“Thanks,” Malak said. “I really need this.”
I placed the tray along with the last cup next to Deema’s pillow. “Careful, it’s hot,” I said and took a few steps down and sat at the end of her bed.
“What time is?” Deema asked.
“Time to go,” Malak said.
We got out of bed and freshened up. Hot coffee and hot water to shower never felt as good as it did that morning. We left the room and headed to the living room, where Rakan and Faisal were waiting for us. We spotted them talking and joking around like everything was normal. Like it was any other day and not like we weren’t brushing death’s shoulder every corner we took. The feeling was nice. I grinned. But I knew it wouldn’t last. Rakan sat on the armrest of the sofa. He turned his head toward us as we walked over to them. His eyes locked on mine, and he slowly got on his feet and stood next to Faisal.
“I hope you slept well,” Rakan said.
“I don’t remember a thing after my head hit the pillow,” Deema said.
“Same here,” I said.
“I woke up a few times but other than that I caught up on much-needed Z’s.” Malak said.
“Please don’t say Z’s,” I said.
“That’s good,” Faisal added.
Faisal looked at Malak differently. He smiled at her as he took her all in. Looks of admiration maybe? Did he like her? What was I missing? I caught myself smiling. What do you know? Smiles were contagious. Don't say contagious, I scolded myself in my head.
“Are you hungry?” Rakan asked.
“Errm, well, not really,” I lied. My stomach growled, declaring that it and I no longer had mutual goals. It was so hard for me to admit to an attractive guy that I was so hungry I could eat a table. I mean, what if he thought I ate too much?
“I am starving!” Deema said. She didn’t seem to have that problem.
“Yeah, me too,” Malak said. Okay, so it’s only me.
“Let’s go,” Faisal said, his voice raised with excitement. He walked to the balcony doors and slid them open. We followed him, cups in hand and confused glances.
“It’s outside,” Rakan said and pointed to the balcony, waiting for us to go first.
“What’s out there?” Deema asked.
“Breakfast,” Faisal said from the other side of the glass doors.
Food. That's all I needed to hear; I’m convinced. We walked out under the blazing sun that shined so bright it stung my eyes. I covered my eyes and looked around. I hadn’t realized the balcony was that big. It stretched out through the entire suite and seemed to go on forever. A table sat close to the corner close to the railing, filled with covered plates. Faisal started uncovering the plates, revealing a spread of an assortment of different foods—eggs, cheese, peanut butter, and jam. A feast.
“How?” Malak asked. “Where did you get this from?”
“I found one of the restaurant’s kitchen door unlocked on one of my sweeps,” Faisal said. “Fully stocked.”
“Is that shakshuka?” I said, eyeing one plate.
“It is. We used canned tomatoes,” Rakan said. Shakshuka was a popular middle eastern breakfast dish made with onions, garlic, and tomatoes in scrambled-style eggs.
“Please.” Rakan pulled up a chair. “Sit.”
I stood speechless, then sat. Everyone sat. I broke a piece of pita bread, curved it, and scooped some shakshuka. I left the food in my mouth for a second before attempting to chew, absorbing the different flavors.
“Um, this is good,” I said through the food. “Spicy.”
“I added chili pepper,” Rakan said. Handsome and can cook, I thought.
“It’s good!” Malak added.
“Why are you always better than us girls when it comes to making eggs?” Deema asked, enjoying her bite.
Both guys giggled. It was true. There was something about Saudi boys and eggs. I had never heard of a guy that didn’t make extraordinary eggs, whatever the style may be. As if they graduated from egg culinary, if such a school existed. I nodded and took another bite.
“Rakan and I were talking,” Faisal said between sips. “We were wondering how you felt about us going to the capital?”
“Riyadh?” Deema asked.
“How would you even know it hasn’t been overrun by zombies?” Malak asked.
“It supposedly has the biggest safe zone in the country. Chances are they have the capacity to take in the highest number of survivors and fight this off,” Faisal said.
