�Can you see them?�

�No, sir, it�s too dark. They�re too far away.�

Dussander brushed the hair of his eyes, tucking it beneath his cap. There hadn�t been a sound except for the occasional screech of an infected. Dussander couldn�t see a thing without the goggles, but the fire continued to burn in the distance. It was fainter now, but still visible red-orange against the blackness. There was no sign of the jeep.

Or Armin or Victor.

�Captain?�

�Quiet.�

One of the two men shuffled through the dirt toward him. He couldn�t tell who without light. They jostled his shoulder and squirmed back, giving them both a bit of space. It was Stan, who should have been watching whether he could see them yet or no.

�Sir?�

Dussander grunted.

�Do we have any chance of getting back? I mean, you did it, didn�t you?�

�We might.� The jeep had been a stupid idea, Dussander realized that from the start, but without it they never would have been able to bring anything back. They still wouldn�t. They wouldn�t make it anywhere near the ship now.

And Dussander had had a distraction. The explosion drew the infected toward the remains of the ship, away from Armin and Dussander. They didn�t have much of a distraction any more.

�We�ll have to start back as soon as Victor and Armin come back, right? We don�t have any food or water. How long did it take you?�

One and a half days, with two of them. Minor injuries, dehydration, hypothermia, guns�and a distraction. They�d have to be silent as the grave if they hoped on getting back. And they wouldn�t be able to shoot. It was madness either way.

But they might make it.

�We can�t just go,� Roger piped up, rolling next to Stan to lessen the need for volume,� We�ve got to get something, otherwise we�re stuck on this rock. How long until Mum realizes her ship didn�t make it?�

�They wouldn�t send a second ship. Pointless. If one didn�t make it we�d be wasting lives.� Maybe if they got a radio signal through and figured out why the ship had crashed they might send a second rescue team. Otherwise they weren�t getting off the planet.

�And I�ve been wondering,� said Roger,� Where�d the other grenade come from? We�re out of them, at the settlement, unless��

�Military thought they�d be useful,� said Dussander.

Roger decided the answer was good enough and shut-up. Converstaion over, Stan lifted the rifle and peered through the target hole. They descended into an uneasy silence.

�Hey, hey!� Stan hissed, waving his hand through the air.

Dussander frowned and jerked the appendange back to the ground,� What?�

�I think I see them, but they�re not�going anywhere.�

�Dead?� Dussander gritted his teeth, wrenching his hand away.

�No, they�re moving, but they�re just�standing there. I don�t know. There�s no infected around them-.�

�May I�?� Dussander tugged the rifle toward him. Stan nodded and let it go, and Dussander eased it into the sand infront of him, staring through the target. It was still pitch black, but the fire cast a little light across the dunes, and the target helped a little to reflect it. Armin and Victor were dark, blurry shapes, hard to see clearly.

But it was them. It had to be. There was no one else out there.

And they weren�t going any where, just as Stan had said.

�It�s just me.�

Armin lowered the gun but didn�t stick it in his holster. His fingers were deathy tight around it, numb and frozen from the cold, but locked in place. The gun was rattling a little from Armin�s shaking, but he didn�t take his finger off the trigger. He didn�t think he could move his frozen fingers without an ample amount of effort, let alone accidentally squeeze and fire a shot.

He wasn�t letting it go.

�You hurt any,� asked Victor.

Armin couldn�t see his eyes. It was dark, for one, and he was wearing infrared goggles. Dussander�s goggles. Armin bit his tongue, brow furrowed, and shook his head. He just hurt, and there wasn�t anything that could be done about that until they were back in the settlement.

�Did�das hauptmann�did Dussander send you?�

Victor nodded and grinned,� Worried about you, you know.�

He didn�t want him dead? He wasn�t angry for disobeying him? Of course he was, but perhaps death was too harsh a punishment. Perhaps it had only been to frighten him.

Or perhaps Victor had killed Dussander and the others and taken the goggles in hopes of surviving. And now he would kill Armin too? For his goggles? Or maybe extra clothes to stifle the cold. Maybe his gun, to keep the infected back. Maybe he thought he had more grenades on him.

Armin�s hand tightened around his gun and he stepped backward.

�You cold? Yer shaking�what�s yer name again, Mendel?�

�Ja. Mendel�and it is cold�my clothes aren�t very warm.� Lies. But maybe it would keep him from killing him.

Of course, if they were the only two left they�d die anyway.

�Where is Dussander, and the others?�

�Back there,� Victor jerked a hand behind him,� You�re fine. We�ll get you back�but you�re freezing, can you walk?�

�Yes�yes!� Armin lifted his feet and marched in place, just to prove his point,� I�m fine. We should be getting back now, ja?� Armin turned away from him and started forward, slipping around Victor�s rather massive form.

A hand curled about his arm, bringing him to a stop.

Armin switched his gun into his free hand and craned his head back., �Ja?�

�We don�t have to go yet, you should warm up first. It�s a fairly long walk. Don�t want you getting all stiff and incapable of going on, do we?�

�N-nein, but I will be fine,� he stepped forward again, but Victor�s grip tightened.

