The Hour of the Oryx

by Farah Zaman

  The youths walked to the front of the classroom. Zaid said, “Uh…Salaams, everyone.” He looked like a deer caught in headlights as all eyes turned on him. “I’m Zaid and this is my friend Adam. We’re taking over Ms. Rima’s class because she had to leave. Those of you who have finished drawing your favorite food, raise your hands.”

  All the students raised their hands.

  “Good, you’re all done. Um…this is what you’re going to do next. You’re going to draw a scary dream you’ve had. Or something which has frightened you. If you need any help, raise your hand. At the end of the class, we’ll collect both drawings. Make sure you write your names on them.”

  The students became silent as they worked. Some of them raised their hands from time to time and Adam and Zaid were kept busy until the period came to an end. One by one, the students turned in their drawings and exited the classroom, until Adam and Zaid were the only ones left.

  “Let’s take a look, shall we?” Adam gathered up the sketches. “I’d like to see who’s got talent.”

  They leafed through the pile, chuckling over the drawings of favorite foods. Most of them were of some sweet or another. They gazed soberly at the pictures which depicted wars and violence. There were flaming rockets, burning buildings, collapsed houses and people lying dead.

  When they came to a sketch without a name, they both stared at it in surprise. It depicted a shadowy room with a sloping ceiling. A hooded figure crouched on the ground, his hand holding a knife buried in the chest of a faceless man.

  Chapter Five:

  The Solidarity Visit

  “Oh my God, this must be a depiction of Heba’s uncle’s murder,” Zaid said.

  “I wonder if the kid who drew it saw it in a dream or for real.”

  “We should find out who drew it and ask.”

  “Maybe Heba will know. I’ll keep the sketch and show it to her.” Adam pocketed the drawing.

  Leaving the rest of the sketches in a neat stack on the desk, the youths left. As they passed by the next classroom, Adam drew Zaid to a stop as an irate woman’s voice came through the half-opened door.

  “…dare you insult me like that? You made my life miserable in the past and now you’re doing it again.” Adam recognized the voice as Ms. Mahveen’s, the teacher in her early thirties who was married to fellow teacher, Mr. Talish.

  “You were always a drama queen, Mahveen,” replied a low-pitched voice. “Your persecution was mostly in your head.” This was Ms. Yusra, the other female teacher in her early thirties.

  “No, it was not.” Ms. Mahveen’s reply was fast and furious. “You took a dislike to me right from the start and belittled me every chance you got.”

  “Oh, stop exaggerating,” Ms. Yusra snapped. “You’ve always been good at doing that.”

  “And you’ve always been a sharp-tongued shrew,” Ms. Mahveen fired back. “I’m not going to let you put me down again. Those days are over.”

  Footsteps came towards the door and the boys quickly started walking again. Ms. Mahveen hurried past them, her pumps pounding out a staccato rhythm on the tiles as she turned the corner. The softer tread of Ms. Yusra sounded behind them next. As she overtook the boys, she sent them a sharp sideways look, as if she suspected they had been eavesdropping. With the fluid grace of a ballerina, she too disappeared from sight.

  “Wow, Ms. Mahveen and Ms. Yusra seem to have some old feud going on,” Adam said.

  “It sure sounds like it,” Zaid agreed.

  The youths met with their sisters and Heba in the atrium after lunch.

  Zaid told them about the assignment he had given the students in art class. “There’s one sketch we wanted you to see.”

  Adam fished it out and held it up. “Heba, do you know who might have drawn this?”

  Heba’s rosy face became blanched of color as she stared at the drawing. “I think it’s Mahmood, the mute boy. He’s a talented artist.”

  “Could we talk to him about it?” Zaid said. “We want to find out if he dreamed it or saw it for real.”

  “It has to be a dream or his imagination,” Heba said. “He had been fond of Uncle Issa so maybe this is his way of expressing his grief. If you still want to talk to him, you can do it tonight.”

  “Yes, we’ll meet with him in the atrium after night prayer,” Adam said.

  “We’ll come too,” Layla said. “Let us know when you’re ready.”

  Zahra was studying the sketch. “Heba, what room is depicted here?”

  Heba looked back at the drawing. “I think it’s the vaults. I’ve never been there but I’ve heard the ceilings are like that.”

  “The vaults?” Zaid said. “What are they?”

  “They’re underground chambers below the orphanage. They’ve always been a scary place to the students. Long ago, when the building was a hospital, the dead used to be washed and shrouded there for burial. And many years ago, a troubled student named Raha tried to set a fire down there and ended up burning to death.”

  “Oh my God, how awful,” Layla said. “No wonder the students are scared.”

  “They were even more scared after what happened to the Science Club two months ago,” Heba said.

  “What happened to them?” Zahra asked.

  “The Book Club dared them to hold a meeting down there, telling them that as future scientists of the world, they shouldn’t be afraid of dead bodies, past or present. To prove they weren’t wimps, the Science Club accepted the dare. With great fanfare, they took candles for light and snacks to eat. They had only been there for ten minutes when they came back up, their faces pale and their bodies shaking.”

