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The dust storm rolled over the battlefield quickly, and before Len knew it his visibility was suddenly reduced to zero. He pulled his neckerchief up over his mouth and tried to take shallow breaths, but his hands were exposed clutching his gun, and the dust scratched them painfully. He instantly stopped moving and started listening carefully, trying to see if he could distinguish any sounds over the roaring howl of the wind. Lisa, Mick... he needed to find them, they'd been right next to him but in this weather they might as well have vanished off the face of the planet. It was unnerving, as if he'd gone blind and deaf. He could make out dulled flashes in the distance; guns, laser fire, heavy artillery but really, you'd have to be insane to try and fight in this.
After a few minutes, he thought he heard a cry. It was a risk moving from his spot, but it might be somebody in his squad, so he staggered slowly towards the sound moving mostly by feel. After a few seconds he spotted a body lying on the ground, a few feet away. His heart leapt into his throat for a second but he quickly realised the body shape wasn't right for Lisa or Mick.
Len squinted, trying to make out the clothing. Alliance or Browncoat? In this weather he couldn't tell. But he spotted a dark red stain on the man's chest, it didn't look good. As he drew closer he managed to make out the boy's face. Young. So young. The kid's brown hair was coated with dust and his eyes were closed, face screwed up against the pain.
Len dropped to his knees and touched the boy's arm. The kid startled and opened his eyes. Now that Len was up close he could tell this was no Browncoat. The clothing, the smooth hands, the look of fear as he registered Len kneeling over him.
"No..." the boy tried to scramble backwards, unsuccessfully.
"Don't," Len said. "You'll just make your injuries worse."
The kid looked scared, but he stopped struggling. "Are you going to kill me?" He was brave, trying to be anyway. Probably wondering why Len hadn't killed him already, the brown coat made it pretty clear whose side he was on.
"No." Len wasn't sure when he'd decided this. It was his job to kill Alliance soldiers after all, but the thought of stabbing the poor boy now, slitting his throat... it seemed cruel, pointless. The young man probably still had a mother waiting for him at home, perhaps a young sweetheart, loyal friends. People who would cry for him if he fell in battle.
Len shrugged off his pack and grabbed his first aid pack. "What's your name?" he asked.
There was a pause. "Barry Allen."
"Okay Barry, I'm going to disinfect your wound and then wrap it. It's not going to be pleasant. The dust makes everything difficult, but I'll do the best I can."
Barry squeezed his eyes shut and nodded.
Len worked quickly cleaning and wrapping the wound, and Allen's screams were lost in the storm. At least he hoped they were. He finished tying the final knot and turned to put his belongings back into his pack. He could hear whimpering from behind him and debated for a second whether to do anything, but he eventually turned back to the boy and rested a hand lightly on the kid's forehead in what he hoped was a comforting manner. He stayed alert though, scanning the horizon, trying to make out other figures in the dust, but still nobody. It was like they were the only two people in existence. Suddenly Barry's eyes opened again.
"Why are you helping me?" he coughed. "Why aren't you trying to kill me?"
Len thought about the moment when he'd first seen Barry, before he knew that it wasn't one of his Rogues lying there. "You know, I have a sister just about your age. I tried to stop her joining but we were losing, they were desperate for recruits and now she's somewhere on this battlefield too. If she was lying where you are now, in pain, I'd hope someone would help her."
Barry rolled his head back and forth, obviously still in pain. "It hurts," he whispered.
"I know."
"I never even wanted to be here," Barry said.
"I didn't think the Alliance were so hurting for recruits that they'd put in the draft?"
"They didn't."
"Well then, why-,"
"It's difficult to explain," Barry interrupted.
"I'm all ears." If Len could keep Barry awake, talking and distracted from the pain, that was a good thing.
"I was hurt, ended up in a coma. It was a freak accident and I wasn't ever going to get better so my father, adoptive father, made a deal with the government."
Len didn't like where this was going.
"They fixed me, better than new now but I'm indentured to them. One man, really. At first I was happy, I liked him, I liked the work. But then the war started and now I understand; he doesn't care for me and they'll never let me go, I'm too valuable."
"Why don't you just run?"
"My adoptive father, my sister, it would just get taken out on them, I know," Barry frowned, and seemed more alert than before. Len dropped his hand from the man's forehead. "What about you. Why are you here?"
"On this battlefield? Why are most Browncoats here? I don't like getting stepped on by the Alliance, I'm not that complicated," Len shrugged.
Barry met Len's eyes. "You're not simple either, you didn't have to help me, and with this Alliance symbol on my chest not many Browncoats would have."
Len was uncomfortable and looked away, out into the storm. He thought he could see shapes moving again in the distance, people moving in this direction, and something in his gut said they were Alliance.
"I think the storms clearing. I need to move." He scrambled to his feet and hoisted his pack onto his shoulders, he'd head back to base, hopefully Lisa and Mick would make it back there eventually. He looked down at Barry, the kid looked a lot better than he had a few minutes ago, healing fast, and Len wondered what exactly the government had done when they'd "fixed" Barry. Barry was valuable apparently, and Len pondered for a second whether he'd made a mistake showing mercy, how many Browncoats would Barry end up killing in the end? But no, somehow he didn't think Barry was like that, and if it had been Lisa lying there injured.... he knew he'd done the right thing. He hoped.
"Barry!" he heard one of the approaching figures yell. Time to move.
"Wait," Barry was sitting up now. "I don't even know your name."
He paused. "It's Len."
"Thank you for helping me, Len."
A burst of laser fire crackled over Len's head, it was time to move. But at the last moment he quickly turned back to Barry, he couldn't help himself. "You should run Barry," he called back. "Get out from under the government, head to the outer rim, and take your family with you if you must."
Barry looked thoughtful. "Maybe you're right."
*
This was it. This was the end. Len stared down the barrel of the gun as Lisa yelled his name in panic from somewhere on his right. He could see the smirk on the soldier's face, confident, he knew he was too close to miss.
Bang, and the bullet sped towards him.
But before Len could register anything there was a red blur and a crackle of lightning and the bullet was gone, the soldier had been knocked to the ground, unconscious, and in front of him stood a man dressed in red. Len couldn't make out a face and the man didn't speak, but something felt familiar. A few seconds later, there was a rush of wind and then nothing.
"What was that?!" Lisa ran over to him. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah," he said. His thoughts turned to the strange man he'd helped in the dust storm yesterday. "I think somebody's looking out for me."