“Where are you from?” the soldier asked.
“Down south,” the other replied with a slight smile. “You’re from the north.”
“My accent gave me away. I’ve lived here, in the East most of my adult life, still kept my accent.” The soldier smirked. “I’m Rayan.”
“Yahya,” the other replied and extended his hand out in a swift move. Rayan shook Yahya’s hand firmly. “We’ve been getting hit pretty hard in the south protecting the borders. It’s bad down there. I don’t understand why they would suddenly pull us all here,” Yahya added.
Rayan shrugged. The thought worried him. What would be more important than protecting the country’s borders? There must be a hell of a good reason to do that. A bigger threat perhaps? Internal? He turned his attention to the front and noticed three military personal step out of the clinic doors and stand beside each doctor. He quickly realized that these weren’t just any army personnel. By the tags on their shoulders, he fully recognized their high ranks. Each one stood holding a clipboard in their hands and wrote something in them. Rayan took a few steps closer as the line moved along.
The army personnel in the far right yelled, “Secure!”
“Secure,” the next one echoed.
But the one closest to Rayan on the far left shouted, “terminate” in a firm, calm tone.
Rayan had recently enlisted in the army; he barely completed his training before he was recruited on this mission. But he knew enough military terms to know that “terminate” was never good. He quickly understood how serious the mission was. The long forms he had to fill out over and over and all the extensive training tipped him off. This was no ordinary mission, though. Something was not quite right about it. The base was in organized chaos, uniforms running back and forth from building to building like they were searching for the right orders. He found himself next in line and stood in front of the doctor who nodded and gestured at him to sit. He sat.
“Name and rank,” the lieutenant who was standing barked.
“Private Rayan bin Nasser, sir.” He stared ahead.
“Extend your arm and roll up your sleeve, Private Rayan,” the doctor said behind his thick white mask.
“Yes, sir,” Rayan extended his arm.
“Have you experienced any nausea or fever in the last forty-eight hours?” the doctor asked.
“No, sir.”
“Have you noticed any strange behavior from anyone in your unit?”
“No, sir.”
“Have you been bitten by any animal in the last forty-eight hours?”
“No, sir.”
“Have you been in contact with any animals in the last forty-eight hours?”
“No, sir.”
“Have you been bitten by any human in the last forty-eight hours?”
“Sir?” Rayan hesitated, caught off guard.
“Answer the question, Private” the lieutenant that hovered over them instructed.
“I. No… no, sir,” Rayan answered, not entirely understanding the question.
The doctor held Rayan’s arm and wiped the skin with a wet pad. The scent of alcohol was overwhelming. Rayan’s eyes grew hot, and he squeezed them shut.
“This will pinch a little,” the doctor said, not looking Rayan in the eyes.
“What is in it?” Rayan’s stare drifted to the needle.
“Need to know basis,” the lieutenant said, not making eye contact. He preceded writing on his clipboard. Rayan thought he was just another name on the long list of names. There was nothing to worry about, he calmed himself. Standard procedure, nothing abnormal. Rayan considered everything around him and came to the conclusion that the guy in front of him was not a doctor. Not the kind that he would see in the hospital anyway. He was a scientist. He got the impression that he was in a lab, and they were testing something on them. Maybe it was this unknown green substance that lay before him in vials. On the end of the table stood a box with a biohazard sticker plastered over it. Active martial. He scanned the table and saw a small white box that read, “Apis mellifera.” He didn't recognize it. What language is that? He tensed up then shifted his attention back to his arm and watched the needle penetrate his skin. A sting shot through him as the syringe’s lime-green content emptied into his bloodstream. The doctor waited a whole sixty seconds, observing Rayan’s eyes.
‘Secure,” the lab doctor said and slapped a bandage on the entry point.
“Secure,” the lieutenant echoed and handed him an insignia patch to hang on his uniform. “Private, proceed to the assembly point.”
Rayan got on his feet, saluted his superior, and walked off feeling light-headed. He forcefully gained his balance and joined the rest at the meeting grounds.
Chapter 37
Rakan materialized from thin air inches away from me. Where did he come from? Both his arms extended around me, not touching me, but almost…
“I got you,” he whispered. “Don’t worry.”
Face to face. My attention fixated on his silver eyes. My heart rate escalated, deepening my breath. Everything stopped, including time as silence fell around me.
“What are you doing?” I asked. It came out as a feathery purr. Why would I worry?
“Saving you.” He smiled arrogantly. He dropped both his arms to his hips and turned back around, running into the horde of zombies Faisal was fighting off. A lump of a body appeared in my peripheral vision. I tilted my head an inch where a zombie lay on the floor, its head slanted awkwardly, with a sharp object lodged into its skull. I took a step further away from it.
“That… it’s… did he?” I uttered nonsense.
Malak and Deema jogged toward me.
“Are you okay?” Malak asked.
“I was—” I stared and pointed at the zombie. “Was I in danger?”
“Everything happened so quickly. That zombie was a shiber away from your neck,” Malak said, breathing through her mouth. “Before I could say anything, Rakan was already there, next to you.”
