dick’s mouth, waiting for the first bite. Dick tried, he did the motion and chewed, but it was so weak, too weak, it barely scraped Jimmies fingers.

“Stop” Jimmie whispered, voice cracking. He removed his fingers, noting that no saliva was on them. He put away the bit of ration bar to the side, and gently lifted Dick’s upper body, slowly placing the bottle to his mouth, squeezing droplets into it, like a father feeding his sick son.

The day moved as Jimmie slowly helped Dick drink. Eventually the bottle was empty. Jimmie smacked his own lips, his throat feeling dry, but not to be overwhelming, so he ignored it, he didn’t really need it. Instead, he focused back on Dick, taking the bit of ration bar to the side and mushing it, pressing it in between his palms and squeesing it into paste.

When he felt it sufficiently soft, he tried to feed Dick again, gently placing it within his mouth and whispering.

“Eat” Dick complied, chewing slowly. Jimmie removed his hand and looked closely, doing his best to see if Dick was eating properly. After a minute had passed, Jimmie mumbled.

“Swallow” Once again Dick complied, and Jimmie felt a string of happiness well up inside, seeing Dick’s throat using its muscles and swallowing the piece of ration bar.

Jimmie removed another small piece of ration from the bar, pressing it within his palms until it felt sufficiently soft, repeating the procedure, feeding Dick and hoping he would swallow.

Time passed, the suns glaring down at Jimmie and Dick, staying in front of them instead of above. It had taken a while for Jimmie to make Dick eat the whole bar, but Jimmie felt that it would help the healing process, no, it will help, Jimmie had to think positive.

Even a little water had condensed within the water collector, and Jimmie drank a tiny bit, then fed the rest to Dick.

Jimmie moved to stand up, but felt a biting pain shoot up from his legs, as if millions of tiny insects had taken a bite simultaneously and Jimmie fell down on his ass with a loud curse. Looking down, Jimmie’s mind recognised his two wounded legs, coloured similarly to Dick’s wound, yellow and gooey, not pleasent to look at.

Jimmie stared at it nonetheless, letting the pain subside as he held the base of his thigh, holding it firm, trying his best to ignore the pain. And eventually it subsided somewhat, still present, but not devastating. Jimmie cursed himself for forgetting to inject himself, promptly taking out his vial too injected another fourth into his leg. He only had half of a vial left, but that would have to do.

As he pushed the needle in and let the liquid flowing, the pain Immediately dimmed, but Jimmie still waited a few minutes to make sure it was working properly. When his mind started wandering and growing dumb, he felt sufficiently numbed, and stood up while putting on the backpack.

Using the suns as his guide, he set off and started walking, doings his best to shake of his mind’s numbness.