Heretics And Sheep

7: Desertum Messorem

Marcus listened to the desert, Barabbas waited beside him. They had awoken a couple of hours beforehand and were moving through the skeleton of a skyscraper. The ruins of the Old Cities attracted scavengers, and worse, The Sanguinus; Barabbas was prepared for them. He only hoped the same could be said for Marcus. The Bedouin put a finger in front of his mouth.

"Sshhh" He gestured to Marcus. If he made a sound, he couldn't tell. The wind suppressed it.

Marcus continued listening, his ear against warm sandstone, while Barabbas moved to a raised position. He moved with the whispering gusts, consciously stepping with the balls of his feet last. Marcus recalled what they discussed in the morning.

"This must be part of your training as SaHraa'di. It's clear that your people are my best chance for survival. Besides, I like you, old man." He thought to himself, all while focusing on the echoes of footsteps.

They were formidable and loud. Unattuned to the desert. Enemies.

"Expande, scavence," a voice rang, ordering his men. It sounded strong and almost robotic.

"The group must be Sanguinus," Marcus noted to himself.

"Leave no stone unturned, our bellies may be full but my purse is wanting." The Sanguinus leader continued. His voice was loud. His footsteps were grating.

Barabbas returned and lay prone next to Marcus, putting his face against the indoor sand dune. Marcus stood by as the nomad focused his hearing and counted."Ten." A bird chirped in the distance. Barabbas ordered as it flapped away.

"Stay here."

He prowled into the distance. A stark contrast against the Sanguinus, who grew louder and closer, rummaging through rubble and sand. Marcus raised his head to face them for a second.

The main group marched in unison, while pairs searched around them. They were of varying ranks but some were clearly professionals. Attuned soldiers ready for anything. Betraying his uneasiness, Marcus's hand shook. He focused on his breathing and calmed.

Barabbas had explained that most SaHraa'di would win against the Sanguinus in a fight. However, the Sanguinus had two things: numbers and aggression. Unlike the Bedouin, who prefers to watch from a distance, these blood warriors attack any and all, threatening or otherwise. It is what they've been trained to do.

Barabbas had vanished from sight at this moment, and Marcus wondered if he had been abandoned. Just then, Marcus noticed a light in his eye. His gaze followed it to the desert man who had positioned himself about a hundred meters to the left and forward side. He put away the knife used to signal. He signed with his hands.

"Two." "Up." "Right." "Kill."

Marcus recalled the group and understood. The Sanguinus were about half a football pitch away from him and within earshot of Barabbas. He wanted to take out the stragglers. Although they were all relatively spread out, one of the duos was lacking slightly. No doubt a result of the harsh sun.

Even in this concrete belly, lacerations gave way to light and heat, beaming down on broken skeletons; they lay unbothered.

Marcus moved to his position, sticking to the shadows, shuffling with the wind. Now a level below Barabbas, Marcus caught his breath and gazed at the sand dune ahead. It gave way to the clearing the gang was searching. The area was lacking light but not devoid of it like where Marcus was posted. Soon, the shadows of the Sanguinus duo would break through. Marcus lay in anticipation, ready to spring at his target.

"Take care, this is Aranea territory." The more grounded of the two warned.

Marcus held his stare, fixed at the horizon of the dune, hungry for shadows to reveal themselves. Open to death.