From Chapter 6: Prey in the Dunes
Page 92…
Terry wasted no time. He pulled a map and a compass from his backpack, kneeling in the sand.
“Here,” he said, pointing to a spot. “Pegasus stopped working twenty-five kilometers south of Rafha, and the fall, with the speed we had, must have carried us another five kilometers east. Heading north and correcting west, we should reach the settlement by dusk.”
However, Khalid’s sudden declaration prematurely ended the discussion. “Too late for plans. They’re coming for us.”
Khalid’s desert-trained gaze had spotted distant dust clouds moving towards their location, behind the dunes and the heat haze of the scorching desert that warped the view like water.
“Are we just going to sit here and let them capture us?” Hypatia cried out, her eyes wide with disbelief. She was still nervously tapping her electronic bracelet, in a desperate attempt to make it work.
Before they could discuss possible actions, the dust cloud from the west took on a distinct form. They could make out figures on camels approaching in the distance.
Suddenly, strange sounds echoed around them, dry, sharp ‘cracks’, like stones and debris hitting the ground. Soon, these were followed by the sonic booms of rounds breaking the sound barrier.
They exchanged glances that showed they all knew what this meant. It was something they saw in old movies, but had never imagined they would experience in reality. They were under fire from what looked like centuries-old firearms.
“Quickly, everyone, inside the wreckage!” Terry yelled, his voice cracking with terror. He felt a cold wave of adrenaline surge through his body, and his heart began to pound in his chest.
The four ran inside the hull, stumbling over the debris. The lightweight hull, however, was not enough to protect them. Projectiles whizzed past them, ripping through the thin metal with a deafening racket. One of them grazed Khalid’s arm, leaving a red line on his forearm. He let out a stifled cry, clutching the wound with his hand, which stained his suit with blood. A moment later, he realized it was nothing serious.
“Khalid, Hypatia, sit in the very back seats and curl up,” Alexander commanded in a curt tone. “Terry, put Tarik in front on the left, and I’ll put Sophia on the right. Their bodies will cover us.”
After positioning the androids as shields in front of them, they themselves sat huddled in the central seats, powerless to do anything else. The bullets embedded themselves in the androids’ mechanical bodies, revealing wires and mechanisms hidden beneath their synthetic skin and clothes. The smell of burnt circuits and synthetic skin filled the air.
For Terry, who had interacted with Sophia for many years as if she were his friend, seeing her lifeless body used as a mere shield was a devastating realization that made him question his very reality.
Hypatia, her face etched with horror, cried out as a bullet whizzed past her head. “Why? Why do they want to kill us?”
“Life here is harsh,” Khalid shouted to be heard over the din, clutching his injured forearm. “They want to loot! Water, food! We are simply an obstacle!”
“Isn’t it paradoxical?” Alexander wondered, his voice choked with tension. “They have QEMP technology and resort to such methods?”
“I don’t think they’re the Insurgents,” Terry replied, troubled, as the hail of gunfire continued. “I’m afraid things are much worse.”
The grim setting became even more chilling as a new, terrifying possibility emerged. If the attackers were desert gangs, hiding in the craft might have been the worst plan they could have chosen. They all knew it was better to die than to fall into their hands alive.
The thudding of the animals’ hooves could now be heard approaching, and Alexander risked a glance outside.
“There are about twenty of them,” he reported, quickly pulling his head back.
The image was burned into his mind: Men in tattered, light-colored clothes, their faces covered with scarves to protect themselves from the brutal sun. The mismatched state of their clothing made it evident that it was stolen: old military uniforms alongside worn civilian clothes, all frayed and dirty.
The camels, with their rough, dusty hides and an air of wildness, roared and grunted as they galloped. Thuds echoed from their soft feet, kicking up sand in clouds, adding to the sense of chaos.
“Stay low,” Khalid urged, “If we survive, we might be able to negotiate.”
Sensing his companions’ terror, Terry wanted to reassure them. “Everything will be fine,” he insisted, his tone carrying a fragile certainty. “We have supplies to offer them, and they’ll leave. They’re shooting at us because they’re afraid we might have weapons.”
Terry’s hand instinctively went to his wrist. There, beneath the sleeve of his suit, was the bracelet Rhea had given him for good luck. His fingers clutched it so tightly that his knuckles whitened.
He closed his eyes, blocking out the sound of gunfire for a moment, and Rhea’s face appeared in the darkness, her reassuring smile an anchor in the chaos. The thought of seeing her again, of surviving this ordeal and returning to her, rekindled his determination. Hold on, Rhea, he whispered to himself. I’ll make it back to you…
