The sun seared his skin. His throat crumbled, unable to scream, groan or breathe.
John stared at the struggling soldier on the ground in front of him. The one he was sent out to save.
He watched some blood, blending on the sand. He refused to recognize his own.
No, you don't shoot the medics, he thought, even as he fell, You just don't.
The patch on his shoulder, which he knew was perfectly visible, was thick and soggy. Somehow, his blood felt heavier on the outside of his body.
He reached for his patient, as they both lost consciousness.