The symptoms began with a parched mouth and cracked lips, followed by dizziness and a general sense of weakness and fatigue. These were the signs of moderate dehydration, a condition Qin Chuan had heard about from doctors before, though he never imagined it would feel so unbearable. He felt as if he were trapped in a nightmare, his body no longer his own, as they all stumbled forward like zombies, mechanically taking one step after another. When they fell, they didn't want to get up, but someone nearby would help them to their feet.
Sometimes, Qin Chuan wondered what severe dehydration would be like. The doctors hadn't explained that part. Would they turn into mummies? That would be something—maybe centuries later, someone would discover them in the desert and put them on display in a museum!
"Sergeant…" Keller offered his canteen to Qin Chuan, his voice weak. "Drink…some water."
"No!" Qin Chuan shook his head. "It's your turn."
Keller had been secretly rationing his water to give more to Qin Chuan, but Qin Chuan couldn't accept it, knowing that if he did, Keller wouldn't survive.
"Sergeant…I'm not thirsty."
"That's an order!" Qin Chuan insisted. "Don't waste your strength arguing."
"Yes, Sergeant…" Keller finally took a small sip from his canteen.
People often say that when it comes down to life or death, everyone becomes selfish, but this didn't seem to apply to the German soldiers. They all tried their hardest to control their water intake, even though their bodies were nearly at their limits.
Just then, a burst of machine gun fire ahead jolted Qin Chuan and the others out of their semi-conscious state.
"Gunfire!" Werner exclaimed with a mix of surprise and relief. "MG42!"
The MG42 was a familiar sound to the German soldiers, so distinct that they could identify it instantly by its firing noise.
"It's one of ours!"
"We're saved!"
…
Werner and the others suddenly seemed energized, quickening their pace toward the source of the gunfire. But Qin Chuan stopped them.
"Everyone, take two sips of water!" Qin Chuan ordered. "Rest for a moment, then prepare for combat!"
The soldiers looked at Qin Chuan, puzzled. They thought he was being overly cautious.
But half an hour later, when they reached the site of the gunfire, they realized Qin Chuan's caution was well-founded. There were six bodies in total. Five of them were clustered together, their corpses riddled with machine gun bullets, some even shot in the back as if trying to flee. About twenty meters away lay an MG42, spent shell casings scattered around it. Next to it was the body of another German soldier, holding a pistol, a bullet hole through the right side of his forehead, with blood dried to a dark red.
"This looks like a group suicide," Alfredo sighed. "The machine gunner killed the others and then finished himself off."
"Oh God, they're from Sergeant Berger's squad!" Werner recognized one of the dead men and confirmed it by checking their dog tags. "Yes, they're all from Second Squad."
Berger was the Second Squad leader, part of Qin Chuan's platoon, though they hadn't interacted much outside of missions.
"Their canteens are all empty," Alfredo observed after checking the bodies. "They probably couldn't hold out any longer."
"No," Qin Chuan disagreed. "This wasn't suicide."
Werner looked at Qin Chuan, shocked. "If it wasn't suicide, then it was…"
"Think about the gunfire you heard earlier," Qin Chuan said. "Did you hear a single pistol shot after the machine gun fire?"
The soldiers thought for a moment and then shook their heads. No one had heard anything like that.
Werner quickly caught on to Qin Chuan's reasoning. "If the machine gunner had shot the others and then himself, there should have been a single pistol shot after the machine gun burst!"
"Exactly," Qin Chuan said as he approached the fallen machine gunner. Kneeling beside the body, he pointed to the pistol and asked, "Do you notice anything?"
Werner, now aware, said, "There's no blood on the muzzle!"
Everyone understood now. If the machine gunner had shot himself with the pistol pressed to his head, there would certainly be blood on the gun's muzzle.
"So," Werner deduced, "the killer approached the machine gunner first, shot him at close range, then quickly used the machine gun to kill the others before planting the pistol on the gunner's body to stage a suicide."
"But why?" Alfredo asked, still puzzled. "Why would someone kill them and then go to the trouble of staging this scene?"
"Because the killer is one of us," Qin Chuan explained. "He didn't want anyone to suspect foul play if these bodies were found."
"But why would he do this?" Alfredo asked again.
After a long pause, Werner answered, "For water."
Qin Chuan nodded. "For water, and ultimately, for survival."
Alfredo looked at Qin Chuan and Werner in disbelief, struggling to accept the reality.
"Damn it!" Werner cursed. "Who is it?"
Qin Chuan didn't answer, his eyes fixed on a set of faint footprints leading eastward. The killer had been careless, assuming the desert winds would quickly erase his tracks.
The soldiers didn't say much more. They grabbed their weapons and began following the trail. It wasn't just about catching the murderer; it wasn't just about avenging their comrades. It was about the honor of the German army. They wouldn't tolerate a black sheep in their ranks, someone who would disgrace the army.
Qin Chuan also took up his rifle and followed the tracks. Compared to before, the soldiers seemed more energized, and Qin Chuan felt the same. Perhaps it was the adrenaline from facing danger or the clarity of having a target to pursue.
But the killer must have realized he was being tracked, as his pace quickened, making it harder for the soldiers to keep up.
Initially, the soldiers weren't too concerned because they could still follow the footprints. Unless the killer tried to cover his tracks, which would slow him down, it seemed like a losing strategy for the killer.
But soon, the desert winds began to blow, gradually erasing the footprints from the soldiers' view. Even so, Qin Chuan and the others continued their relentless pursuit.