“We don’t know if they’re still operating,” I said. The idea of driving further away from Bahrain made me apprehensive. Malak looked at me, and I knew she was feeling the same.
“We could drive all the way out there,” Deema pointed out the distance, “and find nothing.”
“It is a possibility,” Rakan said.
“It’s a risk,” Malak said.
I glanced at Faisal. He bit his lower lip like he was holding back. I turned to Rakan. “What are you not telling us?” I asked.
Rakan took a deep breath and put down his bread. His eyes transformed into a dark, stormy gray.
“What is it?” I repeated calmly.
“It’s a thought,” Faisal said. We turned our heads toward him. “I’m a soldier. I’m in the military. I have an idea of how they operate. I think if the army is faced with an issue of this magnitude, they will resort to something on a larger scale.”
“A large scale?” I asked.
“They wouldn’t!” Malak shook her head and placed her coffee on the table.
“They won’t what?” Deema asked.
“They will bury these cities with everything in them,” Faisal said. “We can’t stay here.”
“It’s a theory,” Rakan said.
“You mean a possibility?” I asked.
“It’s an assumption at best,” Faisal said between bites, “but they are evacuating the city for a reason. There could be another threat out here beside the zombies.”
“They would check for survivors,” Deema said, “before taking such a juristic measure, right?”
“Based on the speed of the virus spreading rate, I wouldn’t think the country could afford to waste any time. The tragedy will be greater the more they waited,” Faisal said. “They would have to act quickly to contain or salvage what’s left. Time is of the essence.”
“Did the virus spread from here?” I asked.
“Whether it started here or not isn’t the point,” Faisal said. “It’s already here and the goal is to stop it from further spreading.”
“But there’s a cure. We’re sitting right here with it,” Deema said. “With two of them.”
“Deema,” I said calmly.
“Both Rakan and Malak,” Deema emphasized. “They are the cure.”
“Deema,” I repeated, dreading what would come if she kept pushing for an answer.
“What? It’s true!” Deema said. Both Rakan and Malak sat in silence, furthering their bodies from the table.
“The truth is, we don’t know that,” Faisal said, and that was exactly what I avoided thinking of and never wanted to hear. The windows howled behind us in the back.
“We are immune for now,” Rakan said, “but we don’t know for how long.”
“Yes, that and if there are any side effects,” Faisal pressed.
The thought frightened me. Could I still lose Malak?
“I think going to the neutralized zone should be our first priority,” Rakan said. “We don’t know how long this place will hold safe.”
My stomach tied in knots, and I was full. Inside me, something was whispering that we needed to stay in the Eastern Province. We shouldn’t go to the capital. Geographically, it would not make sense to do so. Riyadh was centered in the middle of this. It would also lay more distance between us and our parents. We would bury ourselves deeper into this. I looked over the balcony rail. A moth landed then flew off, beyond it waves of sand flipped and tossed, crashing into the water. I took a deep breath, hoping for guidan
ce. Out of habit, I pulled my phone out of my pocket. A voice mail icon wiggled in the screen's corner. Somewhere between last night and breakfast, I received a message. The battery was low, hanging by a bar. I went to the mailbox and pressed the phone against my cheek. I stood on my feet.
“Gonna check my phone,” I said and walked toward the rail, anxiously waiting for the message to come through. Everything else in the background became nothing but white noise. Little did I know what the message held. If I had, I would have chosen to never listen to it.
“I don’t know how to tell you this.” His voice intertwined both with sorrow and pain filled my ear. “Sara, Malak… It’s your mom. She…she was caught in a crossfire. She didn’t make it.” I bent forward, catching my breath over the balcony rail, the air escaping my lungs. “Listen to me, this is important, trust no one, only Abdu—” The name was obscured by gunfire shots. “Talk to him. No one else. And honey. No matter what happens, I did and would do anything to keep you safe.” A clicking sound spread in my ears, signaling the end of the message and every bone in me to collapse. The word “no” repeated over and over in my head. My knees buckled, and I slowly lowered myself to the ground, my back against the rail. I looked over to Malak. Her smile gradually faded away as she got up and moved closer to me.
