“Hello,” the dark shadow pronounced. Faisal jumped out of his seat, planting his feet on the ground toward the door, his gun already aiming at the shadow before the words were completed.
“No,” a soft voice said, “please don’t shoot.”
Malak and I exchanged looks while Rakan locked his eyes on the shadow.
“Show yourself,” Faisal said and went around the sofa. “Step forward.”
The shadow split into three shadows, slowly getting bigger as they stepped closer, revealing themselves and manifesting into two tall men dressed in somber, dark thoabs. And a little girl, between them. The closer they got, the clearer their image became. One of the men had graying, white long hair and a beard that matched it. He took small steps with both palms exposed, showing us he wasn’t carrying anything.
“Stop right there,” Faisal said. “That’s close enough.”
“She’s a little girl,” Deema said, “only a little girl.” She walked toward them.
“Deema!” Rakan said. “We don’t know who they are.”
“Damn it,” I muttered under my breath with the gun in my pocket. I jogged behind her. “We’re doing this. Again?”
“Wait up.” Malak followed and took her position beside me. “Déjà vu.”
“Are you hurt?” Deema knelt on her knees not too far from the girl.
“Easy there,” Malak said.
“Who are you?” asked the older man.
“We will do the questioning,” Faisal said and took a few steps closer to us.
The girl approached us, skipping with a smile. “My name is Almass,” the girl said, “and these are my uncle, and grandpa.”
The old man cringed and placed his arm on Almass’s shoulder, pulling her back closer to him.
“Almass. Precious,” I said. “That’s a pretty name.” The word Almass was Arabic for diamond.
“Thank you.” She blushed.
“How old are you, Almass?” I asked after a quick glance at her relatives. Her grandfather’s thoab had bloodstains. Despite the streaks of white hair, he looked young for a grandfather.
“I’m eight and a half,” she said.
“I need to ask you something, Almass,” Deema said. “Were you bit by anything?”
“No, I wasn’t,” Almass said with a note of sadness, “but—”
“None of us were bitten,” the grandfather interrupted.
“But what?” I asked, looking back at the girl.
Almass looked up at her grandfather, then back to me.
“Was your grandfather bit?” I asked, locking my eyes on him. “Or uncle?”
“No—” Almass started.
“We already told you. We were not,” the grandfather said, but I wasn’t convinced.
“Now, who are you, and are those guys related to you?” the uncle spoke.
“Are you really asking that?” Malak said.
“Are they your brothers?” he provoked her once more.
"I don't think our relationship with them would concern you too much when they put a bullet in your mentality," she growled, baring her teeth.
“’Kay everyone should maybe calm down.” I turned to Almass. “You said but, but what?”
Almass glanced at her grandfather then looked at me. She shook her head. “Nothing.”
Rakan’s voice sounded immediately behind me now. “Are you alright?” he asked. His arm poked beside me, the gun toward the men. I nodded.
“You men should know better,” the uncle said. “Aiming your weapon at an older man.”
“The circumstances are not the same,” Rakan said calmly.
“They seem fine,” Deema said. “Lower your guns.”
“I’ll lower my gun after you check them for marks,” Faisal said, as he glided closer, his knees slightly bent and his upper body stable, the gun fixed on the newcomers. Like a tank that rolled smoothly as the turret rotated.
“I’m inclined to agree with him,” Rakan said, eyes sharp on the two.
“Fair enough,” I said, looking at the uncle who seemed in charge. “Mind if my friend here examines you all?”
The man grunted and glanced away. Deema started with Almass. She checked her as thoroughly as she could; her visible spots were clean. She checked her body temperature and pupils. After she was done, she tugged on Almass’s dark brown braid and released it back on her shoulder. “You’re fine, sweetie,” she told her. I turned and looked at Rakan; his sight narrowed in on them, not blinking. Deema moved to the old man next, followed by the uncle who resisted at first but quickly gave in, objecting to this, making it clear he did not approve.
