Chapter Fifty-Three
The Arabian Desert
And that’s all she wrote, folks,” Tim said as the truck sputtered several times before the engine finally died. They coasted down the dune they had just crested before coming to rest in a small valley. They were officially out of gas.
“How far out are we?” Ana asked.
Nate checked his GPS and then correlated with the map. He did it a second time to confirm and wound up with the same result. “Must be another thirty miles or so,” he said.
“Great, just a thirty-mile hike through a remote desert in the blazing heat,” Tim grumbled.
It was a long hike, and the temperature must have been a sweltering 120 degrees.
Fortunately, the sun was beginning to lower in the sky, though there were still several hours left of daylight.
Since they were walking, they would be able to cover ground after dark without risking a catastrophic disaster, and it would be much cooler in the evening.
But at present, the sun was intensely hot and Nate immediately began sweating as he stepped out of the truck.
“Let’s prioritize what we need,” he said. “Water, food, weapons and ammo. And drones. We can’t forget them.”
The men set about rearranging their hiking packs, tossing out any superfluous items and filling the bags with food and ammo.
They decided to take four AK-47s and the two Mosin-Nagant rifles, and plenty of ammo for each in the chest rigs.
Nate took one drone while Tim packed the other and Wally took the med bag.
They filled their water bottles and had two jerry cans of water left.
“Selection style?” Tim asked, and Nate nodded.
The meaning was clear to all of the men.
They would form a single-file line with the first man carrying both water cans.
Two was easier than one, as it wouldn’t set them off balance as they walked.
The first man would carry the cans until he needed a rest. In this environment it would likely be a single terrain feature.
He would then drop the cans and the next man would pick up the burden while the first went to the end of the line, and they would repeat.
It was simple and effective, and something they had all practiced in various assessment and selection courses.
“Let’s get to it, then,” Shane said, moving forward and lifting both jugs before trudging up the hill.
Within a few minutes, he swapped out and Nate took his spot.
And then Tim, followed by Wally. They continued that way as the sun set, with Ana walking in front to ensure the ground was stable and there were no hidden obstacles in the dark that would send the heavily burdened men tumbling down a sand dune.
After four hours of walking, they took a rest on top of a dune, pulling 360-degree security as they did so.
As they drank water and refilled their bottles, the jerry cans became lighter, and they were careful to draw from both to keep the weight evenly distributed.
The movement became easier and they were able to move more quickly across the desert.
They stopped again after four more hours to rest and have a bite to eat. “This is beginning to feel like selection all over again,” Shane said, and Nate didn’t disagree with him. They ate in silence awhile until Wally made a noise, getting their attention.
“I’ve got a group walking in the distance out there. Four, maybe five. Looks like a couple of camels as well.”
Nate pulled out his binoculars and strained to see in the dark.
He would have liked to have had night vision, but the UHD of the Vortex optic helped him to see well enough in the moonlight.
He could make out the figures, some taller than the others, though he didn’t see any weapons, and they didn’t appear hostile.
“I think these are locals,” he said.
“You might be right,” Wally agreed.
“Let them pass?” Shane offered, but Nate wasn’t so sure.
“I think we should talk to them.”
“What if they’re not friendlies? Or they pass our location off to the local shitheads and they come after us again?” Shane asked.
“Most people out here aren’t bad,” Tim countered. “They just want to live.”
“And they might have some information about the area,” Nate added. He could see Shane wasn’t convinced. “Shane, why don’t you and Wally pull out the long guns and cover us from here. I’ll take Tim with me for local security, and Ana as well. Maybe seeing a woman will put them at ease.”
“Okay,” Ana said, nodding. “Let’s do it.”
“I suppose enthusiasm counts for something,” Shane grumbled as he untied the Mosin-Nagant from his pack.
Nate and Ana made their way down toward the strangers with Tim in tow. Nate kept Kendall’s pistol tucked in the small of his back where he could reach it if need be, and Tim openly brandished his AK-47, though he kept it slung and at the low ready as they approached the travelers.
“As-salamu alaykum,” Nate said to the group, putting his hand up in greeting. He could now see that there was a man, a woman, and three children. The man led the first camel, and the eldest boy the second.
“Wa alaykum assalam,” the man responded, looking confused to see a light-skinned man in the middle of the Arabian Desert at night.
“Are you from this area?” he asked the man in Arabic, not really knowing where to begin.
“Na’am,” he said suspiciously. “My family has always lived in these parts.”
“We are searching for something,” Nate said. “Perhaps you can help.”
“I don’t think I can,” the man said and began walking.
“Wait,” Ana shouted out. “Please, it is late, and your children look hungry. Will you join us for a meal?”
The man and Nate both stared at her. She glanced over at the former Green Beret and then back at the man, who in turn looked over at his children. They did indeed look hungry, and food was undoubtedly hard to come by when traveling out here.
“Yes,” Nate said, realizing the intention of her plan. “Please, share a meal with us, and then be on your way.”
The man looked at his wife, who nodded. It was clear that he was conflicted, but he eventually acquiesced. Tim slung the rifle onto his back.
“Shukran,” he said. Thank you. “You are most kind.” Nate knew that Ana had made the right call. Hospitality was an integral part of Bedouin culture.
Tim walked up the hill to gather Wally and their gear, while Nate and Ana sat at the bottom of the hill with them.
