Boilerplate Disclaimer: The various characters from the Kim Possible series are all owned by Disney. Any and all registered trade names property of their respective owners.

While I've read on Egyptian food on various websites a special thank-you goes to RonHeartbreaker for his amazing, and thoroughly disgusting description of eating molokhia.

Day 7: Points of Convergence

As Kim feared, one person could wake up and hike ten miles before ten people could get up, get organized, and hike one mile. With the whole expedition together it looked like they would be off to an even later start this morning. It seemed like a larger percentage of the soldiers were still in their tents when she emerged from hers

Most the devout were out, facing Mecca for their morning prayers. As the small group prayed together LaTisha found Dr. Farouk smoking a cigarette.

"You don't pray?" she asked.

He smiled, "I believe that God will hear my prayers even if I do not prostrate myself or face Mecca."

"Oh, sorry," she apologized. "So, I interrupted your prayers?"

He dropped the cigarette butt and ground it out with his heel - although there was no danger of it starting a fire. "Not at all," he told her, "I wasn't praying."

"But you said--"

"I said," he reminded her, "that Allah hears prayer regardless of where I face or the position of my body. Doesn't mean I was praying. Good morning, Ms Jackson." He moved off in the direction of the camp kitchen.

LaTisha followed him with her eyes; he was an interesting man - handsome and hard to get. At least he remembered her name. She smiled, knowing she would get him. LaTisha did not accept failure as an option, but was willing to accept success lying down.

Ron had been adopted by the cooks and helped with the camp kitchen, studying Abdul's techniques and recipes. With more ingredients to chose from not even LaTisha could complain about a lack of choice. In addition to the Egyptian foods Ron prepared a sort of scrambled eggs from dehydrated eggs and gibna beida, a local cheese similar to feta. While most of the Egyptians turned up their noses at the sight LaTisha, Jake and the GJ agents filled their plates with eggs and a salad primarily made of chopped tomatoes and cucumbers.

Colonel Abbas asked Kim, Will, and Dr. Kemal to join him and the other Egyptian officers for breakfast. The Colonel smiled and nodded at Kim, "We went further yesterday than I had hoped. Too many of my men want to know the least they can do. You seek to find how much you can do. They do not want to let a woman show she is stronger."

The praise embarrassed Kim, who shrugged it off, and annoyed Will who didn't approve of compliments being given for poorly following orders.

"I would like you to take the lead again today, if you wish," Abbas told her. "Two more days like yesterday and we should make the center of this… this… whatever this is and begin seeking the source."

"That would be wonderful," Kim told him. "Much as I enjoy seeing your country, there's no place like home."

"Take the men who were with you, or ask for volunteers. Leave your packs here—"

"Excuse me, Colonel, but if I don't carry a pack the men may think I am traveling faster because it is easier for me and they might complain."

The colonel laughed and said something in Arabic to the officers seated around him.

"He wishes he had more men like the American woman," Mustapha whispered.


The Chinese drank the last of their water at breakfast. Without working compasses or other ways to plot their position accurately, and using maps that didn't show sufficient detail they were worried whether they could get out of the desert.

Quon consulted Jun and the oldest Chang. His best guess is that they were about five kilometers from the nearest village. It would be a thirsty hike, but by no means impossible if they had some good fortune in finding a way through the rocky terrain; and if they could find the tiny village at the edge of the desert without compasses or anything else to help guide them.


"But I was going to make cinnamon rolls!" Drakken complained in the Team Possible II camp.

"Sorry, Doc, but we got a late start yesterday waitin' for the biscuits. How 'bout we have the cinnamon rolls for dessert tonight?" Joss suggested.

"I had my heart set on cinnamon rolls," he grumbled.

"Move your butts, people," Jim called. "Let's get moving before it gets too hot. We don't need cinnamon rolls."

"If that's going to be his attitude, I'll eat his tonight," Tim said, shouldering his pack. "I'll dream about them all day. Your hand okay, Joss?"

She rubbed the bandage on her hand, "Pretty much fine. Glad Doc has the medicine. Never saw whether it was one of the yellow scorpions or not, but it hurt."