Chapter 40
“Sara.” Malak walked closer to me, her face washed with concern. “What’s wrong?”
“Something I ate,” I said, glancing at her from the bottom to top angle, sitting on the ground. I couldn’t tell her the news, not yet.
“Are you sure?” she asked.
“Y-yes,” I exhaled a lie. I slid the phone back into my pocket.
“You were on the phone,” she said, inspecting my hand.
“Yeah, I was. I was checking if a call went through.” I looked away; I couldn’t look into her eyes. “I need to go to the bathroom,” I said, smoothly plopping both feet on the ground and ducked inside.
“Are you okay?” Deema said, standing next to the entrance.
“Yeah.” I passed her, avoiding eye contact. I paced into the bathroom, locking the latch behind me. The tears flowed down my face like an open faucet. I paced back and forth, trying to calm myself. Mom is gone, Mom is gone. And then it dawned on me. The baby. My little brother. The brother I’d never meet. The brother that would never know me. “No, no.” My voice cracked. I had to stop thinking about this. I stopped in front of the sink and ran the hot water. I splashed my tears away, but they kept coming. I took a deep breath, taking in the steam, letting it sink into my pores, allowing it in to cleanse the pain away.
A knock at the door. “Sara,” Malak said. I could tell she had her face flattened on the door, sounding like she was talking through her nose.
A cough escaped me. “I’ll be right out.” The tears wouldn’t stop. I gawked at my reflection. I have to stay strong. Malak can’t know. I opened the door and tilted my head. “Hey.”
“You've been crying,” Malak said immediately. Deema stepped in the bedroom behind her.
“Yes,” I said, “it’s…”
“Sara,” Malak said. “It’s not your fault.”
“What?”
“May,” Malak said. I let out a breath of relief. “I saw you playing with your pocket, with the ring.”
“Yeah,” I said and swallowed my truth.
“I know you two go way back”—Deema adjusted her glasses—“but it was her time to go.”
I nodded and looked down. We left the bedroom and moved to the living room. Rakan stood next to the glass balcony door, drapes wide open. He turned his head to us.
“We can’t leave now,” Rakan said and turned his attention back to the glass, “a sandstorm is rolling in. We'll have to wait till tomorrow.”
◆◆◆
The suite darkened as the storm shielded the natural light. The sandstorm outside transformed the beautiful landscape to a sand-covered view, swallowing the green palm trees around the water. I looked around the living room and stopped at Malak’s smile. The walls closed in on me. I needed to tell her but I didn’t want to rob her of that smile. Night fell, and it had been hours since the storm touched down, so I decided it would be safe to step out. I slid out the balcony door. Rakan followed me. He stood next to me, his musky scent blowing over me, sending a chill down my spine that settled in my tummy.
“Rakan,” I said, “I need to tell you something.”
“You can tell me anything.”
“I got a voice message from my dad,” I said. “It’s my mom.”
The sentence hung unfinished. A blink was it all it took to release tears down my cheeks. I looked up at the sky like that would hold the tears back.
His brows furrowed. “I’m sorry,” he said. “My condolences.” He stood staring at me like he was waiting for some kind of sign or permission.
“Malak doesn't know,” I said. My hands brushed the crunchy sand on the railing.
“I guess you decided on not telling her.”
“Not yet,” I said, looking at the water below us. The moon touched every part of its surface, affecting its flow, pulling it. Teasing it. “I need to know she’s okay first.”
“Sara.”
“Yeah.”
“Did your father tell you anything else?”
“What do you mean?” I asked, tension building up inside me and stretching to the palm of my hands.
“Did he mention anything else besides”—he bit his lower lip —“your mom?”
