In another five yards, he was proven right. Rock turned to steel treads under her boots. The group clanked the last of the way up—
—then the ground bucked violently under them, accompanied by the sound of the earth cracking beneath their feet.
They all went crashing to their knees on the salt-corroded stairs. A flume of sand, dust, and smoke blasted up from below, choking them, blinding them.
Jada climbed the remainder of the stairs on her hands and knees, drawn by the glow of Duncan’s flashlight. A hand grabbed hers and hauled her up and out of the stairwell, lifting her as if she were weightless. Placed back on her feet, she stumbled to the side as Duncan drew the others into the hold with her.
“Make for the exit!” he hollered and pointed to the hole cut into the port side of the ship’s hull.
She turned, but her footing slipped as her world tilted under her. The stern of the ship dropped precipitously behind her with a groan of steel, while the bow rose up. She pictured the back half of the thousand-ton vessel collapsing and crushing into the sinkhole created as the labyrinth below imploded.
Across the length of the hull, a half century of windblown sand suddenly shifted en masse, flowing toward the stern.
Jada could not hold her place any longer, dragged by the tide of sand. She fell to her knees and started sliding down the steep slant. The others fared no better, unable to gain any traction as the sands turned into a streaming cataract, growing deeper, pouring faster, trapping limbs, tumbling them all back toward the sinking stern.
Jada fought, flailing, feeling like a swimmer about to drown.
And maybe she was.
A sandstorm swirled treacherously below, waiting to swallow her up—behind her, the other half of the ship’s sand flowed after her, ready to swamp her once she was trapped.
Then Duncan appeared and sped past her, half skating, half body surfing, not resisting the tidal pull like the others.
He quickly vanished into the dusty cloud ahead.
Has he simply given up?
12:50 A.M.
Racing atop the sand, Duncan aimed for their only hope of survival.
He recalled their arrival earlier in the day, when the Land Rover came wheeling out from a makeshift garage in the ship’s stern, sweeping out to confront the newcomers.
As the world upended a moment ago, he had spotted the Rover still parked back there. He aimed for its bulk, already axle-deep in sand and being buried rapidly. He hit the bumper hard and flung himself onto the hood. Once at the windshield, he squirmed sideways through the open side window and dropped into the driver’s seat.
He checked and found the keys still in the ignition.
Thank God . . .
With a twist of his wrist and a pound on the gas, he felt the paddle-treaded tires churn, kicking up a rooster tail of sand behind him. Then he was moving, tires digging back up the slope.
Monk had already noted Duncan’s goal and swept fast down the slanted hull, no longer resisting the pull of the sand. Reaching the Rover, Monk leaped over the front grill and rolled up onto the hood, landing belly down, passing Duncan a prosthetic thumbs-up.
“Keep going!” Monk yelled.
Duncan slowly ground his way upslope as Monk fished the others out of the churning flow of sand. Vigor slid across the hood until his back rested against the windshield; Rachel soon joined him. At the right fender, Jada helped Monk grab Sanjar, who still clung to his blanket-wrapped falcon.
With everyone on board, Duncan gave the engine more gas. Staying in a low gear, he climbed up the steepening slope, picturing the massive weight of the ship shifting to the stern, driving it deeper into the collapsing subterranean complex.
Even with sand tires and four-wheel drive, the Rover fishtailed in the flow. He held his breath each time the vehicle slipped, knowing if they fell back to the stern, they might never get out. If that happened, they’d be quickly buried alive as the ship’s five decades’ worth of sand, silt, and salt filled the stern.
As he labored, the rusted vessel groaned, echoing with the strain of stressed steel. Hull plates popped like gunshots and tumbled into the stern. It was all coming apart.
Angling to the port side, he finally reached the hole cut through the hull. With the ship tilted, the opening was several feet off the ground, but they would have to risk the jump.
Duncan fought the tide to hold them steady, as Monk shuttled everyone through the hole, half tossing them into the teeth of the storm out there.
“You next!” Monk screamed into the wind blowing through the opening.
Duncan waved to him. “Go! I’ll follow!”
It was a lie. There was no way Duncan could move. Once he let up on the gas, the Rover would immediately roll backward.
Monk stared through the windshield, read Duncan’s determination—then with a scowl, the man turned and jumped toward the hole. But rather than leaping through the opening, he hung from its lower edge by his prosthetic hand and reached out with his other arm.
“Pull even with me!” he yelled. “Then grab my hand!”
Duncan balked, knowing such a maneuver would likely end with both of them dead.
“Don’t make me jump down after you!” Monk bellowed.
Guy probably would, too.
Knowing that, Duncan gunned the engine and gained a couple of yards, his tires spinning on the sliding sand as he fought to hold his place. With one hand on the wheel, he stretched his arm out the window.
Monk caught his fingers, then his palm, gripping tightly.
With a silent prayer, Duncan let go of the steering wheel, took his foot off the gas, and shoved out the window. As he had suspected, the Rover immediately plummeted backward, shedding from around his body as it fell away, leaving Duncan hanging from Monk’s arm.
He gasped in relief.
But it was premature.
As he hung there, the ship broke in half.
1:04 A.M.
From only yards away, huddled low against the storm, Jada watched the middle section of the rusted vessel fracture, splitting in half with a scream of rent steel. The entire bow came crashing down, blasting up more sand into the storm.
They all fled backward as debris rained down around them, whipped viciously by the wind. Sand swirled everywhere, obscuring anything beyond their noses.
Duncan . . . Monk . . .
The constant gale of the wind quickly cleared the worst of the dust, blowing it across the salt flats.
She searched the ruins of the ship.
Movement along the hull revealed two small forms climbing free of the hold and falling to the sands. Luckily, the ship had fractured above the exit, sparing their lives.
On the ground, Monk helped Duncan through the reefs of sharp steel littering the vessel’s skirts. He held the younger man under one arm as Duncan limped alongside him.