“It’s in progress.”
“Where is the target?” the lieutenant general asked.
“One of our own has it secured.”
“Location?”
“Close, but—”
“But what?”
“The drop-off point is here. If we can’t hold our position, we will have to change the drop-off point.”
“So, what is the problem?”
“We lost contact with them, sir.”
Lieutenant General Abdullah raised one hand and massaged his temples. “Deal with this.”
Chapter 31
“Igot it. I got it.” May typed fast. The red light intensified her movements. She brought down her index finger on the enter button. “Done.”
The red flashing transformed into a fluorescent glow, lighting the room. Everyone kept their position as if not allowed to move. I took a deep breath, realizing the robotic countdown never made it to one.
“You did it,” I said, “May, you did it.” I hugged her. Malak and Deema jogged toward us for a group hug. Rakan and Faisal grinned.
“Great work.” Rakan nodded. The metal door behind him unlocked and creaked open.
Faisal marched to the door. “Impeccable timing,” he said and locked the door from the inside.
“I’d say so,” I said.
May’s eyes shined gold as she blushed.
“Let’s get back to it.” Rakan approached the exposed firearms. He picked up a long riffle as I attended to his every detail, his chest filling with air as his arms flexed, inspecting the weapon between his hands. Something about a man with a gun. He glanced at me and smiled.
“I’m thirsty.” I broke away from his blinding smile. I walked to the fridge and grabbed a few iced bottles of water that stung my skin. I passed one to Malak and placed the rest on the table centering the room, then walked up to Rakan and gave him one.
“Thank you.” His eyes fixed on mine.
I surrendered the bottle to his grip. “Uh yeah, no, no problem.” I pushed my bottle in my mouth. Please stop talking and drink your water, I told myself.
“I think a GLOCK 17 would be the best choice. It’s dead simple to use,” Faisal said, examining a couple of guns in each hand.
“Dead?” I said. “Interesting choice of words.”
“It takes the most common ammunition too,” Rakan said.
“9mm parabellum?” Malak asked.
“What? Yeah,” Rakan replied, his eyebrows elevated. “How did you—”
“You pick up a few things from reporting the news.” She shrugged.
“These are the easiest to use,” Faisal said. “We’ll stick with them.”
“A Marlin 1894,” Rakan said while eyeing a gun a few steps away from me. He released the rifle in his hand and walked toward it in a state of hypnosis drawn to an object. “Now this is a gun.”
“Listen up.” Faisal cleared his throat. “Zombies are vulnerable to head shots. A bullet to the head is your objective.”
“I miss conversations that don’t start with ‘zombies’,” I said, leaning toward Malak.
“I don’t know if I want a gun. It could go off at any time,” May said.
“I don’t know if we want that either,” I said under my breath. Although May might be the only girl that has a little experience over us, her nerves put her at a disadvantage.
“It’s pretty simple to use. It’s the aiming that’s a little tricky,” Rakan said.
“Yeah, just don’t aim at any of us,” Malak told May.
◆◆◆
Over an hour passed with too many trials and errors to count. Both Rakan and Faisal managed to give us some basic instructions and techniques on how to use a gun. A GLOCK 17 crash course. At that point, I was armed and terrified of getting killed by friendly fire. It was great how not only did I have to worry about zombies, but also worry about my friends and family accidentally leaving me an alloy souvenir.
“Ready?” Rakan said, adjusting both the thigh and ankle holster he had attached to him. “Shoot anything that so much as twitches.”
“I twitch when I’m nervous.” Deema said, habitually straightening her glasses.
“Yeah, no one shoots her,” I said. They laughed. I was serious.
“Let’s head out,” Faisal said, extending his hand to the rear and rotating it up and forward.
We backtracked our trail to the staircase, passed the zombie hanging, and back down to the second floor. We stood next to the staircase leading down to the first floor. Rakan and Faisal double-checked the safety on the guns packed in a backpack they found in the gun room. The hallway was grim and quiet, an uncertain cry came from behind one of the doors, a child’s whine. I ignored it, but it didn’t go away; the whine transformed into a call for “help.” Everyone was preoccupied—Malak and Deema busy with their guns, and May was swinging her phone to the sky, trying to reach a signal. Over my shoulder stood an open door. I remember all the doors being closed, but I could be mistaken. It could be a bathroom? I headed to the door less than five steps away. The door creaked open on its own, inviting me in. Coupled with my curiosity, I was drawn in like a magnet, determined to follow. A kid needed help and I was armed. I pushed the door open. A nasty gust of odor blew from the dusky room as I stepped in. The room reeked of rot, and a tingle in my throat dropped to the pit of my stomach. Against my better judgment, I entered the darkness. I reached for the wall, searching for the light switch and found it. The lights went on. I paused for a fraction of an eternity, staring at a little boy no older than five or six years old, with dark, short hair, his blue T-shirt and jeans both torn, bloody and ripped. He stood there, not looking at me but through me, silent, staring. As if I was not there. A chain collar around his neck, the chain extended behind him, bolted to the ground. It’s the little boy from the portrait, I recognized. He was chained down and left for dead.
