Because to be conscious meant facing my imminent death. I was nowhere. I was being bounced up and down. Tossed from side to side. My head felt as if it had been split in two. Nausea was consuming me. But even if I wanted to be sick, that was impossible, as a rag had been tied tightly around my mouth. To vomit would be to risk suffocation. My hands had been bound to my feet. Movement was impossible. I had been thrown into the cargo area of an open-back truck. It was still night outside, though a small hint of dawn was beginning to cleave the sky. I forced myself up for a moment and spied nothing but emptiness around me. Until another bump in the terrain slammed me back down against the floor of the truck. I was being driven into the Sahara. Once they had me at a place far away from any hint of civilization, I knew what they would try to do with me. I also knew that two against one meant that, once they had raped me, they would then have to kill me. And bury my body deep within the desert.
