Page 38 of Runner 13

Adrienne

Sleep does eventually dig its claws into me, as sharp as the acacia thorns in the desert. It’s the deep, heavy, dreamless sleep of the completely exhausted – another sandstorm could hit and I would have been unaware.

It’s why, when I’m shaken from my slumber in the middle of the night, it burns like a thousand scratches. I’m disoriented, groggy, confused. Unwilling to let go of oblivion.

The person doesn’t stop, unzipping my sleeping bag and agitating my shoulder until my consciousness finally surfaces. My eyes blink open and I find myself staring at Boones.

‘Time to get up, runner thirteen. The real race is about to begin.’