TOMB HUNTER

The Adventures of Larra Court

Episode 7

Larra’s Saharan Adventure

Chapter 1 Captured

Great Sand Sea, Egypt, July 1940

Larra Court stumbled, almost falling as she and her companions descended a steep slope. It was difficult keeping her balance with her hands bound behind her back, and she had already fallen several times. But the difficult desert terrain of western Egypt was the least of her problems. It was the tremendous summer heat that was her greatest enemy, robbing her body of moisture and leaving her vulnerable to heatstroke. It seemed she had been walking for days, although in reality it was only forty eight hours since her plane had crashed and stranded her along with her companions in a desert wasteland. She felt worst of all about drawing her fellow adventurers into the desperate situation she was trapped in.

The four young women who accompanied her were all well acquainted with hardship and danger, but this trip was not supposed to have exposed them to the sort of predicament they now found themselves in. It was certainly not the sort of experience she would have wished for either one of them. It had all started innocently enough with Larra being recruited by the British government for a mission in western Egypt. It was a strange sort of assignment for the time. In 1940s Britain archeological expeditions were pretty far down the list as far as government priorities were concerned. Surviving against the combined might of the Axis powers was far more important. However, Larra had suspected that the British authorities were holding something back when they had briefed her. Her curiosity piqued, she had decided to accept the mission despite the fact that she was certain she was being put into something that was much more complex than it appeared.

Upon arriving in Cairo, her suspicions had proven correct. There, she had been approached by a member of British intelligence and given the full details of her mission. It involved the Nazi Reichsfuhrer Heinrich Himmler’s insane and inane search for anything connected with the occult. This time he had sent agents into the Italian controlled territory of Libya in search of some ancient artifact that would turn the war even more in favour of the Axis. What his agents were searching for was unknown, but it was thought to be some great archeological treasure, and as a result Larra had been called in.

Although it was not her chosen calling, Larra was getting rather used to being asked to act as an agent of counter-espionage, and she was anxious to do anything that she thought might aid the British war effort, especially if it involved archeological research and fighting against the forces of fascism. She had determined through her research that the area of the Sahara where the Germans and Italians were reported to be was close to the rumored site of an ancient city. Taking her most trusted companions with her she had boarded a flight for southwestern Egypt. The first part of the flight had gone well, and they had almost reached their destination when the sandstorm had appeared.

A Sahara sandstorm was a force of nature almost beyond description. It was a towering wall of blinding sand, looming over two miles high and several hundred miles across. It was a barrier impossible to avoid. If the plane turned away from the sandstorm it did not have enough fuel to reach its destination in southwest Egypt. Its only choice was to fly directly toward the storm and attempt to climb above it. Unfortunately, the aging aircraft Larra’s expedition had been allotted was too heavily laden and too old to make it to a safe altitude. It was as Katie so rudely put it a “piece of crap.” The shortages caused by the war had forced the aircraft on them. The De Havilland Hercules should have been retired long ago, but the wartime emergency had resulted in it being pressed back into service. Now it was presented with a situation it was not even remotely fit to handle. The pilot had tried to climb above the storm, but the immense cloud of sand particles rose far higher than the ancient plane could fly. Forced to fly through the storm, the craft’s engines soon began to fail. The pilot had done his best to try and save them, taking the plane to a lower altitude. But he had been forced to set the plane down blind in the middle of the raging wind and sand. The huge dune the plane had slammed into had cushioned it somewhat but not enough to prevent the pilot from being killed. Ironically, he had been the only casualty. Larra and the four other women were bruised and shaken up a little but otherwise unharmed. For two days they had remained in the broken hulk of the aircraft waiting for the storm to end. Fortunately they had enough food and water to last them. On the third day the storm had broken and they had a chance to examine their surroundings.

Larra went outside and took a reading at noon to attempt to determine where they were. To her chagrin she found that the storm seemed to have blown them well off their supposed course. The plane had gone down in the middle of the vast desert area the Egyptians called the Great Sand Sea. Since their food, and more importantly, their water, was rapidly running out she had suggested that they head for the nearest oasis. She decided to make for Siwa, an oasis that was a three day walk from their present location. Due to the intense heat, they waited until night and then struck out.

