Harvester Attack

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Wind blew in my face as my legs were running for their life. Surrounded by men I couldn't tell were on my side or not, I knew only one thing. Slaughter everyone who comes to you with a knife. Maybe that's why I was chosen to be Sayyadina and not Fedaykin.

But I was sprinting so quickly that no one's blade was able to strike me, I was just able to severely hurt them.

Machinery lay everywhere; it constantly reminded you who thought they had the upper hand. The Harkonnens, stealing our spice and exerting their own agenda. Rumors spiraled, ones revealing the true motives of the Baron and his nephews, but that didn't matter at all. Not when my blade was inside the neck of one of their men, feeding the hole in my stomach.

One time I could've sworn I saw my dad. But with my blade landing in his stomach, I truly saw into the person's eyes and realized that he would never be one of these throwaway Harkonnens.

There was one clear place to run to. Everyone kicked up sand, desperately trying to get under this one machine to come out the other side and gain the upper hand on these demons. There were these pillar-like things supporting it, but it wasn't that tall, so it was a little too tight of a fit for comfort.

Sand flooded my vision as I threw myself to the harsh sand to crawl under. I couldn't really see; it was pitch black. But everyone knew one place to go: forward. Except the person in front of me; they were way too claustrophobic for this.

I moved to the side so they couldn't interfere with my path and kept crawling forward in front of them. The smell of sweat was killing me. My heart warmed when I finally saw the light of the sun.

The pillar on the left side started to fall. I couldn't distinguish the beating of my heart from the thud in the ground, that was being made by dozens of Fedaykin kicking to find a way out, before the pillar on the right fell.

The light found me.

My hand peeked out, ready to pull me forward before someone pulled me back by my leg. I instinctively kicked them in the face, before realizing who it was. The claustrophobic kid.

"Please!" the person begged, "Help me out, I don't want to die!"

Seeing their face more clearly, I could tell it was a girl. She was bleeding severely from her nose, where I kicked her.

"I can't see!" she pleaded. "Please, you have to help me!"

We were one of the last ones dumb enough to stay under this falling piece of machinery. And it's not like I could comfort her with my voice.

I put out my hand and grabbed hers, ready to start pulling. But she kept on crying more as I pulled, and her body was having this sort of resistance.

Her leg was stuck under the left.

Where the pillar had practically given up on doing its job.

My head was pounding and my vision was swimming. My window of time to get out from under the machinery was dwindling as well as the oxygen available under this thick metal.

I kept on pulling, her screams increasing until the resistance stopped and she stopped screaming. She's unconscious. Damn it. Did I just rip her leg off? No, what the hell? Everything felt so out of reach and confusing.

I pulled her and myself out, my hand supporting some of the machine's weight because the pillars weren't completely useless. Her leg was...

My hand gave out.

I heard a crunch and then I heard nothing. I saw the deformity and then I saw black. I was still here, I was still present. I think. Breathing came too hard if it came at all.

As Long As I Breathe || Paul AtreidesWhere stories live. Discover now