Gabatrix: The Cipra Campaign

Chapter 9: The March Forward Part 1

"Ugh......," Dean tried to say. His vision was blurry. His body felt like it was moving. There was no strength. He blacked out.....

Darkness. There was a struggle. His body was being moved......no, it was being pulled. He was on the ground. The burning sun was eating any hope for him.....

"Chuck......is that you, Chuck?" He tried to say, but it was muffled. He could see the towering wall of the canyon.

His body was being lifted slightly. He collapsed again into the dirt. Somebody was trying to move him, but it was difficult. His vision went out.

Dean was once again engulfed in darkness. How much time had transpired? His eyes opened up again. He swore he saw the head crested alien looking at him. Her reptilian eyes were piercing into him.

"Axe......Aksren.......Itrean babe......," he said in his delusional state. "Water......like......water......."

He could briefly see that the Itrean woman had lifted his body. It wasn't enough to clear the sand, but it did register in his mind. The vague image of the beating sun could be seen.

"Help......human," he swore he heard her voice. It had the same sound as most Itreans, but hers was lighter in tone. Her accent was thick.

"Umm.....like.......so hot, man.....where.......?" Dean remarked.

"Move.......human," she called out to him in the same jagged voice.

Dean seemed to understand. This Aksren woman seemed to understand English. She could have killed him. Maybe she was a T'rintar Aksren? Just like Bekra. This was different. He was uncertain. All he knew was that he had to move or he would die.

Her scaly hand grasped onto his chest. One of her talon fingers pressed against his pocket, the one that had his smoking pipe.

"Ugh......whoa.......," Dean almost chuckled in his weakened state. "You should of........like.......asked. I would have........shared."

His vision went dark again. She began to tap onto his helmet as if she was trying to knock some sense into him. He was coughing. The heat was so immense.

"Weed.....," he coughed. "Aksren.......Aksren sister," he struggled to say. "I need.....I need my weed."

The Aksren woman was pulling his body through the desert sands. She heard his cry for help but didn't seem to understand. She stopped as she continued to tap his helmet to keep him awake.

"Need.......weed," Dean said. He stretched his hand out to her. "It's the.......only thing, man."

She cocked her head. "Help me......human," she said with several clicks in her voice. "Save you."

"Oh......," Dean realized. He slapped his hand with his last ounce of strength. "My pipe, man. Like......need more. Smoke."

"Smoke?" She asked, not knowing what the word meant.

He was looking upon the Aksren woman that seemed to think that this man was the most unusual human being ever to exist. Was this human like every other human, or was he just nuts? Whatever the case was, she could note that he needed help.

"Help......human," she again called. She pointed at the sun. "Hot....." she pointed at his face. "You die......no help."

"Oh, yeah," Dean remarked as he shifted his body a little bit from the ground. The heat continued to bore into his body. "Like.....you're right, Aksren sister. We like......got to get out of this. Otherwise.....it would be a total bummer."

He shifted his body upward. It was just enough. The Itrean woman would use her strength to add to his. He was moving, but slowly.

His brain only registered a moving landscape. He coughed a little bit, but his mind knew that it had a chance. It must use this chance to find refuge. His brain also acknowledged another important factor. If he gave up now, if he dropped dead, then he would never get to smoke his prized weed again or anything else. It was more than enough to push him to move more.