Sandstorm

8:44 P.M.

PINNED INthe alley, Safia stood between Painter and Cassandra. Ahead, Kane pointed his gun. Everyone had frozen for half a breath as the helicopter exploded behind them.

“Shoot him,” Cassandra repeated, staying focused.

“No!” Safia attempted to step around Painter, to shield him. Every movement flamed her shoulder. Blood ran down her arm. “Kill him and I won’t help you! You’ll never discover the secret at Ubar!”

Painter held her back, protecting her from Kane.

Cassandra pushed through the hedge. “Kane, you have your order.”

Safia glanced between the two armed assailants. She spotted a shift of shadows behind the man. Something rose from a crouch, sharing the crest of the wall. Eyes shone a feral red.

Painter tensed beside her.

With a growled roar, the leopard pounced on Kane. His pistol fired. Safia felt the shot whistle past her ear and strike the dirt with a thud. Man and cat tumbled off the wall, into the prayer room beyond.

Painter ducked, grabbed Safia’s arm, and swung her behind him as he turned to face Cassandra. He had a second pistol in his free hand.

He fired.

Cassandra leaped backward, crashing through the bushes. The bullet missed, clipping the corner of the tomb. She ducked to the side.

Next door, screams arose-bloody and sharp. It was impossible to discern man from beast.

Bullets ricocheted off the sandstone walls as Cassandra returned fire, staying low around the corner, shooting through the bushes. Painter pushed Safia against the tomb’s wall, out of direct line of fire…at least for the moment.

“Make for the outer wall,” he urged, and shoved her down the alley.

“What about you?”

“She’ll follow us. The slope’s too exposed.” He intended to hold Cassandra at bay.

“But you-”

“Goddamnit, go! ” He pushed her harder.

Safia stumbled down the alley. The sooner she reached safety, the sooner Painter could make his own escape. So she justified it in her head. But a part of her knew she was simply running for her own life. With each step, her shoulder throbbed, protesting her cowardly flight. Still, she kept going.

The exchange of gunfire continued.

In the neighboring ruins of the prayer room, all had gone deathly quiet, the fate of Kane unknown. More gunfire erupted from the parking lot. A helicopter flashed low overhead, whipping up the rain with its rotor wash.

Reaching the end of the alleyway, Safia lunged across the wet gardens toward the far wall. It was only four feet high, but with her wounded shoulder, she feared she’d never make it over. Blood soaked through the shirt.

From beneath a baobab tree, a camel appeared on the far side of the wall. It moved to meet her. It seemed to be the same camel that had sauntered past the tomb’s door earlier. In fact, it had the same companion: the naked woman.

Only now she rode atop the camel.

Safia didn’t know whether to trust the stranger or not, but if Cassandra shot at her, then the woman had to be on her side. The enemy of my enemy…

The stranger offered her arm as Safia reached the wall-then spoke. It wasn’t Arabic or English. Yet Safia understood it-not because she had studied the language, which she had, but because it seemed to translate through her skull on its own.

“Welcome, sister,” the stranger said in Aramaic, the dead language of this land. “Be at peace.”

Safia reached for the woman’s hand. Fingers gripped hers, hard and strong. She felt herself pulled up effortlessly. Pain lanced out, shooting down her wounded arm. A cry escaped her. Blackness closed her vision to a pinpoint.

“Peace,” the woman repeated softly.

Safia felt the word wash over her, through her, taking pain and the world with it. She slumped and slipped away.