SF Drabble #74 “Duel”

The war was all but over when they found each other.

Neither had anything resembling ammunition left, that had been spent months ago. There were no reinforcements to call, no air support. They were both sick with radiation poisoning, borrowing time with stimulants.

It was knives at first. Slashing that began with fury ended in exhaustion. If by then there was someone with interest in the outcome neither cared.

They were close enough to talk when they collapsed in the dust bleeding and nauseous, but neither spoke the other’s language. Even if they had, what now was there to say?

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