After I Refused to Save My Ex-Wife’s Brother, She Went Crazy Chapter 08

After I Refused to Save My Ex-Wife’s Brother, She Went Crazy Chapter 08

I never made it into the basin.

Not because I didn’t want to—because it was too late.

This storm was even stranger than the one eight years ago. It came out of nowhere with unnatural speed.

Level twelve. It hit at least a day earlier than forecast.

In those winds and on that path, SUVs were useless. People and camels couldn’t withstand it either.

I turned back to camp—and stopped dead.

More than forty SUVs lined up in formation, engines roaring, with water jugs and supply boxes strapped to every roof.

Crowds swarmed around them, some faces I recognized from the past few days, most of them strangers.

Vince stood in front of the convoy, yelling.

“Are you insane? A level-twelve sandstorm is almost here. If you go in now, you’re driving straight into a death trap!”

No one listened.

In the lead SUV, Claire’s assistant Pierce sat in the passenger seat, shouting over a loudspeaker.

“Ms. Rhodes has raised the bounty to fifty million—split equally among all participants. Anyone who brings him out alive gets another fifty million. Just showing up earns a share. One hundred seventeen volunteers. Forty-two vehicles. This is the largest civilian desert rescue operation of the century.”

A hundred million dollars in bounty money.

A hundred-plus lives.

They were gambling everything to save one useless man who had wandered into the desert.

I blocked the lead vehicle.

“Go if you want, but don’t take this route. There’s a hidden sand sinkhole zone a hundred miles out, with quicksand underneath.”

The driver rolled down his window and looked at me.

“Who the hell are you? We have GPS.”

“GPS is useless in the basin. It—”

The window rolled up.

The convoy lurched forward. One by one they drove into the dunes.

Sand billowed like a curtain.

I saw Claire in the back seat of the third SUV.

Window down. Her face turned toward me.

No sunglasses this time.

Her lips moved. I couldn’t tell what she was saying.

The wind tore it away.

Then the convoy vanished behind the sandline.

Vince walked up beside me. We stood at the edge of camp, watching the dust wall rise.

“I couldn’t stop them.”

He sighed.

“Couldn’t stop them.”

The storm hit not long after.

It didn’t build—it just slammed down.

The sky and ground merged into a single sheet of yellow. The air was solid sand.

Standing in the trailer, I could feel the ground tremble.

The radios filled with static and broken fragments.

“… GPS is down… completely down…”

“… can’t see a thing… vehicle stuck…”

“… water! Anyone with water!”

Then nothing.

GPS dead. Comms dead.

The storm swallowed everything.

By day three, the wind died down a little.

By evening of day four, the first survivors crawled out of the desert.

Less than twenty people.

Their faces were caked with sand. Lips swollen. Some eyes crusted shut.

Over a hundred went in. Less than twenty came out.

Vince counted names, marking them off.

“Leo Rhodes is accounted for.”

His voice was dry.

“He’s alive. Mild dehydration. He got lucky. One of the SUVs picked him up.”

“Claire?”

He looked at me.

“Missing.”

I stood at the camp entrance and watched the survivors crawl in.

Some lay on stretchers getting IVs. Some crouched in the sand, vomiting grit. Others stared blankly at nothing.

One person broke from the crowd.

He was shaking. His shirt was ripped open. His face was cracked in a dozen places, raw flesh showing underneath.

He threw himself in front of me, both knees hitting the sand hard.

I heard his forehead split when it hit.

He did it again. And again.

Blood and sand mixed into a paste on the ground.

“Please… find my sister…”

“Please…”

He looked up. A flap of skin hung open on his brow.

I looked at him.

He was crying, mucus, tears, blood, and sand smeared across his ruined face.

I crouched down and looked him straight in the eye.

“Your sister once told me, ‘The dead are gone. The living still need a chance.”

He froze.

I asked him—voice soft.

“Eight years ago, when my daughter was still alive—who gave her that chance?”

He stared for a long time. Nothing came out.

“You made your bed. Now lie in it.”