The going had not been easy. Even walking at night the desert heat was intense. The sand held the heat and radiated it back into the air after sundown, so that for the first few hours of the walk they had to endure temperatures close to 100 degrees Fahrenheit. Then as the night wore on the temperature dropped and the walk became more bearable. However, the heat was not the only problem they encountered. The sand itself made walking difficult. Every step sank into the shifting surface, sometimes ankle deep. As a result it was impossible to make good time, and even a walk of only a few hours became arduous. They, therefore, make very poor time, covering only a few miles before the sun rose. Then they had to find someplace where they could shelter out of the sun’s direct rays.

Larra had chosen to shelter them at the base of two huge dunes. It was the best she could do in such an open area. The dunes ran approximately north- south so that when the sun rose the shadow of the eastern dune gave them some protection, and in the afternoon the western dune served the same purpose. Only in the late morning and early afternoon were they exposed to the sun’s rays, but those few hours were torture. The sun beat down with an intensity that Larra found hard to believe, and she had been in desert regions before. However, she had to admit that the Sahara was in a class by itself when it came to heat.

Soon all of the women were suffering from the rising temperature, even Amy, who had been raised in a subtropical environment. It was worst of all for Melissa. Raised in Canada, she had experienced nothing like this before. But the nineteen-year-old suffered without comment.

None of them spoke much, each attempting to conserve her energy. Talking used up moisture, and they had to conserve what little they had of that. Most of the time they tried to sleep, but the oppressive heat made that difficult. Only once was there a bit of a disturbance, when they were visited by a beetle that had hidden in the sand. Or rather beetles, because there were several of them. They looked like harmless little black creatures and no one noticed them until Melissa screamed. She slapped a beetle that had climbed up her pant leg from the sand. Then she stood up and did a little dance as she shed several more of the creatures. Larra had to suppress a smile as the Canadian girl gyrated in front of her, but her expression changed to one of concern when Melissa suddenly began to pull off her clothes.

“What is it?” Larra said, jumping up. She saw that the girl seemed on the verge of panic, and that was unusual. Melissa had always shown tremendous courage in her relationship with Larra.

“I’m being burned!” shrilled the girl. “The beetles burned me!” By now she had removed her blouse and pants, leaving only her undergarments.

“Blister beetles,” thought Larra. She had heard of these insects. Part of the family Meloidae, if she remembered correctly. They exuded a corrosive spray from their abdomens that could cause painful blisters. She alerted the others, and they began a quick personal search for the insects. Several had crawled onto Jia Li, but the Asian girl found them just in time.

Larra got Melissa to stand still and looked at the blisters forming on her skin. From a small pouch on her belt she took a small jar of healing slave. It was an ointment containing elements of the life extending water she had discovered in the Lost World. Used in this form its healing properties were miraculous. She smeared the salve on Melissa’s burns. Within minutes the painful blisters began to diminish.

“We’ll have to post a guard to watch for these pests,” Larra said. “I’ll stand the first watch and then we will take it in turns.” The others tried to make themselves comfortable, although they were all clearly unnerved by the beetle attack. “Nothing growing for miles,” Larra thought, “and we get attacked by beetles.” Wearily she sat down. She hoped they could make better progress tonight, because walking through the Sahara was proving more of a challenge than she had expected. Keeping her eyes open for more beetles, she sat down to wait the two hours until her watch would be over.

The next night was much worse than the first. They had not been able to carry much water and Larra carefully rationed what little they had. She expected to reach Siwa in about two days, but she knew that she had not made the sort of progress she had hoped for. Soon every member of the party was desperate for water, but Larra stuck to the strict regime she had chosen. It would do none of them any good to consume all the water the first day and then have to fight their way through the heat of the desert while they slowly died of thirst. And so she stuck to her careful rationing, taking a water break every two hours but limiting the amount drunk to only a cup each. She estimated that if necessary, they could make the water last four days that way, but she hoped they would reach the oasis long before that.

One problem was keeping on course for the intended destination. The desert had no landmarks. But Larra had marked the direction of their destination by the stars and since the desert skies were clear, had no trouble keeping them on course despite the fact that they had to frequently detour around huge dunes.

It had been a good plan, and it might have worked if they had not run into the patrol of Italian soldiers. Larra was caught completely off guard. Her intelligence briefing had made no mention of any enemy presence in the area where the plane had gone down. It was too far south and in too inhospitable an area to expect that they would run into anyone. And so she was not even watching for the enemy when they were discovered.

