Get up! Her body screamed it, demanded it of her. Face down in the mud, her mind fought through the fog back to consciousness. Nikah gritted her teeth, growling the command aloud as she moved her hands, rising to her knees. Pain ripped through her, robbing her strength. Her arms gave way and she fell again.

Her head swam as she turned to look. Shrapnel stuck from her, a long thin scrap of metal, like a pin in the pincushion of her flesh. Blood oozed from where it stabbed through her, protruding perpendicular to her ribs. She watched as her life dripped away, becoming one with the mud and the pooling rain.

Another explosion tore through their forces, close enough for the shock wave to jar her body. Nikah wretched; blood poured from her mouth. She spat it, splattering it across her hands and face. Crimson stained black mire in a river meandering through the violent streets, mingling with that of those who fell and had not risen. Her will raged against the pain, her fists clenching, her jaw tight, grinding her teeth. Once again, she pushed herself up to rise.

Agonizingly slow, she pulled herself to her feet where she raised her eyes to the anarchy. With morbid awe, she watched as bodies flew through the air, victims to explosions further down the battlefield. A hand sailed by her face, nearly slapping her in its final act before skidding through the mud. She stood staring at it, looking at the thin fingers once belonging to a woman. Under the blood and grime, she noted the ink of what was once a tattoo near the wrist. The hand had no nails.

Nikah wretched again, managing to stay on her feet as blood sprayed from her lips to her boots. Wiping red from her chin, she carefully reached for the metal sticking in her, gingerly brushing it with her fingertips. If she pulled it out, she would bleed to death.

Screams erupted near her as the enemy advanced, finishing off any who survived the first wave of explosions. Nikah stumbled, searching for cover. Stepping over the once gaudy sign of a fast food restaurant, she ducked behind a crumbling half wall, all that remained of the building. There she squatted down, hiding herself from the advancing troops. There she listened, unable to shut out the agony of the battle raging around her. She put her hands to her ears and still the screams tore through her. Some cried righteousness with their last breath. Others begged, blubbering in their final moments. Which would she be in the end? In the beginning, she’d fought on the side of liberty and justice. Now, she fought for survival. Once again, her fingers found their way to the metal in her side. Which organs had it pierced?

A body fell behind the wall, still alive, though barely. It struggled to rise, its hand reaching towards her. It wasn’t one of her fellow troops. It wasn’t the enemy either. Though Nikah had heard rumors of allies, she had never seen one before. Crouching, she took its hand and pulled, attempting to bring it behind the relative safety of the wall. But it was too heavy and they both fell to the ground.

She stared at it, determining it to be a he. He seemed almost human under the tattered armor. Even the eyes, barely visible beyond burned and torn flesh, seemed civilized. There was no humanity in the enemy. She knew their eyes, their evil. The creature lying beside her, what ever he was, was not evil.

The world writhed in anarchy as they observed one another. As her eyes took in the half burned face, his eyes moved along her seemingly frail physique. As her eyes roved his body, seeing the burns that extended down his neck to his shoulder, his arm, and the upper half of his leg, his eyes stopped at her ribs. His face contorted in both pain and regret at the sight of her doom. Once again, he reached for her, taking her hand in his. Perhaps they could die together. Nikah didn’t want to die alone.

Something else stumbled into their shelter. She looked up into the lifeless eyes of the enemy, blood dripping from a wound on its neck just under the dark helmet protecting its face. It towered over them, its weapon raised, not at her but at the other, at the ally. He stared back at it, letting go of her hand. She felt her own limb fall into the mud, barely able to control even that much of her body. The enemy did not see her, its eyes alone for the ally.

The weapon in its hand primed, whirring and buzzing, telling of the massive shock of energy that would erupt from its nozzle when fired. Bright green glowed from its casing as it charged. Neither would survive the blast; they both would die. Yet, when she turned from the enemy and stared at her ally, she saw him rise, first to his knees and then to his feet, standing and facing evil head on.

Nikah struggled to do the same, to stand one last time before death came. But her breathing came now in ragged gasps, blood gurgling in her throat. She fought the weakness but could not rise. No strength remained. Neither ally or enemy noticed, her struggle insignificant. She would not die insignificant. She would not become just another body, another hand with no fingernails.

