Sands of Redemption

27

Georgia awoke to squeaks and rattles, her cheek pulling against the vinyl seat as the Jeep bumped and reared over a rocky road. The two men were quiet. She could see Mohammed gripping the wheel in the darkness. She didn't want to move but she knew that the burn in her throat would soon burn worse than the pain in her ribs.

Grimacing, she heaved herself up, wrapping an arm around her chest as she did so.

'Water,' she croaked.

'What?' Khalid twisted in his seat.

'Water!'

Opening the glove compartment, he removed a canteen. He held it out to her and she swiped it from his fingers. Glorious water burst down her throat. She gulped and choked, much of it spilling down her throat as the car lurched.

Once she was done, Georgia sprawled back across the seats, clutching the canteen to her chest, gazing up at the ceiling in a daze. She couldn't believe it. Had she really escaped the camp? Was she actually free? Had these two men really rescued her?

She must have fallen asleep because when she next woke it was to such an utter stillness and blackness that for a brief, horrible moment, she thought she was back in her cell again.

The lie was so palpable that when she reached out to touch the car door she was sure she could feel the cool touch of a mud-brick wall. She could have sworn she smelled sewerage on the air. But then there came a cool breeze and the mud-brick wall abruptly dissolved and all she could smell was the fresh, open air.

She sat up, shivering. Someone had thrown a blanket over her and she wrapped it tightly around her shoulders.

Licking her dry, bloody lips, she bent over to retrieve the canteen before remembering that it was empty. Opening the door, she stepped outside, quickly grabbing at the blanket when a sudden gust threatened to tear it away. Above, an amazing canopy of stars commanded the sky. They must be truly alone. Earthbound and just ahead was another star, its flickering glow throwing the shadows of two huddled figures against a small rocky ridge.

Closing the door, Georgia strode towards them.

They were talking rapidly but abruptly silenced at her approach. She stopped just outside the periphery of light cast by their lanterns and the small, smoking fire they'd lit. The two men watched her closely, their eyes gleaming. Her stomach wringing like a wet towel, Georgia eyed the small basket between them. The smell was overwhelming. She'd eaten almost nothing for the past three days. Khalid lifted the lid, revealing an abundance of fluffy white rice.

'If you want to eat you are going to have to sit with us,' he said, gesturing at the rug rolled out by her feet.

She sat down and he handed her the basket along with an urn of water. 'Have as much as you like.'

'Thank you.'

After rinsing her hands, she plunged her hand inside. The rice was cold and sticky, obviously not recently cooked, but it was covered in sauce and sprinkled with herbs and Georgia was hungry enough to eat raw potato peelings if she had to. Across the fire, Mohammed watched her demolish her meal with a grin.

Once she had finished, she took a long drink from the canteen they were sharing, watching as Mohammed poured her out a cup of tea from a small tin kettle.

Unable to help herself, excitement and hope and delight over her escape finally breaking through the shock and terror, Georgia choked with laughter. Tea! After all that had happened. Khalid frowned at her, then looked at Mohammed. Understanding flitted over his face and he smiled.

'Tea is important,' he said.

'I see that.'

'We should have tea first, then we can talk.'