by Fin C Gray
Laying the dagger on the pillow, Daniel feels for the ring in his ear and removes it, along with the chain linking it to his nose. He digs deep into his pocket and takes out a gold locket, which he prises open with his thumbnail. Inside, two tiny black and white photographs show his mother’s face on one side and a young Tom on the other. Another dying gift from his mother, its chain long lost. There’s a feline tooth-mark on its surface: a bite from Rufus the kitten, attacking the dangling menace it represented. His mum’s sweet voice comes back to him as he remembers her telling him how it happened. Banishing any further memories, he threads the chain he’s taken from his nose through the loop, leaving the locket open, and drapes it over Rufus’s head. This will be a clear enough parting message for his father. Won’t it, Tom?
There will be no doubt what he means by this. But Rufus. Poor Rufus. You don’t deserve this, do you? You didn’t deserve to die this way, yet another casualty of this wasted man’s pointless life. Somehow it is right. Everything destroyed, everything ruined, everything tainted that Tom had ever touched. I’m sorry, Rufus. You had to die for this. My death will make it right, I promise. He takes one final look at Tom’s face. This will be the last time he will ever see him. No regrets. At least none for Tom. Rufus will see his purpose and thank him. Won’t he?
Daniel picks up the dagger again, takes the key from the lock and leaves, closing the bedroom door behind him. The first light of morning is pushing its way into the hallway through the French windows. Traffic noise is slowly building momentum on Embankment. The world is awakening, and Daniel feels his stomach tighten. He turns the key in the lock and twists the door handle to make sure it is secured. Then he pulls out the key and throws it on the carpet.
Soft light bathes the hallway, giving the flat an ethereal aura. Outside, the sound of traffic seems distant, almost like an echo of itself. Daniel feels he is looking in on himself, that he is part of a movie that has already played. He knows how this film will end; he has played the dénouement in his brain a thousand times. It is as if he has already experienced it, felt it, lived it, over and over again. The problem is the sequel: what will happen afterwards? Waqar had been clear about this, but everything had been easier to imagine and believe when Waqar was in his world. Come to me now, Waqar. Whatever happens, he will know no more loss, no more sadness. If it is nothingness he faces, it will be better than this. Waqar comes to him. His love fills his brain and he knows his doubts are stupid and futile.
In the study, the silence is pervasive; even the growing rush of traffic on Embankment cannot penetrate this space. The rows of books seem to close in on him, accuse him; they reek of Tom. Had he even read any of them? Rare first editions, signed by long-dead writers. Spending his final hours among this opulence isn’t what he has imagined. Everything has taken on a life of its own. It is was as though Waqar had said, ‘Destiny will drive everything. Follow it, let it happen.’ Tom had never figured in Daniel’s own imagined destiny. Waqar would say that that is the nature of destiny; he must let it lead him as it had led Waqar. What happens when we reach our destiny? Does the afterlife not contain destinies of its own?
There are more questions than answers and only one person capable of providing him with those answers. But Waqar was already where he wanted to be. Waqar, first as always: first to the training in Pakistan, to his mission in Paris and now to Jannah. His destiny had found him and taken him to his own peaceful, joyful place. Not long now, for Daniel. These questions wouldn’t even need to be answered then. All his questions would be nothing when he was with his brother again. His brother? His lover? There, would it change? Waqar had hinted at it. If only he had been more persistent, tied him down, been sure. Better to not be sure, not be disappointed. The note in the box had spoken of his love. Love and lover are not the same things, although, the two are inseparable. In Jannah, he’d be happy, whatever happened. That was the nature of paradise. He’d be happy for the first time. Thank you, Waqar.
Daniel lies on the bed and pulls out his phone, swiping with his thumb until he reaches his saved videos. Hello, Waqar! Speak to me. He presses on the most recent thumbnail; this face is like a drug to him. Those eyes! Waqar smiles back at him. Daniel presses ‘play’.
‘Hello, my Dani. Here, I say goodbye. Today, I answer my calling. My only regret, for you know I have always told you that regrets are futile, is that I will not be there to help you through your journey. See my clothes? I am a warrior. My fight will take me to heaven, and there I will wait for you, my brother… my…’ Waqar’s voice drops to a whisper. ‘My love.’
