Book 1: Mirage [Thor]

Chapter 1

It was hot. The white sun bore down on the barren landscape with no clouds to offer relief. Haze made it seem like the desert stretched on forever, not a body of water or shade in sight. Her feet dragged across the dry ground that was chipping up from the heat. Panting with each staggering step she could barely see from the brightness of the sun, eyes open slightly so she didn't pass out. The young woman's lips were cracked and peeling, blood having dried long ago, tongue swollen from lack of water. It was even impossible to properly swallow without difficulty.

The canteen thumped against her hip, only a fourth full. But she wanted to make sure there was enough. Just a couple more feet, she would tell herself. Just a couple more and then a drink. Taking a sip, fumbling with the cap from trembling hands, the young woman continued on, straightening the unbuttoned over shirt that covered a ripped and dirty tank top. With every step, the boots felt heavier and heavier, shoulders slumping. Her white blonde hair hung messily around her face, not having the time to care that the braid was far from saving. Though now it almost resembled the color of the sand from how dirty it became, along with her skin.

How long had she been walking? How far was the nearest village? But even so, was it smart to enter one? Obviously she was a foreigner in a very hostile territory.

The water was gone. Her mouth could barely open now. When only a few drops touched her tongue, panic began to set in. She wouldn't last long now.

Dehydration hit the young woman with full force, making her moan uncomfortably. Finally, her legs gave out from underneath, falling to both knees and pitching forward. The surface burned with heat as her eyes closed.

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A dust cloud formed in the distance of the haze, finally coming into focus. The chipped ground began to rumble. Loose pieces vibrating and jumping around before two sets of tires ran over the desert ground at full speed.

"You are about to reach the border," a voice came over the radio.

"There's nothing out here," a soldier spoke into his microphone. "If it were the enemy we would've seen them by now. Even with this haze."

"I've got something on the radar," someone announced, drawing their attention. "Start heading southwest."

The driver turned the wheel and a dark mass came into their view.

"What the hell is that?"

The armored vehicle stopped, keeping its distance before the doors opened. Weapons raised the soldiers slowly, carefully moved away from their only protection.

"It's a body!" one of them called back when they got close enough.

"Clear!"

Crouching down, the man rolled over the young woman's form, checking for a pulse. "She's still alive!"

"Are there any wires or bombs on her?"

"No!" he answered after patting her down and checking through her clothing. "But she needs medical attention!"

After loading the unknown individual into the vehicle and slowly pouring water into her mouth they touched back with base.

"What is a foreigner doing this far out in the desert?" they wondered.

The soldier in the passenger seat rummaged through some papers before pulling one free. "Because it's one of the captives from that archeological dig," he answered, showing the details given. "Anya Frederickson."

"So then where is the rest of the group?"

"Obviously, they weren't so lucky."