The day moved on, Jimmie’s arms were aching, his mind throbbing, he was hungry and thirsty. The sun, once bearable, was now an oven, made to cook him from the outside in. He was too hot, but his sweat made him too cold, and then he started freezing. The procedure repeating itself ad infinitum until day turned to dark, night swallowing it. Giving Jimmie a slight respite for a few hours of sleep. But only a short while, eventually it would be his turn keep watch. This continued on for three days, and Jimmie felt like he was on his limits, he knew he could push further, that he had to push further. But he couldn’t ignore it anymore; his mind was singularly focused on the pain, discomfort and the total lack of a clear objective. Yes, they were walking towards Warden depot, but what the fuck then? Wasn’t Warden depot a war zone when they started this goddamn mission? Shouldn’t the fighting have subsided? Why hasn’t the commander informed us of the situation? Is there even anyone for us to meet? Is warden depot just a giant graveyard? Are we just walking there because the commander wants us too? Jimmie’s thoughts turned more and more grim the more they walked. His mind was yearning for something else, something else than pain. So it did what it did best. It got angry. And Jimmie pictured all the ways that the commander had fucked their group. He practically seethed, walking with a dark face and gloomy eyes. Body sagging as far as it let him while he walked. But there was one thing that kept Jimmie in check, one thing that made him calm and his mind clear. And it was Chris. Jimmie, for some reason, always found himself quiet and brooding once it was his turn to carry Chris. When he didn’t carry him, he would chastise, curse and think bad thoughts about him. But when he was carrying, he was solemn, avoiding looking at him, his head kept high even though it would sag deep when he wasn’t carrying Chris. He really couldn’t care about the others at the moment. His mind would periodically wander to the commander and Dick. But both brought anger and annoyance to Jimmie’s mind. He felt so done with this whole thing; he just wanted to fight, to kill. Not walk, walk, and walk. Why was war, so... Boring? And one more day moved on, the others slowly realising that Jimmie was more quiet than usual, but due to their own exhaustion, they didn’t really care.