I grip my knees until the bones creak. Deep heaving breaths, trying to calm down. Bad idea. I cough and spit granules of sand spitefully back onto the ground, adding my precious water to replenish the torched oasis, can’t wash the horror away. Who would murder a whole village?
He flips display lenses down over his goggles, a praying mantis, and adjusts his one-handed claw grip on the controller. Schmidt stands next to him, covering with his rifle. The high-pitched whine of tiny electric motors pierce through the wind whipping against our ears as the drone takes flight.
The scorching heat of the desert wind blows fiercely over the sand, piling and sculpting it, building tiny rivulets into mighty dunes that tower over us, flying between them, we speed toward the drop zone.
I drove the slender spike into his brain, up through the eye socket and deep into the grey matter. Making sure to wiggle, stir it around a little, didn't want forensics recovering anything, especially these days. The kid should've listened when I told him this was a bad idea. I'd