Daniel pauses the video. ‘My love.’ He keeps saying it over and over again. His eyes fill with tears.
‘I do this for you, Waqar.’ He presses ‘play’ again:
‘… what seemed like a lifetime away, is now. Can you believe it? I am ready, Dani. Truly ready. I have dreamed of this day as you will dream of yours. Ours. These next weeks, months, however long it takes, will seem like nothing to you. For me, it will be an instant. I will not wait for you, for time will be meaningless. There is no time, no space, no waiting in paradise. Look into my eyes, Dani.’
Waqar’s eyes now fill the screen. Daniel brings his phone closer to his face, closer to Waqar’s, trying to imagine that he is right there in the room beside him. More than anything, he wants him to be there, by his side. All this would be so easy then. The video rolls on:
‘I do this for you, for us, for the world. You have helped convince me of this, and this is my last chance to convince you. The world ends today, for me. Don’t let me down, my love.’
‘My love.’ Again, it rings through his brain. ‘My love.’ He continually rewinds the video, listening to Waqar say it over and over again, pausing it each time to stare into his eyes on the screen. Is there any love in his eyes? All Daniel can discern is fear. Where was Waqar, when he recorded this video? The banner of the eagle hangs behind him and beads of sweat trickle down his face. Paris? Far away from his birthplace in Syria. Paris, where Waqar’s destiny was to begin. Maybe he’d recorded this before he travelled there. But no, he must have been there because he’d said that the world ended on that day, for him.
It was Paris for Waqar, London for Daniel. Daniel had wanted them to do whatever they must do, together. The camp leaders had other ideas. Waqar had put up no protest and Daniel didn’t have the language skills to make a case. They would have ridiculed them if he’d even asked. Waqar had played down their friendship when they were together in the camp. Daniel lets the video run again.
‘You must have courage, Dani. It is the only way that we will see each other again. When you play this message, I will already be with Allah. I will be floating on a cloud of bliss. Paradise will only be better with you there. When your time comes, join me. Know that everything you do is for this purpose. I will be there to welcome you, just like I waited for you in the camp.’
Waqar’s eyes look away from the screen, and a dark voice utters something in Urdu, off camera.
‘I must go now, Dani. Be strong. Think of me until your time comes.’
The video shrinks back to a thumbnail, and Daniel lets his phone drop on the bed beside him. He reaches for the remote control at the side of the bed and points it at the TV, flicking through channels, looking for something mindless to keep him from thinking. He finds a documentary on one of the cable channels called Fighting Terror: A Global Threat. It is halfway through and is showing footage of 9/11, demonising the men who had flown the planes into the World Trade Center. The murder of Lee Rigby is described as ‘an atrocity’. Daniel wonders what will be said about him when his deed is done. He remembers the terrible things they had said about Waqar, after he died, words like ‘sociopath’, ‘misogynist’, ‘terrorist’. No one knows the people who fight for their cause, they only see the acts and vilify them for those acts. Waqar had made such an impact, changed the world. He’d brought Islam to the streets of Paris, shown the world that Islam is everywhere. Six months ago now. The prime mini
ster’s voice overlays the next piece of film, repeating what was said in Parliament: ‘This was an evil act of terrorism and hatred, and we, as a nation, utterly condemn it. More recently, the attacks in Florida and Germany make it clear that we must defeat the poisonous ideology of Daesh both online and on our streets.’
Daniel flicks the TV off. You can try, Prime Minister. He recalls Waqar’s words. The words he had left the world to listen to: ‘Islam is bigger than any half-cooked philosophy of the West. Islam is the solution, not the problem.’ Of the ‘poisonous ideology’ that the prime minster called their faith, Waqar would respond in the way that he would knock down all such lies. He would say that Islam is a revolutionary doctrine and has systems that will overthrow governments. Yes, Waqar. Governments like yours, Prime Minister. Everything in this pathetic world will change. Islam will quash all your pathetic religions. Waqar and I will laugh at you from heaven.
