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Central International Airport Chapter #6The deserts of Africa by: Ninja.Tru As she gasped with the dual effects of hot sand on her cheek and a crick in her back, Jessica froze, mouth agape, after her eyes slowly focused on the easily recognizable creature before her: a desert horned viper. From her short session on desert training in Iraq back in her Academy days, she had been drilled on never wanting to see one of these highly venomous snakes even from a distance; yet, here it was inches before her. As she wriggled on her side in the sand, she realized why her back was so stiff; she was sitting in a chair on her side with her hands tied behind her and her feet bound to the chair's legs. The snake's hissing grew louder as it loomed closer and her chances of escaping it grew more futile, until a Desert Eagle owl flew down and snatched it away for its lunch. Recently returned from the edge of her death, she squinted at the image of the eagle flying away with the snake in its claws and felt that she should spend a moment of silence thanking her small percentage of Aztec ancestors and their currently convenient beliefs. "Thank you, Great-Aunt Raquel."
Next, she thought of her immediate escape and slowly stretched her hands into the back pocket of her jacket where her wallet was. Feeling around behind her back, she found the slot where her credit cards were and slipped out her library card. Jessica had not stayed in one city long enough to visit a library nor had much time for casual reading. She had carefully glued a razor blade, so small that it passes metal detectors and the grimy hands of Mafiosos yet still sharp enough to slice rope or possibly even necks, to the bottom of the card. This she slipped out and slowly tore the knots around her hands to shreds. The ones around her ankles fell similarly quickly.
Sitting up, she looked at the outward, sweeping, circular contrails in the sand and concluded that she had been dropped from a low-flying helicopter. After methodically loosening the crick in her back and thinking about the Desert Eagle owl's close swoop, she added that she had also probably been laying unconscious and still for at least a few hours.
With the sand cleared out of her hair and pockets and her wallet back inside her jacket pocket (the thugs had even left the money; they must be well-disciplined), she looked in all directions and saw nothing but sand dunes for miles. Blocking some of the sun from her eyes with her hand, she looked up at the hot sun and knew that she needed to find shelter soon. She whipped out her cell phone to try to make a report to the Agency and to try and get help. Her International Dialing Plan would work here, but she had a horrible habit of forgetting to charge the phone. As it dialed, she prayed that it had enough charge left for just one call...   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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