“What are you doing?” Malak walked up behind me and placed a hand over her mouth as soon as she saw the boy.
“I heard a noise. I heard someone call out for help,” I said, stuttering. At least I thought I did.
Deema and May walked in. “Oh my,” May said.
The little boy extended both hands in our direction, black dry blood where the nails were. The little zombie started to growl, hissing and moaning with no life in those see-through eyes. Deema and May’s entrance triggered his dormant state to a full-on violent attack. Why didn’t he attack us before they came in?
I drew in a hot breath and forced myself to calm down. The place was getting to me. I was hearing things and still trying to process everything that was happening.
“He’s chained down,” Malak said, choking on the words. “Why wouldn’t they… you know?”
“Maybe they wanted to keep him secure till a cure is found,” Deema said.
“There is no cure for death,” May said. The word “death” echoed in the room, going down my spine.
“But he’s a little kid,” Malak said.
And those were my thoughts. I had to remind myself that this thing was no longer a kid; it was a walking, infected disease. Nothing but an empty vessel, aiding in the spread of death and destruction. A pathogen that sees no age. It’s a virus that is targeting and destroying everything it comes across. A modern-time plague. There are no exceptions besides those who are immune, or that’s what we thought at least. But it was a child.
“Where did you go?” Rakan stormed in.
“You shouldn't be running off like this!” Faisal rushed behind him.
“I heard something.” I tilted my head at the zombie.
“Are you alright?” Rakan took a step closer to me. He glanced at the zombie and turned his attention back to me, peering deep into me.
“Yes.” I met his gray gaze, and my heart skipped a beat. “I am.”
“Good, we’re good to go. Let’s exit,” Faisal said but his words seemed distant in the background.
Rakan did not move his gaze from me. He continued staring at me. �
�Stay close to me. Please,” he finally said, and turned his head to the chained zombie that had its arms out, roaring with all the anger it could muster.
“Saud,” Rakan said.
And that’s when something strange happened. The zombie stood still. It went completely quiet. Not a single motion. As if it were frozen in time, but that did not last more than a few seconds. Saud snapped back to full zombie and became more aggressive than before. It moaned while tearing through the air it occupied. What happened? Why did it stop? Did it recognize its name? Was there a part of its humanity intact?
“Say the name again,” I told Rakan.
“What?” he asked.
“Do it.”
“Saud.”
The little zombie dropped its arms and stopped one second before raising them back up again and resuming the attack. That was strange. I was suddenly aware of another sound, a sound that was not coming from any of us, or Saud. It was coming from somewhere else in the room, a knock, a tap. Then another knock and a tap.
“Why is he stopping?” Malak looked around.
“Do you guys hear that?” I asked and searched the room with my eyes. With the absence of my own breathing, the sound was getting louder.
“There’s something under the bed,” Malak said.
“Those are the last words I wanna hear,” May said.
Rakan adjusted his weapon and walked to the bed. He kneeled looking under the bed. “There’s a box.”
“We should leave the box and leave,” May said. “Nothing good ever comes from a box.”
“There’s something inside the box,” Rakan said. “It’s moving.”
“Okay, that is the last thing I ever wanna hear,” May said, her index finger directed to the bed.
“Fish maybe?” I shrugged and leaned in, trying to see the box.
Faisal got closer to the bed. He pointed to himself and then raised the palm of his hand, cupping and patting the top of his head then pointed at Rakan. Rakan nodded and placed his gun in his side holster and crouched on the ground. Faisal aimed his gun at the box. Rakan slowly pulled the brown box out in the open and gave one final glance at Faisal and lifted the lid. We stepped closer. May stayed behind. A foul taste rose in my throat. In the box lay a baby wrapped in a blue cloth, appearing far from human. It was hard to believe this was ever a human. It looked like an incomplete animal with human clothes, mocking our infants. The baby zombie kicked its feet and growled like a monster waiting to pounce on its prey but was injured.
“Shoot it?” Faisal asked, his lips tightening and his mouth turning down.
“It’s a baby,” Malak whispered.
“I can’t do it.” Rakan shook his head, logic giving way to humanity. He covered the box and slid it back under the bed.
Should we shoot the baby? End its misery? Or was it the right thing not to? It’s a baby. It was a baby. So many conflicts, but then it dawned on me; that was it, that was what would be the end of us. Our humanity. Our basic instincts would be the reason humanity would end. Our compassion was making us weak. We hesitate, we die. We show empathy, we die. The plague would spread further the more we showed mercy. But, on the other end of the spectrum, we lose our compassion, our humanity dies. Saud’s moan soundtrack played in the background. I looked away, examining the room. The bed was made, everything was tidy. Over the nightstand lay a knocked over bottle and a few pills scattered over the wooden surface. I picked up the bottle and read the label.
“Acetaminophen?” Deema asked, walking to me.
“An empty bottle of it,” I said, not knowing what it was. I shook the bottle before handing it over to her, assuming the worst. “Suicide?”
“In a high dose, it could be fatal. Yes,” Deema said. Her eyebrows hooded over her eyes.
