He stuck the point of his shovel into the sand and placed his foot on the edge of the blade, trying to push down the feeling of regret. What on earth had they just done? It was one thing to dig up old bones, but this… this was something else.
Emma crossed her arms as she contemplated the motionless bodies. “Well, shall we rebury them?”
Xander nodded. “As quickly as possible.”
“Ugh, why couldn’t they have left a sign?” she grumbled, tossing a shovel-full of sand over one of the bodies. “‘Leila is not buried here. Move along.’ I’ve seen my fair share of dead people, but usually they’re, you know, a few thousand years old. Not a few days. Seriously, I am scarred for life.”
“We had to know,” he reminded her as his shovel cut into the sand. He couldn’t rebury them fast enough. This wasn’t a sight he was going to be able to erase from his mind. Ever.
“I know, I know. Would have been nice to know who they are, though. I mean… were. What if someone is looking for them?”
“We’ll leave a marker and report it. Not much else we can do.”
The sun hugged the horizon by the time they finished covering the bodies. Xander tossed a piece of metal—silverware and scissors, to Emma’s protests—into each grave. Then they could be found with the help of a metal detector. Since the GPS still refused to pick up a signal, Xander took note of the general area in the case that law enforcement would be interested in coming out to investigate.
“All right. Let’s see what waits for us in El-Misbah,” he said, slamming down the hatchback door of the jeep.
“Hopefully not another graveyard,” Emma mumbled.
Xander silently agreed, praying he’d never have to do that again.
CHAPTER 29
The two-camel caravan wove its way along narrow paths that rose and fell through the mountains. Their light steps over gravel and uneven ground seemed effortless as they carried the humans and their baggage.
Leila found herself lost in thought for most of the day. In her mind, the shooter was everywhere. Crouching behind rocks. Stalking them. But he was never really there. There hadn’t been any sign of him since they retreated from the cave. Had she actually hit him? Was he dead or still following them? Why was he after them in the first place?
As the day went on, Leila and Amina kept looking over their shoulders, jumping at every shadow. Neither of them spoke, too afraid their voices would carry and reveal their location to this phantom on their trail. And when someone dared to whisper, Abdullah was quick to silence her.
Leila tightened her grip on Fatma’s reins, willing her hands to stop shaking along to her racing pulse. Who on earth had been shooting at them? It hadn’t been Tahir’s thug who’d escaped. This guy had a different build, more slender, and what skin had been visible was much paler. The only thing that made sense was Faris had sent someone. Someone with horrible aim.
That would mean Faris had somehow tracked her down all the way out here. But how? He was locked up. How could he orchestrate something this complicated from a prison cell? Had that woman simply dumped her in the desert to give her a head start and put someone else on her trail?
Leila shook her head. The more she thought about it, the more confused she became. But she would have to get to the bottom of it eventually. She couldn’t live like this forever. Always running. Always hiding.
The sky turned brilliant shades of pinks and purples as the sun sank behind the mountain peaks. Leila squirmed, worried they weren’t going to reach the city before dark. They would be forced to sleep in another cave that night. Having a stalker didn’t help, either. They had to avoid the main road, cover their tracks. Anything to throw the shooter off.
They followed a curve between the monoliths and the view opened into a valley. Leila could make out a cluster of building-block houses constructed in the middle of an almost perfectly round hole that looked to be at least a quarter mile wide. The rest of the dwellings climbed part-way up the mountain sides. She released a sigh of relief. At last, they’d made it.
“The place was built in a crater,” Amina whispered. “A meteorite, they say.”
Abdullah came to a stop and he gazed down into the valley. “It looks like the last of the villagers have left.”
After a pensive moment, he gave the reins a flick and rode down the slope toward the lifeless town. Already covered in the dark blue shadow from the mountains at the other side of the hole, the buildings stood in complete darkness. Not a single light shimmered from the windows.
Leila followed behind silently, the houses growing larger as they neared. Nothing on the outskirts of the village stirred. Only the biting wind that whistled through the mountains could be heard.
Amina twisted around to look at Leila and whispered, “It’s creepy, isn’t it?”
Leila nodded in agreement, her stomach hardening. If the shooter knew they were here, he’d find a myriad of hiding places to ambush them. She had to remind herself Abdullah probably knew of the perfect spot for them to lay low for the night. What part of the desert wasn’t he familiar with? Despite the attitude, she could trust him.
The path leveled out before them. As they neared the shadowy houses, they passed the grime-covered body of an old truck, stripped of its tires and bumper. The glass windows were missing, as well as the seats that normally would have been packed inside. Instead, it was filled to the windows with sand.
Leila tugged her robes tighter around her as they passed into the empty streets, the night chill already tingling on the tip of her nose. Abdullah led them into an alley, the sound of the camels’ feet a muffled plod over the hardened earth.
Withered vines crawled up the plaster walls of the buildings and electrical wires hung dangerously low, forcing Leila to duck her head as they passed underneath. It was doubtful any electric current ran through them but she didn’t care to find out.
Of the homes they passed, many doors had been boarded up. Some stood open, allowing a glimpse of peeling wallpaper and debris-covered floors inside. A chill ran down her back. They were alone, yet the place still gave her the creeps. The cave they stayed in last night had been less disconcerting.
What was this place like when people lived here? Instead of spider web cracks spreading across the panes of storefront windows, and others giant holes surrounded by jagged teeth, they would have been lightly dusted, filled with colorful goods for sale. Instead of walls covered in faded graffiti, after countless sandstorms that had coughed dirt over them, she could envisage plastered walls of a fresh, earthy color, blending in with the mountains behind the city.
It wasn’t hard to picture laundry hanging across the streets. Children playing in the alleys. People lounging in the shade during the hottest parts of the day. What drove them out?
Abdullah came to a stop, holding out a flat palm to tell Leila to do the same. Silently, he dismounted, then helped Amina down from the saddle. Leila studied the houses surrounding them on either side of the street, then swung her leg over her camel’s hump and dropped to the ground, landing on her feet.
With his camel’s reins in his hands, Abdullah led them around the corner of one of the cube-shaped buildings and into a courtyard with a shriveled olive tree in the middle. At the other end stood a flat, rectangular building with two large wooden doors at the center. He tugged his camel to the doors and pulled one open with a creak, walking his mount inside over the trampled straw scattered across the floor.
Leila led Fatma into the barn, then removed the saddle and blankets from her hump. The water trough was dry and empty, aside from a dusting of sand and flakes of straw, but the camels didn’t seem to mind as they settled onto their bellies and exchanged a few snorts and growls.
Once Leila was back outside, Abdullah pushed the stable doors shut, keeping the camels out of sight of anyone who might be searching for them.
Bags in hands and over shoulders, Leila and Amina trailed after Abdullah, around another corner, then up a short flight of steps. At the end of the stairs stood a closed door, its once-brilliant turquoise paint now peeling off. Abdullah paused, then knocked. A moment, then another, passed. No one answered.
Leila glanced up at the second level. The two windows facing them were dark.
“Whose home is this?” Amina asked quietly.
“An old friend’s. I suspect they have also left.” After another half-minute of no movement nor sound, he pressed the handle down and the door squeaked open.