Wade wanted to tell her to be careful as she climbed the rocks, but kept his mouth shut.


Shego woke up well before dawn. She suspected the watches they'd been given were old, going back to the days of radium paint. It was fifteen or twenty minutes before people were expected to get up. Not long enough to try and get back to sleep. Bored she tried to think of something to amuse herself. She guessed a couple of the Special Ops pairs were awake also. An evil grin crossed her face and she began to moan softly, just loud enough to be heard outside the tent while sounding like she didn't want to be heard at all. "Oh yeah… Oh yeah… Right there… Ah… Oh yeah…" She planned on about two minutes of that before a louder, "What, already?" in a disgusted voice.

Donner, however, woke up and, not knowing he was supposed to be a lousy lover, joined in. He slapped his hand against his thigh to the rhythm of her moans and grunted quietly, "Oh, God, you're incredible… Uh… Uh… You're the best… Oh, God… Oh, God…"

Shego could barely keep from laughing, but wasn't about to end the game prematurely while someone was calling her the best. After what seemed like a sufficient time Shego let out a long moan, "Go ahead," she purred.

Donner added three more slaps to his thigh, then ended his grunts with a long groan. "You're great," he said just loud enough to be heard outside the tent. Then dropping to a quieter whisper that could not be heard outside the tent, "Thanks, that helps."

"Helps?" she whispered back.

"If I complain about sore muscles today they get envious rather than thinking I'm a weakling."

Shego shook her head in amusement at the way the male mind worked. "Close your eyes, I'm getting out of here."

The abilities of the Special Ops men impressed Donner, but they talked far too much for the intelligence agent to feel comfortable around them.

Shego discovered that she was not as badly out of shape as she feared. She worked out the minor soreness of the first day and now felt ready for another day's hike.


The Russians began the day in good spirits. Without the tools they were accustomed to use to locate their position they could not be certain, but they hoped by the end of the day to reach the center of the phenomenon. Even without Leslie's aid they might find what they were looking for the next day.

"You will receive no food today," Dmitr told the Englishman. "A little hunger might encourage your cooperation."


In the early afternoon the SERE forces reached the US party as they took a break in the hottest part of the day. They headed back immediately after dropping off supplies and the latest satellite images. Traveling in the hottest part of the day was a pain, but they had air-conditioning and iced drinks to look forward to once they were back on board ship. They also had a well laid out path laid out for them which made their work much easier.

Donner, Doc, and Sleepy looked over the satellite maps as they rested in the shade. The Egyptian camp showed clearly. Donner cursed the fact the Egyptians were making better time than he had anticipated. They searched the images to try and find anyone else who might be in the race. They guessed whoever had Atwood-Long was on the ground somewhere. If it was a small group, such as their own, it might not be visible from space. They each found a nominee for another group in the field, but saw nothing definite.


Quon tried to make the men rest in the early afternoon. They had been unable to travel as far, or in the direction he wanted, that morning. He and the eldest Chang sat in the shade of a large rock while the others insisted on scouting ahead in hopes of seeing signs of the village which Quon felt would be too far for them to find.

"+We are going to die, aren't we?+" Chang asked.

"+We will all die, someday+" Quon reminded him.

"+But our time will be now, and the place here.+" Chang insisted.

Quon sighed, "+I fear you are right.+"

As they waited for the sun to go down a little before trying to push on they heard a gun shot. Startled they arose and went to find the source of the sound.

Two camels and drivers were heading west as Quon and Chang rounded an escarpment. As they got further into the open they saw the rest of their party with some sort of supplies and another camel and driver heading east.

