Sanctuary: Delos Series, Book 9 Read online

  Opening her eyes, Teren stared out the dust-streaked rear window. She knew the Land Rover opened from the rear. Forcing her mind to work, she recognized it as an older model, probably a 2000. And she saw a huge, knobby-treaded tire attached on the outside of the vehicle. On the other side of the window was a small metal ladder that would take a person to the top of the vehicle. Her eyes focused. There was the handle that opened that door outward right in front of her.

  How fast were they driving? It felt like they were going over sixty miles an hour, way too fast for this gravel road. She slowly rolled onto her back and lifted her head slightly toward the seat in front of her. She saw three men, all with rifles, sitting there. She was barely able to see the sides of their dark-skinned, sweaty faces. Terror struck her then and Teren realized their attention was not on her. Rather, their gazes were all riveted forward. That was good.

  The door handle stared back at her.

  She knew the Land Rover had electronic controls. Had someone locked that handle from the dashboard? If they had, she couldn’t escape from this vehicle. She could hear the roar of the engine, the big tire treads biting deep into the road’s gravel, spewing it up like a geyser behind them. There was only one way to go on this road, and that was north, from Zalta toward Khartoum. And it was at Kitra that the road changed from gravel to asphalt.

  How far away was she from the village? Teren lifted her wrist, squinting to see the time on her watch. A half hour had passed, and her mind was working better with each passing moment. Teren licked her dry lower lip, trying to gauge the speed of the vehicle again. If the door handle was not locked, she could twist it open and roll out.

  And at what speed? She could tear herself up if it was as fast as she thought it was. She’d kill herself if she landed on the gravel road, striking her unprotected head. But glancing up at the hard, set faces of the men sitting in that seat scared her even more. She’d been kidnapped. And Teren knew it was by Uzan. How many vehicles were there? Was this the only one? Was there another one nearby? Because if she tried to escape and there was a second enemy car behind her, it would hit and run over her and she’d die.

  But what other choice did she have? Teren knew Uzan would kill her, probably behead her on video for the world to see. Closing her eyes, she was suddenly overwhelmed with a fierce love for Nolan. Somehow, she knew he would try to save her. So would Ayman and his soldiers. But where were they? Could they reach her in time? So many questions and no answers!

  Teren thought about getting up on her knees and trying to grab one of the AK-47 rifles held by those three hardened soldiers but presently, she wasn’t that strong. And she didn’t know how to use one. No, it wasn’t an option.

  The only option she had was to try to escape through that rear door if it was unlocked. That was the only way she’d get out of this vehicle. Slowly leaning forward, she peered through the rear window, which was dusted with yellow grit. Behind them was another Land Rover. She saw men with AK-47s sticking out the windows. Teren tried to see beyond the yellow clouds kicked up behind that Rover but couldn’t see through the dust. Were Nolan and Ayman somewhere behind them?

  Teren felt desperation eating through her like burning acid. Either way, she’d never see Nolan again. Tears filled Teren’s eyes and she collapsed on the floor, getting violently bumped around once more, bruising her sore hip.

  Her mind worked behind her closed eyes. A half hour would put them many miles north of the village. She knew the road well. There was a tight curve farther up the road, if her memory was correct. It was a ninety-degree turn, because the Blue Nile swung abruptly into the dry grasslands. The river’s yearly flooding had forced them to redirect the road at that point. Had they already driven past it while she was unconscious? Or did they have yet to slow down for that curve? She didn’t know.

  Teren closed her eyes, one hand beneath her head and the other clasped against her breast. She pretended to be unconscious in case one of the armed men turned around to check on her. That curve where the Blue Nile met the road was roughly a hundred feet from the river. There were huge stands of papyrus thickly lining the bank in that area. The tall, thin reeds grew in huge groups, creating a green wall that could be ten to fifteen feet high and up to a mile long by the riverbank. It was the perfect hiding spot for her.

  If she could get the rear door sprung open when the Rover slowed for that curve, she could leap out, make a dash for the papyrus stands, and hide inside them.

