she thought. Just a little over two weeks ago everything was a fantasy! We were going to make the find of the decade—of the century! And I was going to see Wayne today, and he might have changed, Jim, he really might have! He knows now that although I love him, I will not be with him unless I believe in him.
Her thoughts then shifted to Jim’s enigmatic statement about the puzzle pieces. And she prayed again that Jim was alive. Dad, I’d ride camels all day every day for the rest of my life just to see your face, she quietly vowed as she closed her eyes tightly.
Alex reopened her eyes and reached for her sheepskin canteen. Impatiently ripping the linen veil from her face, she took a long sip of water. She caught Raj’s eyes upon her as he twisted around on the camels single hump. “Go easy, Dr. Alex, not too much at a time,” he warned.
Alex nodded dispiritedly and recapped the canteen. She thought of how she’d love to be sitting in the air-conditioned Cairo Hilton, sipping at a gigantic Scotch and water. She could imagine the size of the glass; there would be a single shot of Scotch and a full sixteen ounces of water. And ice. Lots and lots of ice. …
She blinked, laughing inwardly at herself. It was easy to see how people fell prey to mirages in the desert. She had actually managed to implant the picture of a tall, frosted glass into the sand dune ahead.
“Lucky we haven’t hit any storms!” Raj called.
“Yes, lucky!” Alex called back. She allowed her eyes to close again. God, how she hated camels! She could smell this one even in the open air. When she had mounted, she had been sure his huge eyes had stared at her malevolently, and he had let out an earsplitting bray. He had, she believed, tried to nip, but his owner, anxious for the rental money, had given him a sharp crack with the whip. He’s really not a mean camel, she tried to tell herself. He’s just a camel.
She opened her eyes again. For a minute the endless sand and dunes and blue heat-waved sky seemed to merge.
Then she saw him, and he was another mirage. She laughed out loud, because of course he was a mirage, and she had conjured him because of her ridiculous conversation with Kelly.
His robes were black, and he rode a black horse—an Arabian stallion, a beautiful animal, its mane and tail flying high in the air. He appeared alone at first, scimitar slashing and gleaming in the blinding sun, black robes flying to make him one with the extraordinary horse. He rode toward them from a distant dune, the sand kicking up behind him.
He was a figure right out of the Arabian nights, sweeping across the desert with a blood-curdling chant upon his lips, a chant that rose as he was joined by other horsemen as they appeared over the dune.
He was, of course, a mirage. Alex thought so at first even as Raj turned to her again, his eyes wide with—was it alarm or curiosity? Yes, even as her camel collided with Raj’s halted beast, she thought it was a mirage. It wasn’t until her camel—stupid, stupid beast—balked and honked out a ridiculous noise and hopped and swayed so suddenly that she went teetering off her high perch into the sand far below with a mind-shattering impact that she realized it wasn’t a figment of her imagination.
Dazed and covered with sand, she stared in disbelief as he kept coming, the stallion seeming to fly across the dunes, the man part of a distant, mysterious past. She didn’t think to be alarmed at first, or even to worry if the nine-foot fall from the camel’s back had left her in one piece: She simply stared.
She stumbled to her feet, spitting sand, as the man and the mount, with the seven or so retainers behind him, circled her, their frightening Arabic hoots and cries and chants piercing the silence of the desert. The beauty of the approach had been so startling it had seemed to take place in slow motion; suddenly everything seemed to happen at once.
Her camel balked again and ran away with feet flying
Her thoughts then shifted to Jim’s enigmatic statement about the puzzle pieces. And she prayed again that Jim was alive. Dad, I’d ride camels all day every day for the rest of my life just to see your face, she quietly vowed as she closed her eyes tightly.
Alex reopened her eyes and reached for her sheepskin canteen. Impatiently ripping the linen veil from her face, she took a long sip of water. She caught Raj’s eyes upon her as he twisted around on the camels single hump. “Go easy, Dr. Alex, not too much at a time,” he warned.
Alex nodded dispiritedly and recapped the canteen. She thought of how she’d love to be sitting in the air-conditioned Cairo Hilton, sipping at a gigantic Scotch and water. She could imagine the size of the glass; there would be a single shot of Scotch and a full sixteen ounces of water. And ice. Lots and lots of ice. …
She blinked, laughing inwardly at herself. It was easy to see how people fell prey to mirages in the desert. She had actually managed to implant the picture of a tall, frosted glass into the sand dune ahead.
“Lucky we haven’t hit any storms!” Raj called.
“Yes, lucky!” Alex called back. She allowed her eyes to close again. God, how she hated camels! She could smell this one even in the open air. When she had mounted, she had been sure his huge eyes had stared at her malevolently, and he had let out an earsplitting bray. He had, she believed, tried to nip, but his owner, anxious for the rental money, had given him a sharp crack with the whip. He’s really not a mean camel, she tried to tell herself. He’s just a camel.
She opened her eyes again. For a minute the endless sand and dunes and blue heat-waved sky seemed to merge.
Then she saw him, and he was another mirage. She laughed out loud, because of course he was a mirage, and she had conjured him because of her ridiculous conversation with Kelly.
His robes were black, and he rode a black horse—an Arabian stallion, a beautiful animal, its mane and tail flying high in the air. He appeared alone at first, scimitar slashing and gleaming in the blinding sun, black robes flying to make him one with the extraordinary horse. He rode toward them from a distant dune, the sand kicking up behind him.
He was a figure right out of the Arabian nights, sweeping across the desert with a blood-curdling chant upon his lips, a chant that rose as he was joined by other horsemen as they appeared over the dune.
He was, of course, a mirage. Alex thought so at first even as Raj turned to her again, his eyes wide with—was it alarm or curiosity? Yes, even as her camel collided with Raj’s halted beast, she thought it was a mirage. It wasn’t until her camel—stupid, stupid beast—balked and honked out a ridiculous noise and hopped and swayed so suddenly that she went teetering off her high perch into the sand far below with a mind-shattering impact that she realized it wasn’t a figment of her imagination.
Dazed and covered with sand, she stared in disbelief as he kept coming, the stallion seeming to fly across the dunes, the man part of a distant, mysterious past. She didn’t think to be alarmed at first, or even to worry if the nine-foot fall from the camel’s back had left her in one piece: She simply stared.
She stumbled to her feet, spitting sand, as the man and the mount, with the seven or so retainers behind him, circled her, their frightening Arabic hoots and cries and chants piercing the silence of the desert. The beauty of the approach had been so startling it had seemed to take place in slow motion; suddenly everything seemed to happen at once.
Her camel balked again and ran away with feet flying
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