Lights flashed, revealing glimpses of the aftermath. Both Abdulrahman and Abdullah lay on the ground, faces upward. A man in black was down, face on the ground. The other man in black was injured, and his arm was bleeding. He checked their pulses and shook his head. He ran to the door and entered a code, prompting the doors to open. He stood by the doorframe, monitoring the hall and motioning for us to follow. Rakan stood still over his father’s warm body. His father’s mouth slightly open and eyes wide open, looking up, staring at his soul departing his body. Rakan placed his palm over his father’s forehead and gently closed his eyes. He leaned down and hugged him. I wanted to say something, anything, but I lost all words. Fahad slipped his arm in Rakan's arm and eased him up.
“We can’t stay here, son,” Fahad said, planting Rakan's feet on the ground. “We need to get you out of here at once. I owe it to your father.” Fahad held Rakan and led us to the exit with a sense of urgency motivating us to leave the premises.
“Where are we going?” Malak asked.
“The final phase is relocating civilian survivors to a secret underground bunker,” Fahad said. “This place is scheduled to self-destruct.”
“A bunker?” I asked. We hit another locked door. The uniform stood aside, ushering us in.
“A bunker would be an underestimation,” he said, recollecting the passcode in his head in a whisper before pressing the numbers on the lock pad. The screen turned green, and the doors opened. He rushed through with Rakan next to him, walking lifelessly. “It’s an underground safe location built in the early 1970s.”
The doors led us to an elevator. Fahad and Rakan entered and stood by the wall. Rakan’s eyes were empty.
“Why was it built?” Malak asked, standing right behind him as we filed in the box. The doors closed behind us.
“Security measures. In 1983, a construction of an airport began building over the secret underground bunker as a cover-up before the Gulf War in 1990. It was a classified project, only a few know it exists. They passed the information on to the next generation, to a group called The Circle, who were tasked with the project,” he said, unlocking the lock system in the elevator. “Anyone involved in the construction was obligated to sign a secret act contract. Anyone who leaked out any information would be punished with treason and executed. Many people tried in the late ’90s to reveal this plan and are missing till this day. The airport was later officially opened in 1999.”
“Where is the airport?” I asked. The elevator started rumbling as it moved.
Fahad smiled, not a nice one, and said, “Hidden in plain sight. Do you think the largest airport in the world is coincidently located in Saudi Arabia?”
“It’s under King Fahd’s airport?” Malak asked.
King Fahd International Airport was in the Eastern Province. It was about forty kilometers from where our house was located. It was the largest airport in the world, laying on 780 square kilometers. Larger than the whole Kingdom of Bahrain.
“Ground floor,” an automated voice declared. The doors opened to a long hall. We got out and went down to the end of a hallway and turned right. The uniform fell behind, gun in hand. Fahad forced himself to steady his hand; he held a blood-stained card to unlock a metal gate. It opened.
“This way,” Fahad said. Rakan gently pulled his hand out of Fahad’s grip and nodded to Fahad, gesturing that he could walk the rest of the way on his own. Fahad jogged ahead, telling us to move faster. The gated doors led us to the back of the building, to a big unpaved parking lot surrounded by tall walls.
“How many people can fit in?” Malak asked, rushing behind, breathing through her mouth and trying to keep up. “The bunker?”
“It’s a city, over twenty levels below the base.” A city under a city. Fahad walked toward the left. Hundreds of people came in view. They stood in lines. Fahad maneuvered around the people like high-profile people who never stood in line but went right in.
“How were they able to keep it under wraps this whole time?” Malak asked. People leered at us, pleading us to help.
“This was a long time ago. I only heard rumors,” Fahad said. “The project was given to The Circle. They employed and hired labor from twenty different countries. When the project was complete, the foreigners left the country, and the stamp in their passports proves it. It’s on file. They officially exited the kingdom.”
A vehicle was tucked in at the end of the parking lot, standing by two high gates, as high as the walls holding them in place. A vehicle like I had never seen before. And there was more than one.
Fahad noticed us staring at the huge vehicles. “They are beasts, courtesy of the army. An armored vehicle with an aluminum body. Keeping it strong yet light. It’s a vessel. Nothing standard about this creation. Designed and fully equipped not only to engage but to also take down an enemy.”
I inspected the monsters. Although these mobile fortresses could have had a psychological effect on any enemy by instilling fear in them by the mere sight and sound of it approaching, the dead were an exception. The sounds would only arouse their curiosity and tickle their hunger, making this a human trap. There were three standing parallel to one another. Like tamed wild beasts you should not get too close to.
“How fast can they go?” Rakan asked.
“One hundred and twenty kilometers per hour,” Fahad said. The vehicles had fourteen big wheels with knives sticking out. “Each one is equipped with seven hybrid engines and four diesel engines. Each could harbor two hundred survivors. There are weapons mounted on both the front and top. The sensors detect any movement so they can detect and shoot things with no body heat.” The dead, I thought.
On the other side stood ten smaller, lighter vehicles. With eight tires on each. The bumpers in the front were thicker than anything I had seen with a triangle to plow anything that got in its way. These didn't have any weapons weighing them down, so they would probably move faster. “What about those?” I asked.