  Teren knew someone would see her. The men in that vehicle following hers would jam on the brakes and probably start shooting at her. But she didn’t have a choice. It was either make a break for freedom or die.

  *

  Ayman jabbed his finger toward the windshield. “Up here, about a mile farther, is that ninety-degree curve, Nolan. Everyone’s going to have to slow down. They won’t be able to do anything else. It’s near the bank of the river. That’s our chance to make up some distance between us and them.”

  Nolan nodded. His hands ached on the wheel, he was holding it so hard, constantly working to keep the van from skidding or flipping. The dust was thick ahead, and he couldn’t see through it. “If we can run up on them, we can see them without dust between us.”

  “Yes,” Ayman shouted. He turned, snapping orders to his soldiers, who got ready to use their weapons. “I propose we speed up to that point, brake to a sudden stop, leap out, and run through the dust clouds, firing at the tires on all three vehicles as we see them. They’ll be slow-moving targets, and the vehicles will be crowded together. It’s a perfect spot to engage them. And we’ll go after any soldiers who are firing at us, as well. We’ll be able to see if Teren is in one of those vehicles by that time.”

  Grimly, Nolan nodded. They were heavily outgunned, but Ayman’s men were military trained, and so was he. “Do you think Uzan has military-trained soldiers with him?”

  “No, impossible. He’s probably hired thugs from the slums. They aren’t marksmen like my soldiers at Kitra. Those hired men in the Land Rovers are outgunned. They are just bodies carrying weapons they may or may not know how to use. We have the advantage even though we only have eight soldiers.”

  Mouth tightening, Nolan nodded. “Then we have a chance. We just need to try to locate Teren.”

  “Yes.” Ayman nodded. He pulled out his Glock, placing a round in the chamber.

  Nolan was glad he was wearing a level-two Kevlar vest. Ayman had ordered all of them to wear the vest beneath their clothing. If Uzan’s goons weren’t military trained, then they stood a small chance of victory. A very small one. Eighteen men against eight weren’t good odds. But where was Teren?

  *

  The vehicles began to slow. Teren inched toward the rear, her heart pounding in her ears. She was shaky. The drug was wearing off, but she still wasn’t as strong as she wished. Her mind, however, was clear for the moment. Glancing over her shoulder, she felt the vehicle slow even more. She couldn’t chance a look out the rear window, because the men in the Land Rover behind them might have radios they could use to call the first vehicle if they saw her moving about, alerting the soldiers that she was conscious. Mouth dry, Teren saw all three soldiers ahead of her were ignoring her. They probably thought she was still unconscious from the drug. Let them.

  The moment the Land Rover slowed to a crawl, Teren jerked at the handle and gasped. It opened!

  Adrenaline shot through her. She pushed the rear door open, and it swung wide. The vehicle behind her was a good thirty feet away. Spotting the papyrus, she leaped out and landed hard on her hands and knees. Pain and burning sensations reared up her hands and into her arms, the gravel biting deeply into her flesh.

  Get up! Get up!

  Scrambling, terror galvanizing her, she ran and wobbled on unsteady feet, lunging toward the riverbank ahead of her. Her feet slipping on the gravel, Teren weaved and staggered toward the river’s bank. She heard a screech of brakes behind her as men started yelling.

  Hurry! Hurry!


  She was suddenly enclosed in billowing yellow dust clouds as she sprinted like a wounded, winded animal toward the papyrus stands. Suddenly, bullets were being fired. The world shattered around her as she dove into the thick, heavy wall of greenery, bullets singing around her like bees angrily flying and buzzing around her head. Flailing, Teren was pushed by the knowledge that those men would come after her. Her legs were weakening. Her breath tore out of her in ragged gasps. She lunged repeatedly through the stand, boots suddenly in mud, until she was knee-deep in the brackish green water of the slow-moving Nile. She pushed onward, knowing she had to get on the other side of the stand and then work to swim downriver to get away from them.

