Ender's War

Chapter 29 - The Past Becomes the Present

Cold wind whipped through Bean's hair as he maneuvered amongst his destroyed surroundings. His chest ached from smoke inhalation, his eyes burned from dust, and his stomach clenched with hunger. He'd lost track of how long it had been. Weeks? Months? The days and nights seemed to meld together the further into enemy territory he ventured. The sky stayed black most times. That had to do with the constant bombing of the area.

More often than not, Bean found himself startled out of a restless sleep as the ground beneath him shifted with a new impact. His ears were always ringing, his lungs desperately craving clean air that wouldn't come. This was hell, and now that he was alone it was becoming even worse.

By this point, Bean was all but convinced that he'd die out here. At first, after their initial venture, he had been optimistic that they'd find a way out. That had truly been wishful thinking.

Petra had been gone for days...or at least that is what it had felt like. Bean was having a hard time telling day from night because of the constant lack of sunlight.

She is dead. Despite his best assurances that she was not, his brain persisted in feeding him the logical truth. She had disappeared into a wall of smoke in search of her family and he would never see her again. It was one I.F. soldier against the entirety of the Warsaw Pact. She didn't stand a chance. It was that simple, and Bean's heart was starting to accept it.

That is, until a miracle happened. A few hours after Bean had decided to bunk down for what he assumed was night, in his battered tent, he heard it. A soft shuffling of feet towards him. At first he had been convinced that it was an enemy. He was surrounded by nothing but enemies after all. His heart started racing as he sat up and clutched the rough looking machine gun he had acquired from a Warsaw soldier to his chest. His index finger hovered over the trigger as his breathing sped up. The wind howled incessantly which made it difficult for him to gage how close his target was. He knew he would have to guess his firing time. They were coming at him straight on. Not a smart move if they wanted to avoid getting hit with a bullet.

Bean had never been so relieved to have miscalculated. The wind was becoming louder as the footsteps neared, and he ended up mistaking a particularly large gust for a step.

Click.

The shot fired through the fabric where he'd heard the noise, but no sound of impact followed. Maybe he'd hit the brain, and he would hear a thud signalling his pursuer's fall. But no sound came.

Just a string of angry yelling that Bean had become all too familiar with since he'd been stranded.

"What in the - Bean, you could have killed me!" Petra's voice rang loudly from his left and he turned to see her making her way inside the tent through the lone entrance.

"I thought you were a Warsaw soldier," he countered. "And I was sure you were dead!" He was yelling as well. There was no other way to talk to her at that moment. The wind was too loud.

"Well I'm not!" She hollered back. "But you would have shot me if I hadn't known how perceptive you are. I tried calling for you but I knew you wouldn't hear me."

She settled down on the makeshift bed they had taken too long to fashion, and Bean finally got a good look at her. Her eyes were bloodshot in the dim lighting, and as she removed the cloth wrapped around her head, her hair was covered in dust. She looked tired, and was quite banged up from what Bean could tell; there were at least a dozen cuts along her arms upon the removal of her jacket, and there was something else he could see in her eyes. Loss.