Earth Afire (The First Formic War)

wasn’t on fire and placed it at the base of the box Danwen lay on. The smoke was thick and burned Mazer’s eyes. The heat was intense. Mazer retreated out of the barn coughing and brushing burning ashes from his clothes.
    Bingwen stood outside in the yard, staring at the flames, the sword loose in his hand, blood glistening on the blade in the firelight.
    Mazer knelt beside him. “We can’t stay, Bingwen. Can you run?”
    They needed to move. The troop transports were silent and light as leaves. They could be here at any moment. Bingwen turned to Mazer, his movements slow, as if in a trance. He didn’t respond. He wouldn’t be able to run, Mazer realized. Not quickly. Mazer took the sword and gently picked up Bingwen in his arms. Then he ran, heading down the mountain, the flames and the farmhouse at their backs—moving north, into the darkness.
    *   *   *
     
    They ran for fifteen minutes, cutting through fields that had been stripped of all life. Mazer’s boots were soon heavy with mud and ashes. They crossed rice fields, sticking to the thin bridges of earth between the paddies and steering clear of the standing water. The rice shoots had long since wilted and died, and now a thin chemical residue floated atop the water at the paddies’ edges, glistening in the moonlight like oil. A kilometer beyond the base of the mountain they found a stretch of jungle untouched by the mist and pushed their way through it, preferring to be in the cover of the thick foliage than out in the open where they could be easily spotted. It was harder to see in the jungle, however. Branches snagged at their clothes and slapped at their faces. Twice Mazer stumbled, nearly dropping Bingwen both times.
    By now, Bingwen was coming to himself again. “You don’t have to carry me anymore,” he said quietly. “I can run.”
    Mazer didn’t argue. He was exhausted. His body was slick with sweat. His arms and legs were cramped, particularly his right arm, which had carried the bulk of Bingwen’s weight. The wound in his belly had begun to burn, too, and he worried that he might have torn something. He set Bingwen down, and they collapsed at the base of a tree. Mazer leaned back against the trunk, his breathing heavy.
    They sat in silence for a while. Mazer wanted to comfort Bingwen; he wanted to say something reassuring, something to soften the boy’s grief. Yet everything that came to mind sounded insufficient or like an empty promise he couldn’t keep. They were in danger now, more danger than they had been in before, and any assurance of a happy ending seemed false and disingenuous.
    It was Bingwen who finally broke the silence. “I’m sorry you had to carry me,” he said. “I … wasn’t thinking straight.”
    “It’s all right,” said Mazer. “I didn’t mind. I needed the exercise.”
    “No. You didn’t. You shouldn’t be straining yourself. You should be resting. Look at you. You’re thinner than you were. You need food, Mazer. Real food. Meat and fruits and vegetables, not rice and bamboo. And a real doctor should have a look at you.” He pulled his knees up tight to his chest as he had done in the farmhouse. “You can’t go back to the lander, Mazer. You can’t. You’re not healthy enough to fight.”
    Mazer took a few more breaths before responding. His heart was pounding. “It’s complicated, Bingwen.”
    “No. It isn’t. You’re weak. The army has been pounding the lander and gotten nowhere. What can you do that they can’t? You’d be throwing your life away. Let the fighters and bombs do their job.”
    “You just said the bombs weren’t working.”
    “Walking to the lander is stupid. Suicide. If you want to get in the fight, find some troops. Do good elsewhere. You can help and still survive.”
    “If I go north and find Chinese troops, Bingwen, they’ll likely arrest me and ship me back to New Zealand. And that’s the best-case scenario.”
    “Why would they arrest you?”
    “Like I said, it’s complicated.”
    “And I wouldn’t understand because I’m a child? I thought we were past that.”
    Mazer exhaled deep and wiped the sweat from his face with the sleeve of his shirt. “All right. They’d arrest me because I’m not supposed to be here. I disobeyed a direct order by rushing to the lander. Three of my friends died as a result of my decision. My military isn’t likely to forgive that. I’m not sure I can forgive it.” He took another deep breath and leaned