Shane remained up top on watch while the rest began unpacking bread and dates from their packs.
The Bedouin woman spread a blanket out on the desert floor and they all sat down.
Nate first offered them food, which they gladly accepted, and then water, which they did not.
The man handed out food to his wife and children before feeding himself.
“You said you were from this region,” Ana stated.
“Na’am,” he replied, and told them his story.
His name was Hamed, and he explained that he had lived in these sands all his life.
They generally stayed dozens of miles to the north near an oasis called Ash Shafa, but were traveling south to see family.
Nate asked him details about his family, and Hamed perked up right away, introducing his wife and children.
Nate in turn introduced himself and Ana, as well as the rest of the team.
They chatted for a while as the stars shone brightly above and the moonlight cast a shadow on the sand behind them.
The man asked where Nate had learned Arabic and he told him about learning the language in the army and reinforcing it through extensive travel in the region.
Ana discussed her upbringing in Egypt and her career as a geologist. Hamed seemed to enjoy the conversation very much.
“Where did you get these weapons?” he asked, motioning toward the rifle strapped to Nate’s Mystery Ranch ruck.
“They were provided to us down south,” Nate answered somewhat ambiguously. “For protection.” He didn’t wish to relay their black-market dealings in Yemen to the man.
Hamed grunted and motioned that he would like to see the Mosin-Nagant. Nate unstrapped it from the side of Wally’s pack before unloading it and handing the weapon over. Hamed worked the bolt action and peered down the sights into the desert.
“It is a fine weapon,” the Bedouin man said. “I used to have something similar, however it broke, and I could not repair it.”
“Well, we happen to have one of the best weaponsmiths I know with us,” Nate said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder at Tim, who gave a short wave.
“No, no,” Hamed said. “I had to part with it.”
Nate was beginning to pick up on the man’s intentions.
It was a game he had played many times before in the Special Forces.
Oftentimes, the partner forces they worked with would want something, but rather than asking for it outright, they would drop hints so as not to impose.
Giving them what they wanted, if at all possible, was usually beneficial if it was realistic and practical.
The person asking received what they wanted, and the team established further rapport with their indigenous force.
“We may be able to spare one rifle, if you like it.”
“No,” the man said. “I cannot.”
“I insist,” Nate said. The game was playing out. “You have been kind enough to share a meal with us. Consider it a gift.”
Hamed put his hand over his heart. “Shukran.”
“Afwan,” Nate replied. You’re welcome. He hoped Hamed would now be more forthcoming with information. He wasn’t disappointed.
“You said you were searching for something,” Hamed stated.
“Yes,” Nate replied.
“Iram of the Pillars,” Hamed said plainly.
“What makes you say that?” Nate asked, puzzled. The old man laughed and waved his arm around to take in the whole of the desert.
“What else brings men like you to a place like this?”
“You are right. We search for Iram. Do you know anything about it?”
“Of course,” Hamed said. “Much more than you. It lies beneath these sands, not far to the north from here.”
“You have seen it?” Nate asked anxiously.
“No. It is buried too deep. Struck down by Allah long before the time of the Prophet, Salla Allahu alayhi wa-sallam.”
“I’ve heard the stories,” Nate said. The man waved his hand in front of his face as if warding off the sentiment.
“Stories? Not stories. The city is real. Everyone knows this. As real as the sky and the desert.”
“I see.”
“Why do you seek it?” the old Bedouin asked. “Treasure? Glory?”
“Knowledge,” Nate countered. “I am a scientist. I seek truth, not glory. Knowledge, not wealth.”
Hamed peered into his eyes for an uncomfortably long period of time, as if attempting to read his soul. Satisfied, he looked away and popped a date into his mouth.
“I believe you speak the truth. Yours is a tortured soul, but it is pure.”
Ana stared at Hamed and then at Nate, who said nothing. He appeared to be extremely perceptive and Nate once again thought of the djinn. He absently wondered to himself if the tales of the guardians could be true and if this man was in fact one of them. The thought sent a shiver down his spine.
“Do you know precisely where the city is?” Ana asked him.
“No.”
Nate exhaled, somewhat exasperated. Maybe this man wasn’t a djinn after all. He seemed to have nothing but stories.
“Do you at least know if there are any wells nearby? We are low on water.”
“Of course,” Hamed said. “Bir al kanz. Very close by.”
“Bir al kanz,” Nate repeated softly.
“Treasure well,” Ana said excitedly, verbalizing the translation for him.
“You’ve been there?” Nate asked with renewed vigor.
“We’ve just come from there,” the man replied. He pulled a small oil lamp from his robes and handed it to Nate. It was tarnished copper.
“You found this there? In that well?”
“When I was a boy, crossing these sands with my father. This came up in our bucket. It is treasure from Iram.”
Nate turned the lamp over in his hands. He had no way of knowing if this lamp was thousands of years old, or if it was bought in a market in Riyadh a week ago. It certainly looked ancient, and the man seemed as sincere as Ahmed had been about his coin. He handed the lamp back.
“You question the lamp. As you question the existence of Iram,” Hamed said. It wasn’t a question, but rather a fact.
“I want to believe,” Nate said.
“Then you must. Without belief you will never set foot in the city. Because you don’t find Iram of the Pillars. It finds you. But only if you are ready. And only if you believe.”