There will be no sleep for Daniel. His last hours on earth will be spent awake. Sleep would only take him into the terror of dreams, and dreams are the source of many of his doubts. The room takes on an eerie silence again, and he clicks on Waqar’s video. Would Waqar look the same when he sees him again? Waqar’s voice, his eyes, his face, comfort him. Waqar will keep him company during these last few hours. Waqar will be with him, after all, when he departs this life. He clicks on the video and watches it again and again until his eyelids begin to droop, and the unwanted, dreaded sleep finally comes to him.
Chapter Twenty-One
Then
‘No!’
‘It has to be like this, Dani. I’m sorry.’
‘No, Waqar. You promised we would do this together. I can’t do this on my own. All the way to this you told me I wouldn’t have to do anything without you. And you first? I can’t face this world without you. I hate it here.’
‘It was never my decision. You could see that from the moment you arrived in the camp. All of this is bigger than us. If you see nothing else, you must see that.’
‘I can’t live without you, Waqar. It’s the truth. I can’t do it. I can’t face any of it if you’re not with me.’
Daniel fell to his knees, sobbing. Waqar slapped his face and pulled at his tunic.
‘Get up, you fool! Someone might see us.’
Daniel looked up at him. Waqar’s eyes were hard and looked away, skimming the distance, fearful. Waqar didn’t give a toss about him. He’d fooled him. Got him here under false pretences. What a fucking nightmare this was. One thing after another. One thing after afuckingnother. It was endless, unstoppable. Why had he ever come here? It was love. It was belief. It was love.
‘I can’t do this. I’m going back.’
Daniel stood up. Waqar’s attitude had completely sobered him up. He looked him square in the eyes and said, ‘I’m done, Waqar. I’m going home. Do what you like. Kill yourself, if you want. This isn’t my fight.’
Waqar slapped him again. And again. And again. Daniel could feel blood in his mouth. He could feel pain. He felt desire. The bruises started to make themselves known. But he felt love. Above all, through the pain, through the hurt, he felt love.
‘Have we spent all this time, all these months, these years, for nothing? Have I taught you nothing? Has this all been a waste of time? You know our purpose. You know why we are here. Dani, it was never about one thing except the end. Jannah. Paradise. Our destiny. Paradise never meant one thing. How we get there never was prescribed.’
Waqar pulled him towards him, his eyes scanning the air as he did so. His hands touched Daniel’s neck, moved to his back, rubbed his muscles. Daniel felt his body tighten, felt his desire stir. He suppressed his need. Stopped himself pulling Waqar closer. It was torture. Worse than anything he could imagine. A suppression of want, of desire, of love, of lust. His mouth was dry, but his mind imagined it wet, imagined pressing his lips against Waqar’s. This whole place was dry; it was devoid of everything but purpose. It screamed a misery that had nothing but ugliness. This place was a chrysalis that would bring forth no butterflies. All it would produce was destiny. There lay the beauty.
‘Talk to me, Dani. Tell me what you feel.’
Waqar pulled him into the shade. Looked to his left. Looked to his right. Pulled him into the hut. Looked around. Listened. He pressed his body against him. Daniel smelled his sweat. Smelled desire. Smelled sex. He could feel Waqar’s desire against him, wanted it. Craved it. But not now, not here.
‘No,’ he said, again. ‘No, Waqar.’ Waqar pressed his mouth on Daniel’s.
‘Quiet,’ he said.
‘No.’ Daniel could hardly believe his resolve.
Waqar let him go. Stood back. His eyes were wide, wounded, looking him up and down, almost as if he was a stranger.
‘But…’
‘Waqar, I love you. I’ll do anything for you. You don’t have to persuade me. At least, not this way.’
No response. Could a silence this cold, so distant, be possible in this heat? Could it? Why now? Why, after all this time, did Waqar lay this on him? Had he not tried, made his feelings known and suffered the rejection? Been pushed back and told it was wrong? Been left clutching at air? He pulled him back. Pulled him closer. Pushed the coldness away.
