by S. L. Menear
“Maybe it’s trying to tell me we’re on the wrong track.” I turned to Mike. “I think we should RTB and fly down to Johannesburg and check out that other site for the Cradle of Humankind.”
Mike glanced around at endless sand. “I agree.” He led us into the helicopter and stuck his head in the cockpit. “Return to base. New mission plan.”
Our helicopter lifted off and turned back toward the east. We’d been in the sky fifteen minutes when one of its two engines exploded and burst into flames. Shrapnel from the engine hit a rotor blade, and our chopper shook with bone-jarring vibrations. The chipped blade sent violent spasms through the cabin as the severe imbalance triggered a rotor failure.
The pilot yelled, “Brace for impact!”
Banger reached over and yanked my seatbelt tight enough to stop circulation. Something in his facial expression told me he’d been through this before. We didn’t try to speak in the midst of the mind-numbing noise and vibrations.
I glanced over at my brother and prayed for his safety. His seatbelt looked tight as he yanked on Lisa’s.
We slammed into the desert at an angle, and the rotors broke off, stirring up a cloud of sand.
The last thing I saw before I lost consciousness was Banger’s determined face as he carried me out of the wreckage.
Twenty-Four
Sahara
I woke looking into Mike’s worried eyes.
“What happened?” I rubbed my head and got a little dried blood on my left hand.
“We blew an engine and crashed.” Mike checked my pulse. “You hit your head and got knocked out.”
I looked around. “What about everyone else?”
“They’re all injured.” He looked around. “Your bracelet has a lot of work to do.”
“What about you?” I noticed a wound on his right arm. “Any other injuries?”
“No, just my arm. I was lucky.”
“Now that we know the bracelet has to recharge after each use, I’d better heal the most serious injury first.”
I crawled a few feet on the sand to where Lisa lay. Her right femur was broken, and she looked pale from shock. Banger sat nearby. I checked him over and discovered his left wrist was bent at an odd angle, and his right ankle was swollen to three times its normal size.
“Banger, how did you carry me with your wrist and ankle broken?”
“I had to save you.” He glanced back at the smoldering wreckage. “The chopper was about to blow.”
I kissed his cheek. “Thank you. I’ll heal you after I take care of critical patients.”
“Better see to the pilots.” Banger pointed. “Lance is trying to take care of them over there.”
Both pilots appeared to be unconscious with head wounds, and Lance had a gash in his shoulder.
“Take care of them first, Sam.” Lance moved aside. “I think the lieutenant is hurt the worst.”
I checked for the lieutenant’s pulse, but couldn’t feel it. When I put my right hand on his wound, the bracelet remained dark. “Oh God, I think he’s dead.”
Lance leaned down and listened to his chest. “No heartbeat. He’s gone. Try the other pilot.”
When I put my hand on his head, he moaned and opened his eyes. The bracelet blazed with brilliant light, and soon his wound was healed, and the swelling was gone. “Sip this water.” I handed him a bottle.
Just to check the bracelet, I placed my hand over Lance’s shoulder wound. Nothing happened. The bracelet needed to recharge. “Sorry, we’ll have to wait, and I should heal Lisa’s broken bone first.”
“No worries. I can wait my turn” He kissed my cheek.
“Has anyone called for our rescue?” I glanced around the group.
Mike held up his satellite phone. “I called. A chopper will be here in two hours.”
“Yeah, that’s the downside of searching out in the middle of the desert.” Lance waved around at the vast expanse of sand dunes. “We’re a long way from an airport.”
I checked inside my large belly bag. The sphere looked undamaged, and my crown and scepter were safely tucked beside it inside a felt sack. The Eye was in its leather pouch tied to my belt loop, the gold medallion was safe around my neck, and the ring was still on my finger. “Looks like all my weird artifacts are safe.”
“Good, because things are about to get a lot worse.” Banger pointed behind us.
He was right. A huge sandstorm loomed on the horizon, rushing toward us like a thousand-foot tsunami made of dark sand.
