Sands of Redemption

26

Lying on her mattress in the quiet of her room, Georgia fought against her tears; it hurt too much to cry, both physically and emotionally. Even motionless, pain ripped across her back and chest. Closing her eyes, Georgia groaned.

Despite promising herself she wouldn't, tears trickled down her cheeks anyway. She'd never felt so alone before with everyone who loved and cared for her so far away. The thought that she might never feel her mother stroking her hair, or her father's strong embrace, or respond to her brother's tactless wit ever again was more painful than even her burning ribs.

She also felt betrayed. Where were Mohammed and Khalid? Why had they deserted her when they had already risked so much? Gone, like cowards, no doubt. She should never have trusted them.

Georgia turned her head at the sound of a soft scraping coming from somewhere outside. She squinted at the door but there was nothing to see. Gingerly, Georgia turned on her other side. Probably just some desert wildlife. Or maybe she was hearing things. It would be a good thing; it would be good to go crazy. There was nothing worse than being sane in a place like this.

She heard more noise, a kind of scratching, this time louder. Georgia remained still, unconvinced that it was something more than nothing. Then there was a bump against the door, making her jolt.

'Stop!' Georgia hissed, grabbing at her ribs with a grimace.

'Be quiet,' a voice spoke through the door.

Georgia froze. Slowly, she sat up, her heart pounding. Was it Rabi come back to finish the job?

Georgia jerked at the sound of someone tinkering with the lock. Not Rabi then. Could it be? Was she being rescued? Georgia held her breath, daring to hope as the door opened.

A tall shadow filled the doorway.

'You must come with me,' Khalid announced in a low, hushed voice. 'You must be quiet, you must be quick and you must do everything I say. We're getting out of here.'

He might not be the Navy Seal she'd been praying for, but he was more than good enough. Holding her battered chest, Georgia climbed carefully to her feet.

'Where are we going?'

He didn't answer, looking over his shoulder. Then he turned and fled through the door. Georgia scrambled along in his wake.

The night was very late; moonlight gleamed against sharp rock and the eaves of the shacks; the camp was silent. The night should have been freezing but Georgia felt nothing except for the pain in her chest and the terrorising fear that her sandals were slapping much too loudly against the rocky ground.

Shadows flitted like stalking terrorists in the corners of her eyes, hiding behind shacks or amongst bushes or waiting to trip her up from the ground. Forcing her eyes upon Khalid's back, Georgia did her best to keep up—but the further she ran the more impossible it became. He was fast and strong and Georgia was losing speed and breath at every footstep. She was clutching at her chest. A pounding headache throbbed behind her eyes. The wheeze in her throat was almost as loud as her slapping sandals.

He didn't seem to be aware how far she was falling behind, flitting from building to building with seemingly limitless energy. She fought the urge to call out as exhaustion threatened to pull her to the ground. He was so far away! Despair clutched at her heart like a cold fist. She couldn't catch up and he wasn't going to stop. He was going to leave her behind!

Remarkably, unbelievably, he looked back. He stopped, concealing himself beside a nearby shack as he gestured sharply for her to hurry.

'Okay,' she gasped, clutching at her chest, the row of knives pushing deeper and deeper between her ribs.