Liang waved a bottle of water, "+Come, drink!+"

"+What happened,"+ Quon demanded, "+who fired a shot?+"

"+I did+" the youngest Chang answered. "+They carried some sort of supplies. Some food, and a lot of water! We are in good shape now.+"

"+We are in bad shape now+" Quon grumbled. "+They might have given us water. They are peasants like ourselves, they would not have let us die. And we could have gone to their village. Now we will be greeted with guns if we go there.+"

"+We should follow them," the middle Chang suggested, "+even if we are arrested we will live.+"

"+The map says the other village is close+" Liang argued. "+We have supplies enough now to reach it. We are less likely to be greeted with guns there. Let them arrest us if they wish - at least we will live.+"

Quon wondered if they could find the village to the north. He looked to the west, but already the two camels were out of sight. "+Eat, drink+" he told the others. "+We will try to find the village to the north. And we must move quickly in case the men you robbed come back with weapons.+"


In the main body of the Egyptian expedition Will thought he heard a shot being fired. With the noise of the army on the move, however, he realized he could not be certain.


No longer hauling supplies, and with the fear of being shot, the camels and their drivers who had been heading for the Russians traveled quickly. The Egyptian with the best English went to tell Dmitr about what happened - it would demonstrate their good faith when he returned to the crazy man in the village with the password to prove they had tried to deliver the supplies. The other drivers made it back to the village. Mikhal at first thought they were lying and considered shooting one. But one of their number had not returned, and Mikhal's priorities demanded the men in the field receive the supplies they needed. Within twenty minutes of the Egyptians' return to their village four men on camels headed back to the desert. Two camels carried Egyptians and more supplies. The two other camels carried the rest of the supplies and two Russian thugs, perhaps more frightened than they had been in their lives as their strange mounts moved with a gait they had never experienced and which they feared would pitch them from the high backs of the dromedaries.


The Russian expedition did not have a good day. They had started with a large lead, but today's rocky landscape appeared impenetrable, at least in the most direct line they wished to travel. Further the note from Mikhal yesterday warned that the Egyptians had begun their search. While the Egyptians would be slowed by their own numbers and not enough preparation they still represented a major problem and would make it difficult to remove any alien technology. The Russians, like the Americans, were prepared to destroy whatever was out there to insure it did not fall into enemy hands.

They spent the morning in futile search for a passage wide enough to allow their supplies through. Misha discovered a rift in the rocks a man might get through, but not a camel carrying supplies.

By noon they had given up on finding a direct route.

"+Joseph, Vlad, you two will stay here with the prisoner and wait for supplies. Boris, Misha, look for an opening to the north. Gregorii and I will check the south+" Dmitr told them. "+We will meet here again at three.+"

"+We are going out in the hottest part of the day?+" Misha protested.

Gregorii glared at Misha and grumbled something about a coward.

"+We must keep our lead+" Dmitr told them. "+We can not let another nation find a weapon that kills all communication.+" The Russian leader hated the thought of exploring with Gregorii, but feared the man might attempt to bully any of the other men. Dmitr would no let himself be pushed around.

At three in the afternoon Dmitr and Gregorii returned to camp without having found any passage. They hoped Boris and Misha had better luck. But first Dmitr had to know why a single camel stood by their meeting point, with no supplies on its back.

The men were under orders to never speak Russian in front of the prisoner. "We have been robbed of our supplies," Vlad said glumly.

"They had guns," the Egyptian insisted. "Fired gun, took your supplies. It was not our fault."


At the Team Possible camp they argued over the source of the mysterious power as the cinnamon rolls cooked.

"Got one of Maxwell's demons working for them is my guess," Tim suggested. "Generating power from the heat differential."

"No way," Jim scoffed. "Those things consume more energy than they produce."

"We're not dealing with one our engineers made," Tim argued. "Some sort of permeable membrane that only allows warmer molecules of air to enter one side and cooler molecules the other.

"Not get enough power that way--" Wade grunted.

"Power from radioactive decay," Jim interrupted.

"Too conventional," Wade replied. "It uses some force we've never tapped for power. I'm going with the earth's magnetic field."

"Ha!" Drakken interjected, "you accuse the twins of being too conventional? It wouldn't be so incompatible with human technology if it used--"

"That's the source of the power," Wade insisted. "It gets converted into something we don't understand."

"Gravity," Drakken insisted. "It draws on gravity to produce power."

"Crazy talk," Jim muttered. "You can't get any power from gravity."

