His dry tongue licked his teeth and cracked lips while he imagined the sensation of quenching his thirst with a glass of ice-cold water. He had run out of water hours ago, and Ben knew it was a form of psychological torture to imagine a drink in hand when he was close to dying. But he couldn’t help it. He rationalised it as a twisted form of motivation to keep himself moving through the desert.

  ‘I will not die here… I cannot die here…’ Benjamin repeats to himself, his feet dragging along the sand as every ounce of energy slowly escapes his body. His knees buckled and whined under the scorching sun. Desperate, he would wipe his brow with his dirty hand and lick the sweat from his fingers to make his journey somewhat comfortable.

  Everywhere around him was a mirage, a cruel trick. False water was all around him, urging him to keep walking to get a drink. Even if it were never possible. But he believed something there, hoping for some miracle, that there was something out there to put an end to his thirsting madness.

  However, no one could keep going for long without water. Exhausted and defeated, Ben collapsed face-first into the sand. Letting out a weak wheeze, he let out a pained, dry cough as sand seeped into his mouth. With one hand planted on the ground, he tried to lift his weak body only to slump back down. He tried to drag his body, doing anything in his power to keep moving. In the end, all he could achieve was moving a pile of sand closer to him.

  This is where I’ll die, Ben thought to himself. As his vision blurred and his mind became foggy. Ben thought of his mother and wondered what she would’ve thought of him. Would she be proud that he joined the army, or would she be like his father and disapprove of his choice? Finding comfort in the thought, he tried to remember what she looked like. Did she have curly hair, or was it short? Was she there on his tenth birthday or was she gone before that? In the end, he couldn’t tell. But he liked to think of her even if her memory was fragmented and vague.

  Then, the thought of his team. He wondered if they were okay and got out of the ambush safely. If they did, he dreamt what their lives would be like once they left the army. Would any of them follow their dreams? Go to university or college to get a degree? The thought of his team having a happier life because he helped them put a smile on Ben’s broken face. He might not see what life would take him, but he was glad he gave that opportunity to others.

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  That should be his end. His life was never meant to continue on beyond that point. Like the reptile in the United States, he should’ve died right there. His impact was an unrecognisable blimp in history and inconsequential like many who died before him. However, despite his unimportance at that moment, something took an interest in the American soldier and approached him. It saw something in him, a potential for good if he took a certain path.

  Ben looked up at a subtle glow looming over him. The entity gave Benjamin a calm smile, looking like a handsome young man wearing an all-white shalwar kameez and a light grey turban. It reached down to gently hold Ben’s hand and helped him get back onto his feet. To his surprise, Ben felt energised and calm in the presence of the entity.

  ‘Thank you…’ Ben tiredly mouthed, still incapable of uttering a single syllable. But the creature understood and nodded in reply before gesturing for him to keep walking. ‘Who are you?’ Ben asked, delusional and struggling to understand what he was seeing.

  Instead of replying, the Lightbringer just smiled and urged him to walk forward. Ben didn’t have the energy to talk or argue with the strange figure, but his instincts told him that the creature beside him was there to help him. He knew something wasn’t human about it. Believing that what he was seeing was a figment of his dying imagination, so it could give him more strength to survive, regardless of how futile it all was. The human mind and body were strange like that, so he shrugged and accepted his predicament.

  Without anything else to do, he followed his mysterious guide. Unsure where his mind would take him or if he was already dead and living through purgatory. Either way, he kept walking. Weak and about to drop dead at a moment’s notice, but he pushed on and held on to the spirit’s hand. He was willing to see where it would take him. Meanwhile, the spirit was willing to see the sort of man Benjamin was.