“Oh, god.” Horrified, I sucked in my breath, staring at the monster storm. “Did any of our equipment survive the crash?”
Mike jumped up and grabbed two backpacks and two paraglider chutes that were still packed. “Lance, grab those other backpacks.”
I pulled the D-ring on one of the chutes. “We can hunker down under this chute until the storm passes.”
The pilot, Mike, Lance, and I snapped out of our post-crash stupor and scrambled to set up an emergency tent over Lisa and Banger, using the paraglider silk. We assembled the supplies that had been flung out of the baggage compartment in the violent crash, piling them on the windward side and tucking the silk edges under them.
Mike took command. “Sam, you and Lisa sit in the center, and the men will be the tent poles.”
“Okay, but first bring in the lieutenant so he doesn’t get buried in the sand. He deserves to go home to his family.”
“Right—no man left behind.” Mike helped the surviving copilot carry his pilot into the makeshift tent.
The guys made a circular human wall with the silk against their backs and the edges tucked under them, while Lisa and I hunkered down in the center.
“Get ready,” Mike said. “It’s almost here.”
Moments later, the roaring wall of sand hit us, and the tent’s interior became as black as a sackcloth. Shrieking like a banshee, the storm shot-gunned our silk shelter with an endless supply of ammo from the desert dunes. A fear of being buried alive held me on the edge of panic as I tried to control my breathing.
Banger must’ve sensed my terror. He reached out with his good hand and pulled me against him. His strength and steady demeanor calmed me.
I expected the storm to pass quickly, but it raged around us with no hint of dissipating. No one tried to speak in the midst the howling wind as sand battered the silk in a relentless attack. I remained still, listening and trying not to look as frightened as I felt. Eventually, my watch chimed. It was time to heal Lisa’s broken femur.
Her swollen leg and pasty coloring soon returned to normal. “Thanks, Sam,” she shouted above the roaring. “I was worried the pain would make me vomit. I feel good now.”
I smiled and nodded. After resetting my watch alarm for another hour, I handed Lisa a bottle of water.
Every hour, I healed another person, starting with Banger. When I put my hand on his swollen broken ankle, the bracelet healed his ankle and broken wrist simultaneously. I hugged him and yelled over the storm, “You’re back to normal, whatever that means.”
He grinned and shouted into my ear, “That means I can resume taunting you with SEAL banter.”
Timing the bracelet’s recharges and then healing Lance and Mike had helped distract me from feeling claustrophobic in the dark little tent. I intended to heal myself last, but I discovered my head had already healed. I assumed the same healing energy that had gone through me into my patients had healed me too.
When the storm finally stopped, we pushed against the caved-in silk and made a scary discovery.
“We’re buried!” My chest tightened as claustrophobia took hold.
Banger pulled me to him again and hugged me. “Calm down, Sam. I’ll handle this.” He stood in the center and pushed up with his arms above his head, straining to overcome the weight of the sand. After a few tries, he managed to lift the fabric high enough to clear a small space in the center. Then he sliced through the silk with his combat knife.
Cool air, dim light, and a thin r
iver of sand entered our tiny tent as I managed to slow my breathing.
Banger stuck his head outside. “The air is cool because it’s night now. What happened to our rescue chopper?”
“They must’ve turned back when they saw the sandstorm.” I stood. “How about lifting me out of here?”
“Still feeling a bit claustrophobic?” He grasped my waist and lifted me through the hole.
Cool, fresh air washed over my face, instantly soothing me. I scrambled out and used my cupped hands to pull sand away from the mound.
Lisa came out next and joined me in digging. Mike and Lance were hoisted out and helped us. It didn’t take long before the opening was big enough for the pilot and Banger to climb out after passing the lieutenant’s body and all the supplies to us.
A starry sky and almost-full moon lighted a vast sea of sand, curving like gentle rollers.