  “Seriously?” Adam said. “What did they say?”

  “They said they heard a voice whispering through the walls, ‘I am Raha. Help me. Help me.’ They ran out after that.”

  “The Book Club must have played a practical joke on them,” Zaid said.

  “That’s what the administration thought. But the Book Club denied it.”

  “Where is the entrance to the vaults located?” Adam asked.

  “In the very last corridor at the back, all the way to the left.”

  “They’re not off-limits to visit, are they?” Adam asked.

  “Oh no, there’s no lock or bolt to stop anyone from going down.”

  A gleam came into Adam’s eyes. “Maybe we should go down this afternoon and take a look around.”

  “Yes, I’d like that,” Zaid said, his eyes lighting up too. “Let’s see if we hear any whispers.”

  “Zahra and I will go too,” Layla said. “Come get us when you’re ready.”

  Zahra sighed. “Do we have to?” She hated dark, underground places.

  “Come on, Zah.” Layla grinned. “You know you don’t want to be left out of an adventure.”

  Zahra made a face. “That’s not adventure. That’s torture. But fine, if you want me to go, I’ll go.”

  “I saw you boys talking to Mr. Rakin in the event room earlier,” Heba said.

  “Yes, we were asking him about your uncle’s murder,” Adam replied.

  “He got a bit touchy when we questioned him,” Zaid said. “Then he got distracted when Ms. Rima came in. We didn’t really learn anything from him.”

  “That’s too bad,” Layla said.

  “We heard an argument between Ms. Mahveen and Ms. Yusra when we were leaving the art class,” Adam said. “It sounded like they have some old feud going on.”

  “Really?” Heba’s eyes widened with interest. “I know they were both students here years ago, but I didn’t know they were old enemies. Maybe you can ask your housekeeper, Umm Kifah, if she knows about it. She used to work here at one time.”

  “Umm Kifah used to work here?” Layla said in surprise.

  “Yes, she still comes to visit once in a while.”

  �
�We’ll talk to her when we see her next,” Zahra said.

  “We should get some rest now,” Heba said. “We have a busy evening ahead of us. We’ll be gathering in the event room a little before three for the Solidarity Visit.”

  “Why do you call it that?” Zaid asked.

  “It’s a partial enactment of the Hijrah, the migration of the early Muslims from Mecca to Medina. As you know, when the Emigrants fled persecution in Mecca, they were welcomed in Medina by the Helpers and paired together with them. A total of twenty-five students will be coming from Dar-un-Nur and paired with a student of similar age and gender from Dar-as-Sakinah. It’s interesting to see who gets paired with who. In the past, we’ve had a few mismatches, but it’s all part of the fun.”

  “It sounds great,” Layla said.

  “Oh, and there’s a special game we play every year called Find Your Treasure. It’s our version of Treasure Hunt. The players are given just one clue to find their treasure. The group that finds theirs first wins the game. Mr. Rakin is overseeing it this year. He’s a bit of a poet. He told us the clues will be written in English riddles.”

  “Zaid is good at solving riddles,” Zahra said. “His group will probably win.”

  Adam grinned. “Maybe we should stash him away in a cupboard, so the other groups stand a chance.”

  “I’m not a genius,” Zaid said. “I just use my head.”

  “Ah, but all heads are not created the same.” Layla’s eyes twinkled.

  “Speaking of heads,” Adam said, “an idea has been brewing in mine. Heba, is it possible for you to get hold of the keys to the administration’s offices today?”

  Heba looked at him with startled eyes. “You want to search there?”

  “Yes, we have to take some drastic measures, or we’ll never find out who killed your uncle. I thought it would be a good time to search while everyone is occupied in the event room. Housekeeping wouldn’t be cleaning the offices in the afternoon, would they?”

  “No, they usually do so in the mornings.”

  “Would you be able to get hold of the keys?” Zaid asked.

  Heba took a deep breath. “Yes, I know where they’re kept in the housekeeping office. I can make up an excuse to go there. Let’s meet here at a quarter to three and I’ll let you know if I was able to get them.”

  Heba met them at the appointed time, her face flushed. “I’ve got the keys,” she whispered. “I’ll have to return them when the games are over. I don’t want anyone to notice they’re missing.” She pulled a bunch of keys from her pocket and Zaid took them from her.

  “We’ll only search one office this time,” Adam said. “We don’t want to be too reckless.”

  “The best time to go is when everyone is outside for the game competitions,” Heba said. “But I won’t be able to help you. They’ll need my assistance to set up.”

  “That’s okay,” Layla said. “The four of us will be enough.”

  “We should draw lots to select who will search first and which office,” Zaid said.

  “Good idea,” Layla said. “I have my notebook and pen to help with that.”

  The lots were drawn, and Zahra was chosen to search Ms. Rima’s office.

  “Lucky me,” Zahra murmured.

  “The rest of us will be lookouts,” Adam said. “If anyone from the administration comes back inside or any of the housekeeping or kitchen staff go towards the offices, we have to alert Zahra.”

  “How are we going to do that?” Layla asked. “It will look suspicious if we yell out.”

