Chapter 16

It had been rough going, but they knew they were making progress when they'd spotted the first of what would be many broken trees. That had been confirmed when the trees in the forest went from simply having been broken by something massive coming down from the sky, but also showing signs of having been burnt at some point in the past. Now they were in a section that was more burnt and broken than anything else, giving the appearance of them crossing through a hellish, blackened landscape.

Despite the climb having gotten easier, several Marines from first platoon were struggling.

"Come on Chaffin, you fuckin' boot." Dawes said between heavy breaths, a sheen of sweat covering his face. "If you let me pass you, I'm gonna kick your ass all the way back down to the dropships." Chaffin would have responded, would have loved to throw a jab back at Dawes, but he was too focused on breathing. He had a splitting headache, his uniform was soaked through with sweat, and he felt like his chest was in a vice.

"Chaffin." Mercer said, also fighting through weird symptoms. He'd suffered heat exhaustion before, but this was something different. The further they continued, the heavier each footfall became. His boots felt like they were lined with lead. "Chaffin, you alright?"

"Hard…" Chaffin said, then paused and took in a deep breath, hoping to fill his lungs with air. "Hard to breathe, Sergeant." Mercer was also having a tough time getting lungfuls of air.

"Yeah, me too." Mercer said. He took a step forward and wobbled a bit. It was a good thing they hadn't brought their rucks, or he would have likely tumbled down a long while ago. "Might be the altitude or something." They hadn't climbed far enough to be feeling altitude sickness. Then again, this wasn't Earth or a terraformed planet, so the atmosphere might have gotten lighter well before they were used to. "Dawes?"

"Sucking." Dawes replied. The marksman was marching forward but his head hung low. Mercer took in a deep breath. It felt like there was something pressing against his lungs, keeping him from getting air.

"Wilkins?" Mercer asked.

"Ngh…" Wilkins started. The Marine paused and cleared his breath. "Not gonna lie, Sarge. This shit sucks." That made Mercer feel a bit better, seeing as he wasn't the only one feeling whatever the hell it was that was plaguing them.

"Fulmer?" The squad leader asked the last of first squad.

"All good here." Their medic replied. Mercer narrowed his eyes and turned to look at their medic. Sure enough, Fulmer looked fine. Yeah, she was sweating a bit from the climbs they'd had to make. But other than that, she was as pristine as a Marine combat medic can be.

"What the hell?" Wilkins asked, leaning forward and resting his hands on his knees. "What, you're not feeling whatever this is?"

"No." Fulmer said. Her tone was serious, but her face took on a look of concern. "You guys don't look so hot."

"Well it's a fuckin' wonder you're our medic." Dawes said, having adopted the same stance as Wilkins. Sweat poured from the marksman's brow, trailing down the brim of his helmet before falling to the dirt. "With that kind of intuition, I'm surprised you haven't gone to medical school yet."

"No, seriously. You guys look like shit." Fulmer said, taking a step forward. "Take off your helmet." She told Mercer. He did so, and she pressed the back of her hand to his forehead. Her concerned look deepened. He was burning up.

"You guys might be dehydrated." She said. While it was a possibility, she wasn't sure how. She'd ensured they'd all taken the requisite hydration salts and had observed them all drinking plenty of water during their stops and while patrolling. "Grab a seat and take off your helmets. Drink water, I'll be right back." She said to them, then she turned to face second squad. "Guys, hold on a second." She said. The Marines of second squad stopped, looking at the medic.

"What's up?" Guerrero asked. She'd taken point for second squad after the last stop.

"Something's wrong with my guys. I need to talk to Pops." Fulmer said, passing by her friend. As she passed through second squad, she noticed that VanAllen and Dwyer also appeared to be dehydrated.

"What is it, Corporal Fulmer?" Pops asked when the medic reached him and the lieutenant.

"Gunny, first squad appears to be suffering from dehydration. Looks like a couple of guys in second squad are hurting as well." Fulmer relayed. "Not really sure how that's possible, at least with first squad. I've been keeping an eye on them to ensure they've been drinking enough." She paused. He didn't say anything. "I think we might need to take another stop. Let these guys get off their feet and rehydrate a bit. I can throw in some IVs to speed up the process."

"Belay that, Corporal." Lieutenant Fick said. Both Fulmer and Pops turned to the Lieutenant. He was consulting his tablet, while Rook stood beside him. The synth cradled its weapon with two hands, eyes and head methodically scanning around them. "We're less than half a mile from the signal source. Once we reach there, we'll take a short stop. You can stick your guys and whoever else needs it while the rest of us investigate the source. Check?"

"Check, sir." Fulmer nodded. With that, she started back towards the front of the formation to reveal the good and not-so-good news.

Five minutes later they were all back on their feet, and first squad was struggling. Fulmer was the only one that could keep her head, let alone her rifle, up at the ready. The rest were pushing along though, all but dragging themselves when the climb became steep. She almost put a stop to it when she could hear Chaffin's ragged struggle for breath.

Then she saw it.