You turn your attention to the truck. Taking it is not a bad notion. It is a sturdy beast and in good condition, built for precisely these kinds of grueling off-road conditions. It has capacious storage space and is already laden with multiple jerry cans filled with spare fuel. This would get you to your objective much more quickly than the camels will.
"What about my camels?" objects Mehedi, as if reading your mind.
"Oh don't worry about that, man," chides Esme. "I'll buy you new camels. Now come on, look lively. Let's get our things on the truck."
You fix your water bottles to the side of the vehicle, load your tents and food supplies in the back, and bid a tearful farewell to Indiana. Abdul sits in the driver's seat with Esme riding shotgun. You, Sam, and Mehedi cram into the back, and Abdul guns the engine. As the sun rises over the baking desert floor, you are away, speeding to your final destination.
Riding in the truck is certainly faster than taking Indiana, but it is, if anything, even less comfortable. The truck's suspension is wrecked, and you feel every bump and dip in the ground. But you don't mind too much. You chew through the distance at a rapid rate of knots, every minute bringing you closer to the Bull's Horns and the Oracle of God.
As the day wears on, you spot several more small Nazi expedition parties, always in the far distance. Several times, the survey plane roars high above you, more frequently than yesterday.
Are they tracking your movements?
Next