“He’s fast,” Deema said, “inhumanly fast.”
“I don't understand.” I shifted my gaze from the corpse to Rakan. He stood next to the banner, kicking a zombie against it. He turned around, looking straight at me, then flashed a subtle smile like he could hear us. He kept the smile and turned back to the zombie. He lifted his leg midair, delivering a strong kick to the zombie’s shoulder, pushing him back and over the banner.
“There are too many of them!” Faisal shouted, zeroing in on a swarm of zombies spilling out in the hall.
“Higher grounds,” Rakan said, pointing up, “now.”
We ran toward a staircase not far from the escalator, sprinting up to the third floor. My legs burned as I lifted my feet on the steps between landings, and heat spread through my lungs. I struggled to breathe, gasping for air at the top of the stairs. I knelt and placed both hands on my kneecaps to catch my breath. From this angle I saw the zombies stumbling, stopping at the bottom of the stairs. They were not following us up.
“We need to find things to barricade the stairs,” Rakan said, “now.”
“Rakan,” I said.
“Sara?” He turned around, eyes clouded with anticipation. He waited for me to say something.
I found myself distracted by his eyes and the way he made me feel like I was the only one there. Snap out of it, quick! “Look,” I said ,yanking myself out of the bubble, “the zombies.”
The horde gathered at the bottom, not lifting a single foot. They stood there. Pushing one another over.
“They’re not coming up,” Malak said.
“It seems like the only brain activity a zombie possesses is the motor skills,” Deema said.
“So, we’re being chased by dumb zombies?” I asked.
“No, not dumb. I mean, I don’t know about dumb. I don’t think that they have the ability to climb up the stairs though, which means they most probably can’t run either or swim. I don’t think they can perform a simple task such as opening doors,” Deema e
xplained. With the absence of intellectual capabilities, are they even human?
“We need to block the escalators then,” Rakan pointed out, “and the stairs as well just to be safe.”
“Yeah, motor skills or not, even a zombie can stand still on an escalator till it’s delivered to its happy-man meal,” I said.
“We’ll do the heavy lifting,” Rakan instructed. “Help us find things to block the path.”
I nodded. We took a few steps forward, leaving the stairs behind us, searching our surroundings and looking through everything in proximity. Long hallway carpet, big framed portrait of Arabian art with Arabic letters scattered down the hall, spotlight on top that was off, a plant tucked away in the corner and at the other corner, a sofa.
“There.” Deema gestured at an ugly sofa in the hallway, covered in bloodstains.
Faisal spotted it and managed to drag the sofa to the stair access as we stood behind them awkwardly, totally useless. We found a few other things to block off the access—a few boxes, a plant pot, and a vase. Nothing that couldn’t climb would be able to make it over. Two separate long halls stretched on either side; I took a step into the hall on my right. A red carpet stretched through the lonely halls, with rows of open doors on both sides.
“The doors are all open.” I said. “Why aren’t they locked?”
“The electric blackout,” Rakan said. “Most hotels use key card locks, which are electric. Although they are battery locked and fail backed, I assume they ran out of battery and clicked open.”
“How will we get in and out if the electricity goes out again?” Malak asked.
“The internal handle is purely mechanical. So, we won’t have a problem getting out, and we’ll just lodge something on the door to get back in,” Rakan said.
We slowly walked toward the end of the hall to a door in the corner. The further we got from the stairs the better. The door creaked open as we let ourselves in, locking the door behind us.
“Rakan and I will sweep the rooms and shoot anything that moves,” Faisal said.
I looked at them as they disappeared into one of the two rooms. The suite still smelled like a hotel would—subtle, welcoming. A light note of white tea mixed with rose and a light woodsy, musky after smell. The crisp scent took me back to a family trip we took years back, Malak and I running through all the rooms, touching the corners and walls, looking for the perfect bed and sitting on it to claim it while my mom and dad followed us around giggling and trying to make sense of our decision-making process.
“This place is big,” Malak said.
I nodded. The spacious suite had three doors, two led to the bedrooms and one to a bathroom. An open-concept kitchenette was attached to the living room. A rush ran down my spine at the touch of cold metal brushing my skin. My fingers in my pocket twirled the ring. I took it out and rolled it on my palm.
“It’s not your fault, Sara,” Malak said, reading my thoughts.
“I could have saved her.” I sighed and dipped my head lower, rubbing the ring. The guilt followed me here.
“She slipped,” Deema said. “You couldn’t have gotten to her on time.”
“When was she bit?” Malak asked.
“A few days or last week. It feels like a long time ago,” I said and stepped into the kitchenette. The faucet above the sink dripped water, hitting the stainless-steel sink. Drip. Drip. A fruit basket waited on the table; the fruit has gone bad, rotten. How long was the fruit left out? The black banana peels decomposed beyond recognition. How long did it take bananas to turn black?
“And you chose not to tell us.” Malak followed me. Deema a step behind.
“She made me promise. I wanted to tell you a few times, but…” I shook my head and opened the fridge. Empty shelves. I closed it. Drip. Drip. “It doesn’t matter now.”
