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‘Stella, this is insane. There’s a mad man with a gun. My ex-wife is out there, Ethan’s mother …’
‘Exactly. That’s why you can’t go. Ethan needsbothhis parents.You can’t take any risks.’
I can see the decision warring on his face. He doesn’t like it, but even he can see the logic. He gives me the tiniest, almost imperceptible nod.
I don’t know if Mac senses that I would prefer him not to come either, but he’s already sprinting to where the helicopter is parked, not giving me a chance to protest. Maybe he has more journalistic instinct than he gives himself credit for. The propeller blades are already in motion, and with a quick glance I see the pilot waving at me, gesturing for me to hurry up.
I duck under the blades and clamber into the seat next to Mac. ‘Go, go!’ I say to the pilot.
And then we’re up in the air.
The door isn’t even closed. I’m strapped in but the wind rushes through the helicopter, showing me a view that’s both exhilarating and terrifying. Yet quickly I forget about the fear and simply ogle the scale of the bivouac itself, like a tattoo on the skin of the desert. The rolling dunes look almost benign from here, despite the fact I know how menacing they are. Everything bar the sky is in a palette of oranges and browns.
Mac has an iPad on his lap, showing a map of the area; I can see a blue dot on it. ‘Are those the coordinates?’I try to shout, until he points at me to put on a pair of earphones.
Once I do and depress a button I’m able to speak at a normal level so Mac can hear me.
‘That where the beacon went off?’ I ask
‘Yeah!’
‘Can I see?’ I gesture to take the tablet, but he holds on to it protectively. ‘I wanna compare it to the map we got off Alex!’ I say. I pull it out of my pocket and unfold it. Mac leans over so that I can see the screen better – still not letting me take control. We try to match the topography of the digital map with the hand-drawn one but it’s nearly impossible. It doesn’t look to me as though Alex’s route intersected with where Mariam’s beacon went off. Boones must have sent them off in wildly different directions.
Something that’s going to make our jobs even more difficult.
‘Holy fuck,’ I hear in my ear.
It’s not Mac. It’s the pilot.
My head jerks up. Those words – and many more like them – are coming at speed out of the pilot’s mouth. Not exactly the kind of language you want to hear while in a tin metal box high above the desert.
‘Sandstorm,’ he says, twisting his head to one side. ‘Over there. Moving fast.’
‘Didn’t that appear on the radar?’ I ask.
‘These things pop up quickly. We can’t fly to those coordinates. I gotta put down.’
‘We can’t do it here!’ I say. ‘We’re miles from the beacon!’
‘No choice.’
‘For God’s sake, land us!’ Mac screams.
The sight of the sandstorm silences any further objections I might have. It’s a beast. I think back to the first night, the ferocity we experienced. Like hell I want to be in the air during that. That sand could level a jumbo jet if it was stupid enough to fly in its path.
The pilot agrees. He banks away from the storm, but we can’t even fly back to the bivouac. The storm is approaching faster than I could ever imagine. He heads instead towards a flat rocky plain. I think the sunlight winks off something metal there, but I blink and can’t find it again. The winds have picked up, chasing us, shaking the body of the chopper. I want to scream in fear but I swallow it down. Keep stoic. The only thing showing my fear are my knuckles, which are white as they grip the edge of my seat.
‘OK, everyone, brace, brace! When we land, remove your restraints and leave the helicopter calmly, staying as low as you can until you’re out of range of the rotor blades.’
I force myself not to close my eyes but I stare deliberately through the window, trying to focus on the horizon so I don’t get the sense of ground rushing towards me. If we can’t get to the beacon, then I somehow need to get to the jebel. That’s where all the runners will converge.
I see it again – the flashing metal object. Like someone is signalling us.
I can’t think about it much more. The helicopter does an almost three-hundred-and-sixty-degree spin that makes me feel ill. My eyes snap shut of their own accord, bile rising in my throat. But then there’s a thump as we land on the ground. I wait, holding my breath, but we don’t crash or explode. We’re safe.
In a split second I’m out of my harness and through the open door. I crouch down until I reach a pile of boulders I can shelter behind.
‘Did you see that?’ I ask Mac, when he joins me.