I moved my head from side to side trying to catch his wandering eyes. "Good morning."

The disorientation showed in his face. "Where are we?" he said in a yawn.

I motioned out the window to the small town appearing through the clouds of settling sand. "Look for yourself."

"Mocha," he said, resting his head softly against the small oval window. "Help me up please."

"How was your nap?" asked Chance as he pulled himself through the cockpit door.

"Good I think. I had strange dreams."

"Well I'd love to hear all about it, but I've got to get you off and get out of here. The Yemeni Air Force has closed the national airspace so I had to land illegally. Is there anyone in town with a telephone?"

"Yes, there are two or three. Why?" asked Clovis.

"They will have no doubt called the authorities with the low pass we made." He turned the latch and swung the door open. "Oh God," he said, shielding his face with a large forearm.

"What is it? The military?" asked Clovis.

"No the heat, it's horrible. I don't know how you can stand it," Chance moaned.

Clovis ignored him and stepped into the sunlit doorway. "We should start walking before the midday sun is upon our backs," he said to me.

I followed him out onto the runway and turned around just as Chance reached for the door.

"Good luck Evan. I'll see you again soon. Good seeing you again old man." He slammed the door closed and latched it tight before either of us could respond.

"He is right. We should leave, the authorities will be on the lookout for activity here," Clovis said.

The jet engine whined and roared into the sky above as we walked along the hard-packed, dirt road that led into Mocha.

Mule-drawn carts rumbled down the streets of the sleepy town. Giggling children played in the middle of the wide unpaved boulevard that disappeared into the desert at both ends while their mothers swept at the endless dirt in front of simple mud construction houses and periodically snuck glances out at them from behind black veils. Everything about this land looked ancient, as if the world somehow turned more slowly under Yemeni skies.

"This way," he said walking toward a larger building at the end of the street. The Arabic script above the barn-sized double doors faded unintelligibly into the earthen wall. From the way the reclusive villagers huddled in their numbers in front of doorways, I assumed few visitors ever frequented the town. Snorting horses answered Clovis' loud raps on the small wooden side door.