  Bullets whined all around her. They made plunging, gulping sounds as they struck the water far away from where she flailed. The goons didn’t know where she was! That sparked a surge of hope, and she dove forward again, landing on her belly, warm water splashing around her. Suddenly, Teren found herself beyond the stand of reeds. The Blue Nile, dark green, moving lazily, was a hundred feet wide and stretched in front of her. Sobbing for breath, soaked, tears streaming down her face, she threw herself into the water, striking out with strong strokes, paralleling the papyrus.

  The water had Nile crocodiles in it, and Teren knew the risks only too well. She was splashing, making sounds that would draw any of those aggressive crocs in her direction. But it was either be shot and recaptured by Uzan or risk getting attacked by a thousand-pound crocodile. Both her hands were bleeding, cut open on her dive out the vehicle.

  Then she heard other sounds. More vehicles were suddenly screeching to a halt. More gunfire erupted. It sounded like a war was going on behind her. Focused, Teren swam about a tenth of a mile and then slowly worked her way back into the thick wall of reeds to hide. Her body was weakening, and her arms felt like they weighed fifty pounds. She couldn’t swim anymore. Instead, she had to hide and hope her strength would return. If Uzan’s men were hunting for her, there would be no footprints to follow, and the water would cover up her route of escape. The only other way she could be found was by the movement of the reeds. They were at least eight to ten feet tall and would wave slightly where she was threading through them. She had to be very careful and go very slowly, so as not to have them give her position away and show Uzan’s men where she was hiding.

  As she slipped back into the reeds, mouth open, breathing raggedly, Teren’s booted feet struck the muddy bottom of the Nile. Pushing forward, she fought to get inside the thick stand and hide. The gunfire behind her was horrific. The air was alive with booming, thundering, angry sounds reverberating throughout the area. It felt as if her heart would tear out of her chest, she was breathing so hard, the drug still in her system, slowing her down, weakening her until she could barely walk.

  There were unexpected explosions. Huge ones! She jerked and looked south. Black smoke columns were rising. Terrified and confused, Teren didn’t want to wait around and try to figure out what had just happened. She kept moving slowly through the reeds in knee-deep Nile water, completely enclosed by the shielding, thick papyrus. She had to keep slogging southward, back toward the village to get help, because sooner or later, Uzan’s men would try to recapture her. That couldn’t happen. Papyrus stands could grow for a mile or more along the Nile and then suddenly stop. She’d be in the open and an easy target to spot once the papyrus disappeared. Her weakness terrified her; her knees felt wobbly, and she was barely able to take another step forward at the moment.

  Teren realized at that point she’d have to swim across the river and risk being pursued by a nearby crocodile or Uzan’s men on this side of the bank. If men didn’t spot her and start shooting, then the hungry crocodiles would come after her, seeing her as food. Teren had no way to defend herself. But those were her options. Plus, if this weakness from the drug continued, she’d drown, because she didn’t have the physical strength to swim very far. If she could get across the river to the other bank, there were stands of brush and trees nearby. There, she could run and hide within them, working her way back to Zalta, where a wooden bridge across the Nile would take her to the village and she could get help.

  More explosions rocked the area. The pressure waves beat down upon her like fists suddenly striking her body. She flinched, holding her hands to her ears, which were aching with pain, crouching as she was pummeled repeatedly by the invisible waves rolling through the immediate area. What was happening? Why was there so much gunfire and so many explosions? Maybe Nolan and Ayman had arrived. They might have followed Uzan…

  Her hands were shaky, and she continued to inch ahead, afraid to make splashing noises for fear of alerting a crocodile lurking nearby. Pain drifted up from her knees. Stymied, she glanced down, surprised to see dark stains on her jeans—blood loss, from her knees being torn up after she leaped onto the gravel from the Rover. They were bleeding a lot. Too much. Crocs could smell blood in the water a mile away. Teren knew she was in trouble, seeing her red blood slowly moving in and around the reeds, following the current. She kept pushing through the slender, thick reeds, careful how much noise she made. Her breathing wasn’t as harsh, but her heart was still thudding heavily, making her gasp for air.

  Suddenly, everything grew silent. The gunfire stopped. Halting, Teren looked up toward the area from where she had escaped. She saw several black, roiling columns of smoke but heard no more firing. All there was now was the lap, lap, lap of the quietly moving Blue Nile outside the reed beds in which she stood.

