Page 86

It’s Mariam.
36
Adrienne
We stop and embrace, all the tension between us melting away out of sheer delight for finding a familiar face in the middle of the desert.
‘You made it. I was worried about you,’ Mariam says, as she pulls away. We check our bearings, and for the next two caches they match. Eventually, our routes diverge for a short time, before coming together again at the jebel. In total, we could run together for a hundred miles. It’s too overwhelming to think about it like that, though. Only one step at a time. From one water cache to the next. ‘When I saw your water bottles in the cache with mine, I decided to see if you might join me.’
‘Thank you for waiting. How are you feeling?’
‘Out of my depth.’ It’s hard to tell from beneath Mariam’s mirrored sunglasses, whether she’s teasing or being serious. Something about the firm set of her lips makes me think the latter. This is way more than anyone could have anticipated. She shakes her map before folding it back into her waist pack. ‘What do you make of this?’
‘A true Boones-style twist. Although even this seems quite extreme. Did you hear what he said?’
‘Which part? The insane time cut-off? The fact we have to collect those stupid bottle tops?’
‘When he said, “Don’t let him catch you”.’
Mariam raises her eyebrows above the line of her shades. ‘I missed that. Too distracted by the camel.’
‘What if Boones has done something more? What if there’s someone out here trying to stop us?’
‘What makes you think that?’
‘Something the doctor told me. That Nabil had been poisoned.’
She comes to a grinding halt. I stop too. ‘You are not serious?’
‘I am. I mean, I don’t know the details but –’
‘Who would do that? Another competitor?’
‘I have no idea.’
‘If it is, it is down to Boones. That bastard. He would really make us run for our lives out here? Poor Nabil, his family … Even if Boones delivers on what he promised me, it is not worth a man’s life.’
‘He promised you something?’
She nods. ‘Money to rebuild my family’s village school if I finish.’
‘Mariam, look where we are. We’re in the middle of absolute nowhere. No official checkpoints. No medical staff along the route. I think we only have one choice.’
She finishes my sentence: ‘To keep running.’
I nod.
‘Together.’
I nod again.
With two of us navigating, it becomes easier to fall into a rhythm. The sun creeps higher and higher in the sky, unrelenting in its power.
With fifty miles already in our legs from the previous two days, and another ten on top, my muscles ache withevery step. I periodically look down to check I’m still wearing my running shoes – my feet feel as if they’re engulfed in fire. If it were a single hotspot – the start of a blister, a stone in my shoe, some sand creeping in through the gaiters – I could stop to sort it out. But this isn’t one irritant. The laces of my shoes feel like they’re being tightened atop my feet, the heat rising through the soles almost unbearable. The ground feels quite literally like lava. But there’s nothing to do except quit – or keep going.
I keep going. Mariam’s breathing is calm and even, and I try to emulate her. Every now and then I glance over and thinkit should be impossible for anyone to be that strong,but for the most part I stay in my own lane, focusing on my own pain. It’s not even just my feet. The rest of me is flagging too. My shoulders throb, tension squeezing my neck in a vice grip, worsened by the weight and constant swing of my backpack. The anti-chafing cream I rubbed on to the sore spots isn’t doing the job – they’re more like open wounds now, seeping blood on to my filthy shirt that I haven’t changed in three days. My legs are covered in grazes – tiny cuts from too close encounters with acacia thorns, bruises from where I’ve kicked rocks up on to my shins, and every inch of exposed skin is covered in sand and dirt. I don’t have to worry about suncream, at least. The dirt is like an extra layer, sometimes cleared by rivulets of sweat, creating mud-brown streaks on my legs – but it never takes long before it’s replaced by even more crud.
At the next water cache I swallow painkillers – paracetamol and ibuprofen. Liver function be damned, I need to do something to dull the ache. They stick in my throat, along with the salt tablet. I just can’t seem to get hydrated, even though I’mtaking in as much water as I physically can. We decide to eat some food too – I shovel calories down my throat, even though my stomach wants to reject everything I put in it. If I don’t refuel, then I’m truly toast.