“How about you girls give us a heads-up next time you run into danger?” Faisal holstered his gun.
“We weren’t in any danger,” I said. “We had it covered.”
“You’re right about that,” Rakan said and holstered his gun as well. “About you not being in danger.”
“What do you mean?” I asked. “They could have attacked and bit us to Zombisiam.”
“They were in my range. I would have put a bullet in all three heads faster than you could blink.” He winked, walking past me toward the new guests. He extended his arm to the old man. The old man reciprocated the gesture.
“Sir, my name is Rakan.” He shook his hand firmly. “I am sorry about this, but that was necessary. I will protect you as long as you’re not a threat to the people I’m with, or myself.”
The man nodded, and Almass started scratching her cheeks hard.
“You okay there?” Malak asked her.
“A mosquito.” Almass shrugged. “It itches.”
“Don’t scratch it,” Malak said, making a silly face. “It’ll go away on its own.”
We regrouped and decided that they would join us for dinner. Luckily for them, there were some extra chairs, and it was the apocalypse. In any other situation, this would never be expected. Not only was it uncustomary for men to set with women, but it was even less customary for strangers of the opposite sex to share a meal. How much did rules of a society bend when survival was at stake? And there we were, us, them, and some junk food. We gathered around the table on the balcony. The table was full of cooked beans and corn, and all kinds of chips and chocolates. I looked over at Almass to see her eyes grow wider, staring at the food.
“You want some?” I read her eyes.
She bobbed her head enthusiastically and cupped her mouth.
“Eat all you can,” I said.
She didn’t waste another second. She grabbed some chocolates and chips and wolfed them down.
“Where do you live, sir?” Rakan asked.
“My grandfather’s name is Abdulaziz,” Almass said through puffed cheeks.
“Don’t speak with food in your mouth,” Abdulaziz said. The name, Abdulaziz, only supported my theory. The name is too common around these parts. “Not far from here,” he continued.
“What happened?” Rakan asked. “If you don't mind me asking.”
“They attacked our house,” the uncle picked up the conversation.
“Everyone in my family, including my other son.” Abduzlaziz paused, looking at Almass and giving her a fragmented smile. “They are gone.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Rakan said.
“Sorry to hear that,” I said. Abdulaziz nodded. The uncle didn’t acknowledge me, didn't even look my way. He only interacted with the guys. He thanked Rakan and placed another spoon of corn in his mouth.
“Do you have any idea what happened to the safe zone here?” Malak asked.
“The zone was a decoy,” Abdulaziz said.
“A decoy?” Malak said.
“Yes. It was not made to withstand an attack like this, and they were well aware of it. It was overtaken by the disease in less than twenty-four hours.” He shook his head. “It was an experiment ground. They were testing something. It was also a way to contain the masses. Officials needed to create false hope. The government knew about this. They knew all along.”
> He came off as either an independent thinker that knew the politics game too well, or insanely paranoid and fell for a conspiracy theory.
“Do you have any concrete evidence implicating a cover-up?” Malak asked.
“The evidence is around us,” he hissed.
“Life does not end with death,” the uncle said. “So, what if this is the resurrection? What If those who sleep are in heaven and those who walk are in hell?”
I glanced at Malak who stopped chewing.
“What are you saying? Faisal crossed both arms. “That this is the end of times?”
“Why are the dead coming back?” the uncle said.
I took a bite of chocolate. Malak raised an eyebrow. Deema shrugged. Almass stuffed her face.
“It has been a long day.” Rakan cleared his throat. “We should call it a night.”
◆◆◆
I woke up in my new bed, my body thanking me for allowing it a good night’s rest. My eyelids protested, but eventually opened. I felt what I like to call a thought-hangover. I was trying to recover from the outrageous thoughts. I sat up, looking around. Deema was already up and packing some medical supplies and food she had laid out on the table. Malak was also already up.
“Almost done,” Deema said. “You should get up and get ready.”
