“Smoke,” Faisal said. “There’s smoke.”
I leaned in to get a better view through the windshield. Charcoal smoke rose from a close distance. The smoke resembled a nuclear bomb going off, sending a polluted mushroom effect over it, and we were driving in its direction. Was this the safe zone in Jubail city?
“What happened here?” Malak asked, her voice trembling and unsure. “Where is that smoke coming from?”
We drove closer and got off the highway, getting closer and closer to the smoke. A few turns later, we approached a high gate left open. Visibility beyond the gates was not clear. The background was up in flames, nothing left but clouds of ash.
“Where are we?” I asked.
“Safe zone,” Faisal said, his attention on the gates.
There was no safe zone to be found here. The place had become a graveyard. Rakan pulled over, leaving enough distance between us and the gates, surrounded by smoke. Faisal opened the door without an announcement and strode out of the car. Rakan followed him. I could hear them arguing outside. Deema placed her hand on the doorknob, hesitating for only a breath then pushed the door open.
“Where are you going?” I asked.
“I need some air,” she said and stepped out. “I can't breathe.”
“I'm going out too,” Malak said and opened the other door.
I found myself stiff as a corpse that refused to come back to life, refused to take part in the monstrosity of the walking dead, in a car with all the doors open. I was left alone with Plumpy, my thoughts, and the acrid smell of the aftermath of whatever happened in that place. May is dead, Faisal is hiding something. I physically shook the thought and turned to the cage. “Stay here.” I followed everyone out to get some smoky air. I stopped and fully took in the surroundings. Deserted, empty cars left on the sides of the road parked there, gathering ash and sand, the tires covered in dry blood. Were the people alive when the car ran over them? No, they were zombies. That reality was easier to accept although I fully understood the limits people would cross when fighting for survival. I took a few steps away from the car; a small toy hid under one of the cars, so out of place, so wrong. The toy played a broken tune. The grim song could have once been a cheerful song for children, but now it was a song of death. A song that witnessed a massacre. Stuck in a loop.
“Faisal,” I heard Rakan call out as Faisal marched toward the gates. “Stop! Where are you going?”
Faisal walked to a long steel pole before the gates, the Saudi flag mounted on top of the high pole. He stood directly under the flag, paused then raised his head up and collapsed on the ground. Rakan stood next to him, placing his hand on Faisal’s shoulder. Malak a few steps behind them. I joined her. My eyes locked on the unaffected flag with all its pride and glory, waving to the wind, untouched. Refusing to admit defeat. The dark shade of green, bold, stubborn, with the Shahada—the Muslim creed—in white. An Arabic script that translates “there is no God but God: Muhammad is the messenger of God,” above a white horizontal single-edged sword. A flag symbolizing liberty and strength. That represented the land we were born and raised on, the land we will die and be buried under. Maybe sooner than we expected.
Faisal got on his feet, standing shoulder to shoulder with Rakan. He saluted the flag. Rakan did the same, reinforcing their loyalty to stand by the crown and the people that died defending it. A salute to those who lost their lives, a salute to May and Mary. Tears made their way out of my eyes, a rush burst through me. Mixed emotions stirred through. First a blast of pride followed by empty grief, then anger. The sight of the flag standing strong sent hope my way. A glimpse of confidence faded away at the sight of a single shoe on the ground, left behind. A child’s shoe. Pink, filled with blood. Tears froze in my eyes. The cruelty of this outbreak did not acknowledge humanity and sought to destroy it. My palms shifted to a fist, and I squeezed hard. This unhinged everything I knew. Sounds of crunchy gravel behind me, I turned to see Deema, her cheeks covered in ash.
“Where did you go?” I asked.
“Looked around.” Her gaze darted all over the place. “Where are we gonna go now? Is there anyone that can help us?”
“We’ll be alright.” Rakan said. He turned and walked back to us. “There are other zones.”
“Yes, there is a safe zone in Riyadh,” Faisal said, stepping in front of us. “Maybe we’ll find help there.”
