Drag ourselves in

The walk of shame all the way back home is quiet. Misery. Defeat. We don’t stop, instead we push through the night, through the day, and into the next night. From time to time we have to evade the enemy’s efforts to track us down. By the time we return in the middle of the night, we’ve all been awake for over two days. Tired, cold, and hungry.

Dadonov leads us through the dim tunnel in a single file line. He slows to a halt when we near Fedorov’s office. I shake myself back awake when I feel my eyelids closing.

“I suppose we should tell the commissar that we’ve returned.” He says in a quiet, grim voice.

“He’s probably asleep.” I tell Dadonov.

“Fuck that.” Smirnov says. “I don’t want to wake him up.”

“Neither do I.” Dadonov says. “But we have to report in.

“Then let’s wait until morning.” Smirnov argues. “I at least want a few hours of sleep before I get executed.”

“We have to tell him.” Dadonov mutters.

“Then let’s tell the Captain and make it his problem.” Smirnov suggests. There is a quiet moment of contemplation.

“You know what?” Dadonov says. “I think I’m going to let you win this one.”

A collective sigh of relief escapes from the front of the column.

“Everybody go. Sleep.” Dadonov orders us. “I’ll talk to the Captain.”

Nobody talks as we drag ourselves to our room. Weapons are leaned in corners. The room feels a lot less cramped than usual.

I groggily make my way to my usual spot, next to Artyom and fall to my knees, before laying forwards. I rest my head on my arms, close my eyes, and fall asleep.