#117

She tried to get a sense of direction and time of day. The sun was low, but the temperature felt more like late morning than early evening, not that she was familiar with the February climate in Syria at all. Maybe she'd only been there an hour. Then why did she feel so parched and hungry? Could she have been lying there for more than twenty-four hours? Had she survived an entire day and a frozen desert night exposed to the elements, after being flung from a speeding car?

It suddenly occurred to her how fortunate she was to be alive. She thanked her lucky stars that she had no open wounds; she could've bled to death. Her goal now was to keep breathing, in honor of God or fate or whatever had managed to carry her this far. She thought of Andy and her friends, of seeing them as soon as possible.

She needed medical attention quickly. And that meant getting to the highway and getting a ride.

Fighting through the pain, she managed to slowly roll herself onto her belly. Then she reached out her hands, dug her fingers into the sandy soil and inched forward using her elbows, hips, knees and toes, as vehicles continued to pass by not twenty yards away. The pain was excruciating. She traveled half a body length before she was forced to stop and rest.