"We can't," Drakken agreed, "but as your brother wisely pointed out we aren't dealing with human technology. Joss, you want to add a theory of your own or tell us which theory you think is best?"

"Hmm," Joss pondered a minute, "Well, we won't know nothin' 'til we really find it. Heck, I don't know if we'll know much then. But right now I'm guessin' that Doc has the best answer."

"You're just saying that 'cause there're five of us and twelve rolls," Jim insisted. "You're hoping for a third."

"You said you didn't care about cinnamon rolls this morning," Tim reminded him. "I say the other four of us get three each."

They argued about that until Drakken pronounced the rolls done. He and Joss each had three of the small treats.

"Glad we got Doc along," Joss said as she licked her fingers, "otherwise we'd just be eatin' beans."

"It's a royal pain sharing a tent with Tim, too many beans this trip," Jim grumbled.

"Oh yeah, like smelling you is anyone's idea of fun," his brother shot back.

"Oh, remember that scene in Blazing Saddles," Jim demanded.

Wade made a face, "God help us if we've been reduced to that."

Tim wouldn't drop the idea Jim brought up, "Hey, Doc, did you ever hear of the movie Blazing Saddles?"

"I'll have you know," Drakken replied in a haughty tone, "that I saw it in a movie theater. A theater with a single huge screen."

The others looked at him, trying to imagine how that worked. "So, did they show different movies on different parts of the screen?" Tim asked.

"No, there was one movie in a theater. It was shown on a big screen."

"Wow," Jim murmured, "you really are old."

"Why do I bother trying?" Drakken exclaimed in disgust.

Joss smiled, "Heck, ya know we really don't know a thing 'bout what's out there. Shoot, the things we've seen? Could be some big ol' monster out there just waitin' to swallow the curious when they come out of investigate."

"There's a pleasant thought to dream on," Jim laughed.


Late in the afternoon supplies reached the Russians. The Egyptians and two Russian gunmen immediately headed back. Mikhal would have to pay a bonus since the men made two trips into the desert.

Dmtri regarded the day as lost. There had not been time to explore the path Boris and Misha found. And to make it worse Gregorii proved insubordinate yet again.

"+We need to find the men who stole our supplies," Gregorii insisted. "They tried to kill us.+"

"+I doubt if they tried to kill us+" Dmtri scoffed. "+They would have killed the Egyptians if they wanted us dead. They only needed water.+"

"+They slowed us down+" Gregorii insisted, "+and tried to kill us. If we do not go after them you are guilty of ignoring your duty.+"

"+My duty," Dmtri bristled, "+is to find whatever weapon lies at the center of this field - not to run after petty thieves.+"

"+We will never find it if you allow us to be robbed!+"

Dmitri allowed a vote, and felt disgusted when he lost. "+Don't use your guns unless you must," he warned Gregorii, Vlad, and Boris. "+The Egyptians are probably close enough to hear gunfire.+"


Laughter seemed to dominate the Egyptian camp. Most of it was for how far they had managed to travel that day, with a number of jokes at the expense of soldiers complaining about trouble keeping up with the pace set by the American woman. There were also a few crude sexual jokes told at the expense of the female GJ agents when no officers were present. Dr. Kemal overheard a couple, but chose to ignore them.

Despite the General's misgivings about the speed with which the expedition had been organized he kept a steady stream of supplies going out to the field. Abdul and his assistants had a large supper prepared.

Kim had a plate largely filled with a rice dish and salad, and was reaching for what looked like a long meatball when Ron hissed, "Skip the kufta."

"Why?" She whispered.

"Cause we've got no refrigeration on the ground lamb and Abdul thinks cigarette ash is a spice."

"You're joking… aren't you?"

"Okay, he doesn't exactly think it's a spice. He just drops a lot in by accident."

Kim decided to pass on the kufta. At the end of the mess line an Egyptian private ladled up… something. "What is this?" she called back to Ron, serving at the middle.

"Shurbah, soups. Say khudaar. The molokhia is strictly for the Egyptians… LaTisha asked for some - I want to head over and watch her try and eat it."

