Sands of Time (Out of Time #6)

by Monique Martin

  Elizabeth shifted her legs out in front of her. She’d been tied up for several hours now and they were starting to cramp.

  Outside, she could hear the men singing. Through the thick fabric of the tent, she could just make out the glow of a large fire and the sounds of men laughing and enjoying their victory.

  She and Simon would make for a pretty ransom, or so they thought. While they had brought a fair amount of money with them, it was undoubtedly not the prize these men were hoping for.

  Poor Simon. She could still see his expression when she’d emerged from her hiding place—the worry, the love, the strength.

  When they’d spared his life and taken him prisoner as well, she’d never been so relieved. The thought of losing him…she refused to let it take root. They might be captives now, but at least they were alive. At least, they could be together, she’d thought. Except, it hadn’t quite worked out that way.

  She had to find a way out of here before their time ran out. Their captors would cut their throats before they’d cut their losses.

  Way to stay positive, Elizabeth, she chided herself. She and Simon had been in worse situations before and gotten out of them. They’d find their way out of this mess, too.

  Escaping wouldn’t be easy. When they’d brought her to her tent they’d eased her down gently enough onto a large cushion, but then they’d bound her ankles and tied her to a tent post. If she managed to get her tether undone, she could probably untie her feet, but then what?

  Her prison walls weren’t cinder blocks and iron bars, but they may as well have been. With armed men outside, the canvas walls or walls of some sort of animal skin by the smell of it, would do just as well. Although, she had to admit, as she looked around her quarters, as prisons went, this one wasn’t too shabby. It looked like some Bedouin chieftain’s private quarters. Posh as far as desert prisons went, she thought, trying not to think about the private quarters part.

  The tent was fairly big, maybe fifteen by fifteen. A large hanging lamp at the center pole gave off a glowing yellow light. A small hand mirror hung from a peg and a white pitcher and large bowl sat on the floor at the base of the post.

  The room, such as it was, had no furniture, but it did have several large and colorful faded pillows with a worn oriental carpet that served as the floor. Smaller carpets hung on twine strung up along the walls like wall tapestries. What looked like they might be camel or horse saddles, covered by felt blankets, were situated on the far side of the room creating a makeshift seating area. A small leather chest sat between them. She was, she thought with a sinking feeling, undoubtedly in the bedroom section.

  Her imagination started to run away with her, but Elizabeth tripped it up before she felt too queasy. There was no reason to jump to the worst conclusions. The not-quite-worst ones were bad enough. She and Simon were prisoners of an armed group of raiders, who were going to seek a ransom that couldn’t be paid. That hardly needed the embellishment of imagination.

  The flap to the tent flung open, interrupting her train of thought and the large man who’d given the orders earlier strode inside. He was followed by another man, whose face was still hidden behind his keffiyeh.

  The big man surveyed the area for a brief moment, apparently making sure things were as they should be. Then he strode over to the sitting area and untied a small bag from his belt. He tipped the contents into his hand.

  It was Simon’s pocket watch. Elizabeth tried not to look as relieved as she felt to see the watch and suddenly found her fingernails, which were filthy, fascinating. Out of the corner of her eye she watched him turning it over in his hand, inspecting it, judging its worth.

  His grunt sounded disappointed. If only he knew how valuable the watch really was. He flipped open the lid of the small chest with his toe and tossed the watch carelessly into it. He turned back to her, his eyes narrowed. He closed the lid of the trunk and approached her.

  He was tall, at least he looked tall from the ground, and broad shouldered. He looked every inch a general. He was in perhaps his late forties. His face was leathery and dark and the hair of his short beard jet black. The black fabric of his robes was dusty and nondescript, except for the elaborate wide cloth belt he wore. It was some sort of gold brocade and far fancier than any of the other mens’, clearly marking him as their superior.

