The desert stretched like a vast ocean of sand, seemingly endless to David's attentive eyes as he observed the refugees inside the truck he was protecting. Each of them carried tales of suffering, fleeing from the horrors of war and oppression.
The merciless desert sun pierced through the truck's torn cover, punishing the refugees' skins, already marked by an exhausting journey. Yet, the faint hope burning in each person's eyes blazed like a flame, dispelling any discomfort.
David flashed a playful smile at the child who stuck out their tongue while hiding beside their mother.
Rummaging through his shirt pocket, David retrieved his last packet of chocolate—a rare luxury in these conflict-stricken surroundings dominated by warlords, terrorists, and ruthless multinational-sponsored groups.
Extending his hand, he offered the packet to the young girl, whose eyes practically gleamed upon seeing it. However, she hesitated to accept, casting a pleading glance at her mother.
With a tired yet amused smile, the mother granted permission in her native tongue. With the nod of approval, the girl accepted the chocolate, a smile adorning her face.
"Thank you, sir," the mother said to David in broken English.
"No need to thank me," David replied in the woman's native language, eliciting a pleasant surprise and a genuine smile from her.
David's warm smile turned to shock and terror as he glanced behind the woman and saw two cars racing at high speed from one of the sand dunes.
From one of them, a man leaned out, preparing to fire a rocket-propelled grenade (RPG).
"Enemies at the rear!!" David shouted at the top of his lungs, helplessly watching as the RPG was fired by the man.
The projectile hurtled towards the convoy, hitting the truck in front of the one David was in.
The calm within the truck was shattered by the deafening noise of an explosion. The truck violently shook, jolting everyone on board. Terror-filled screams echoed as the vehicle was struck by shrapnel and dust.
Instinctively, David threw himself to protect the child and her mother, attempting to maintain stability amid the chaos. A series of explosions tore through the air, intense heat and blinding light mingling with the pandemonium.
When the dust settled, David looked around disoriented, seeking signs of life. His ears rang from the explosion; his heart tightened at the chaos and the bodies of the refugees who moments ago were filled with hopes for a better future.
The sight of the surviving refugees, now injured and confused, stirred in him a sense of helplessness and powerlessness, but above all, anger.
In a snap of consciousness, he quickly searched for the mother and daughter he had tried to protect.
Not far away, he spotted an arm under the wreckage. Swiftly removing the debris, he revealed the lifeless body of the woman who had given him a genuine smile just moments ago.
In his arms, her daughter lay unconscious. She was breathing and barely injured, as her mother had shielded her from most of the impact.
With pain in his heart, David quickly pulled the girl away from her mother's body and ran to the truck that was still intact.
Beside the truck, two men and a woman used their weapons to try to keep the terrorists at bay as the survivors boarded the vehicle.
Handing the child to the woman, he shouted quickly, "Take the child and get the refugees away."
The woman seemed reluctant to leave her companions, but David was quick to continue. "We'll buy time. If you don't leave, we'll all die!"
"Now!" he shouted, grabbing the rifle from her hands.
Taking the girl, she nodded resolutely and turned towards the truck.
Looking at the other two men, David nodded and began firing at the approaching terrorists.
Meanwhile, the roar of the truck's engine sounded, and it began to move.
"Damn, I'm out of ammo!" one of the men shouted, taking cover behind the wreckage.
"Damn it, this way, we'll die, and those bastards will catch up to the truck," the other growled.
'Damn, damn, damn.' David cursed in his head, watching the terrorists get closer.
Glancing sideways, he spotted the truck he was in. Despite the bed having been blown off, the truck still seemed functional.
Having an idea, he told the other two, "Cover me!" and tossed the rifle to the partner without ammunition.
"What are you going to do?!" the man yelled.
"Give you a chance," David replied with a smile before running with all his might towards the truck.
After a desperate run and several bullets that narrowly missed him on the way, David got into the truck.
Turning the key, the engine roared to life.
"Yes!" he cheered.
Stepping on the accelerator and turning the wheel, the truck accelerated towards the two approaching pickups.
Seeing this, the terrorists became alarmed and began shooting at the truck.
One of the bullets hit David's arm, causing his face to contort in pain and the truck to shake. But he quickly adjusted the steering wheel and pressed the accelerator with all his might.
The front pickup, the same from which the terrorist fired the RPG, attempted to swerve away from the truck. But they were too close to evade, only able to watch in desperation as the truck collided with them.
"Hold on, you sons of bitches," David grinned inside the truck before the vehicles collided.
CRASH BOOOOMMM
The truck and the pickup exploded immediately after the collision, likely due to the explosives in the pickup.
The explosion hit the other pickup, causing the driver to lose control and flip the vehicle.
Now, even if they had survived, they wouldn't be able to catch up with the truck and the refugees.