He was still hot, he was still tired, but not as tired. He looked at the map, but there was no oasis to land near in case of emergency. If it hadn’t been for the water jug that filled up daily with cool, fresh water, he might have thought it was just a figment, but so? In this part of the Sahara, there were no dangerous wild animals, and the kilogram of pistol and cartridges might prove terribly heavy for the last few kilometers. No, he had made no mistake. “Tell me more!” He pleaded with the voice that was not Melina’s. That instructor said I could go without water for three days, and in my case it wouldn’t have been that long. Something was not as he had imagined it would be. The next day he got up at dawn and set out on his journey. “Because my water can is empty!”
“And would you like me to fill it with water? What about you?”
“I’m chatting with you too,” he replied, “and I’m dying of thirst.”
“Dying of thirst?” Melina asked, as if she didn’t understand what he was saying, and again he felt her probing fingers stroking his mind.
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