�Have you ever been to prison, Mendel?�

�Nein,� said Armin, rather stiffly. He stopped again and turned to face Victor, crossing his arms over his chest. Victor�s grip stayed around his upper arm, burning with heat. The warmth was not unpleasant, but Armin could handle the cold, � I am soldier, not criminal.�

�They�re on in the same, sometimes. Both kill people,� the hand realesed him and slid up to cup his chin, jerking his head upward. Victor peeled the goggles off his eyes with his other hand,� How many people have you killed, Mendel?�

�A few,� said Armin,� In war. People do not have faces. You shoot or die.�

The man was going to kill him.

Armin�s hand rose to his hair and he scraped his fingers through his bangs, tugging them along his scalp.

Victor was a criminal, maybe a murderer, and he was going to kill him. He�d killed Dussander, good god, that�s why he was talking like this. He�d killed them all, so he could survive. And now he was going to kill Armin. Buttering him up so Armin might understand.

He started shaking. The cold was chill and his nerves frayed. The shrieks kept sounded all around them and his heart was beating wildly in his chest.

�Shoot or be shot, eat or be eaten. Is that it? Do you think it�s different with criminals?�

How should he answer? Try to be agreeable, make him see that he didn�t need to be killed? Make him see that maybe Armin was useful? Armin didn�t want to die.

Not that it mattered. He�d be dead anyway. Dead like Dussander.

But he might have a chance. Victor might be willing to protect him, if Armin made it seem like he need protecting. Arming was bright. He could think of something, get back to the settlement, live a bit longer.

What do you have to live for, Armin?

Learning. Knowldege. Getting to know the things he didn�t know. That�s what he wanted to live for. To read books he�d never read. Paint masterpieces, write sonnets. Be someone.

He didn�t need people to live for.

�Do you, Mendel?� Victor shook him a little bit, leering over him now with a horrible grin on his face.

�Maybe.�

Victor let out a little laugh,� Careful answer there, soldier.�

�I do not want to die.�

�I wouldn�t think so,� said Victor. His grin widened again.

There was hope then. He was willing to let Armin go so long as Armin�.so long as Armin proved he�d be useful alive. Armin uncrossed his arms and glanced out over the dunes. Pitch black. He couldn�t see a thing. The fire had dwindled enough that even those skeletal sillhouttes had melded with the blackness. He could barely make out Victor�s face.

�Do you think we�ll survive out here, Mendel?�

�Maybe�maybe if we are�working together, yes?� he was shaking again, hard enough for Victor to feel with his hand. The gun rattled against his thigh, frozen to his hand by now, surely.

�I think we�d all be better off alone. One man isn�t as attractive as five, less noisy, less noticeable, less meat to eat.�

Armin swallowed and shook his head,� Nein. More would have more eyes-.�

�And more need of them. No one would know if you died, would they, Mendel? You could have been caught in the explosion, eaten by an infected, died of hypothermia.�

No one else was left alive to care about his well being.

�Don�t,� Armin wanted to shoot him. Wanted to drive a bullet right through his skull. But the infected would come, and then he wouldn�t stand any chance at all of survival.

�Don�t kill you? I thought this was dog eat dog, Mendel. Every man for himself, just like in the army.�

�Army is not like that�men work together�help each other.�

�Like you help your captain, is it?�

Armin�s head snapped up, eyes wide (not that it helped, he still couldn�t see). What did he mean? Was that sarcasm? Did he not help his captain? Was this because he was disobedient? But how would he know that? Armin had seen him for the first time that morning. Had he been watching them? Stalking him?

�What do you know? What did you see?�

�Enough�.what is there to see?�

Armin gritted his teeth and looked away. No wonder the man had killed them. Dussander could not be captain when the troops knew he had disobedient soldiers. Armin should never had done what he did. He should have taken the needle, stopped asking �why�, shouldn�t have looked for his gun.

�I could leave you out here, you wouldn�t know where to do. The infected would kill you within the hour.�

�I could shoot you.�

�And you�d still die, Mendel.�

��I do not want to die.� But he wanted to kill him.

�Help me then, Armin,� the hand on his chin moved to his shoulder, placing pressure there, pushing him down,� Like you help your captain.�

��what?�

The pressure increased, and Armin sank to his knees.

There was a clatter of metal and a quiet crinkle of leather as Victor unlooped his belt from his pants.

Dussander shoved the rifle into Stan�s hands and gritted his teeth.

�Are they coming now?� asked Stan, steadying the rifle and peering through the eye hole,� Oh, yes. Look at that. Won�t take more than a few minutes. Why don�t they run?�

�Noise,� said Dussander.

Which they weren�t allowed to make, because Dussander was going to be the one to slaughter them both. His soldier. His soldier.

But he would bide his time. Not for too long, of course. He didn�t want the infected to get to them before he did.