“How do we know that one isn’t gone too?” Deema asked. Behind her, a car came into my view, a white car with a severed hand on the closed trunk. There were remains all around us. The air smelled of heat, blood, flesh, and smoke.
“It’s not,” Faisal said. “It’s still there, and we need to get there.”
“How are you so sure?” Malak asked.
“I just am,” Faisal replied.
“Do you know something we don’t?” I asked. Faisal is hiding something.
“We’re gonna die,” Deema said, turning around contemplating the body parts. How many bodies are buried under the ash? How many families came here to find safety, but instead found their end? Deema’s attitude changed and that sent a wave of panic through us. We have to leave this place.
“We’re here and willing to lay down our lives for your safety,” Rakan said, sounding like a soldier himself.
“We’re putting ourselves in harm’s way knowing the cost,” Faisal said, fortifying Rakan's words and staring right into my eyes. His voice had holes of doubt. “You’re safe.”
“I think we should rest,” I said. Not only had we all suffered an emotional shock, but our bodies were running on nothing but agony and sleep deprivation. My gaze fell on Rakan’s top, a tear on his arm exposing a dark bloodstain underneath. “You’re hurt.”
“What?” Rakan said, looking down at the tear. “Yeah I think the zombie”—he paused—“it pushed me on something sharp before—” He paused again.
“I should take a look at it,” Deema said.
“But not now. We have to get to Riyadh,” Faisal said.
“It would not be a great idea to drive there now,” Rakan said.
“We have to get some medical supplies. That wound could get infected,” Deema said. “Or even worse, he could bleed out if its deep. Which from the amount of blood loss, it appears to be deep.”
This was good. Deema was shifting from a desperate attitude to reasonable. She needed to be preoccupied, a distraction. A purpose.
“I’m alright,” Rakan said.
“We also need food and water,” Malak said.
“We don’t know what’s waiting for us there. We can’t drive around shopping,” Faisal said.
“There’s a hotel not far from here,” Deema said.
“I know the one, and it should have everything we want, and shelter for the night,” Rakan checked his watch.
“That sounds like a good idea,” Malak said.
“We’ll set up there till we come up with another plan,” Rakan said.
Sounds of moans and footsteps were carried by the wind. The sound wasn’t coming from one direction. It was coming from all directions at once; the dead in this recently made cemetery were awake and hungry. Moaning, walking around desecrating the skin they were under, inside a body once treated with honor and respect now dragged, feared, and hated. Everyone went speechless, checking over their shoulders frantically, trying to determine the source. The muffled sound of a plane engine interrupted our panicking. Three helicopters hovered over us. Not your everyday helicopters.
“Get their attention.” Deema threw her arms in the air. “Hey!”
“No!” Faisal shouted. “They might mistake us for zombies and shoot at us. We can’t risk that.”
“We don’t look like zombies,” Deema said, and her expression went flat as soon as the words were floating with the smoke. The realization set in. The enemy we were fighting looked like us. Walked like us, wore our clothes, wore our military’s uniforms on its back. That fired a new signal of terror to our nervous system. We were fighting u
s. Faisal was right; as far as they were concerned, we were targets.
“Those heavy-lift helicopters are bad news,” Faisal said.
The desert-colored helicopters hovered horizontally and shifted vertically in an attempt to fly higher. A boom erupted and the helicopter in the middle blew up, lighting the sky with an angry glow. The force of the explosion blew shock waves through the dead city.
“Duck!” Rakan screamed and threw his hands over his head and dove to the ground. We flattened our bodies on the paved ground. The other choppers levitated higher and further away from us.
“What’s going on?” Malak asked in a loud whisper.
“That chopper was shot down,” Faisal said, popping his face up.
“By who?” I asked.
“We can worry about that later. We need to leave. Zombies will be drawn here from all directions,” Rakan said.
