35

You awaken to rough hands shaking you urgently.

Blinking open your eyes, you try to take in your surroundings. The furnace heat of the wilderness has not kicked in yet. Instead of the usual red glare, a thin, gray light trickles through your tent flaps. Dawn, or thereabouts.

Sam is kneeling beside you, gripping your shoulders and shaking you awake. When they see your eyes open, they put their finger to their lips, warning you to stay silent. "There are people," they whisper. "Voices. Outside. I think they might be Nazis."

You strain your ears and hear several voices outside, though you cannot hear what is being said. You pick out Esme, Abdul, and a couple of other male voices you don't recognize. The unfamiliar voices are harsh and official sounding.

You scramble up to your hands and knees, squeeze past Sam, and peek out through your tent flap.

Esme and Abdul stand about fifteen feet away from you, close to the remains of last night's campfire. Mehedi stands some distance apart by the camels, looking on in puzzlement.

Abdul and Esme are talking to three men in Nazi uniforms, each of whom clutching a mean-looking rifle. Behind the new arrivals sits an off-road military vehicle: a sand-colored Volkswagen Kübelwagen, the type of vehicle you saw the German expedition parties driving yesterday through your binoculars. At present, this doesn't seem like a confrontation, but you can't be sure from your current position.

What do you do now?