Max drags the dry, mummified corpse out of the sad ruins of a war rig, and up the sand dune towards me. He pauses for a few beats, catching his breath.
I pass him the canteen and he drinks briefly.
The corpse, now lying at his feet, offers me a forced smile.
“Robbed of dignity, even in death.”
Max gives me a disgruntled look, picking the dead body up again.
“I get it. For dead, dignity is an option. While we, the living, have to keep intact as much of it as possible.”
Max shrugs, unbothered. “He’ll make good kindling.”
