“You make it sound like we’re going to a festival or something. What if they’re bandits, or insurgents?”
“What if they’re not?”
The two stood there in the waning winds, sand still kicking up in small flurries around them, but nothing like it had been only an hour before. “I’d take another look at them, but I’m afraid they might see the sun reflecting off the lenses,” Jayden held the binoculars at the ready while glancing up at the merciless sun, now high in the sky at an angle.
“Let me take a look.” Jayden passed Carter the binoculars and he held them up to his eyes. “Yeah, probably a Kurdish tribe.” He handed the binoculars back Jayden. “Thing is, I doubt we can pass by them without them seeing us, anyway. It might seem weird to try and slip by like that, so maybe we should seek contact.”
“We may not be able to communicate anyway, since neither of us speaks any kind of Kurdish dialect or Farsi or whatever, but if they do have someone who speaks English, how do we explain our presence here?”
Carter considered this for a moment while taking a sip of the last ounce or so their remaining water while handing the rest to Jayden, who promptly finished it off. “I guess we could just say we’re Mt. Ararat trekkers who got separated from our group coming back down from the peak, and ended up on this side by mistake. Closest thing to the truth.”
Jayden agreed that’s the story they would use and they set out toward the caravan. Estimating distances in the flat, featureless terrain that shimmered with heat waves and blowing sand was difficult, but he estimated the group to be about a quarter-mile away at this point. Carter checked the pistol. He had kept it stashed in the pack to prevent it from being exposed to the dust storm, which would increase the likelihood of a jam.
“How many rounds left?” Jayden asked while Carter checked the chamber and the magazine.
“Six.”
Jayden shrugged. “Okay.” To them it was a ridiculously paltry amount of firepower compared to what they were used to toting in this part of the world. But at the same time, they were all too aware that it was all they had and that they would have to make the best of it. In fact, simply having it at all could get them in a world of trouble, and Carter stuck the gun in the cargo pocket of his pants in recognition of this fact.
“The caravan is likely armed too,” Jayden said.
“Right. Well, live by the code, right?”
Jayden nodded. The code: their simple traveler’s version of, treat others how you would want to be treated, had served them well during their travels all across the planet. Now they simply had to hope that they had a little bit of luck on their side.
“Tell you what,” Jayden said. “We need to get some water from these people, Carter. I’m not sure I can make it another ten miles or whatever it is back into Turkey like this. Sun is killing me.”
“I hear you. Try not to think about it too much. What do you think Daedalus is up to right about now?”
Jayden laughed. “Probably ordering room service and hookers at some swanky hotel while waiting for his antiquities experts to analyze the timber samples from the lake. Oh, why did you have to bring that up, Carter.”
“Hey, I’m sure he’d welcome you over to the dark side if you wanted to go.”
“What and trade all this?” Jayden swept an arm at the desert. “No, I like my morals intact, thank you very much. We’ll get out of this pickle, Carter. The one after this, I have no idea, but we can make it ten miles, come on.”
But even as he said the words, his feet plodded more slowly through the thin sands. “Any more food?”
Carter shook his head and also trod in a more labored fashion. “We’re out.”
“I hope this tribe doesn’t just take all our stuff, Carter I really do. After all we’ve been through to hold onto this map…”
“Don’t mention the map or the ark. I took a page from Daedalus’ book and created a false compartment in my backpack if they do force a search. But hopefully it won’t come to that.”
Then they saw a flashing of light about an eighth of a miles away. “They see us,” Jayden said. “Signal mirror.”
“Yep.” Carter stopped walking and put the binoculars up to his face. “Clansman on a camel, waving a piece of metal to catch the sun. They see us all right. I don’t see them using any binoculars. Let’s see if we can signal them back.” He tilted the binoculars so that the lenses caught the fierce sunlight and reflected it toward the tribe.
“He signaled back,” Jayden said. Carter sent another flash from the optics, and again they received a flash in response.
“Okay, so we know about each other.” Carter dropped the binoculars. “Let’s go meet up.”
Energized by the impending confrontation, they summoned reserves of energy they didn’t know they had in order to walk the remaining distance to the nomad camp. Carter scoped them out one more time through binoculars before making the final approach. He saw old men, young men, women and children — a complete mini-society, which made him feel somewhat more secure in the knowledge that they were not likely to be a band of insurgent rebels who would be prone to kill them for the publicity of lashing out against the West. Still, his senses were on edge as they approached the camp, hungry, thirsty, tired and harboring a valuable map that likely led to a secret of biblical proportions.
“You know the drill, Jayden. Let’s walk slow, keep our hands in plain sight.”
“Got it.” He held both hands up as they approached the camp, where a few tent-like structures had been set up, and a few camels were sitting on the ground. A dozen or so people of all ages and sexes milled about in plain sight, and Carter supposed there were more inside or behind the tents.
When they got close, an old man with a white, flowing beard, and a younger man of indeterminate middle age stepped forward to greet the two travelers. The concern in their eyes registered that they knew these two vagabond souls were not experienced desert travelers, but almost surely to be people in need. The old man held out a leather bladder, ostensibly filled with water. He held it out to them and said a word in his native language which neither westerner understood.
Carter nodded his thanks, not ready to reveal to them that they spoke English, and took the bladder. He tipped it to his mouth and tasted the liquid, tentatively at first, then upon tasting that it was clean water, gulping more down before handing it off to Jayden. While Jayden drank, Carter slowly pointed off in the direction they were travelling in, and said the word, “Turkey,” hoping that it would be recognizable. Immediately the two Kurds exchanged knowing glances.
Carter didn’t know if they thought he was implying he and Jayden were from Turkey, and asking if the gypsy-like band of desert dwellers was from Turkey, but it was a start to communication. Jayden finished with the bladder and offered it back to the old man, who nodded and took it. Then he extended a hand toward the camp, presumably inviting them to stay. Carter and Jayden nodded and they walked with the two men to the largest tent, where the others now gathered to witness these strange people who had been walking the desert sands alone with almost no provisions.
The old man — Carter thought he looked like some sort of Sultan, draped in robes, long beard — spoke in his dialect to his people. Carter was glad to see him point in the same direction he had pointed — toward Turkey — during this introduction. The reactions of the people were appropriate for a story about two lost men in the desert, which Carter was also grateful for, since it meant that these people seemed to have understood Carter’s story the way he intended.
Another man of the tribe stepped up, this one younger, perhaps in his twenties, and he spoke what Carter recognized as the same Istanbul Turkish they had been hearing since being in Turkey. So it was all the more embarrassing when, after that man stopped speaking and waited expectantly for their reply, that they were unable to do so in the same language. Carter saw no other alternative than to speak English, although he knew this would open a can of worms.