Fight

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It was hot, but he was cold. The sky was dark and the sand under his injured feet made it difficult to walk.

He was bruised and badly injured, but he pushed himself to keep moving. Keep looking for base. Keep going for his family.

His dog tags clicked together as the wind blew them around. But the wind also caused his weak, malnourished body to fall inti the sand weakly.

He had no intention on giving up, no way he would stop moving. So he stood up and took a few more steps, falling down the sand dune and laying weakly at the bottom. He stomach begged for food, his mouth was dry, his eyes could barely be kept open, and his entire body needed warmth.

He stood slowly and limped on, looking for any tell on where he was, how far from the camp he is.

As he walked, the loud sound of a propellor came into his range of hearing. He covered his ears and winced, the sound causing a headache. He tried to stay standing but the wind from the propellors was too strong for his weak body, and he fell to the ground.

Two men jumped out of the helicopter and ran towards him, turning him to see his face.

"Scott?" One of them spoke in shock.

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