The wind began to die down, and the sand and dust that had blotted out the sun started to slowly settle.
The two soldiers looked as if they'd been dredged from a mud pit. Covered in a thick layer of sand, they collapsed against the parapet, coughing violently and dry-heaving. Tears and snot mingled with the grit, smearing their faces.
They struggled, using trembling arms to prop themselves up, and stared blankly toward the southwestern horizon.
There, the sky was still a brilliant blue, the sunlight dazzling.
It was as if that apocalyptic scene was nothing but a shared nightmare.
The soldier who had been whittling wood wiped the grime from his face. He stared blankly in the direction the stream of light had vanished, his lips trembling. Finally, he uttered a single word, filled with boundless terror and bewilderment:
"…God?"
The sentry who'd been playing with the Copper Coins didn't answer. He just instinctively reached for his waist.
