The Zimbabwean wilderness stretched before them like a green, breathing monster.
Thick trees rose like pillars toward the sky, the underbrush dense and snarled. Every step threatened twisted ankles or hidden snakebites. The midday sun burned hot through the canopy, baking their battered bodies under the layers of dust and sweat.
Kadeem tightened the straps of a salvaged backpack over his shoulders, his face grim.
"South's that way," he said, pointing with a hand still shaking slightly from the crash.
"How long will it take?" Amir asked, already wiping sweat from his forehead.
Kadeem shrugged. "Weeks, if we walk slow. Days if we move hard and don't stop."
Nick looked at the others. Dr. Hassan was limping slightly. Aisha wore a bandage hastily wrapped around her upper arm. Everyone was hurting — and they hadn't even started yet.
Nick adjusted the Nile Stone under his shirt and nodded.
"We move hard."
No one argued.
---
Hours passed.
They fought their way through tangled vines and thorny bushes.
Every branch seemed to claw at their skin.
Every sound from the forest — a snapping twig, a distant growl — sent tension snapping up their spines.
Twice, they had to stop to drink from muddy puddles, boiling the water with the emergency fire-starter from Kadeem's kit.
The air tasted thick and wet, and mosquitoes circled them in clouds.
At dusk, they stumbled upon a clearing. A half-collapsed shack leaned drunkenly against a tree, vines curling through its windows.
"This'll do for tonight," Kadeem grunted.
Nick helped clear the debris from inside. They found a broken table, a few splintered chairs, and evidence that someone — maybe poachers or lost travelers — had camped here long ago.
Amir built a small fire, carefully shielding the smoke with damp leaves so it wouldn't be visible from far off.
They sat around the flickering flames, the exhaustion pressing down heavier than the humid air.
Kadeem sat a little apart from the group, working quietly to mend a tear in his jacket.
Nick watched him for a long moment.
"You alright?" he asked finally.
Kadeem glanced up, his face unreadable in the firelight.
"I'll be better when we're out of here."
Nick nodded. He understood. They all did.
---
Later, as the fire died down, Nick drifted into a restless sleep.
Dreams clawed at him — twisted images of the black fighter jets, the ruined Cessna, the Nile Stone glowing with strange light.
He heard his mother's voice, soft and urgent, whispering from somewhere beyond reach:
"Find the stones... before they do..."
He jolted awake.
Darkness pressed close around the shack.
The fire was a faint ember now.
And — he realized — something was moving in the trees.
Slow. Heavy. Deliberate.
Nick's heart pounded. He reached over and shook Amir awake.
Amir blinked sleepily — until he heard the noise too. His eyes widened.
They woke the others silently. Aisha already had her knife in hand. Kadeem crouched near the door, peering into the gloom.
A massive shape moved between the trees — a bull elephant, its gray skin ghostly under the moonlight.
Everyone stayed still as statues.
The elephant sniffed the air, flaring its massive ears.
It rumbled low in its throat, a sound that vibrated the very ground.
After what felt like forever, it lumbered past, vanishing into the jungle.
Nick let out a shaky breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
"Next time," Amir whispered hoarsely, "let's crash somewhere with fewer elephants."
No one laughed.
---
The next morning, they set out again, weaving southward with the rising sun on their left.
Each day blurred into the next.
The terrain shifted from thick jungle to rolling savannah, grasses waist-high and golden under the blazing sun.
Their feet blistered. Their clothes tore.
Nick found himself losing track of time, of distance, of anything except the next step, and the next.
They crossed a river at one point, building a crude raft out of fallen branches and vines. Halfway across, the raft cracked in two, dumping them all into the muddy water.
They struggled to the far bank, coughing and soaked, laughing helplessly even through the exhaustion.
"I smell like a sewer," Amir complained, wringing out his shirt.
"Better than a corpse," Kadeem muttered, checking their remaining supplies.
They had barely enough food left — scavenged roots, dried meat, a few energy bars Nick had stuffed into his pack back in Cairo.
Water was a constant struggle.
Every night they camped under the stars, the distant howls of jackals or worse echoing across the plains.
It was brutal.
It was miserable.
And yet, somehow, they kept moving.
---
One evening, as they trudged over a rocky ridge, they saw it.
In the far distance, shimmering under the last rays of sunset — the faint line of a dirt road, cutting through the wild like a scar.
Civilization.
Kadeem shaded his eyes.
"If we can reach that road," he said, voice hoarse, "maybe we can hitch a ride... or steal something."
Amir looked dubious.
"Stealing is bad luck."
"So is starving in the bush," Aisha said bluntly.
They pushed on, fueled by the hope of reaching that road.
But fate, as always, had other plans.
---
The ambush came just after sunset.
Nick heard the whistle of an arrow a split second before it thunked into the ground at his feet.
"DOWN!" Kadeem roared.
They dropped instantly, rolling behind a cluster of rocks.
Figures melted out of the tall grass — men in ragged clothes, faces painted in ash and mud, armed with old rifles and machetes.
Bandits.
Nick's heart hammered.
There was no cover. No escape.
Aisha hissed under her breath.
"They must have seen the crash smoke days ago. They've been tracking us."
Nick gritted his teeth.
They had no choice.
He stood up slowly, hands raised.
"We don't want trouble!" he shouted.
The bandits laughed — a harsh, ugly sound.
Their leader, a burly man with a scar across his eye, stepped forward.
"Trouble found you, boy," he sneered. "Drop your packs."
Nick glanced at the others. Kadeem's hand hovered near the knife strapped to his belt.
Nick made a decision.
He dropped his pack heavily onto the ground, raising his arms higher.
The others followed his lead.
The bandits approached warily, grabbing the packs and rifling through them greedily.
Nick's heart twisted when they found the pouch holding the Nile Stone.
The scarred leader yanked it free, examining it under the fading light.
"This yours?" he sneered.
Nick opened his mouth to speak — but something in Aisha's look stopped him.
Not yet.
The leader grinned, stuffing the pouch into his belt.
"Thank you for your generous donation."
He turned to leave.
That's when Aisha moved.
A flash of silver — and the nearest bandit cried out, clutching his leg where her knife had buried itself.
Chaos erupted.
Nick lunged for the leader, tackling him hard.
They crashed into the dirt, grappling for the pouch.
Shots rang out — Kadeem wrestling a rifle away from another bandit, Amir swinging a broken branch wildly at another.
Nick fought savagely, fueled by exhaustion and fury.
He slammed his fist into the scarred man's face — once, twice — until the man went limp.
Snatching the pouch back, Nick stumbled to his feet.
"RUN!" he shouted.
They didn't need to be told twice.
They fled into the gathering dark, the cries of the wounded and furious bandits chasing after them.
---
They didn't stop until their lungs burned and their legs gave out.
Collapsing behind a boulder, Nick checked the pouch, his hands shaking.
The Nile Stone was still there, warm and steady against his palm.
Aisha leaned back, blood trickling from a cut on her cheek.
"Remind me," she panted, "why we're doing this again?"
Nick smiled grimly.
"Because if we don't," he said, "someone much worse will."
Kadeem chuckled weakly.
"Next time," he muttered, "we crash somewhere closer to town."
Despite everything — the bruises, the blood, the aching muscles — Nick felt something fierce stirring in his chest.
Hope.
They were still alive.
And they were getting closer.
One brutal step at a time.