“Look at me,” Malak said. I glanced up in her eyes. “It was her time to go. It was no one’s fault.”
I wanted to believe her, but I couldn’t help but take the blame. I stared in Malak’s eyes. There was something different about them. “Malak,” I said.
“Yes?”
“Your eyes.”
“What about them?”
“They—” I walked a step closer to her. “They're different.”
Her brown eyes transformed to a deeper brown tone. I looked closely into them. White swirls appeared in the center. They looked like stars in space, a window to another galaxy. Her eyes twinkled beautifully as she blinked, bringing the moon and the stars closer. For a second, I was mesmerized.
“You’re scaring me,” Malak said, blinking nervously, pulling away and searching the surfaces.
“No don’t freak out,” I said. “They look beautiful.”
Deema blocked Malak’s path and gazed into her eyes. “They do, but why are they changing?”
“Your eyes are changing, like Rakan and May,” I said.
“I don’t feel any different,” Malak said. “Is there a mirror anywhere here?”
“Clear,” Faisal said as he popped out from the right room and wandered into the other room.
“That one will be your room. It’s safe.” Rakan appeared after Faisal then entered the other room.
“What does this mean?” Malak asked, turning back to me.
“Your eyes?” I asked.
“Yes, my eyes,” Malak said uneasily.
“I don’t know, but we need some answers,” I said.
“Something is not right with that guy,” Deema said.
“Rakan?” I asked.
“No.” Deema shook her head once.
Faisal materialized from the room, with a strange smirk. We watched him. May’s message ringing in my head. Faisal is hiding something.
“Other room is clear. Good news, you have your own bathroom,” Faisal said.
“Great. So no scheduled bathroom runs in the middle of the night,” I said.
Rakan stepped out of the room and nodded. We walked out of the kitchen into the living room. Curtains covered the entire wall. I pulled them open.
“There’s a balcony out here,” I said.
“It’s off-limits for now,” Rakan said. “Other than that, everywhere else seems safe.”
“I need to examine you all,” Deema said. “To make sure you’re all okay, but I can’t do it without some supplies.”
“There should be a first aid kit somewhere around,” Malak said, scanning the room.
“We have to get water and food too,” Faisal said.
“I’m agreeing with him for once,” Malak said.
“Coffee,” I said in a tiny voice from the back and shrugged. “I saw a mini-market outside the hotel.”
“We should get everything before it gets dark,” Rakan said and turned to me. “Maybe you should stay here while we go.”
“What?” both Faisal and I said simultaneously. I know I objected because I wanted to go shopping, but why did Faisal protest so strongly?
“You won’t know what medical supplies to get,” Deema said.
“Fair enough.” Rakan nodded.
“More hands means more things we can carry in half the time,” Malak said.
“It’s settled. We all go,” Faisal said.
We checked our weapons before exiting the suite. Faisal fell behind and lodged a pillow under the doorstep, leaving it cracked open. I hoped no unsuspected guests paid us an unwelcome visit.
“We can’t go the same way we came up,” Rakan said, pointing at another flight of stairs on the other far end of the hall. “We’ll be better off walking down those. They will lead us down all the same.”
“How badly do I want coffee?” I focused on my gun, ready for action.
We descended the stairs as fast as we could without getting any zombie’s attention. We sped up and entered the grocery store, picking up baskets. Deja Zu, I thought. We hit the first aisle, which had all the junk food. Not being able to put my bias aside, this to me was the most vital aisle of them all. Unless there was a coffee aisle. Wa
it, does coffee have its own aisle?
“I’ll walk behind. Faisal, take the lead,” Rakan said, his chest growing. Both his hands wrapped around his gun.
“Anything steps a toe in this aisle, I’ll take it down,” Faisal said, staring Rakan down and jogged ahead. The energy between the two was different. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but something changed between them. Rakan stood stiff. He scanned the area on one end and Faisal the other. We started throwing our life supplies in the basket. We jumped from one aisle to the next following the same layout. Finally, we got to the medical shelves. Deema picked up a few things while I got things I could recognize like aspirin, vitamins, and body wash supplies. My thigh jerks back upon feeling a vibration in my pocket; it was my phone. I pulled it out quickly.
I sighed. “My battery is low.” I looked down at my phone and waved it around like that motion would charge it. “It’s about to die.”
“Mine too,” Malak said.
“Same here,” Deema said.
“Mom and Dad,” I whispered.
“Maybe we can find a charger here,” Malak said.
“You don’t need the phones,” Faisal said. “No one’s coming. Plus, you’re not home.”
“What?” I asked, missing the point.
“The person your dad sent,” Faisal said, throwing a box in Deema's basket.
“What? How did you know about that?” I asked, puzzled.
“What?” Faisal echoed. His eyes widened, and his face went pale.
“I never mentioned that,” I said, feeling the tension rise. Everyone directed their attention to Faisal.
“I overheard you talking to May about it,” he said, dodging glances.
“I never talked about it with,” I resisted a hesitation, “May.”
“Then May must have told me,” Faisal said in a firm and defensive tone.
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