I had not intended to walk in the desert. The team had special vehicles for this sort of travel. Being the head of Sun Team 1 should have guaranteed me a front-row seat in a sand bus and a lemonade.
How long would it be before someone realized that I wasn't on any of the buses? Quite a while, actually. We had six sand buses crammed full of equipment and people -- well, full of overly excited archaeologists, anyway. It is almost the same thing.
A lot of them didn't care for me. We hadn't grown up in the same circles. That was going to make it difficult to learn who had hit me on the back of the head and dropped me in the sand behind a line of boulders that marked the location of a cache.
I gently touched the spot on the back of my head and started the healing process. It took a while for me to get back on my feet, and the height didn't improve the view. I felt far too annoyed to wait there for a ride, although I kept in mind that another sand bus would be through in three days. I was at a spot with a cache of food and drink, although the sand buses had mostly cleared the supplies out. A few packets of emergency supplies remained. I could probably survive here without too much trouble. At least as long as that dust storm they were predicting didn't come through.
This was not a trip to count on luck.
I looked around and took into consideration several things I had been ignoring until my thoughts were clearer. The cache had been small, meant for emergencies if someone had trouble traversing the desert. That his team had robbed it angered him, and not just for his own sake. Caches like this saved lives.
A slight breeze shifted the sand at my feet. I had to decide what to do before the storm trapped me here with no way out. Remaining at the site might be the best answer, but only if I were prepared for it.
And as long as no one came to see if I had died yet.
I didn't think three packets of trail mix and half a bottle of water were preparation for staying or going. My inclination was to stay and rest until the others came back for me. Then I realized how suicidal that might be. I had not taken the attack seriously until now, and maybe that was just because my headache surged forward again.
This had not been a practical joke. My companions didn't know that I could survive the desert. The others knew I had grown up here, but they didn't know what that meant. They certainly didn't appreciate that I could lead them to a fabled lost city. They certainly wouldn't find it without my help, which I was increasingly less likely to give.
That still left me in a bad spot with three difficult choices.
Stay and hope someone who was not trying to kill me showed up.
Head in the direction the sand buses should have gone – I thought they were still on track – and hope they didn't get lost before they found the ruins. (And then what? Let someone try to kill me again?)
Head for home, which was a place I would not lead the others to. I don't know about human families, but I wasn't eager to lead a would-be killer to my parents and siblings.
Though they were the only hope of help I had.
Or so I thought.
I had been walking for a few hours when a bright dot moved across the clear blue sky. I blinked several times, but it was still there and growing larger.
I stopped and sat down. There was no use rushing to my doom.