We ran our way back between the deserted cars, their doors left wide open, blood stains and personal items left inside. The streets looked ever more hopeless in the light of day. The air thick and heavy, the wind sent sand our way. The explosion scene replayed over and over in my mind. Someone shot that chopper down. Why? And who? Was the army splitting? Or did someone out here have that kind of arm power? We made it to the car and drove off, the tires screeching, protesting to the fast need for us to get out of there.
The hotel came into view—three massive buildings lined up, connected on the first floor. The building’s façades were captivating, Capturing the essence beauty of Saudi tradition, telling the story of culture, minus the shards of glass littering the concrete ground. The buildings stood covered in a yellowish fog, nestled around palm trees, waiting for visitors. The tall building served as a barricade, slowing down the dust-filled wind before landing in the water beyond it. Under different circumstances, this lavish place would have been a beautiful destination. We pulled into an empty space that was once an entrance.
“It’s exposed,” Faisal said.
“We need to get to higher grounds,” Rakan said.
Rakan parked as close as physically possible to the shattered entrance. I gave the place a quick scan. There was an ATM, useless now. Juice place, probably rotten or getting there, a barber, no time for a makeover. And last but not least, a mini market. If it is not emptied out, it could come in handy.
“Sara.” Faisal turned his body around, facing me.
“Yes?”
“The bird has to go.”
“What?” I shook my head and looked at Plumpy, who was singing while his wings danced. “No.”
“You can’t keep a bird quiet. It’s been making noise the whole time.” Faisal examined Plumpy. “It’ll put our lives in danger.”
I studied everyone. No one talked. They avoided eye contact. “Mom gave that bird to me,” I whispered.
“So it's sentimental.” Rakan turned to me.
“Don't do that,” I said.
“Do what?”
“Reduce it to that. He’s my bird.” I dunked my head low.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
Malak placed her hand in mine. “You can't keep him quiet.”
“I know.” I sighed. I didn’t want to lose more than I had already. But keeping Plumpy meant putting our lives in jeopardy. I held the cage and stepped out of the car. I placed it on the trunk. I opened the door. “Come on, bud. It’s time to stretch your wings.”
Everyone else quietly exited the car. Plumpy darted out, flew over us, then landed on my shoulder. I brought my fingers closer to his feet, and he climbed on board. I brought him close to my face. His eyes, I noticed. His eyes changed color. They looked like icy-blue planets. I felt a warmth spread through me; he’s going to be fine. “Maybe with all this free flying, you can lose some weight.” I kissed his little head, and he nestled his beak against my cheek. He shook his tail like he was saying, that’s never gonna happen. Stop trying to change me, and flew off. He flew back and forth a couple of times, giving us an air show then disappeared in the distance. With the sun shining over us, a skip in our step, and a gun in our hand, we were on our way to check in.
“It’s so quiet,” Deema said.
“It always is,” I said, exchanging glances with her. “Let’s hope it stays that way.”
The hotel permitted us a few seconds before punching us with a nauseating foulness.
“It smells.” I sighed.
“It smells like something died in here,” Malak said.
“Probably did, and still walking around,” I said, holding my breath as long as I could before forcing myself to breathe through my mouth. My stomach turned.
“Try to be as quiet as you can,” Faisal said.
We entered the lobby, expecting what we could only imagine was lurking in the corners. The deeper we got into the hotel, the further we got from natural light. The reception stood not far from the entrance. Shadows taunted us behind the desks and on the walls. A little light flashed green in the corner of the ceiling. A camera, I noticed. I stopped in my place and pivoted around, scanning everything in my range, the smell so potent it was flammable. The lobby was in complete chaos. There was luggage thrown randomly all over the ceramic floors. A few passports, cluttered jewelry, clothes, and other things travelers packed on their trips. An emptiness soared from deep within me. Everything we once held valuable left a void of worthlessness behind. My focus shifted to a spot not far from the broken tables and shattered glass in the lobby. A pool of blood lay with skid marks right in the middle, footsteps. Someone or something slipped here. What had we walked into?
“Is that a room number?” Malak asked.
I turned around and looked where her gaze fell. Splatters on the wall, in dark red.
“Is that…” she uttered, “blood?”