  His dark brown eyes were sharp and alert as they ran over her body. There was, much to Elizabeth’s relief, nothing salacious in the look. It was matter of fact. An inventory. He was assessing her in the same way he’d assessed the watch and making sure his property and her value hadn’t been damaged. Satisfied, he turned to the other man and spoke several sentences in Arabic.

  The other man nodded and then, with one last look at Elizabeth, the big man left. The other man watched him go and then slowly approached Elizabeth. She leaned back away from him and he stopped mid-step.

  He held up his hands in front of him. “Do not worry,” he said in perfect English. “I am not here to hurt you.”

  He looked quickly toward the tent flap, and then back to her. He closed the distance between them, and knelt in front of her. “I am sorry it came to this.”

  Elizabeth felt a surge of hope spark inside her. She held out her bound wrists. “Then let us go.”

  The man nervously glanced back at the doorway. “You will be treated as our guests.”

  “You tie up all of your guests?”

  She could see the regret and even a hint of a chagrined smile in his light brown eyes. “This is not how things were supposed to be.”

  He sounded genuine, at least, she wanted to believe he was.

  Elizabeth sighed and looked down at her hands. It could be worse. Maybe it was for Simon. She looked up at him, pleading. “My husband—”

  “He is unharmed.” He sighed and seeing her distress reached out to comfort her, but thought better of it. “Please, be patient and in time—”

  The tent flap was pulled open and one of the other men stepped inside. He glared suspiciously at the man in front of her who quickly pretended to assess her wrist bindings. The other man stood in the doorway and said something. His tone brusque and impatient.

  The young man in front of her narrowed his eyes and barked back at the man in Arabic. The man at the doorway looked nervous for a moment. The young man stood and turned to him and said something in a commanding tone. The other man bobbed his head, looked at Elizabeth in what seemed to be shame, and ducked back out of the tent. Whoever this man was, he might be young, but he had some power here and he was sympathetic. If she could just get him to help them.

  Once she was sure the other man was gone, she said, “Please, help us—”

  He looked back at her and she could see the conflict and fear in his eyes.

  “Please?”

  He paused for a moment and then glanced back over his shoulder before leaning in very close. “I will do what I can.”

  Relief and hope coursed through her veins. “Thank you.”

  “I can make no promises. But I will try to help you.”

  With that, he turned and left the tent.

  It wasn’t much, but it was hope and Elizabeth would take any she could get.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Elizabeth startled awake. In that fuzzy moment before full sense returned, she couldn’t remember where she was. A sound outside her tent brought her instantly awake as what little adrenaline she had left shot through her body. She tried to sit up, but could only manage to lift herself up onto one elbow.

  She tried to slow her heart and listen. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness, but the night was still again.

  Suddenly, the flap to her tent opened and one of her guards stepped inside. The moonlight outside cast his shadow across the carpet for a brief second before the flap fell shut again.

  She could barely make out his silhouette as he crossed the short distance between them. He was tall and, even though he wore robes, she could see he was broad-shouldered and muscular. She tensed
as he grew closer.

  He knelt down in front her and laid down his rifle. Her heart raced and she tried to press herself back against the cushions. She clenched her hands into fists and raised them up in front her. She was just about to hit him with her best double-fist Captain Kirk when she heard the quick grating sound followed by a sharp snap and whoosh of a match being lit. Quickly, the small flame lit the space between. The man looked at her and tugged down the keffiyeh that covered his face.

  “Hey, kid.”

  Elizabeth’s eyes stung as tears threatened and she let out her breath in a rush. “Jack!” she said too loudly and then added in a whisper. “Am I glad to see you.”

  He flashed her a smile and then glanced around the tent. “Damn, I thought he might be here, too.”

  Elizabeth shook her head needlessly. “I don’t know where they have Simon.”

  He nodded and looked at his match already burning down. He scanned the tent quickly and found a candle. It was nearly guttered, but he managed to get it to light. He put it down next to her and reached for her hands.

  “Don’t worry, we’ll find him.”

