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‘The storm?’
‘No – there was someone out there signalling to us. I’m sure of it. Don’t the runners have to carry a pocket mirror with them for that purpose?’ I’m sure I remember that from Pete’s packing list. ‘How far are we from the beacon?’ I ask Mac.
‘Still a few miles. But it’s right in the middle of that.’
He points and I follow the direction of his finger. I hadn’t realized but we’ve landed on the edge of a steep drop leading down to a huge crater of dirt and sand. The crater is swirling with the sandstorm – if it wasn’t so terrifying, it would be magnificent.
‘Jesus.’
‘You’re telling me. We’ve got to wait it out.’
‘Let’s go and see if we can find who signalled us, then,’ I say.
Mac shakes his head. ‘Are you daft? I’m not leaving the helicopter. What if the storm clears and we can fly again? Or what if it comes this way and we’re out in the open?’
I look back out at the massive storm, the wind whipping my hair even here. He’s right. Staying with the chopper would be safer. But there’s someone else out there. We can’t just leave them.
‘Fine, you stay here. Do not leave without me. I’m going to see if I can find whoever it was.’
‘I don’t think you need to.’
‘Mac, someone’s out there …’
‘No, I mean, they’ve found us. Look. Oh shit, I think it’s Emilio.’ Mac is squinting now, trying to focus.
‘What?’
Mac’s right. Emilio stumbles towards us, his hand holding a bloody piece of cloth to his head. Mac and I run to his side. He collapses when we reach him, and we prop him up by taking one arm across our shoulders.
‘My God! What happened?’ I ask.
‘Don’t … know.’ He swoons again, teetering on the edge of consciousness. He’s got a nasty gash on his temple; I don’t know how he made it to us.
‘He needs water,’ I say to Mac. ‘Let’s get him to the helicopter.’
The pilot sees us and comes over to help, freeing me to grab water and a small first-aid kit from inside the aircraft. I have so many questions. Where is Rachid? Where is the car?
We prop him up, tipping fresh water into his mouth. The wound on his head is superficial, the blood making it look more alarming than it is.
The doctor seems better now that he’s got some fluid in him, colour returning to his face. Now he doesn’t look in pain – he looks angry, muttering in what I presume is Italian, before gathering himself. ‘We were driving to the beacon but we came across someone on the way. He waved us down and we stopped. When I got out of the car, he jumped me. He had a gun.’
Despite the searing heat, my blood runs cold. ‘Runner 501?’
‘If it was, he wasn’t wearing his bib any more.’
‘He doesn’t need it. He was never out to win the race. Probably didn’t want to be easily identified,’ says Mac.
‘He forced Rachid to drive off,’ says Emilio.
‘So now he’s got a hostage?!’ I exclaim.
‘And my medical kit. You must have some supplies in the helicopter, right? We have to get to Mariam,’ says Emilio, trying to stand up.
I shake my head, and both the pilot and Mac guide Emilio back to seated. ‘The storm is still too bad. We have to wait it out. Here, take these.’ In the bag I find some painkillers. He pops them dry. ‘When the signal is back, we’ll send the coordinates to the bivouac and tell them to send as many vehicles as they can spare,’ I say.
It’s agonizing to wait, but we have no choice. The wind is picking up where we are too, and we’re forced to huddle together for protection.
My mind keeps snagging on what Dad said in the car.He’s gone too far. He’s gone too far … past what? Boones expected something out of someone, only it’s spun out of control.