The blood on the wall spelled out 203. Could it be that someone tried to leave a message or a warning in blood? What did 203 stand for? A room? 203 were the last three digits of my badge number at work, another thing that was important and now useless.
“Psst,” Deema sounded off, crouching down on an open suitcase, “these clothes look like they could fit us.”
Malak walked over to her and grabbed a backpack lying next to her foot. She emptied the contents of the backpack—an iPad, napkins, toothpaste and toothbrush, socks, sunglasses, and a charger. She inspected the charger then threw it on the ground again. She took the napkins and the toothpaste from the ground. “I think the clothes will fit us.”
Deema took the backpack and started shoving clothes in then joined the rest of us. Rakan whistled slowly and pointed at the escalator and gestured for us to move to it, with no words exchanged. We tiptoed to the escalator, away from the blood. Rakan took the lead, placing his boot on the metal step. It shook beneath him, sending a rippling metal sound through the uncertain walls. I followed in his steps, focusing on where my step landed and our vicinity. Halfway up, tick tick sounds arose, followed by an engine rumble. Simultaneously, an invisible force sucked us in forward. A disruption in the energy became apparent. I sensed my body shift upward, realizing that the escalator was in full swing. We were moving.
“Backup generators?” Faisal asked from the tail of the queue train we made. Rakan nodded.
Like a switch in an abandoned amusement park, the hotel sprang to life, most of the lights turned on, driving the darkness to evaporate. The visual was clear, and I could see exactly what we had gotten ourselves into. At that moment, I wish I hadn’t. The hotel was infested with doormat zombies that were activated by all the sounds and lights turning on. Zombies crawling all over the first floor, awakening from their eternal slumber. Good call on getting to higher grounds. Zombies can’t fly? Can they?
We each paused on our steps, staring at the horrifying images playing in front of us. The second floor came into full view. From what I could tell, most of the zombies were located on the lower ground. A horde of zombies slowly appeared from the second floor, inching toward us.
“Stay back,” Rakan said, as he l
eaped forward, darting to the undead guests. They made no attempt to bite him; they simply tried to amble past him, showing no interest. He grabbed two and slammed their skulls into one another with high aggression. He lifted them higher from the ground and threw them over the banner, demonstrating sheer power, speed, and strength. Malak raised her weapon.
“Stop. Don’t shoot. We don’t want any unneeded sounds,” Faisal said and ran to Rakan, taking his position next to him.
Malak lowered her firearm. She and Deema walked past me, standing in front of me, leaving the escalator a few steps behind us. The girls did nothing but stare at the fight unfolding. I observed Rakan, mesmerized by his movements. The hair on the back of my neck stood stiff. My breath slowed down. But it wasn’t the sight of Rakan that was doing that to me. It was something else I couldn’t quite explain. Warm, wet breath against my ear. There was something there, something was behind me.
Chapter 36
King Khalid military base. North West Saudi Arabia
60 Km South of Hafr Al-Batin
Ten hours earlier
“What do you think it’s for?” a private asked his fellow soldier as they stood in line, shuffling through, making their way down a long line of soldiers that branched out to three separate lines leading to three doctors sitting at the end. The doctors sat under huge awnings attached to the clinic building wall. Shaded from the sun, each doctor sat next to a table covered in random supplies the soldier did not recognize.
“I don’t know.” The other soldier standing next to him shrugged, taking a step closer to the doctors. “Immune boost maybe?”
“Since when did the military concern itself with vitamin deficiency?” he said, scanning the base. The men stood surrounded by sand-colored buildings that sank in the desert background. They were headed toward the clinic building centering the base. Next to the clinic stood a box-looking structure that was a mosque. None of the buildings were marked; there were no signs or indication of what each building was. Only those who were familiar with the base knew which one was the post office and dining facilities, fitness centers from the off-limit buildings. From an air shot angle, the buildings appeared the same size due to the roof design that was constructed to appear so. All facilities shared the same color and in no particular order. With one exception. There were towers surrounding the rectangle base that would appear smaller.
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