A little voice in my head warned me. Why was he asking that? What did he want to find out? “No,” I lied convincingly. There was something not right here. I felt it in my guts.
“Alright.” He made a weak attempt to smile. A gesture of relief.
I give him a broken smile. “Is your family okay?” I asked abruptly.
“I hope so,” he said and dipped his head low. “There’s only my dad and little brother left. My mom is gone.”
“I am so sorry.”
“It was a long time ago. Years,” he said.
I could only wish I could say the same; my wounds were torn open, ripping me up every time my lungs expand as if there was no more room inside. “Where’s your dad?” I asked, needing to run another direction with my thoughts.
“He’s in Riyadh.” His eyebrows jumped up, giving me a quick glance.
“Is that where you grew up?”
“My dad.” He paused. “He’s in the military, so we moved around.” His gaze focused on the distance; the sky saturated with different shades of yellow.
“That must have been interesting, moving around,” I said. That explained his attitude and behavior to a point. Military background. But there was still a piece of the puzzle incomplete. Something was still unknown to me about him. He was hiding something.
“Not as much as you’d think.” Another weak smile. “Have you lived here your whole life?”
“In the Eastern province? Yeah, born and raised, and I wouldn't wanna live anywhere else.” I glazed the water that was raging yet calm.
“There’s something I need to tell you too.”
“What?” I turned to him.
“Something changed in me,” he said, his eyes visibly darkening, “after the bite.”
“Your eyes.” The words came out softer than I intended. His grays met mine then he looked away once more. Holding back. “I also noticed your speed and strength, it seems abnormal.”
“That’s not all,” he said, lowering his tone.
“More side effects?” I only assumed. He went quiet. Echo of moans traveled in the distance, coming from the darkness sweeping over the water. “That's creepy.”
“I—” he said, running his fingers through his hair, allowing it to naturally fall over his face. “I’ve developed a craving.”
“A craving?” I repeated, trying to restrain my worst thoughts.
He hesitated.
“What?” I said, turning my body to him and looking at him straight in the eyes. “What is
it?”
He swallowed hard, considering whether to say it.
“Please tell me,” I said, trying to break away from the chains of thoughts that hounded me.
“I—” He cleared his throat, lowering his dark eyebrows closer to his eyes. The contrast of his black hair made his eyes deeper. “Blood.”
“Blood?”
“I’m craving blood, and I can smell it from a distance,” he finally said, and his pupils fully dilated right before me.
“What do you mean blood?” I searched my mind for all the meanings the word held. I soon ran out of synonyms.
“I haven’t had any, blood I mean,” he said. I sensed a “but” coming.
“But I can smell it, and it smells good,” he whispered.
“Rakan,” I said as he turned and faced me. “What do you mean it smells good?”
“Sara.” He said my name slowly, and it slowed my heartbeat. “I don’t know.”
I said nothing. I looked at him, contemplating all the directions this conversation could go. Using my index finger, I gently rolled it on my forehead where the cut was. He tracked my finger with his eyes, taking a step closer.
“Hey.” Malak walked up to us.
“Hey, you!” I said in a high pitch, my face probably turning fifty shades of red and then some . “Am I interrupting anything?” Malak said, studying Rakan.
“No not at all,” I said. “Don’t be silly.” Rakan said nothing. Just nodded.
“Good.” Malak smirked and wrapped her arm in mine. “Let’s eat. I’m starving.”
“Are you craving a steak?’ I asked. “A medium rare steak, maybe?”
“What?” She ejected her head back.
“What? Nothing,” I said. “Never mind. I’m hungry too, and all this talk about steak is not helping.”
We stepped inside the suite, Deema and Faisal sitting on the sofa facing the balcony. A shadow emerged behind them, a shadow in the dark hallway. It blocked the suite exit. I froze in place, somewhere between the inside and the balcony. My heart skipped a pulse. Behind me, Rakan drew his gun, pointing it toward the mysterious shadow and taking a step next to me.
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