Who knew it would be so peaceful?
The darkness seemed to fade away. She breathed again and opened her eyes. A new light formed in front of her. A face followed the light and she wondered what she was supposed to do now — was she supposed to move into the light or run away from it? Her first instinct was to run from the light. Never enter the tunnel of death. Her rational mind argued against her philosophy. Arguing that she would be dead even if she tried to avoid the light.
She decided not to run from the light, but nor did she feel inclined to race towards it, either. Zara breathed in again and saw the face began taking shape.
It was a man’s face.
And it seemed to be smiling at her.
The face was getting closer. Although she couldn’t quite tell if she was moving towards it, or it was moving towards her. She could see more of it now. The face wasn’t quite smiling at her. The mouth was hideously distorted.
She could hear the sound of the strange creature breathing. She wanted to breathe, herself, but something was stopping her. The face changed again and it was smiling at her. Somehow, in this dream — if that was what she was calling her in-between life and death state — she was now suddenly able to breathe again. It felt so good. She’d always assumed that in death, you could feel nothing. Instead, she felt every sensation, intensified.
She felt her hands and ankles break free from their restraints. Once again she was looking into a man’s face. She’d never seen the man before. She quizzed her memory, but failed to find any recollection of him. If this was her transition to the afterlife, surely the last face she saw would have some sort of meaning, or importance to her.
She stared at him. There was little she could recognize. There wasn’t even a hint of him being someone she once knew, even for a passing moment. He wore something over his face, but his eyes were visible.
They were the most intense blue she’d ever seen.
Chapter Eighteen
Zara tentatively took another slow breath in. I’m breathing from a dive regulator? She could feel the bubbles run across her face as she exhaled. Her eyes, now accustomed to the water, made out the shape of the man who’d saved her life. He wore a dive mask, regulator and board shorts. It gave him the appearance of a SCUBA diver at a coral reef on a paradise island. Far from the treasure hunter in one of the few waterholes deep enough to dip your head under within the Saharan desert. It didn’t matter, the man would be executed once he surfaced.
Her mind raced to where she’d seen him and his companion yesterday. But where was the companion? The diver had cut her free and it felt good to be able to move her arms and legs again. He’d saved her life — for now. But how long would her reprieve last? When they came up for air, the men would kill all three of them. That’s supposing the second diver hadn’t been killed already.
Her thoughts were interrupted by something in her hand. It was cold and she hadn’t placed it there. It took her a moment to realize the man next to her had put it in her hands. He motioned her to look at it. It was a rectangular piece of dark stone. Words were written on it in chalk.
YOU OKAY?
Sure, if you count discovering that all that you thought was a lie turned out to be truth, and that a man who you’ve never met before has just hunted you across the desert to kill you… then sure, I’m fine.
Her mind slowly caught up with her and she wrote a reply.
FINE.
FOUR MEN ABOVE WILL KILL US WHEN WE SURFACE.
MUST STAY HERE AS LONG AS POSSIBLE.
The diver nodded his head. She felt the dive slate pull away as he wrote a new message.
WAIT HERE 10 MINUTES.
He removed his dive tank, weight belt and buoyancy control device, placing all three in her hand. They had been sharing his primary and secondary regulator which ran from the same tank. She instantly found it easier to remain on the sandy floor of the waterhole. She watched as the diver took his regulator out of his mouth and smiled at her. It was a confident smile. The sort you’d expect from someone used to succeeding.
The diver then began swimming to the surface.
Zara quickly reached up and grabbed him by his ankle. The man returned to her. She wrote quickly on the dive slate he’d given her.
WHERE ARE YOU GOING?
The diver casually reached for the secondary regulator mouthpiece and took in a single breath of air as though it was something he might want to think about doing while he was on the bottom of the oasis. He picked up the dive slate, wiped off her question and wrote a reply. A moment later he handed the slate back to her and swam towards the surface.
Zara looked at the dive slate.
TO NEGOTIATE
Chapter Nineteen
Sam climbed the sand dune at the edge of the oasis. He wore board shorts, a wristwatch and held his snorkel in his hand. The soldiers, whoever they were, talked loudly in French, which narrowed their origin down to any of the north-western countries of Africa. Sam listened intently for a few minutes, thankful he’d spent three years in France as a kid.
One of the men, who wore crowns on his shoulder epaulets kept yelling about a book. Sam couldn’t quite make out the name of the book or why it was so important. He watched as the men ripped apart his riding bags, and the small amount of equipment he’d brought into the desert. They found the two Uzi’s stored in the camel bags and immediately emptied all thirty-two rounds from each weapon with excitement.
“Leave them!” The leader yelled. “Where’s the book?”
“It’s not here, sir!” one of the men said.
“It must be! Where else would she have left it?”
Sam spotted the small backpack in the sand. He also saw the footprints leading to the oasis and back around to where the woman he’d helped had most likely searched his camels. He quickly opened the bag, hoping she’d kept a weapon inside. A gun would be optimal, but even a knife would help. Instead he found a large book, bound by a leather and brass codex. It wasn’t much of a step to presume this was the book the soldiers were after. There was nothing else of value to him inside.
“I don’t even know if these are her camels,” said one of the men wearing military camouflage clothing.
The man with the epaulets yelled a response. “Of course they’re her camels.”
“No. She stole the Range Rover. We picked up a single set of foot prints in the sand. She was definitely on foot.”
“Which means — someone else was here, helping her? Spread out. Find them!”
Sam quickly buried the book in the sand. Whoever they were and for whatever reason they wanted the book, Sam was confident he didn’t want to let them have it.
Unable to avoid the confrontation, he stepped over the sand dune, holding his dive snorkel in his hands.
Two of the soldiers spotted him immediately. They pointed their AK-47s at him and Sam prayed to hell the two had the discipline to wait for their commander to search him before they killed him.
Sam smiled. It was practiced, and meant — I’ve done something really stupid, but it’s okay I’ll get out of it. He spoke in his most boisterous, and confident American accent. “Hi there!”
The leader turned to face him directly.
Sam shook his head, holding the snorkel in his hand. “Boy, you guys are never going to believe how far lost I am!”
Chapter Twenty
The man with the epaulettes looked up at him. “Who the hell are you?” The man was confident as he spoke; his brown eyes scrutinizing, and his face set to the hardened image of a man familiar with interrogations. “And what are you doing here?”