‘Jed,’ she wheezed.
‘On our way. You good?’
‘Lekker.’ She coughed.
Sonja got to her feet and looked around her. The door of the vehicle that had rammed hers was opening and she saw the driver, head bloodied, stagger out. He held up a pistol.
Sonja raised her MP5, still slung around her neck, and pulled the trigger. The firing pin clicked on an empty chamber. She cursed herself for making the rookie’s mistake of not counting her rounds. Still, she’d had a lot on her mind. Sonja reached for her Glock, then realised the aid worker still had her pistol.
She turned and ran.
A shot echoed behind her, then another, and a puff of sand fountained by her side.
So this was how it ended, she thought. Out in the desert, in the middle of nowhere, the victim of her own error.
At least the girl wa