Mike took charge. “One of these paragliders will make a big enough bottom sheet for all of us, and we can use another one for a cover. May as well be comfortable while we wait for the rescue helicopter.”
“And we’ll cut enough silk off our partially buried tent to make a shroud for the lieutenant,” Banger said.
Once we had everything set up, we gathered on top of the black chute. The clear night sky sparkled with billions of stars.
“This is a pleasant change from that scary sandstorm.” I lay back and admired nature’s brilliant tableau.
“It’s unlikely anyone could sneak up on us out here, and we’ll hear the chopper long before it gets here.” Lance reclined on the silk. “Time to get caught up on our sleep.” He pulled the top chute over us for warmth.
Sweetwater’s Hideout
“They crashed in the Sahara?” Sweetwater said into his satellite phone. “Is Samantha Starr alive?”
“Her brother called for rescue and said everyone was alive, but injured.”
“When will they be rescued?” Sweetwater paced in front of a window overlooking the lion pen.
“Uh, well, we’ve had a setback,” the tense voice replied. “The rescue chopper had to turn back to avoid a huge sandstorm that lasted the rest of the day and into the night.”
“But they’re on their way now, right?” Sweetwater stopped pacing.
“Before the storm, the rescue helicopter was homing in on the wrecked chopper’s emergency locator beacon.” The man paused. “The signal should’ve been good for several days, but it stopped during the sandstorm.”
Sweetwater clenched his fist. “Are you saying the military hasn’t gone out looking for them again?”
“They flew around until they had to return for fuel. No trace of the downed team.”
“Are they going back out?” Sweetwater stared at a map of the Sahara.
“We decided to wait a while and see if they call us on their satellite phone.” He paused. “They can give us exact GPS coordinates when they call—save us a lot of time and fuel.”
“And if they don’t call?” Sweetwater struggled to keep his tone even.
“We’ll mount a massive SAR mission. We’ve already got our satellites looking for them.”
“You have to find them fast,” Sweetwater said. “They can’t last long in the desert without water.”
“We’re doing everything we can. The Pentagon is well aware that the mission to locate the Blue Dragon will be impossible without Miss Starr.”
“I want to hear the instant you know something.” Sweetwater pounded the table, his frustration mounting.
My researchers are incompetent. That blond Yank is my last hope to get the power diamond.
Sahara
We woke under a searing sun heating our silk sailcloth. There wasn’t a helicopter in sight. Nothing but miles and miles of empty sand.
I poked my brother. “Uh, Mike, shouldn’t the SAR be here by now?”
He glanced at his watch. “They should’ve been here hours ago.”
“Did you give them our GPS coordinates?” Banger searched the sky.
“They had our ELT signal, and the chopper homed in on that.”
I scanned the sand. No wreckage. “We have a problem—no ELT. Everything’s buried.”
“It could be under tons of sand.” Lance looked around. “No wonder they can’t pick up the signal.”
Lisa nudged Mike. “Call them on the SAT phone. They can get our location from the GPS signal.”
He pulled out his phone, hit a button, and then shook the phone. “Battery’s dead.”
Lance turned to me. “Use your phone, Sam.”
“I would, but it was in my backpack, and that never made it out of the crash.” I glanced at the pilot. “How about you? Did you bring a satellite phone?”
“No, we weren’t issued a SAT COMM.” He frowned. “I suggest we check our water rations and come up with a survival plan.”
“I’ve got that covered.” Lisa pointed at a backpack. “We have ten eight-ounce bottles of water and a lot of salty beef jerky in there.”
“We’d better remain under the paraglider for sun protection.” Lance lifted it above his head for ventilation, and the other men did the same.
Banger edged beside me and smiled.
I looked into his eyes. “You don’t look worried. Why?”
He lifted my chin. “I’m with Queen Samantha. Deal with this.”
I considered my artifacts. Which one could help us? Suddenly, it came to me—the sphere.
I looked at the pilot. “Do you remember our crash coordinates?”
He nodded.
