And that’s when I saw it.
The monster.
Thick tendrils writhed in the orb of light cast by his rifle, there one moment, gone the next.
I blinked, disbelieving what I’d just seen.
It looked much like the Desert Flower vines I had the misfortune of running into before.
Only on a much larger scale.
Its tendrils were as thick as my arms, whereas the ones from earlier had been little thicker than my thumb.
The prison guards unloaded, firing at the flailing arms of the invisible beast.
The guards weren’t used to being outside for extended periods.
If they were, they would have known not to place their camp so close to the sand dune mountains.
That was where the beasts lived.
And this monster was the king of monsters.
I ducked my head as streams of yellow-blue lightning zipped overhead, crackling and making my hair stand on end.
I stood, shocked, surprised the prison guards were so ineffective at protecting themselves from the creature.
Only Egara could protect me.
But he was light-years from here.
One of the thick tendrils slithered across the sand in my direction.
It couldn’t be aware of me as I hadn’t moved an inch.
It slid inside an upturned regulation issue boot before pulling back and knocking the boot aside.
I was frozen, unable to move a muscle.
It was an unexpected benefit of being so terrified you couldn’t bring yourself to do much more than breathe.
Otherwise, I would be running for the sand-dashed hills and I knew how that would turn out.
The tendril caressed the sand like a snake crawling on its belly, only it was far stronger, faster, its movements sharp and dangerous.
And it was drawing close.
It swayed side to side, its tip pointed and arched, turning as if it could see—or smell—something there.
My nostrils eased open and shut, the only movement I was capable of, save for my bulging eyes.
The tendril moved toward me and rose to my height.
If it had eyes it would be staring at me.
It must sense me somehow, I realized.
My incessant screaming instincts begged me to run, and its cries were growing louder.
Unable to control myself any longer, I inched backward.
I knew it was a stupid thing to do but I couldn’t help it.
If the creature was aware I was there, I had no choice.
I wasn’t thinking.
The tendril stiffened, turning to my quivering foot, and shivered with excitement.
It eased back like a python preparing to strike.
“Arghhhh!” a prison guard said, bolting from the darkness.
He ran toward the creature and unloaded multiple shots into it, most finding their mark.
The creature flailed, retreating back, and accidentally ran over the sporadic fires.
It sprung back.
“Run!” the prison guard bellowed.
He wasn’t just any prison guard.
It was the leader.
He turned and continued firing at the tendril as it shirked from the light.
And still, I couldn’t bring myself to move much more than a couple of inches.
The leader took a break from his Rambo routine, grabbed me by the scruff of the neck, and shoved me to one side.
“I said go!” he yelled.
The forced movement created a domino effect.
Once I started, I couldn’t stop.
I ran.
Lessons from a distant—and I thought forgotten—gym class suddenly became the most important lesson I had ever learned.
How to run efficiently.
I pulled my arms back, encouraging my legs to stretch as far as they could.
I held my head high, my neck long, and breathed in through the nose and out through the mouth in a circular pattern.
The sand turned blurry beneath my feet as I passed over it.
I never lost my feet, not even once.
A real wonder for me.
Before long, my breaths rasped in my throat and my body ached.
I didn’t stop.
I wouldn’t stop.
Already I could feel the pleasant effects of making love to Egara wearing off.
Soon, I wouldn’t have enough oxygen to power my lungs never mind my muscles.
I wished I could reach the prison and the safety of its impenetrable walls.
Funny how obstruction could suddenly become protection.
I checked over my shoulder, just once, and noticed the roaring fires were now nothing more than tiny islands in a vast and endless ocean of darkness.
I had run so far, so fast, I hadn’t taken notice of where I was heading.
Surely the tendrils couldn’t reach this far?
I slowed, my lungs already aching.
I placed my hands on my head to expand my lungs the way Egara had taught me.
The breaths rasped loudly, already hoarse.
I had no idea how long I’d been running.
I didn’t know if having my hands on my head like this was helping or hindering.
Black spots danced before my eyes, a sure sign of an impending headache, but I would take it over the fate of the prison guards any day.
Right now, they were being dragged across the sand toward a creature that would swallow them whole… and then slowly digested for countless years.
The thought alone made my skin crawl.
Then I heard it.
A shout for help.
It came from my left, invisible in the darkness.
Still, the moons weaved between the charcoal grey clouds like they were traversing a slalom course, illuminating only tiny patches of wind-swept sand dunes.
Had I imagined it?
The silence pressed in, turning the desert silent once more.
I didn’t know what was scarier; the shouts of a man fighting for his life or the silence immediately after it.
I decided I must have imagined it and turned to continue walking—I dared not run in case I lost my breath again.
I still hadn’t fully recovered from my earlier exertion.
Then that shout came again.
Louder, clearer.
Closer?
I was in two minds about what to do next.
The shout wasn’t part of my imagination.
It was real.
And it was happening right now.
To a prison guard intent on dragging me back to the prison.
Should I help them?
Could I help them?
Before I knew what I was doing, I began to walk toward the voice.
It developed into a slow and steady jog.
The cry for help came clearer now but I was heading in the wrong direction.
I turned and kept moving.
Here, I thought.
The voice came from around here.
I peered at the pool of darkness but saw