I yawned and stretched out on the bed. “Where’s Malak?” I asked.
“I woke up, and she’s was already out,” Deema said. “With the guys I guess.”
“Right,” I said and jumped out of the bed. “I’ll freshen up and meet them.”
I went into the bathroom and stared at the reflection glaring back at me. A teardrop fell from my eye. I wiped it away quickly before Malak came in. Images of Mom and May flashed before me. The little brother I’d never argue with. The truth was, if I started crying, I would never stop. I freshened up and headed out. I passed Deema, who was still digging in her bag and started for the living room. I saw no one there but heard noises floating from the kitchen. I walked in on a conversation between Rakan and Faisal.
“Bahrain no longer exists,” Faisal said.
“What?” I said. “What do you mean?”
Both their faces went pale. They were alarmed to see me.
“Sara.” Rakan’s eyes widened with surprise.
“What happened to Bahrain?” I asked.
“We don’t know,” Rakan said.
“Faisal said it doesn’t exist anymore.” I looked at Faisal who swallowed hard and kept staring at me.
“The old man,” Faisal said, “that’s what he said. Something about the military blowing it up. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”
“My pa—” I said and bit my lip. I inhaled deeply. “My father is still there.” I prayed in silence. Please, not him too, I pled.
“Don’t jump to any conclusions,” Rakan said.
“Morning,” Deema said, appearing at the entrance.
“Don’t mention any of this to Malak,” I said to them both. They nodded. Something about them was slightly off. I couldn’t put my finger on it.
“Everyone ready?” Deema asked.
“Where’s Malak?” I finally asked.
“She’s not with you?” Rakan asked.
“She wasn’t with you?” I turned to Rakan.
“No,” he said. “I haven’t seen her since last night.”
“What?” My heart sank. I darted toward the bedroom again. “Malak!” I shouted.
“Sara!” Rakan’s voice followed me into the bedroom. “You need to keep your voice down.”
I ignored him and called out for her. I stared at the empty surfaces—the bed where I left her the night before. I ran to the bathroom. Nothing. I ran back out and checked the empty closets. Under the beds. Please answer, my inner voice prayed. Please. I rushed out and into the guy’s room. It was empty. “Malak,” I whispered.
“When did you see her last?” Rakan hurried in behind me.
“She, uh, she was lying next to me. Sleeping,” I said, pacing. “I woke up she wasn’t there. Here.”
“We will find her,” Rakan said.
Not her, I heard myself repeating. Everything around me slowly crashed down. “We need to find my sister,” I said.
“The balcony,” Rakan said and headed out, not waiting for me to respond. I followed him out. The table, the chairs. All left from last night. I looked over the rail; the water’s angry waves splashed on the shore.
“She’s gone,” I said. “I lost her again.”
Chapter 41
“The people here,” Deema said, lowering her head. Fear in her eyes?
“We’ll go up and talk to them then,” Rakan said.
“You can wait here,” Faisal said, pulling out his gun and checking the magazine. Faisal is hiding something. He is hiding something.
A heat deep inside spread through me. I stared at them, anger taking hold of me. Do they think I am not going? I ran my fingers along the gun in my pocket and barged out of the suite’s doors. I led the way, not knowing where I was going.
Rakan rushed next to me. “At least let me go first,” he said. I allowed him to proceed. We took the fire exit a floor up, up cement stairs surrounded by cold cement walls. Every sharp-edged step raised my anxiety. Rakan stood in the hall entrance and looked ahead. He adjusted his head and marched up the hall, standing next to a door in the center. “This is it,” Rakan said.
“How do you know this is the one?” Faisal whispered, scratching his neck. We collectively stood around the door.
“I’m sure,” Rakan said.
Faisal shot a suspicious glance but said nothing. Rakan nodded and placed his ear on the door, listening. He tapped, wrapping one palm firmly around the handle, using the other to knock louder with the butt of his gun. The door cracked open. Almass’s face popped out. She took one look at us through the crack and closed the door. Rattling chain sounds followed before the door swung open again. Ever since this had started, I’d been following the guys, but that was about to change. That time it was personal. I pushed myself in, prepared to shoot any soul if it stood between me and finding Malak.