The Italian soldiers seemed to rise from the dunes. In fact Larra and her party had blundered right into their camp, settling down only a few hundred feet from where the Italians had just spent the night. Larra and the other women had just halted after a night of trekking over the shifting sand and settled down in the shade of a large dune for another long hot day of waiting. The sound of their quiet voices had carried easily to the Italian camp, alerting the sentries. The Italians were no doubt as surprised as they were to find five incredibly attractive women in the middle of the desert, but they wasted no time in disarming them and binding their hands behind their back to make sure that they did not escape.

There was no question of shooting it out with the Italians. Larra’s party was outnumbered five to one. It was certain that in any exchange of gunfire one or the other of the women would be killed or wounded. And so she surrendered meekly, allowing herself to be disarmed without even drawing her Browning .45.

The Italian Captain had been most amused as he took the pistol from her holster. “You know how to use this, signora?” he said with only a slight trace of an accent. He smiled condescendingly.

Larra gauged the caliber of the man facing her. He was a tall self-assured man with a thin pencil mustache, and carefully oiled hair. His tailored uniform and polished brass buttons and buckles gave him the appearance of attending a parade rather than being in charge of a squad of soldiers in enemy territory. As he spoke, he leaned into her face, almost lasciviously. “I am Capitano Luigi Andreotti of the Regio Esercito. You are my prisoners,” he said almost triumphantly, as if capturing five heat-exhausted women was the result of a major military operation.

Larra realized that Andreotti had no idea who she was and decided it might be in her interest to keep secret as much about herself and her friends and herself as possible. “I can pull the trigger,” she answered and then went on the offensive. “Why are you treating us like this?” she demanded. “We are five women stranded in the desert and you treat as if we are hostile enemy soldiers.”

“Forgive me, signora, but I have orders to bring in anyone found passing through this area. You are in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Larra protested. “Our plane crashed on the way from Egypt. We were trying to escape the desert. You have no right to treat us like this. I insist you untie us.”

“Five women in the middle of one of the most god-forsaken places on earth is most strange. Especially five women of such great beauty.” Andreotti licked his lips suggestively.

Melissa now chimed in. “Come on you meatball. We are not members of the military. You can’t treat civilians like this. Under the Geneva convention noncombatants are not to be harmed or imprisoned.”

“Noncombatants perhaps, my lovely,” Andreotti replied, “but I have every right to apprehend spies and take them in for questioning.”

“Spies?” Melissa said, her voice rising in outrage. “Do we look like spies? Five helpless women stumbling around in the desert without food or water. Don’t be a fool. Release us immediately.”

“A bit of a spitfire aren’t you?” said Andreotti, his eyes sweeping over Melissa’s shapely form. With her hands behind her back, her already ample bosom was thrust forward, emphasizing the beautifully rounded contours of her breasts. Andreotti licked his lips suggestively. “I think I am going to enjoy questioning you.”

The implied threat was all too clear, and Melissa shuddered. She had experienced rape before, but she dreaded a repetition of the horrific event. At only nineteen years of age the horror of being held down and brutalized sexually still burned in her mind. She had gone with Larra on the expedition to the Sahara partly as a way of coping with the horrendous incident. Nevertheless, she would not be cowed by the egotistical Italian officer and both she and Larra continued to protest, but Andreotti refused to discuss their treatment any further. Instead he lined them up and marched them back to his camp. They were given no time to rest. The Italians chose to move by day rather than at night and were equipped to do so. There were fifteen Italian solders in all, but they were accompanied by a dozen Bedouin and forty camels. That did not mean that the five women were allowed to ride, however. The extra camels were loaded with equipment and Andreotti seemed to take great delight in forcing the five bound captives to trudge through the sand with their hands tied behind their backs.

Larra caught herself again, as the sand slipped beneath her feet. They had been given only a small drink of water before starting out, and her raging thirst was making it difficult for her to concentrate. She noticed that her companions were walking unsteadily as well. She wondered how long it would be before one of them collapsed with heatstroke. Steadying herself, she stopped moving. “We need water,” she said. “You’ll kill us marching us like this. We’re not camels. If you think we are spies it will do you little good if we die before we get to where you are taking us.”

Andreotti rode up on his camel and gazed down at her. “I’m beginning to think you females are more trouble than you are worth. You have already slowed me down to half speed. Now you want part of our limited water supply.”

“None of us asked to go with you. Had you left us alone we would have reached Siwa without you.”

“Siwa?” replied Andreotti. “I made no mention of the fact that we were going there. How did you know?” His manner implied that Larra could only have known of his destination through prior knowledge.

