The Expeditioners and the Lost City of Maps by S. S. Taylor

Author:S. S. Taylor [Taylor, S. S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlow Brook Books

14

I woke up to find Kemal sleeping next to me on the floor of a small room. There was a brightly colored carpet on the ground and we were sleeping on piles of blankets, with thin sheets pulled over us. The room smelled of vanilla and cinnamon.

Not a room, I realized as I looked around, but a tent. A very large tent. The light was low but I could see the folds of fabric held up by a central tent pole. My vision was a bit blurry and I became immediately aware that my hands and feet hurt. I sat up as much as I could and heard voices in some other part of the tent. In the distance, I could see forms moving and hear the low murmur of voices speaking a language I didn’t think I recognized. I immediately checked for my vest and backpack and found the familiar shapes next to me on the red carpets covering the floor. I listened to see if the sandstorm was still raging outside, but it was quiet.

“Kemal,” I whispered. “Kemal. Wake up.”

I reached over to shake him and he groaned before opening his eyes and staring at me with a terrified expression on his face. His eyes were bloodshot, the skin around them red and raw. I realized that mine probably looked the same and I realized why my vision was blurry.

“Where are we?” he whispered.

“I don’t know. Some kind of tent.”

“They must have rescued us.” He took a deep breath, then shuddered. My lungs hurt every time I breathed too. When I looked down at my hands, I could see that they were raw and rashy from the sand.

Before we could say anything else, a woman dressed in long red robes came over holding a copper cup.

She held it to Kemal’s lips and he took a sip.

Then she held it to mine.

“Who are you? Where are we?” I asked her.

“Shhhhhhh.” She put the cup to my lips again and I drank. This time it was just cold water and one sip made me realize how thirsty I was. I had another long gulp before she helped Kemal have another drink. Then she said something in a language I didn’t understand and a man came over to join her, kneeling down beside us.

“Where are we?” I asked them. I was nervous, but not afraid. There was something kind about their faces and my instincts told me they were friends, though my training told me to have one hand on my vest and backpack in case I needed to run or defend myself.

“How are you feeling?” the man asked us in English.

“Everything hurts,” I told him.

“It’s the sand. During a sandstorm, the wind turns little grains of sand into needles. It is terrible. It has happened to me.”

Suddenly, I remembered Bob and Andrew. I sat up. “Our Dab Lizards. Did you see our Dab Lizards?”

The man looked confused. “Dabs? No. We found the two of you just outside. I heard shouting and I went out and there you were.

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