Thirty minutes later, your truck is stationary, parked upon a high eminence with views all around across the lifeless desert. You and your companions are out on the sands, stretching your aching, sweat-sodden limbs.
You scan the horizon behind you with your binoculars. No signs of pursuit. "I think we're clear," you say.
Abdul has a map spread out over the hood of the truck and is studying it closely. "We cannot go back to Jerusalem," he says. "They will be looking for us there. But Amman is north of here, and not too far. If we set off now and make good time, we could be there by midnight."
Abdul takes driving duty. Sam sits in the front passenger seat and falls asleep almost as soon as you set off. You and Esme sit together on the back seat, initially in silence, reflecting on your remarkable adventure.