Dehydration

The old lady in front drags her feet with one last ounce of strength. Then she falls face first on the burning sand. I stop to check for a pulse. CK mutters breathlessly, "Don't stop, bro. Or you'll be next."

We trudge along with the rest of the weary walkers - plodding forever, but never reaching our destinations. The merciless sun seems to scoff at us, its leering rays piercing through the skins of those with the nerve to venture beyond the shades.

I hear a feeble shout and turn to look. I see a local and a cop in a tug of war. Desperation makes people suspend all sense of reality. The local takes a weak swipe at the cop. The cop reacts. Being stronger, he manages to shove the local onto the floor. The cop then jumps on him and starts punching his face with blistering blows. The local is eventually motionless and the cop claims his "prize". I see they've been fighting over a bottle of water. There is perhaps one sip left in that bottle. Anarchy rules when the most basics of needs are not met.

CK nudges me and asks me not to stare. I comply. Because I don't care really. I just need to get away from the burning sun. It seems like we've walked in this never-ending desert for days. But as it turns out, it's only been 15 minutes.

I wonder how long more I can take this. My head feels faint. I am panting. My legs feel like cement blocks. I hope I can go through with this. It must end. I will conquer it. It will not get the better of me, this crazy Hong Kong summer.