“Where did you think I and my companions were heading? Siwa is the only oasis in this region. Where else would you be going?”

“This convinces me all the more that you are spies,” Andreotti replied. “You will be questioned thoroughly when we arrive. And until we reach the oasis you will receive no water.”

“Then we will all die,” said Larra. “If you are right and we are spies, I expect that your superiors will be most pleased.”

Andreotti frowned at this last comment. It was clear that he did not want his prisoners dead. He thought for a moment, and reluctantly ordered one of his men to give the women water. He did not order them untied, however, and as soon as they had finished drinking he ordered them to continue the march.

Once again the torturous ordeal began. Up one dune and then down the other side, or skirting the edge of particularly large dunes. Always the sand slipped under their feet, making walking doubly difficult. Larra was soon struggling to keep her feet, as dehydration and exhaustion quickly set in. Andreotti had given them the least amount of water he could get away with, and its affects did not last long. She began to stumble again, as did her companions. Larra continually glanced back at Melissa who had never experienced such intense heat. If anyone collapsed she expected it would be her. But the girl wore a grim expression of determination on her face. If nothing else, she was grittily determined not to give in.

Larra turned back. She had chosen her companions well. She sighed. In front of her was a monster dune. It loomed hundreds of feet high and stretched as far in either direction as far she could see. There would be no walking around this one. Resignedly, she started up the dune, her companions following. Long before she reached the top, Larra felt her splendidly conditioned body weakening. She knew that every member of her party must feel the same. Steadfastly, she put one foot after the other, forcing herself to go on. By the time she reached the top her legs felt like lead. Breathing heavily, she crested the summit of the dune. Below her was a welcome sight, a small oasis set in the middle of the sand sea.

From the top of the dune she saw that the oasis consisted of a small lake and an even smaller pond. Palms and other greenery crowded the edges of the sky-blue bodies of water. It was not the oasis she had been heading for, but it was certainly Andreotti’s destination. At the urging of the Italian captain, she started down.

Descending the dune was almost as difficult as climbing it. This side of the dune was actually steeper than the one they had climbed and the sand slipped away from beneath her feet, threatening to send her tumbling head over heels at the slightest misstep. She was halfway down when she lost her footing. Unable to save herself she pitched face forward down the slope of the dune and began to roll uncontrollably toward the bottom. About a hundred feet later the soft sand arrested her progress. She was not hurt, but her shirt had been torn open in the fall, baring her to the navel. Only her thin cotton bra covered her magnificent breasts, and one strap had snapped, exposing her left breast almost to the nipple.

She staggered to her feet, well aware that the eyes of every man were riveted on her imposing prow. Andreotti made a point of riding up to her, ostensibly to see if she was aright, but making no effort to hide the direction of his gaze. “You should be more careful, signora,” he said. “You might injure yourself.” He smiled lecherously and then rode off. Without a word, but holding her head high, Larra followed. Several of the Italian soldiers rode close to her. It was not hard to determine the direction of their gaze, and Larra began to dread what might happen if she and the other women were left alone with the Italian rank and file for very long. She doubted very much that any of these men had seen a woman for several months. Having such five incredibly beautiful women fall into their midst would have immediately filled their minds with thoughts of rape.

She tried to put the thoughts out of her mind. Somehow she would find a way out of this mess. She always did. If only she could do it before she and her friends were subjected to the cruel attention of the Italian soldiers.

It took them another fifteen minutes to reach the oasis. By the time they arrived all of the women were on their last legs. Larra hoped that they would be given adequate water at last. There was no longer any excuse for denying them as much as they needed.

The Italian camp numbered several hundred men at least. She wondered what the Italians were doing so far behind enemy lines. The expedition was not large enough to be a serious threat to the British position in Egypt, but was much larger than she would have expected. Keeping so many men properly supplied would be a serious problem and she noticed that there were large numbers of trucks and other vehicles in addition to numerous desert animals such as camels to haul everything the Italians needed.

Andreotti took them directly into the centre of the camp. Their passage attracted the attention of every man they passed, especially Larra who felt the eyes of every man scanning her exposed bosom. At last they came to a large tent. The sides of the tent were rolled up to take advantage of whatever cooling breeze there might be. In the center of the tent was a table and several chairs. As they approached a man rose from one of the chairs and approached them. Larra’s eyes widened in disbelief. She uttered as single word, “Featherstone!”

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