Jason couldn’t see the end of the road, hidden as it was by the vast curvature of the Earth’s surface, but he already knew that he wouldn’t be able to before he stepped out of the helicopter. Death Valley, baking in the midsummer sun, surrounded him, along with a motley crew of people he called friends. The sergeant had been blunt and had offered little information. Survive to the other side of the valley. That was it. He dropped them off and left, soaring upwards in a whirlwind of air and noise. Well, it could be worse – right?
The heat was unbearable. The limited supplies of water that the team had brought with them were fast running out. It was impossible to gauge their progress, such was the optical illusion the shimmering desert provided. With every step the mountains receded the same distance. It didn’t help that Sam and Jessica were not exactly helpful. They were constantly bickering about everything. Absolutely everything. Which direction we were taking, how fast we should go, who should have the water, why was there barely any food… On and on and on. Jason had decided to walk ahead to keep them out of earshot, which at least meant he had sorted one of his problems.
However, he still had some rather pressing ones. Such as how they were going to make the meager rations go round? Jason was hardly an expert at cooking, but he could tell that the food would not last. They had walked for four hours, making it four p.m. The sun, blazing ferociously, was beginning to go down, but it would still be beating upon them for a couple more hours. Surely they would all get intense sunburn? He understood why he had been sent on this exercise, to toughen up and ready himself for future challenges, but the Sergeant’s excuse that it was “team-building” sounded very silly now. Nobody was speaking, nobody seemed to be listening when somebody did speak up. All he could see was a sea of dejected, tired and red sweaty faces in the shimmering sand. He walked on.
He was panting now, the whole world shifting and turning before him. More than just the shimmers of heathaze, this was different. An illness, a dizziness. He was suffering from heatstroke and dehydration, but what could he do about it? There was no shade and about him his comrades were fainting and collapsing, or trudged on wearily, no emotion, no sign that they were aware of their surroundings or even what was going on. He tried to shout but no sound came out of his parched lips. He fell to his knees, the baking earth hot enough that the shock of touching it temporarily forced his body into reaction. However, he was weak, and not ten seconds later his muscles gave way again and he collapsed onto the sand. The last thing he saw was a blazing sun, still high in the sky, higher than it should be? As he tried to think what that might mean, his eyes closed for the last time.
He sat upright with a jerk, sweat pouring from his face. He tried to look around, and after a few seconds his eyes adjusted to the darkness and he realised where he was. His dormitory in the army base was hot and stuffy and contained no windows to the outside world. It was cramped and produced a fairly awful smell in the hot summer nights, but it was fairly clean and rudimentary, ineffective air-con kept the temperature from becoming unbearable. He tried to settle down, to forget about his dream and go back to sleep, but there was something about that oppressive heat, the shimmering heathaze, his fallen allies, that kept him awake.
He remained awake when the Sergeant rapped loudly on the door and shouted that they all had to be up and dressed for breakfast in ten minutes. He showered, threw on his uniform, and was downstairs nine minutes thirty seconds later, much to his relief. The punishment for lateness was a lap around the barracks, which in this weather, with his dream still lingering over him, was unthinkable. He downed the frankly awful breakfast, then went to report to his Sergeant. His Sergeant was called Mike, and his body reflected his name. Short, blunt, strong, not well versed in any form of etiquette, and not at all subtle. At a little over five foot ten, he wasn’t exceedingly tall, three inches shorter than Jason, but he was the best part of that height in width, with huge muscles. His nose looked like it had been broken several times, and Jason sometimes wondered how he breathed of smelt anything with it. His left cheek had a long scar that was never going to fully heal, and he looked like a weightlifter whose top speed in a sprint was three and a half miles per hour. He had the voice to match as well. A loud, gruff voice that commanded authority and respect, and could silence anybody. Luckily, he also fit his stereotype by not being the sharpest tool in the shed. In fact, he made even the average private who could just about make his own sheets and microwave a ready meal look like a diamond tipped drill.
“Morning!” Mike roared, silencing the chatter, “Now, listen here you lot. You all think you are so clever because you have a job, eh? You’re in the Army so you feel proud? Well, you better put those ecos, eros, epos…uhm…”
“Egos?” An annoying army model pupil, called Jake, shouted up, bringing a chorus of sniggers
“Yes that. RIGHT YOU LOT, settle down” Mike bellowed having regained his composure. “I’ve got news for you. Those, umm, egos? They are not going to do you any good now, so put them away. Welcome to the real world.” He paused, for dramatic effect, although with his excited eyes and toothy grin he looked rather like a squirrel who had just spotted an enormous nut rather than a Shakespearean actor. “Today, we are off to California.”
And so, that is how Jason came to be in the passenger compartment of an American military Chinook helicopter, waiting to be dropped off in the searing heat Death Valley with his dream from two nights ago still rattling around in his head. He really hoped that for everybody’s sake, Sam and Jessica would just work together for once.