"Molokhia," Kim told the Egyptian server as best she could pronounce it. If her desire to eat Egyptian food weren't enough she refused to let LaTisha try something she wouldn't try.

The man smiled and nodded and ladled up a helping of what looked like mucus and greens. Just watching it served almost cost Kim her appetite.

The Global Justice agents were largely in a group by themselves as they ate. Alawi Farouk sat with them, a larger chess set on the ground between himself and Mustapha Kemal. Kim sat by Will and discussed the role of Global Justice with the expedition.

Will grudging thanked Kim for the pace she set, then hesitated before adding, "While I can not be certain of the observation I believe I heard a shot fired today."

"Anyone else hear it?"

"Not that I am aware of, and it appeared to be at a distance. Nevertheless, the suspicion we are not alone may have received confirmation."

Ron arrived with his own plate of food as Kim considered Will's words. Various agents called greetings as he sat down.

"Tried your molokhia yet?" he called to LaTisha.

"My what?"

"The soup."

"No, I'll try it now."

Kim watched as the black woman dipped a piece of aysh into the mixture. The redhead winced as a viscous thread trailed between the bread and the bowl.

"Not bad," LaTisha commented, taking a spoon and digging in.

Kim looked at the bowl of mucus on her plate… If LaTisha could eat it, she must eat it.

Dr. Farouk had noticed what was happening, "Many foreigners do not like the taste of molokhia."

"Reminds me of something my gran used to make," LaTisha explained, glad to hear a word from the Egyptian. "She put in a lot of okra and it had a consistency like this."

"Okra," Kim thought. She hated okra. Now she'd be thinking of that as she forced herself to eat the horror.

"It is a very ancient dish," the doctor explained, "made from a plant sometimes called Jews' mallow--"

"So, it's like a soul food?" Ron interrupted.

"Soul food?"

"Rich folk wouldn't eat okra," LaTisha explained. "Poor folk ate what they could get to survive. Rich folk got the turnips, poor folk got the turnip greens. Rich folk got the ham, poor folk ate the chitlins--"

"Chitlins?"

"Pig intestines," LaTisha explained. "Gran was a whiz with those also."

"So, this Jews' mallow some sort of soul food in Egypt?" Ron asked.

"I don't know. It is a word--"

He was interrupted by the arrival of a young assistant cook who spoke little English. The youth pointed to Ron, "Jew boy, come," and gestured for Ron to follow him.

Ron got up and left. Kim feared for his health, "Is it safe for Ron if they know he's Jewish?" she asked Dr. Kemal.

"I'm not certain I understand the question."

"Don't most Muslims hate Jews?"

"Most Muslims," Dr. Kemal said emphatically, "wish Christians would remember that Jews lived better lives under Muslim rule than they did under Christians for more than a thousand years."

As he finished speaking Ron came back with a large piece of something on his plate. "Basbousa," he explained, "Abdul wanted me to have the first piece."

"Abdul likes you," Dr. Farouk observed. "None of us will be served a piece that size."

Before Ron could take a bite of the sticky dessert Kim asked him, "Did you hear what Mustapha said?"

"Sorry, KP, missed it."

"He said Jews were better off under Muslim rule than Christian for more than a thousand years." Kim, perhaps unwisely, regarded Ron as the voice of authority on all things Jewish.

Ron shrugged, "Well, yeah. All the famous Jewish guys in the Middle Ages lived in Muslim countries. When the Christians kicked Jews out of England and Spain and other countries the smart one went to Muslim countries."

Kim raised an eyebrow, "Famous Jewish guys? How famous are they if you can't remember their names?"

"Hey, I'm not a history major. I don't remember their names," Ron protested.

"You are thinking of men like Sa'adiah ben Yosef Gaon, who came from Egypt, or Maimonides, who moved here," Alawi suggested.

"Yeah, KP, what he said."

"But all the Muslim countries hate Israel!"

Alawi shrugged, "Most Muslims are not Arabs. Some Arab states have been officially at war with Israel for sixty years. We Egyptians have been at peace with them for years, we find them good neighbors. Less trouble than Libya."