  She suddenly felt her body give up and gripped some reeds on either side of her, trying to remain upright. The drug was cycling through her again, debilitating her body and her mind. Closing her eyes, Teren bent over, feeling lightheaded, trying to keep from passing out. She had pushed her drugged body about as far as it was going to go. The adrenaline that had fueled her escape was gone. Now she was crashing.

  Mouth dry, she tried to swallow but couldn’t. There was no way she was going to drink the water; it was infested with all kinds of bacteria, fecal matter from animals, and God knew what else. Her fingers tightened around the reeds and she began to sway. No! I can’t pass out now! I can’t!

  Clinging to the reeds, her fingers slipping down their strong stalks, Teren tried to focus on surrounding sounds. Panic struck her. A croc could move with total silence and only the subtle movement of the reeds he swam through would give away his position. Had the heavy bleeding from her knees flowed through the water and now out in the main current? She was sure it had. A croc could have already picked up its scent and now be tracing it back to where she presently stood. Teren was utterly spent, barely able to even feel fear at this point. The massive power of the drug robbed her of strength and she was mentally spiraling downward. Fearful she’d pass out, she turned, weaving unsteadily toward the shore. If she did pass out, a croc could find her, bite her legs, and drag her into deeper water, drowning her.

  No! Fight! Fight!

  Teren’s mouth grew thin, and she willed herself to move her foot out of the sucking mud. One step at a time. She loved Nolan. She wasn’t going to give up! Even now, she didn’t know if Nolan was nearby or not. Or dead. Teren felt woozy, closing her eyes, pushing forward, head bent down. Every step felt as if she had a hundred pounds of extra weight on each foot. Her heart was thudding like a drum that felt like it was going to rip out of her chest. She had to keep moving! Somehow, she had to get into shallower water in case she lost consciousness and fell face-first into it; she could suffocate and drown. Fear of dying sparked through her.

  Suddenly, her vision blurring, she spotted the damp bank of the river just ahead, and water was now sloshing around her ankles, the mud deeper, hampering her efforts even more. She was beyond exhaustion. There were the crackling sounds of something on fire, and she wearily glanced upward, seeing three distinct columns of black smoke now rising lazily into the air, carried east by an unseen breeze. Staggering, she blearily focused on the bank that was so close. Teren felt out of her body, floating, her vi
sion spotty and darkening. The bank. Get to the bank. The mud was like thick, black hands pulling downward on her boots. It was a battle between life and death.

  Teren pitched forward. A small cry tore out of her as her legs collapsed beneath her. She felt herself falling. Her head struck the muddy bank. Her arms were thrown outward, fingers digging into the soft, damp soil of the bank, trying to pull herself a few more inches out of the water. The coolness of the mud against her right temple and cheek felt soothing as she slumped against it, facing the blackness racing toward her. The last thought she had was that at least half her body was up on the shore and the lower half was in very shallow water. Teren hoped the reeds had hidden her well enough from the patrolling crocs that had smelled her blood and were now following the trail that would eventually lead to her.

  *

  Nolan finished tightening the plastic flex cuffs around the wrists of the survivors of the firefight. Ayman and one of his soldiers had suffered slight, grazing wounds. Around him, he grimly perused ten dead men, all enemies, sprawled over the area, the other eight survivors now captured and with various nonthreatening wounds. But Teren wasn’t among them. Where was she?

  Ayman came over, his brown eyes thundercloud angry as he gripped the collar of one man. “Nazir!” he yelled into his face, jerking Nazir toward him. “Where is Teren?”

  The young Sudanese had sustained an upper-arm wound. He winced as Ayman brought up his fist, threatening to strike him. His arms were behind him, thick wrists cuffed, and he was incapacitated. “Don’t hit me!” he cried out. “Don’t!”

  Breathing like an angry bull, Ayman pressed his face into Nazir’s terrified one. “Where is Teren Lambert? Tell me or I’ll put a bullet in your head right now!” He pulled out the Glock, pressing the barrel of it hard against the man’s sweaty temple.