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Shock caused her to kick her legs and down she went lower, the sand completely enclosing the lower half of her body. She’d slipped further down in the hour she’d been trapped.
Don’t panic, she told herself, even as she flailed again, and the flailing just pulled her down deeper, faster.
Come on, Tal, get control. This won’t be pleasant. No need to rush blindly into this. Try at least to savor your last hour of life.
The realization that she was trapped and unable to free herself finally hit home and some of the desperate fight left her. No reason to hurry death along. And she wasn’t sinking anymore. For a moment she just rested there, ribs buried, legs gone, but her arms were still free and she could breathe. That was something.
A big something.
Now all she had to do was stay relaxed and think.
Think.
There’s got to be a way out.
But turning her head, she could see nothing to grab, nothing secure to hold. No way to pull herself out.
She drew a deep breath and felt the sand give and she slipped, not far, just a couple inches, but that was far enough.
To die in quicksand.
No one died in quicksand. People couldn’t die in quicksand. And desert quicksand? Didn’t exist. That was just movie stuff.
And yet she was trapped and it was sand.
Tally felt the slow slip of sand and knew she was sinking again, still slowly, steadily, sliding though to where? What lay beneath the sand? A hole? More ground? A cave? Why had the sand beneath her given way?
Tally shuddered imagining the very end and her shudder speeded the slipping sand. Or maybe it was her weight—and gravity—pulling her faster now but she continued to drop, lower, much lower, the weight of the sand on her chest, pressing hot and hard against her lungs.
Her pulse quickened and adrenaline coursed through her. Hell, hell, hell.
She didn’t want to go this way. Didn’t want to go at all, but certainly not this way. And the more she knew she didn’t want to suffocate in sand, the harder she thrashed the lower she slipped.
God, don’t let me die this way!
“Stop fighting,” a familiar voice said from behind her.
“Tair?” Hot tears surged to her eyes. Relief flooded through her. She tried to turn to see him and just sank deeper.
“You’ve got to stop moving,” he said, walking around the side of the sandpit, keeping a careful distance between them.
The sand was up to her armpits and weighing heavy on her chest. “Can you get me out?”
“Yes. After we talk.”
Tally instinctively kicked, feeling the sand creep through the armholes of her shirt, sliding against her bare skin. “Talk now? Tair, I can hardly breathe!”
“Then don’t talk, listen to me.” He crouched down, arms resting on his knees, white robe billowing. “I’m losing patience, Tally. This is the second day in a row I’ve had to save your skin and it’s getting old.”
“You’re giving me a lecture now?”
“You’re making life harder for everyone. You need to accept your fate more gracefully—”
“Accept being kidnapped?” Her voice rose in an indignant howl. “No. Never! This is not my fate. My fate isn’t to be trapped in the desert forever with you.”
“You’re right,” he answered mildly. “It seems your fate is to die today in quicksand.”
“Tair!”
“It’s one or the other, Woman. Make up your mind. I haven’t all day.” He leaned back, took a seat on the sand. “Actually, you haven’t all day. But why beat the point to death? It’s your life, not mine.”
“Stop threatening me and just get me out.”
“Tsk tsk,” he chided her. “So rude. Is that the way to ask for help?”
“You know I want your help.”
“You don’t appreciate all the things I do for you.”
“Do for me?” Her voice rose as she slipped lower, sand engulfing her all the way to her shoulders. “Tair, I’m going to go under. Get me out now.”
“Ask nicely.”
“This is a game to you!”
“I wouldn’t call it a game, but it is interesting. Will the American ask for help or will she sink all the way under?”
“Tair.”
“Ask for help, Tally.”
She felt wild, panicked. “You’re not being fair.”
“Life’s not fair.” His dark gaze met hers and held. “Learn to ask for help, Tally.”
“I did. I asked you to get me out.”