An explosion rocked the edge of the ruined restaurant. Bricks flung out from the concussion and rained down upon the three, the enemy taking the brunt of the blast to his back. One chunk of brick hurled down upon her, crushing her shoulder. She barely felt the pain of it, barely knew she’d been injured until her arm refused to obey her, completely numb. Completely lifeless. She was dying in pieces.

Another blast sent another flurry of bricks. This time, the ally dove over her, covering her with his own body, protecting her as the bricks hailed down, snapping his bones one by one until the onslaught ended. She struggled under his limp body, wondering if he had died, knowing the answer only when one shallow breath escaped his face so near hers. Nikah twisted and rolled, freeing herself from the majority of his weight, the enemy not forgotten. She hoped he’d been killed from the blast and the bricks. Her hopes died as he rose from behind what remained of the wall, his armor having protected him from the blast. Dents and pot marks marred the once perfect black he wore, the only sign he’d been hit at all.

She didn’t look at her shoulder. She didn’t look at the ally’s back. She didn’t want to see what it looked like to not possess that armor.

Feeling drained away from her, the wound in her side no longer sending her brain signals of pain and agony. She forgot her shoulder, forgot the war raging around her. Only one thing filled her mind. The enemy, stood triumphant. It could not be this way. She would not let it end this way.

With a push and a roll, she returned to her knees. The enemy re-primed the weapon. But as the black casing grew green again, it fizzled and sparked, the bricks having damaged it far worse than they had its owner. She watched the enemy cast it aside, throwing it against the remains of the brick wall, telling the wall it could have it if it wanted. It didn’t need the weapon.

She reached out with her one good arm towards the weapon but hesitated. It would do her no good. Yet, she could do nothing unarmed. Nikah breathed as deep as the wound in her side allowed, blood rising in her throat and rolling over her tongue. The enemy removed its gloves and threw them beside the discarded weapon. Only then did it offer her any attention, glancing once at her before turning away and kneeling beside the ally. It then removed its helmet, revealing in entirety the evil written across its face.

With a swift movement, the enemy pulled the ally onto his back. It wanted him to watch. Nikah again thought of the broken weapon, again turning against using it. She tried to rise, to stand one last time. The metal in her side prevented it. She looked down at the sharp shard sticking from her, taking her life slowly from her.

As she reached for the shrapnel, the enemy reached for the ally’s throat, wrapping its gloveless hands about his neck and tightening its grip. The ally gasped. His eyes rolled back, catching sight of her. He fixed his gaze upon her, pleading for her to help him and yet not believing she could, knowing she too would soon be dead. She read both his hope and his despair.

Blood dribbled from her lips as she gripped the metal tight, feeling the sharp edge of it cut into her palm. Slowly, she pulled it from her side, releasing the blood it held back. Like a flood it gushed from her ribs. She didn’t have much time.

The enemy did not see her. It saw only the kill within its grasp. It did not know she moved towards it slowly, half crawling on her knees half crawling on her belly. Her life poured away and the world faded from drizzly gray to growing blackness. Pushing up, she put herself on her knees behind the enemy, shorter than it yet still able to reach. The ally gasped, unable to fight the strangling hands. Then, suddenly, those hands went limp.

The shard stuck fast in the base of its skull, severing its spine in one fluid motion. She fell back, watching it flop away from the ally as nerves signaled for the last time. In a cloud of darkened haze, Nikah gasped, feeling her last moments quickly rise up and fall away. No longer able to move, no blood left to give her strength, she watched the fiery sky, the smoke and the ash and the rain mixing into one swirl of hate and rage.

War.

Something moved near her and a hand grasped hers. The ally came within view, his face speaking all they could not communicate through words. His grip tightened, the only thing she felt. Tears fell from his eyes, the last thing she saw. Then blackness.

*        *          *

Time passed and though Nikah expected the light at the end of the tunnel, though she expected her long-dead loved ones to reach out and take her to paradise, it did not come.

Darkness.

Silence.

Memories came and went, like faded slideshows upon her mind. She didn’t see or hear them. They simply were.

Then light came, stark and white. The light grew and her eyes adjusted to it. Not the eyes of her mind. Her real eyes. Her physical eyes. Nikah blinked into the whiteness of her surroundings. She was alive.