Time ran like water in a vast landscape with no discernable landmark and no way to tell what time of day it was, and Sam and Tom soon found themselves plunged into a freezing darkness. More than one they heard a distant gunshot and at one point a startled cry echoed across the barren landscape, but they could no more tell from what direction than they could feel the tips of their noses or ears.
Sam had quickly come to realize that Tom was not joking about the ice cold temperatures deserts could reach at night, and the crippling cold soon settled upon their bodies both despite them being cocooned in thick coats. This wasn't the kind of cold that could be repelled by a few layers of thick fabric, as it bored a whole deep into the very depths their bodies. It extinguished every last flicker of warmth until they were overcome by a chill which had obliterated more than just the heat.
It was like quicksand; the more they tried to fight it the more they sank into its bone chilling depths. They exchanged a few fervent glances through what they assumed was the first half of the night but neither of them spoke, a silent mutual agreement not to utter a sound just in case there were rebel fighters nearer than they thought. After coming this far, dying now would have really been the icing on a very lonely cake.
The only sound they heard through the hours to come was the rustling of the coats as they re-adjusted a limb which had become numb or stiff and an occasional long, shaky breath. By the time morning did come around there was an ache in their stomachs that far outdid any physical pain they were in, Tom from a roughly bandaged bullet wound and them both from cramped limbs.
Sam was the first to stand, shrugging off the coat as though the sun hadn't even risen properly yet the temperature was already starting to creep up. Tom followed her a little more haphazardly, wobbling slightly as he tried to stand upright but the best he could manage still meant he had to stand with a slight lean to the right.
"What now?" Sam mumbled, flexing her arms and jumping on the spot to ease her stiff limbs back to life.
"You're asking me?" Tom replied with a look that summed up how they both felt: defeated.
"We could see if there are any people nearby that would help us…" Sam said, casting her eyes about for any kind of landmark.
"…and probably get killed in the process." Tom said moodily.
"Well then what do you propose?" Sam snapped, "Lie down and die?"
"No. I think we should look at this strategically." Tom replied forcefully.
"Strategically. Fine. We're in the middle of a desert with a jeep and a motorcycle, neither of which have enough fuel to get us anywhere, and we have no idea where we would go if we did have fuel. There is a first aid kit full of plasters and bandages and a lighter but, as we found out last night, having nothing to light is a bit of a problem not to mention the fact that we're both starving and thirsty and there is no food or water. Any ideas as to what the hell we should do to make sure we survive another night?"
Tom didn't reply.
They spent the rest of the morning sitting beside the jeep, trying to take advantage of the meagre amount of shade it provided. Neither of them spoke, for after Sam's run down of the situation there was nothing to say. That was, until Sam came stared at what they were sitting in front of.
"What's that?" Sam asked frowning at what she had been resting her head on for however many hours it had been.
"No idea." Tom said without looking at it.
"No, Tom, seriously. Look!" Sam exclaimed, pointing at a medium size metal flap that appeared to have been grafted onto the side of the jeep with.
"It's probably just extra storage." Tom replied, looking at it for about a second before returning his desolate expression to the sea of sand.
"Exactly!" Sam shouted as she started scrabbling at the metal.
It took Sam a good couple of minutes to work out how to open it, and when she did she let out an uncharacteristically girly squeal. The flap turned out to be a massive compartment in the jeep that ran below the seating in the car. Inside was row upon row of canned food and at least thirty bottles of water stacked neatly up the inside of one of the chairs, which turned out to be hollow.
Sam and Tom wasted no time searching around for a can opener, which they found inside a little zip compartment on the side of the driver's seat. Over the next half an hour they gulped down as much tinned fruit as they could bare, and had at least three bottles of water each. Food and water had never tasted so good.
After a few minutes of silence Sam turned to Tom and gave him a small smile, which to her relief he returned at around triple of the size.
"Hey I'm sorry I snapped at you." He said, placing his left hand on her shoulder.
"It's fine. I think we're both thinking a little more clearly now we have some food in our stomachs." Sam replied warmly.
Both of their smiles faded slightly as they remembered where they were.
"What now?" Tom asked, staring out of the boiling desert once again.
"One step at a time." Sam replied, "We'll figure this out."
…
"I don't understand, Aston." He said slowly, staring at the man who was once again bound and handcuffed, "We were getting along so well…."
"You're a sick bastard." Aston said in spite of the two guns trained on his chest in the dingy interview room.
"I'm sorry I had to kill Dr Nicholls, truly I am, but she posed a threat. I had no choice." He said flatly, "Now give me the telephone number I require and you are free to go."
"Never! I will never give you that damn number and I will never believe that Samantha Nicholls is dead!"
"…Then I will have to persuade you." His captor said after a long pause before turning to one of the gun wielding men and barking, "Find me the three men responsible for Mr Denton's and Dr Nicholls' deaths. Tells them to go back to the place they killed our friends and bring their stinking carcasses back here."
…
…One more week to go until half term! Hopefully I should be able to update more frequently then.