“Get out!” The uncle appeared, shouting from a back room. “What are you doing here?”
“Where is Malak?” I asked.
“Get out!” the uncle yelled once more.
I aimed the gun close enough to smell the uncle’s morning breath. Anger arranged itself over common sense. “Where is my sister?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said. “You need to leave, now.”
“Where is my sister?” I screamed louder than him.
Does everyone think I will do what they say? I will just walk away from this? A loud thump pierced in the air. I turned in time to see a zombie pushing the door open. Rakan stood behind the door that slammed right into him. The zombie darted out of a small closet in our direction. Faisal was the closest to me. He jumped in front of me, using his body weight to push the zombie away from us, smashing both of them against the wall.
“Ghazi!” Abdulaziz shouted, rushing out of the bathroom and emerging into the living room.
The zombie paused and stared back at Abdulaziz with empty eyes. Defenseless, exposed. And that’s how long it took Faisal to jam his gun in the zombie's mouth, tilting upward to the brain and firing. The body collapsed instantly with a dead thud.
“No,” Abdulaziz shouted, vibrating the stillness. He ran across the suite to the fallen zombie. He dropped to his knees and grabbed the zombie’s empty vessel, cradle-rocking it in his arms and repeating, “No, no, no, no, no.”
“You alright?” Rakan asked Faisal, taking his place closer to me.
“I think I dislocated my shoulder,” Faisal said, grunting while he plopped his feet on the ground, steadying himself. His left arm awkwardly pointed down, hanging motionless.
Pressure squeezed my shoulder. I looked over; it was Deema. She looked at me with her eyebrows lifted and squeezed my shoulder once more, comforting me. “Faisal
saved me,” I whispered under my breath.
“Why do you have a zombie in your room?” Faisal asked, raising his right hand, with the gun toward Abdulaziz. “Are there more?”
“Daddy,” Almass said, standing frozen next to the door, her gaze on the corpse with a hole in its head.
“You killed my son,” Abdulaziz said with watery eyes.
“That is not your son,” Rakan replied. “It’s a zombie.”
The uncle stood in the doorway, silent, eyes wide open, death lingering in the suite. Abdulaziz glanced at his own waist. A dagger hung visibly from his belt, over the thoab. With fury in his eyes, he slowly stared at Faisal like a black-and-white painting with eyes that follows you wherever you go.
“Don’t,” Rakan warned, tracking Abdulaziz’s eyes. His gun switched from the uncle to Abduzaziz. Faisal switched his aim to the uncle. They both moved so sleekly side by side, the mechanics of their movement seemed attached by an invisible, elegant cord.
Abdulaziz gently placed the zombie on the floor, and he kissed his rotten forehead. This is not natural. This is wrong. He stood up, facing us, placing his hand on the dagger.
“Don’t even think about it,” I said, my gun on him. At that point, I didn’t care if lived or died. Almass ran up to her grandfather and buried her face in his leg. My gaze was on Abdulaziz, not looking down at her. Conflicted. Don't look at the little girl. Don’t be stupid, old man. I will shoot.
“He is my son.” Abdulaziz lowered his hand away from the dagger. “I lost everything.”
“Your son was already dead.” Rakan had to explain as if the son died prematurely, as if he was killed twice, taken from him twice. A father that witnessed the pain of losing him all over again. “How could you have a zombie in the room with you and jeopardize your family’s safety?”
“He is my family,” Abdulaziz said.
“He was,” I said. But didn't I try to do the same? Didn't I want to keep Malak and wouldn't allow anyone to harm her. But it was different. She was alive, and she hadn’t turned yet. Would I have done the same? I couldn’t help but glance at Faisal. He’s hiding something. He shuffled uncomfortably, scratching his skin.
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