If Gibby was disappointed by the small geysers of dirt thrown up by the detonation, he was delighted by their final results. The man-made chasm they had laboriously dug into the mountain collapsed inward at the same instant the bulk of material above let go, creating a long-slide avalanche that carried tons of dirt nearly four hundred yards from the slope. Gibby let out a whoop that echoed even as the rumble subsided. Abebe, Habte, and the other driver took up the cry, and even Mercer gave a victorious shout. The blast had been better than even he had anticipated.
“Okay, boys, you know what to do,” Mercer said.
It would take two days to remove the rubble from the blast, but when the arduous task was finished, they could continue to chip away at the mountain to expose the mine entrance without fear of a cave-in. Mercer had set the charges high enough on the hillside to ensure that the blast went outward rather than into the mountain, so he was not concerned with damaging the ancient workings below.
Selome and Gibby had left the Valley of Dead Children with Mercer while Habte and the others tore into the heaps of debris. They had packed for a couple of days in case it took them longer to find the monastery, but Gibby assured Mercer that he could locate it quickly.
It was Selome who had first spotted the other vehicle. She had noticed it when they were no more than half an hour away from the entrance to the valley and immediately alerted Mercer. “This can’t be good,” he said.
“It could be another survey team looking for minerals that just happen to be in the same area,” Selome suggested lamely.
Mercer didn’t waste the time to respond. As soon as he saw the truck cresting a hill behind them, he’d started to accelerate. Immediately, the other vehicle took up the chase. Once, when the other truck had gained enough ground for them to recognize it as a Fiat, a winking light appeared in the passenger-side window. An instant later, feathers of dust exploded in the wake of the fleeing Toyota; mid-caliber machine-gun fire. No matter how hard Mercer pushed their battered Toyota, the pursuing truck was quicker. It was only Mercer’s driving skills and his ability to read the terrain that had kept them out of weapon’s range again.
But now, out in the open, the Fiat was rapidly closing.
“What do you mean, we’re not going to make it?” Selome asked.
“They’ve got a newer, faster four-wheel drive.” A gust of wind nearly tore the steering wheel from his grip. When he was back in control, he continued. “There’s no place to lose them out here because our tire prints and the dust this pig is kicking up are going to give us away.”
Neither Selome nor Gibby could argue.
“Another happy fact,” Mercer said after a minute of silence, “is the land mines. If this region is covered with them, which everyone tells me it is, we’re going to hit one. It’s just a matter of time.” Even an anti-personnel variant would stop the Toyota dead.
“Maybe those guys behind us will hit one first.”
“Not if they drive in our tracks.”
Another blast of wind hit the Toyota. On a horizon that was rushing toward them, the storm clouds piled into towering walls that blocked the distance like dark curtains. It was frightening, an awesome display of natural fury.
“How long before it hits?” Mercer asked quickly.
“I don’t know,” Gibby shouted over the wind whipping through the Toyota’s open windows. “I have seen storms like that stay over one area for days and not move at all.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“It’s true,” Selome yelled from the backseat. “These storms usually hug the ground and can’t get over the mountains. Often, rain won’t fall from them for days, even weeks.”
“That means the air in front of them compresses against the hills and springs back, creating—” Mercer’s voice was choked off as the air around the truck came alive.
The sandstorm blew up so suddenly and violently that the trio was coughing before they could close the windows. The Land Cruiser filled with a dark amber light that shifted constantly as the storm raged over them. The sky screamed as sand was stripped off the surface of the desert and blown thousands of feet into the air. Mercer slowed the Toyota, his visibility down to zero.
“Jesus,” he muttered as the storm unbelievably intensified. Already the windshield was opaque. Selome gave a little cry from the backseat and Gibby stared goggle-eyed into the maelstrom. The wind shoved the Toyota so hard it felt as if they were still speeding over the broken ground.
“Selome, how far behind was the other truck?” Mercer shouted.
“I don’t remember.”
“Come on,” he prompted. He could see the terror in her eyes when he twisted around to look at her. “Just give me your best guess.”
“Half a mile, maybe.”
“All right. The storm’s going to erase our tire tracks, but we’re still too close to the Fiat. When this mess blows over, they’re going to spot us in a second.”
“What can we do?” Gibby asked.
“We’re going to continue on.” Mercer’s jaw clenched with determination.
“But you can’t see,” Selome cried.
“Sure I can. I just can’t see outside of the truck.” The joke felt flat to Mercer’s ears too.
He replayed the last image of the desert he’d seen before the dust had obscured it, studied it in his mind, and engaged the transmission, gambling that the driver of the other truck wouldn’t budge until after the storm had passed. The Toyota crept forward, Mercer driving from memory. The desert floor had been relatively flat before the storm had hit, so he wasn’t overly worried about any sudden drops or dips, but as the wind pummeled the side of the Land Cruiser, keeping them on a straight course was next to impossible.
Ten minutes trickled by, the Land Cruiser crawling blindly through the twisting slashes of wind and sand, Mercer’s hand slick on the steering wheel, his body attuned to any attitude shifts that would signal a hill or a valley. Then as suddenly as it had started, the storm blew over them and they were in the clear. Even before his eyes could adjust to the sudden burst of sunlight, Mercer floored the accelerator, flinging Gibby and Selome back in their seats. They had a precious few minutes before the sand settled around their pursuers.
“Selome, keep your eye out for that Fiat and tell me the instant you see it.”
There was a series of low hills a half mile ahead, and Mercer was hoping that they would be behind them before she saw the other vehicle. If the three of them were spotted first, it would all be over.
“Anything?”
“No, the storm is still hanging on back there. I can’t see them. I think—”
The Toyota catapulted in the air, throwing off smoking hunks of body work and bits of its undercarriage. The thunder of the explosion drowned out the screams of the passengers. Crashing on its three remaining tires, the Land Cruiser flipped on its side, its front fender plowing a deep furrow into the soil.
A “perfect soldier” had waited decades to strike its deadly blow. Designed as an antipersonnel weapon, the Soviet-built landmine did not have the power to destroy the Toyota, and because of the vehicle’s speed, much of the detonative force was released under the engine rather than below the wheel that had activated its primer. With most of its energy absorbed by the engine block, only a tenth of the charge blasted into the cab. It was more than enough.