Waqar held him again. ‘Dani, I want you to know what this means to me. You see? This is the only way we can be together. My religion… our religion doesn’t allow it. In paradise, it will be different. There, it won’t matter. Here, I can show you a little of it, show you what it might be like.’
‘No.’ Daniel felt as if someone else was speaking his words. His body was screaming ‘yes’. ‘No, Waqar. We talked, and we talked and we talked. You were clear. Not here. Not now. Allah would not allow it here. You were clear about that. You couldn’t have been clearer. We have agreed on this. But the commands, what we must do—’
‘Dani, we can do it now. I must convince you. I must remove your doubts.’
‘No.’
‘But you want to go home. You don’t trust your destiny. Here, they will kill you if you choose to leave. That way, our destinies will never meet. We’ll be spilt for eternity. I can’t let that happen. We are to be together in heaven.That can never happen if we fail to fulfil our destinies. Please, Dani, trust me. We must do this, and we must do this alone. Show them no doubt. Please, show them no doubt. Please, even if you decide not to follow me, please don’t let them know. In Jannah, I cannot be at peace if I have no prospect of you joining me there. I will disappear if I know you will not be mine for eternity.’
Daniel stood back. How could he deal with this? Was this simply a way to convince him to do everything Waqar wanted him to do? No. He’d felt his desire. It was real desire. Physical. Unmistakable. Viscerally real. That reaction couldn’t be false. In these last years of trying, wanting, craving… this was real. Real. REAL. He had felt it. For the first time. Now he knew this was genuine. Hadn’t he always? Yes. Of course. It was Waqar, it was true, it was Waqar’s desire for him. What must be, must be. Thank you, Waqar. Thank you.
‘Waqar, I am yours. You are mine. I’m sorry for being so weak. Here, now… it’s but a moment. You have told me this often. So often, I can’t even believe I had doubts.’
Waqar looked at him in a way that he never had before. He saw real pride in his eyes. Waqar was proud of him. Daniel continued.
‘You will go, and although it will seem like I will be a long time here on my own, it will be over in an instant. And I will be with you again. The time will be nothing against the eternity we will spend together. Again, I’m sorry I doubted you.’
Waqar smiled and stood close enough that Daniel could feel his breath. ‘Thank you, Dani. For me it is Paris. For you, we don’t know yet. But six months, a year, two years? It will be nothing. It will be longer for you than for me. But even for you, it will be short. When your mission becomes clear, that will be your route to paradise and back to me.’ Daniel kissed Waqar’s cheek, and for once, he didn’t flinch.
‘We are mean
t to be together,’ Waqar continued. ‘This has always been the case – what Allah wants for us. Today, I wanted only to show you what we will have forever. If not that, something better.’
Waqar put his hand on Daniel’s crotch. Daniel felt the blood rush and pump. His heart quickened and his resolve weakened. But the door opened, and three men came in, chattering unintelligibly. One of them addressed Waqar in Urdu, and he stood up, laughing. Daniel forced himself to smile too. What had the stranger said? He would never know. Others would come now, and he would forget to ask Waqar what the joke had been. Daniel couldn’t help imagining that he was the butt of some primitive, xenophobic joke directed at him. Why had he not kept pushing himself? Why was he not as fluent in Urdu as Waqar was in English? Waqar had tried to convince him, spent hours teaching him back in England, but with the Qur’an and everything else, it was hard. He’d try harder. Here, especially, it was so difficult to feel part of everything. He could work out a lot of it, but mostly it was like pushing his way through a treacly darkness.
‘C’mon, Dani. Let’s eat.’ Waqar spoke to him in Urdu. He could understand that much, and he knew Waqar was trying to make him seem better than he was.
The sun burned the sky red. No blue could push its way through the heat, and the horizon shimmered as it boiled in the unrelenting intensity of the sun’s rays. Black shapes of men with targets painted on their heads and chest seemed to move against the continually moving backdrop, making them look like a mirage. Daniel, flanked by other men, pointed his rifle at the head of the target in his line of sight. The other men – boys, really – took the same stance and waited for the command to shoot.