54
Lincoln
The desert pulls me and Myla inexorably downward. This must be what a beam of light would experience when ensnared by a black hole.
My pulse thuds against my rib cage. Gripping Myla’s hand, I race away from the tumbling sands.
It isn’t easy.
My legs burn with the effort. Sweat streams into my eyes. I focus on two things—moving forward and keeping my hand firmly with Myla’s.
It seems to take forever, but eventually Myla and I move past the impact area of the cave in. We collapse onto the sands, gasping for breath. Nearby, more of the desert slides away with an ominous hiss.
Heat makes me lightheaded. My pale skin burns under the unforgiving sun. I want to lay here and sleep.
That’s not an option.
We must get moving.
Sitting up, I swing off my backpack and dig inside. Sa