“Anybody have a piece of paper and a pen or pencil?” I glanced at the group.
The pilot pulled a small logbook out of his breast pocket.
“Tear out a blank piece of paper and write down our crash coordinates. Then give me the paper and pen.”
He did what I asked, and I wrote a note to Commander Metz on the same paper.
“What are you going to do—send it by carrier pigeon?” Mike stared at the note.
I glanced at Banger and grinned. “Nope, I’m sending it in the sphere.” I folded the paper and pulled my little buddy out of my belly bag.
In Atlantean, I commanded it to open its hatch and receive the note. After I slipped the paper inside, the roof closed, and I sent the silver-blue ball to Commander Metz in the conference room at Camp Baledogle.
“This could work—if it doesn’t scare the crap out of them.” Banger grinned at me.
“Commander Metz is super smart. He’ll know what to do.” I watched my tiny buddy zoom out of sight in an instant.
Camp Baledogle
General Ryan sat at the head of the conference table. The base commander sat at the other end, and Commander Metz sat on the side facing the window. Various support people with laptops and tablets filled the rest of the chairs.
“I’m not ready to give up on them.” General Ryan glanced around. “Samantha Starr has many unique skills, and she always finds a way out.”
The general’s aide checked a laptop. “But, sir, there’s nothing on satellite imaging, we haven’t received a call from their SAT COMM, and their ELT stopped transmitting hours ago.”
The base commander shook his head. “They were injured and could’ve been buried in that sandstorm.”
“Or Miss Starr could’ve healed everyone with her bracelet,” Commander Metz said.
Another aide said, “Maybe Sweetwater’s mercenaries found them.”
“If the U.S. military couldn’t find them, I doubt Sweetwater’s people did,” said the base commander.
As soon as he finished speaking, the window shattered, jolting everyone at the table. Shards of glass covered the floor. Before anyone could react, a silver-blue globe about ten inches in diameter zoomed into the room and hovered in front of Commander Robert Metz.
Everyone froze.
The sphere rested lightly on the table in front of Metz.
The base commander stiffened. “Don’t move. That thing has a powerful laser.”
The tiny
hatch opened, revealing a slip of paper wedged beside the vertically mounted blue marquise diamond.
Metz smiled. “Looks like Sam sent us a message. Everyone remain still while I retrieve it.” He grasped the edge of the paper with his fingertips and gently pulled it out.
The instant he removed the paper, the hatch closed, and the silvery globe zoomed out the broken window.
Metz exhaled and unfolded the paper. “It’s from Sam. She sent us the coordinates for their crash site. They lost one helicopter pilot. The rest of them are alive and healed, but they’re short on water.” He handed the note to General Ryan.
Ryan read it and handed the note to his aide. “Send the SAR helicopter.”
Twenty-Five
Sahara
The sphere sped toward me at blinding speed and stopped inches from my face.
I blew out a sigh. “That really got my heart pumping.” I took hold of my little friend and commanded it to open its hatch. The paper was gone. When the roof closed, I placed the globe in its satchel in the belly bag.
Mike glanced at his watch. “Assuming that thing flies at supersonic speed, we can expect to be rescued in the next three hours, barring any sandstorms.”
Banger hugged me. “Well done, my queen.”
Exactly two and a half hours later, rotor blades thundered in the distance. Soon, the search and rescue helicopter came into view.
We waved the paraglider in the breeze like a huge flag, and the SAR chopper zeroed in on us.
It landed, and we ducked our heads against the blowing sand. We climbed in, carrying the lieutenant’s body and what was left of our supplies.
What a relief to be airborne again. A crewmember passed around cool bottles of water, and we gulped it down.
Lance leaned in. “It’ll be three hours back to the base after a fuel stop. That pretty much uses up this day, leaving us only two days to find the Blue Dragon.”
“I hope we find it in South Africa in that other Cradle of Humankind.” I bit my lip. “I couldn’t bear it if I fail Ross and Derek.”
