About ninety minutes in, I notice something on the horizon.
“What’s that?” I point to a dark smudge in the distance.
Khalid’s expression changes. “Sandstorm. Moving fast.”
“How fast?”
“Fast enough that we need to decide. Turn back or find shelter.”
“We’re not turning back.” The words come out harder than I intend. “How far to shelter?”
“There’s an outcropping about fifteen minutes ahead. Rock formation, some coverage. We might make it.”
“Then go.”
Khalid accelerates, and through the mirror I see the second SUV speed up to match. The dark smudge on the horizon is growing, spreading, turning the sky an ominous brownish-gray.
Ella senses the tension and starts whimpering.
“It’s okay, baby,” Georgia soothes, but I can hear the worry in her voice.
“Everyone, hold on,” Khalid says calmly. “It’s going to get rough.”
The wind hits us first, with sudden gusts that rock the SUV. Then the visibility starts dropping. The clear morning light turns murky, filtered through increasing amounts of airborne sand.
“There!” Khalid points to a rocky outcropping appearing through the haze. It’s not much, just a formation of stone rising from the desert floor, but it’s something to protect us from the storm.
Both vehicles pull up beside it, and Khalid immediately starts giving instructions. “Everyone stays inside. Windows stay up, ventilation off. We wait it out.”
“How long?” I demand.
“Could be a few minutes. Could be three hours. The desert decides.”
The desert decides. As if the desert has agency. As if we’re not in control here.
I hate it.
The storm hits in full force. Sand pelts the windows like rice at a wedding. The wind howls. Visibility drops to nearly zero—I can barely see the second SUV parked just yards away.
Ella starts wailing, and it’s the first time I’ve heard her truly scared and not just fussy. My heart is pounding fast, but she must be terrified, not having a clue what’s going on.
“Shh, shh, it’s okay,” Georgia takes Ella’s hands. “You’re safe, baby. Mama’s here.”
“Mama!” Ella wails, reaching for her.
“I can’t take you out right now, sweetheart. We have to stay buckled. But I’m right here.”
“Mama! Mama!” The crying escalates into full-blown screaming.
My jaw clenches. The sound is piercing in the confined space. Combined with the howling wind and the sand battering the vehicle, it’s overwhelming.
I pull out my phone, then remember there’s no signal. Of course there isn’t. We’re in the middle of nowhere, and a sandstorm is erasing what little connection to civilization we had.
I try to pull up my offline maps anyway, checking how far we are from the site, calculating delays. If this storm lasts three hours, we won’t reach camp until afternoon. That’s half a day lost.
“How far away are we from camp?” I ask, leaning forward to study the car’s screen.
Khalid taps the dashboard screen. “The storm is interfering. I’m losing the GPS coordinates. The satellite signal is degraded. Too much interference. I have the general area, but the precise coordinates are…” He taps the screen again. “Intermittent.”