“We found the whole family, except the mom and your friend,” May addressed Rakan. “They could still be in the house, which means we should not be.”
“Yeah,” I said, realizing that there were still a few family members roaming the dark halls. Unaccounted for.
“Time to go,” Faisal said.
“Finally someone that makes sense,” May said, already darting toward the door. “After you, Faisal.”
“I gotta take care of something before we head out,” Faisal said. “Close your ears.” He raised his arm sideways and pulled the trigger. There was a loud pop. Then the echo thinned out in the air followed by a thump as the little zombie’s decaying corpse collapsed to the floor.
There might be hope for humanity yet.
Chapter 32
Somewhere over the Eastern Province
One day earlier
The sound of the engine hummed quietly in the background. From the window of the plane he watched parts of the wounded city, over the evening sky. He saw flashes of light that was replaced with pure darkness where the city meets the matt sand beneath him peaking between the flowing clouds. The phone rang. He picked up a glass of juice and washed down his temper then answered the call.
“Speak,” lieutenant general Abdullah said.
“General Abdullah.” A man on the line said, “I have an update on mission Oryx.”
“Go on,” His voice echoed in the empty rows of seats.
“The plane was shot down. The extraction point was a fail.”
“And the target?” Abduallah asked.
“We planted a satellite phone to contact us.”
“And?” The air cold around him.
“It wasn’t one of our own that took the call. However, we arranged a trade.” There was a pause. “We will be informed of the location and time to make our move.”
Abdullah looked at the bright screen in front of him. “Secure it.”
Chapter 33
Rakan took the front while Faisal covered the back, making our way back to what we only assumed was safety. The room behind us, we headed to the stairs, step by step back in the dark. I went down, holding the gun. My foot jerked in front of me in a swift motion, causing me to tumble. I gained balance quickly and managed not to fall or do something worse like shoot someone. My stomach crunched into double knots. That was close. I swallowed hard. The squeaky sound from my shoes bounced off the dark corners of the house.
“Are you okay?" Malak asked.
Rakan turned around, looking at me.
“Yeah, I slipped on something," I replied. Lifting my shoe and flashing the light on it, a gooey red substance dripped from the sole of my shoe to the ground. Drip, drip, drip. Blood, I realized. A rush tiptoed down my spine, turning my expression cold. Was the blood mine? Was I bleeding? I didn’t feel any pain. I flashed the phone around. The blood couldn’t be coming from me; it was all over the place. I was standing in the center of a blood puddle.
"This was not here before,” Faisal said.
"Thanks, Detective Sherlock," Malak told him and flashed the light underneath me. She followed the trail of blood going down the stairs. The trail disappeared into the corner of the wall.
“I’m standing in blood,” I said, frozen.
“Look," Faisal said, aiming his phone at the wall closest to us. The blood trail appeared to start from the corner ceiling or end there. Trying to rationalize the situation was horrifying. All I could come up with was, whatever thing was bleeding appeared from the ceiling and walked down the wall vertically, defying gravity then hit the floor and kept walking down. That’s not possible. Reversing the scenario hadn’t made it more possible.
May aimed her phone down the staircase. "We are not going down there," she said.
“Something is not right about this place,” Malak said.
"That’s the only exit." Deema reminded us of the thing my subconscious was trying so hard to neglect. Was there any other way out? I took another step down, maneuvering out and around the slick blood, attempting not to slip again. The idea that I was touching another human’s blood sent shivers under my skin.
"Stay behind me," Rakan ordered. He lowered his gun toward the staircase, keeping his other arm rais
ed in front of me, blocking me, as if he was creating a protective shield. It was comforting. That same hand held his cell phone, throwing the flashlight on the walls, creating shadows that unnaturally mimicked our moves. Taunting us. We descended the stairs.
One step at a time. Nothing but the sound of our breaths escalating. Panic multiplying with every step down. Gravity pulling us harder. All things around us added a new layer of unfathomed terror. The bleeding walls closed in on me. The nerves under my veins tightened. It occurred to me that going down that path might not be the best choice, but there was no other. We filed down the stairs, Rakan leading the way, followed by me, Malak, Deema, May, then Faisal who lagged at the tail. No one said anything. The silence was mute, with an occasional deep breath.
One step at a time.
Rakan stopped without notice. I was walking too close behind him, and my head gently brushed his shoulder. He didn’t budge. He brought his other hand forward and pointed in front of him. Something was there. We weren’t alone. I stared into the outlined darkness. What is that? Something stood there.
Barefoot.
In the corner facing the wall, giving us it's back.
A lady.
She had an arm raised above her head, clawing at the wall. The sound of scratching got louder.
Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.
I struggled to inhale and not make a sound.
"We need to be quiet. We might be able to walk right by it," Rakan whispered as he tilted his head over his shoulder.
“Why not shoot?" May asked
“We don't know what else is in here and don't want to trigger anything," Rakan said.
A clank of metal hitting the ground slit the silence. The object rolled down and bumped into my foot, reflecting back the light from our phones. A ring.
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