“Those will lead the caravan. They are camouflaged, mimicking the colors and sounds of wild camels. Their high tolerance to temperatures and winds also take traits from camels. They are our ships in the golden layers of sand.”
“Back to the bunker situation,” Malak said. I stole a glance at Rakan every chance I got, wondering if he was okay. I wanted to say something to him, but it wasn't the time.
“What do you mean the stamp in their passports proves it?” she continued.
“The rumors go, that the foreigners never returned home. They were never seen or heard of ever again. A month later, there were a few uprising incidents in one of those countries where the families of workers went missing. Those incidents were repressed by the governments swiftly, right after a large sum of, let’s say, a financial incentive was transferred to that government to silence its people. They provided them with millions of reasons to do so. The true color of politics is currency.” Fahad cleared his throat. “But again, this is a rumor.”
We arrived a few steps from one of the huge vehicles. A couple of soldiers did a quick sweep of the vehicle.
“Let’s say this is true,” Malak said, “how can it be done hypothetically?”
He shrugged. “The truth is, the highest number of workers were from China. Hypothetically, I guess leaders in power would be hesitant to send thousands of personnel for labor under a classified agreement out of fear that they can’t silence the workers, but the story goes that they were swayed. However, no one expects them to be so creative with the cover-up.”
“A cover-up?” I asked.
“China sent men from the same town, a small nowhere city in the north, close to the Russian border. The town was called “Xīwàng.” Hope. After the date of their alleged return had passed and the whole town hadn’t heard anything from their family members working in Saudi, they decided to protest. It didn’t end well.”
“What happened?” I asked.
“The government sent in the army and destroyed the village. It was reduced to nothing but a
sh overnight. It was moved from the map. ‘Hope’ never existed. And later became a myth of ‘the city of death.’ Just another ghost city, sounds common there. Now, whether this is true.” He scratched his head. “Remains unknown.”
“Why did they go to great lengths to keep things a secret?” Malak asked. “What did they think was gonna happen?”
“For this reason precisely,” Fahad said. “If it was public knowledge, the masses would panic and expect something was coming.”
“But wasn't it?” Malak asked.
“No, it wasn't like that. It was a precaution. In the sixties, there were major talks about nuclear attacks that led to talks on biological attacks,” he said. “It was a step. No one expected anything like this.”
“Are we safe there?” I asked.
“It's the safest place on the planet,” Fahad said.
“How about other countries?” Malak asked.
“Saudi Arabia isn’t the only one with one of these.” He shook his head. “A plan like this can only be carried out as a collective action plan based on mutual exchange.”
Deema listened. She looked scared. Did she think maybe if she kept silent, we would forget she was there.
“Did my father know any of this?” Rakan asked.
“No, he didn’t,” Fahad said, “nor did his father know about this. He was briefed a couple of months ago.”
“Does my dad know?” Malak asked.
“No,” Fahad said. “I will answer your questions later, but for now we need to leave. The bunker has an automation lockdown three days after the mission is set in motion.”
“How many days do we have left?” Rakan asked. Relief washed over me hearing Rakan. I sank into his voice’s warmth.
“Seven hours as of now.”
“What?” Deema finally spoke. “Why have an automatic lock? And when will it open again?”
“I’m afraid the lock will not open till a year from it being closed,” Fahad said. “They were put in as a safety measure. There is no way around it, and no one can override the system.”
“Why?” Rakan said firmly.
“We are humans. We’re weak, laws of compassion and love limit us. There will always be a wait a minute, an hour, a day, for someone or something,” he said. “This is to ensure humanity doesn't go extinct. We are here mainly for you, Sara.”
“And these people,” I said, motioning to the people around.
“We will take who we can,” he said. “My team is evacuating. We were successful in moving hundreds of thousands to the new location. Your bird is also being transported.”
A soldier nodded to Fahad. We followed him into the vehicle. The seats inside looked like airplane seats with one aisle in the middle. The soldier ushered us a few rows from the door and stopped.
“You can sit behind me,” Fahad said and turned right and took his seat.
I walked behind him and sat next to the half-visible tinted window. Malak sat next to me. She slipped her hand into mine. “I’m still mad at you,” Malak said, “but you’re all I have.”
I squeezed back. “I’m sorry.”
Deema looked at us and dropped her gaze. She skipped a row and sat. I looked back and caught her looking at us. A tear dropped from her eye, and she wiped it and looked away.
“Deema?” Malak said to me.
“I don't wanna talk about that now,” I replied, looking away from Deema. It might be easier for Malak to forgive because it was done to her and not to someone she cared about.
“We will travel through the desert to our new location,” Fahad said, standing back in the aisle. “We need to load more survivors first.”
The soldier that seated us held his position. His feet apart and both hands in front of his flat stomach, he lifted one and adjusted his sand-colored army beret and nodded. “Sit tight.”