  Elizabeth had never lost hope, but hearing from Jack made it solidify into truth. He pulled a knife from his pant’s pocket beneath the black robes he wore.

  “How did you find us?” Elizabeth whispered.

  He made quick work of her bindings and tether. “Later,” he said. “Let’s find Cross and get out of here. They weren’t expecting company, but the guards I knocked out won’t stay down forever.”

  Elizabeth nodded and accepted his hand up. Her legs wobbled unsteady beneath her and Jack put an arm around her waist. His forehead creased with worry.

  “Are you hurt?”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “Just been trussed up like a Christmas turkey too long.”

  She shook some life back into her legs and they steadied beneath her.

  “All right?” Jack asked as he carefully let go.

  She nodded and then turned to him. “Oh, Jack,” she said as she pulled him into a quick, tight hug. “Thank you.”

  “Thank me when we get out of here.” Jack blew out the candle and tossed it aside. He picked up his rifle and took hold of her hand, and started toward the tent flap.

  “Wait.” Elizabeth pulled out of his grasp and rushed over to the small leather chest. She flipped open the lid and felt around inside. It was filled with small trinkets and jewelry.

  “What are you doing?” Jack whispered harshly behind her.

  “The watch,” she said. “It’s in here.”

  After a moment, her fingers landed on the rounded edges of the watch. She snatched it and felt along the outside of the case. Her fingers ran over the familiar etching and she clasped it tightly in her hand. “Got it.”

  She stood and Jack brushed her arm as he reached out his hand in the darkness. She grabbed it and they hurried to the tent opening. Jack eased it back and peered outside. The moonlight was bright outside. It would help them navigate the camp, but it also made them easier to find.

  He let the flap close and lowered his head close to Elizabeth’s ear. “There are three smaller tents to the left and one to the right,” Jack whispered. “Three men are bivouacked outside by the fire near the single tent, but they’re asleep. There are crates and supplies about thirty feet at ten o’clock.”

  Elizabeth nodded in the dark. “Right.”

  Not for the first time, Elizabeth was grateful for Jack’s military training. The skills he’d acquired as a spy in WWII sure did come in handy.

  “When we leave the tent, we’re gonna head right for the crates, all right? There’s a pretty good view of the rest of the camp from there.” Jack squeezed her hand. “Stay close.”

  He opened the tent flap again and then turned and nodded to her. They dashed out into the night. Elizabeth could see the burning embers of the fire to the right where Jack had said it would be.

  She saw the outline of the crates and barrels ahead, and let Jack lead her behind them.

  “Watch your step,” he said, nodding to the ground.

  At her feet was one of the men, tied up and unconscious.

  “I’m glad you’re on our side,” she whispered.

  She sensed his smile as they crouched down behind the crates. All of the tents looked alike to her. She had no idea how they were going find Simon.

  “What do we do?”

  Jack surveyed the camp and then knelt down in the sand. He sighed. “My money’s on the single tent by the fire.”

  “Why?”

  “The men out front. It’s separate from the others. If I had a prisoner that’s where I’d put him.”

  That made sense. “How did you find me?”

  Jack shrugged. “Dumb luck.”

  Elizabeth had been hoping for more than that. “Well, let’s hope it hasn’t run out.” She looked at the lone tent and the men by the fire. “What do we do? We can’t exactly walk in the front way. Not with those men there.”

  “Sneak around to the back, dig our way under,” Jack said.

  Elizabeth nodded. “And hope he’s alone.”

  They circled around the long way out of the camp and back into it. She hadn’t realized it before, but the camp was at the base of a small rise that turned into a cliff that disappeared into the distance. They skirted the edges of the cliff and made their way silently to the back of the single tent.

  Jack held up his hand and crossed his fingers, and then knelt down in the sand. He laid down his weapon and then quietly started digging. It was slow going. For every handful of sand he pulled away another seemed to slide back to fill the hole. Between them, they finally made enough progress to slip under the taut tent canvas.