"And we Turks were never at war with Israel," Mustpha pointed out.

"Most of us think that Israel treats the Palestinians badly--"

"Hello," Ron interrupted, "Hamas fires katyusha rockets into Israel trying to kill people every day!"

"And if Israel had begun treating the Palestinians better forty years ago no one would join Hamas today," Dr Farouk shot back before turning philosophical. "But no government is perfect. I have many complaints about my own government - and many about yours as well," he said to Kim. "But it doesn't mean I see all Americans as my enemies."

"I say we end the discussion here by blaming the British for making a mess of it," Dr. Kemal suggested, "and go see if we can get a piece of basbousa half as large as Abdul gave young Stoppable."

"Or blame the Turks," Dr. Farouk suggested. "They made a mess of it before the British ever arrived. And perhaps two cups of ahwaziyada."

"Just call it Turkish coffee," Mustapha snorted

"It is not the same!"

"It is!"

"No, you're wrong. Egyptian coffee is better."

"Mr. Stoppable," Dr. Kemal said, "come with us to the mess. We will borrow two ibriks and I will show you how Turkish coffee is supposed to be made while Abdul or this quack produce their pale Egyptian imitation and you will confirm they have simply copied my superior drink."

The Egyptian doctor laughed, "And when he confirms the ahwaziyada is superior?"

"The sun will rise in the west."

"Need another judge?" LaTisha asked.

"Certainly Ms. Jackson, if your taste buds are as refined as Mr. Stoppable's," said Mustapha.

"She likes molokhia so her sense of taste is acceptable," Alawi agreed, "let us see if the two of them agree."


As they settled down for the night Tim had another idea. "Know what we need to invent?"

"No, what?" Joss answered.

"Dehydrated water. Be a whole lot less to lug around here if we just had dehydrated water."

Joss giggled, "And what ya gonna do with it?"

"Just add water and rehydrate," Tim assured her.

"There are free oxygen and hydrogen molecules in the air," Drakken pointed out.

"Don't start thinking about it," Jim warned him. "It would require too much energy to work."

"But we've got abundant solar energy," the blue man pointed out.

"Or methane," Tim said, holding his nose.

"Save any ideas for later," Wade told him, "We can't build anything here, and we probably wouldn't want to carry it around with us."


Gregorii, Vlad, and Boris knew path back to the village, since they had discovered it themselves over the previous few days. They traveled quickly, wanting to return to camp as soon as possible. Gregorii took delight in the prospect of killing, and Vlad felt almost the same thrill. The younger man had never actually killed anyone, but after intense training he wanted to prove he could do in reality what he had been taught. Boris wondered if he had made a mistake in voting for this. Perhaps the anger of the moment had swayed his judgment and he should have let it pass as Dmitr had urged.

It was turning to dusk as they reached the point where the Chinese had hijacked their supplies. A number of discarded water bottles marked the spot clearly. Nor did the Chinese make any effort to hide their trail. Other empty bottles and food wrappers extended off to the north.

"+They aren't following us, it looks like they seek a way out+" Boris pointed out.

"+They may raid our supplies tomorrow+" Gregorii insisted.

Vlad couldn't stand the thought of turning back without having hunted human prey, "+We must move ahead!+"

The moonlight and litter enabled them to find the Chinese camp, about three kilometers away. The Chinese had discarded tents and other non-essentials in their earlier flight. Without fuel for a fire they huddled in a circle as the temperature dropped after the heat of the day.

The Russians put their heads together and whispered plans. They would wait a little while, seeing if any of the Chinese left the group to answer the call of nature, or waiting to see if they would all fall asleep. The three quietly separated and moved to different points around the Chinese.

Liang was the first to die. He made a joke about drinking too much water and left the others to relieve his bladder. His pants were down when Gregorii grabbed him from behind. The larger Russian clamped a hand over the smaller man's mouth and before Liang could even try to struggle a sharp knife ripped across his throat - severing the carotid artery. Gregorii's slash went so deep his blade hit the vertebrae in the smaller man's neck. It was a matter of seconds before the Russian lowered the lifeless body to the ground. The death had been completely silent, none of the other Chinese heard a thing.

