Chapter 9
November 3,390 BC
Earth: Mesopotamian Plain
GITA
Gita gasped for breath, her ribs heaving from running far faster than even Mikhail had ever pushed her to run. She had to help him. She had to help Pareesa. Her feet hurt as rocks pounded up through the holes in her worn pampooties. Twice she'd fallen, tripped on the rocks which littered the ground, but some instinct whispered to hurry along. Even before they crested the last rise, they could see the glow of a campfire hidden beneath a valley of rocks.
"Come," Ebad shouted, backlit against the fire as though he were some ancient hero. "There are seventy, perhaps eighty men."
"Can you see Pareesa?" one of the other B-Team members shouted.
"No," Ebad said. "Yes! Oh gods! They've got her surrounded!"
Gita choked back her fear