Outside the window, hundreds of people stood, all shapes, colors, heights, men, women, kids, and elderlies. They stood side by side, equals, nothing divided them, nothing lifted them from one another. At that moment it didn't matter what tribe they belonged to, what sect they subscribed to, what country they originated from. It didn't matter how light or how dark they were. It didn't matter how loose or strict their morals were. At that moment, they were one. Beyond the people stood groups of soldiers. Soldiers that did not carry guns or new technology; they carried swords. Children of the desert awakening an ancient Arabian beast. A rustic beast which had been hibernating for centuries, a beast existing to destroy its enemy. It knew no fear and only sought an inhalation. The beast roared, reclaiming what was rightfully his. Swords were wet with blackened blood. With the bee insignia on their chest. Apis mellifera. The beast grinned. It had awakened.
Chapter 51
Acrest hung over the gate, a palm tree surmounting two crossed swords. We walked under it and emerged on the other side into a massive underground structure. Under here, you wouldn’t know it was below ground. The ceilings were high enough to give the illusion you were in a building over the ground with natural light. Intricate geometric designs with infinite patterns on the walls were displayed in the main halls. They showed us to our rooms, down a well-lit carpeted hallway with a light brown console table every few doors, looking like a hotel. Deema had her own room across from us, and Rakan had his own in another all-male bachelor sector. Malak and I shared a two-bedroom unit, but we already agreed to sleep in the same room. Fahad came for Malak and me to give us the grand tour. The structure was divided into sectors. The main area held vital recourses and storage with endless layers of dehydrated food supplies that would last years, they explained. Boxes upon boxes of dates stacked. Another area was called the distillery. It would provide an endless supply of water from distiller wind turbine solar panels. Another sector had the backup generators. Fahad led us to a part off-limits to other civilians. The quarter held the monitoring offices. A team that alternated every eight hours striving to keep the place under surveillance twenty-four hours. They were tasked with keeping every tick ticking in this city. High walls in the airport above ground had motion sensors that would trigger a warning if strong winds blew. This place was a fortress. Fahad took us to a sector he believed we would like. The recreational part. One wing, in particular, grabbed Malak’s attention. A huge wing that was stacked with thousands of books resting on the shelves. A lady beamed as she greeted us at the entrance.
“A library?” I asked.
“A civilization is only measured by its knowledge,” the lady said. Malak nodded as her eyes widened.
We exited the sector to another, making our way to the next stop. We passed a golden gate with a sign over it that read “haaya.” Also known as the religious virtue police.
“Oh great. They’re coming too?” Malak said.
“Structure, Malak,” Fahad said, with a gentle smile. “Any civilization will collapse without it, but it’s different here. They will have to undergo strict criteria to become part of the haaya. This is a sensitive spot, and as shall we will treat it.”
“I guess.” Malak smiled back.
“Sara,” Fahad said, “you are a big part of this. In your blood lays the answer. I will take you now to the second most important sector here. The hospital and labs.”
I swallowed hard. “So, I’m a guinea pig?”
“You are not.” He took a step to me. “You are the cure. You are the only one immune. The rest are carriers. The pathogen has been isolated, but it changed their DNA. The only antidote could be extracted from your blood. You can help us understand the specifics of how our innate immune system responds, or doesn’t respond to the viral mechanisms that make most of us infected.”
“Is that why I never got sick?” I asked.
Fahad nodded. “Come, I want to show you around.”
We followed him. Malak slipped her hand into mine, squeezing a reassurance. We walked through three security doors then entered a motion room that viewed the laboratory below separated by thick glass. Hundreds of men and women in lab coats we
re setting up equipment and working on different things with animals caged in cubicles. Like a sinking Noah’s Ark, buried under the ground.
A woman in her midforties approached us with a serious expression masked by a smile.
“Doctor Muneera.” Fahad nodded. “These are the sisters.”
“Nice to meet you,” Muneera said and shook our hands.
“Doctor Muneera is in charge of the labs. She is here to answer any questions.”
“What are they doing down there?” Malak asked, looking below, the blue lights reflecting in her eyes.
“Setting up the laboratory. Our mission is to search for a cure,” Muneera said. “That's what this comes down to.”
The weight of responsibility weighed down on me like I had to say something.
“Will the animals over ground be wiped out?” Malak asked.
“That is unlikely. Some will be immune just like us, and they will fight back. Anything in the water is safe,” Muneera said.
“You mean fish?” I asked.
“And many other marine animals, yes.”
“No, they are not safe. We had fish at home and they turned,” I said.
“Freshwater fish?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“That could be why. The sea has huge quantities of salt, which is a horrible disease conductor. The salt will sanitize everything. I can’t say the same for freshwater animals.”
“Are the birds infected?” I asked, Plumpy on my mind.
“Some are. Yes. And they will spread this further. However, once they are fully infected, their ability to fly will be compromised and it could stop them from migration,” Muneera said. “I know this is a lot to take in, but we will try everything to stop this. It is not on you to worry about that.”
“What are the side effects of those who are bitten?” I blurted out. People shuffled around below us, unpacking equipment out of the bubble wrap.
“I still can’t fully answer that. New side effects are showing themselves every day.” Muneera adjusted her collar. “So far nothing fatal.”
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