Liang's failure to return caused no immediate worry among the Chinese.

"+He is having trouble getting everything out,"+" a Chang joked.

"+I don't want to piss on him+" the middle Chang said, "+I'm going to take a leak in the other direction.+"

It is one thing to be trained to kill a man, it is another thing to kill him. Vlad tried to keep his kill as silent as that of Gregorii, but the struggles of the Chinese man made noise as Vlad stabbed him repeatedly in the chest.

"+What's happening?+" Jun called.

Quon added, "+Do you need help?+"

Gregorii heard movement in the Chinese camp, they'd be throwing off the blankets wrapped around them and standing up. He grabbed a rock and charged the midst of the Chinese before they could prepare themselves. He kicked Quon, hard, his heavy boot cracking ribs on the leader of the Chinese. He threw the rock at another man. It would have been too easy to miss the head in the darkness, but even hitting the oldest Chang in the chest stunned him.

"+Help me! Now!+" the Russian bellowed at Vlad and Boris.

Vlad dropped the mortally wounded man and scrambled into the Chinese camp as Gregorii savagely slit the throat of Jun. Vlad fell on Quon, stabbing instead of slashing.

The youngest Chang freed himself from his blanket and scrambling to his feet. Gregorii struck at him, cutting the young man's arm slightly, before the Chinese man ran into the desert.

"+Find him! Kill him!+" Gregorii screamed at the still missing Boris as he and Vlad butchered the oldest of the Changs.

The youngest Chang was too scared to run well. In an utter panic he stumbled over rocks. He could hear a pursuer behind him and tried to run harder. He pulled out his own knife, but preferred running to trying to defend himself. Two hundred yards from his former camp he tripped and went down. By the time he got to his feet his pursuer was only a couple meters away.

Boris saw no necessity to kill the man. Chang was little more than a boy, he could do nothing to harm the Russians, and there would be no value in his death. He might even have information of value to the Russians. The Russian assumed the youth spoke some English, "I don't want to harm you," he told Chang in a soothing voice.

Chang, who understood no English, looked at the larger man - wondering what he was saying.

"Just surrender. I won't hurt you. We'll take you back to our camp. How does that sound?"

Chang managed to get some of his fear under control. His breathing slowed to a more normal level.

Boris continued talking in a quiet tone. "We won't harm you. Everything will be fine. Do you understand?" Boris smiled and nodded at the youth. The moon was bright enough for his expression to be visible.

Chang had no idea what Boris had said, but he smiled and nodded.

"Why don't I take the knife before I tell the others you are our prisoner," Boris suggested and moved closer and slowly reached out his hand to take the weapon from the Chinese man.

The Russian screamed as Chang suddenly lunged forward, sticking the knife in the Russian's belly. The Chinese man jerked the knife across the Russian's stomach. The pain was like fire in him. Boris's hands came up, pressing against the wound across his middle. He could feel his blood gushing out and feel his entrails.

His screams lasted longer than Chang believed humanly possible. But even before the Russian fell to the ground Chang was off and running again.

He had calmed down in the breathing space Boris had provided him. He dodged around some boulders to keep his flight from being observed in the moonlight. But mostly he ran. He ran until his sides ached, and remembering what he had seen back at his camp he kept trying to run, even though he knew he was at the limit of his resources.

Exhaustion forced him to stop for minute and as he gasped for breath he noticed the lights of a large camp about a kilometer away. Chang almost turned around, it might be the camp of the men who killed his companions. But the killers were in the darkness behind him; they might have followed him and be closing in now. Chang had no food, no water, and blood continued to drip from the wound on his arm. He knew he would die if he received no help. He weighed his options. Slow death awaited him if he hid in the rocks. Perhaps the camp he saw did not belong to the killers. Even if it did the death they offered would be faster than slowly bleeding to death or dying of thirst.

Chang saw little hope that he might receive help in the camp before him, but that was the only hope he had. And so the wounded Chinese began his hike towards the Egyptain - Global Justice camp.