 I remember jumping from the speeding truck, some gunshots, and not much more, till a breath of air hit me. And it wasn't air off the desert. It smelled of cheap gin, like my café tambourine after a hard night. It came from somebody bending over me. Get up, monsieur, before they find you. Where are they? Searching the brush and the other side of the sand dune. Up with you now! Where are we going? To my hut, only a little way. Allez, monsieur, allez!