  “Wait here, while—” Jack started to say and then shook his head with a smile. “Ah, forget it. Just stay quiet.” He wiggled under and disappeared inside.

  Elizabeth glanced around. The night was still. She took a deep breath and then followed him.

  The interior of the tent was dark, but some light from the fire outside let them see vague shapes. She could just make out the silhouette of a man sitting near the center post. Her heart raced in anticipation.

  “Elizabeth?”

  Simon’s voice was hoarse and dry. She saw him turn his head and strain to see behind him. She hurried to his side as Jack took up position by the tent flap.

  Even in the dark, Elizabeth could see the worry in Simon’s eyes. She cupped his cheek and kissed him.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  She nearly laughed. Shouldn’t she be the one asking him that? She nodded and kissed him again.

  “If you two are finished,” Jack said, holding up his knife and flipping it over handle first to Elizabeth.

  She took it and set about cutting Simon loose. She cut the ropes that bound his legs and then moved around behind him.

  “Jack,” Simon said.

  Jack spun around and shushed him. He waved for Elizabeth to hide as he slid to the side of the doorway.

  Elizabeth ducked behind Simon, who let his head fall forward as if he were asleep. She grabbed her skirts and gathered them up and tried to make herself as skinny and small as possible.

  The tent flap opened and a man stepped into the doorway. He held the flap open to let the light from the waning fire illuminate the inside of the tent. Elizabeth stayed crouched down. The moment dragged out into another. She could just see his legs through a gap between Simon’s arm and his body.

  The man’s feet shuffled and then he stepped forward and the tent flap fell closed. Elizabeth swallowed her gasp and held her breath. He leaned down to pick up the cut ends of rope that lay around Simon’s ankles. Just as he did, she heard a grunt and then a crack.

  At the sounds of the struggle she looked up and saw Jack with his hand over the man’s mouth and the other around his neck. They grappled in muffled silence. Elizabeth jumped up and glanced around the room for something, anything to use as a weapon. She grabbed the first thing s
he found — a metal coffee pot and swung wildly at the man’s head. It connected with a crack, but he was only stunned, until Jack spun him around and hit him square on the jaw. The man lost consciousness immediately. Jack grabbed him before he hit the ground with a thud.

  He eased the man to the ground and they all froze waiting to hear if the sounds of their scuffle had alerted anyone. All Elizabeth could hear was her heart beating out a drum solo like Animal from the Muppets. She and Simon caught each other’s eyes as the silence stretched out, until, finally, Jack moved again and quickly bound and gagged the guard.

  Silently, he finished cutting Simon’s bonds and they all crawled through the hole near the back of the tent. Once they were outside, Jack picked up his rifle and nodded toward the way they’d come.

  Simon gripped Elizabeth’s hand and squeezed it. He looked down at her and they both knew the million things they wanted to say would have to wait.

  Jack peered around the edge of the tent and started at a run toward the edge of the camp. Elizabeth and Simon followed him.

  Jack led them out into the darkness. They ran in the deep sand until Elizabeth thought her legs would catch fire they burned so badly. Jack stopped; he was far ahead by now and waved for them to hurry. He gestured toward a small dune and they scaled it as quickly as they could.

  Once they were on the other side, Simon said what Elizabeth had been thinking. “We can’t run all night.”

  “Won’t have to,” Jack said when they reached the bottom of the other side of the dune. He nodded into the distance and there stood four beautiful horses. Their reins were gathered and held by a short, portly man.

  Jack grinned. “Trust in Hassan.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Wanting to get as much distance between themselves and the bandits’ camp as possible, the four of them rode hard for the first half hour. Even then, Elizabeth knew they’d measured their pace for her. She wasn’t as strong a rider as the others, but she did her best and held on for dear life. Hassan took the lead, since he was the only one who knew where the heck they were, much less where the heck they were going. Jack brought up the rear, his pilfered rifle and robes discarded now. And Simon, Simon never strayed from her side.