expanse of perfectly level sand, as smooth and as inviting as the
Brooklands motor-racing circuit.
Jake changed up into high gear for the first time that day, and the car
plunged forward eagerly for a hundred yards before the thick hard crust
of the salt pan collapsed and the heavy chassis fell through, belly
deep, floundering instantly so that Jake was thrown violently forward
at the abrupt halt, striking his shoulder and forehead painfully on the
steel visor.
The engine shrieked in the frenzy of high revolutions and lifting
valves before Jake recovered himself, then slammed the throttle
closed.
He dragged himself from the turret to signal a halt to the following
vehicles, and then mournfully clambered down to inspect the heavily
bogged vehicle. Gareth walked out across the snowy surface of the
pan,
and stood beside him surveying the damage silently.
'Let him make one crack ' Jake thought through the mists of his anger
and frustration. He felt his hands curling into big bony hammers.
'Cheroot?' Gareth offered him the case, and Jake felt his anger
deflate slightly.
'Good place to camp tonight,' Gareth went on. 'We'll see about hauling
her out in the morning.' He clapped Jake's shoulder. 'Come on,
I'll buy you a warm beer.'
'I was waiting for you to say something,
anything but that and I would have swung on you. 'Jake shook his
head
grinning with surprise at Gareth's perception.
'You think I didn't know that, old son?' Gareth grinned back at him.
Vicky woke in the hours immediately after midnight when human vitality
is at its lowest, and the night was utterly silent except for the
gentle sound of one of the men snoring. She recognized the sound from
the previous evening, and wondered which of them it was.
something like that could influence a girl's decision, she thought,
imagine sleeping every night of your life in a saw mill.
It was not that which had woken her, however. Perhaps it was the cold.
The temperature had plunged in that phenomenal temperature range of the
desert, and she drew her blankets tighter over her shoulder and settled
to sleep ,again when the sound came again and she shot upright into a
rigid sitting position.
It was a long-drawn rolling, rattling sound, quite unlike anything she
had ever heard before. The sound rose to a pitch which clawed her
nerves, and then ended in a series of deep gut-shaking grunts. It was
so fierce and menacing a sound that she felt the slow ice of terror
spreading through her body. She wanted to shout to the others, to wake
them, but she was afraid to draw attention to herself and she sat
frozen and wide-eyed in the next silence waiting for it to happen
again.
'It's all right, Miss Camberwell.' Vicky started at the quiet voice.
'It's miles away. Nothing to worry about.' And she looked round to
see the young Ethiopian, still wrapped in his blankets watching her.
