Saharan Boy

In horror Hamid watched the truck disappear into flames, roll to the side of the track, and break apart in a second explosion that scattered its pieces, large and small, in all directions.

Silence, then Moha shrieked, and Abdelateef threw himself over Hamid, wrenching the steering wheel to the right so that their truck bounced off the road away from the blazing ruin ahead. There came the whistle of projectiles streaking through the air, and a shard of metal shot through the windshield, showering them with glass pellets. "Get out!" Abdelateef shouted above Moha's shrieks, and Hamid was yanked out of the cab. He landed hard on the ground. He looked back as Moha came out of the cab after him, too slowly, standing on the running step, looking around to see where he was. Moha's head jerked violently to the side as though hit by an invisible fist. Then the pop, pop, pop of shots joined the storm of noises. "Crawl over there! Crawl!" cried Abdelateef, and Hamid was dragged into a rain-cut gully. "Keep your head down!" But Hamid almost laughed. He had no intention of sticking his head up and getting hit by all the rocks flying around, or whatever they were, so he pressed his cheek to the cool, sandy bottom of the gully, closed his eyes, and waited for the fear to release him from paralysis.

"Hamid! Hamid!"

Hamid felt a hard hand on his shoulder.

"We have to get out of here," said Abdelateef. "The Polisario are coming."

"I can't move."

"Are you hurt?"

"No. I can't move."

Abdelateef crawled close to Hamid. He took him by the shoulders and shook him violently. The boy opened his eyes and saw everything around him. The truck burned. He could see the flames curling over metal and tires and everything inside the truck. He smelled a gut-turning stench. Faintly, he heard voices beyond the rocks.

"The Polisario?"

"Yes, the Polisario! Now, move!"

Abdelateef crawled down the gully, dragging Hamid along like a sack of grain until the boy awoke fully from his fear and began to crawl on his own. They came to a jumble of rocks where they crawled from the gully and got under cover. Beyond the rocks stretched nothing but flat desert.

"We have to leave this place," said Abdelateef. "The Polisario might come after us. We can't just sit here and wait to be rescued. We can't count on anybody to help us. We have to do this ourselves. Now, crouch down and move fast."

Blood pounding in his head, legs trembling, Hamid followed Abdelateef into the desert.

After moving at a crouching run for what seemed miles, Hamid and Abdelateef stopped and turned. The burning truck spewed black billows into the sky. Figures the color of the gray ground flitted like phantoms in front of the smoke around the trucks.

"Polisario," said Hamid fearfully.

"They don't see us," said Abdelateef, "or they don't care."

"Moha... and the others... they're..."

"Yes, they're dead. They rest in paradise. Now, let's move. That's it. Keep walking, not too fast, but not too slow. We have to shorten the distance between this place and our encampment. We have to get away from the Polisario, but we also have to be careful of the sun."

Abdelateef nodded at the sun and pointed across the desert as they walked.

"The Polisario are behind us. Now the desert is our enemy," he said. "Keep moving!"

"The Polisario," Hamid mumbled deliriously. "They were the Polisario."

"Yes. They were the Polisario. The first time I've ever seen them. Not monsters or devils. Just men, but dangerous. Though not as dangerous as the Sahara. Now, walk steadily and save your breath. You won't see a droplet of sweat leaving your body, but just the same, you're already dehydrating to death."