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The weather on the other side of the continent was a dreadfully dry heat. The dust that swarmed and gnashed at his eyes and whipped at his coat choked him with a nasty, intense fervor. The only available helicopter he could charter was an ancient, noisy machine so the travel was a rattling and hard-endured mess. By the time they had landed after hours in the sky the Doctor was shaking and cursing. It wasn’t any better that he had to ride passenger with the veritable corpse of the woman he most despised.
Desiderium Fiction 