  “Call me on my cell phone,” Zahra said. “Once I get a buzz, I’ll know I have to get out of there.”

  “Okay, that will work,” Adam said. “I’ll guard the front door.”

  “I’ll be at the head of the corridor,” Zaid said.

  “I guess that leaves me with the foot of the corridor,” Layla said.

  With that plan in place, the teenagers joined the gathering in the event room, awaiting the arrival of the visitors. The twenty-five boys and girls chosen for pairing - each of them clutching a piece of paper and a small gift - sat separately from the rest of the students. A buzz of excitement swept through the room when a horn beeped several times outside. The visitors had arrived.

  With much pomp and ceremony, the Dar-un-Nur entourage was escorted in. After the introduction, the pairing ceremony began. One by one, the home students who had been selected read out the name of their partner from the visiting orphanage. The pair would then embrace, and the gift would change hands. Adam was amused to see the hefty ringleader of the three troublesome boys, Haysam, being paired with a small, thin boy. There was a mismatch, if he ever saw one.

  Adam was on tenterhooks as the game competitions approached. When the time came, he and the others waited in the atrium while everyone filed outside. His parents were among the crowd. When they saw the teenagers, they stopped. “Aren’t you going outside?” Mrs. Horani asked. There were lines of tiredness on her face and faint purple shadows beneath her eyes.

  “Um…we’re waiting for the crowd to ease down,” Adam said. “How are things going in the clinic?”

  “As well as can be expected,” replied his father, running a hand tiredly over his close-cut hair. “Children are the same everywhere. Bruised knees, toothaches, fevers, diarrhea, constipation and the list go on. We’ll see you outside.”

  Heba was among the last to leave. She threw them an anxious look, her eyes wide with apprehension. At last, the teenagers were the only ones who remained in the atrium.

  “Are you ready, Zah?” Layla asked her friend.

  Zahra breathed deeply and nodded.

  “Alright, let’s go,” Zaid said. “I’ll open the door for you.”

  He and the girls headed left towards the offices while Adam went to the front door, phone in hand. His heart drummed a little faster as he cracked open the door to keep an eye on the movements outside. He watched a sprint and then a relay on the lawn. As the minutes ticked by, he wondered how Zahra was faring in her search.

  Would she find anything to point the finger of guilt at Ms. Rima?

  Adam heard the soft padding of feet behind him. He spun around in alarm. A man wearing a white cook’s coat was coming into the atrium. Adam held up his phone, ready to punch in his password and call Zahra. He hesitated. The cook seemed to be coming towards the front door. There was no need to call off the search.

  Adam stepped out from the doorway and turned to the man. “Hello, you’re one of the cooks, right?”

  “Na’am, I am,” the man replied in a hoarse voice. He was a big fellow with meaty hands and a bald head.

  “Are you going to watch the games?”

  The man gave a rumbling laugh. “La, la. Cooks have no time for games, young man. What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be outside?”

  “Yes, I’m waiting on my sister and friends.”

  “Don’t wait on them too long or you’ll miss the games.”

  “Are you going to set up the snacks now?”

  “Soon. I wanted to ask Mr. Mazin’s opinion about something. Oh, here he is now.”

  Adam’s heart missed a beat. He swung around to see Mr. Mazin coming through the door. How had he gotten here so fast? I have to call Zahra right now.

  While Mr. Mazin and the cook conversed, Adam unlocked his phone and hit Zahra’s number. Oh no, the screen was frozen. He swallowed and turned towards the head of the corridor, hoping to see Zaid so he could signal to him. But his friend was not in sight.

  In desperation, Adam looked back at his phone. Still frozen. His breath came faster when he realized the two men had stopped talking. The cook headed back to the kitchen. Adam watched in horror as Mr. Mazin moved with rapid strides towards the offices.

  Chapter Six:

  Mahmood and Muk-Muk

  His chest tight with panic, Adam
ran after Mr. Mazin. He had to delay the director somehow. As he racked his brains to think of a way, he caught sight of Zaid and the girls entering the atrium from the corridor at the back. Adam stopped in his tracks, lightheaded with relief. He was glad his sister and friends had the good sense to go around and not come from the direction of the offices. Mr. Mazin nodded to the trio before he turned left and was gone.

  “I’m sorry,” Adam rushed to apologize as soon as his sister and friends were within earshot. “I tried to dial Zahra but my phone was frozen.”

  “It’s a good thing I saw Mr. Mazin,” Zaid said. “That was a close call.”

  “You can say that again,” Adam said. He went on to tell them about being distracted by the cook and Mr. Mazin appearing suddenly. “I can’t believe my phone froze at such a crucial time.”

  “Technology is not always dependable,” Layla said. “We probably have to think of a different signal the next time.”

  “So how did the search go?” Adam asked Zahra.

  She wrinkled her nose. “Ms. Rima’s office is a mess. She’s got art supplies and piles of drawings stacked everywhere. They were on her bookshelf, the file cabinet and in the desk. In her wastepaper basket were old pieces of artwork. I don’t think someone so untidy could be a murderer. She wouldn’t have been able to cover up her tracks.”

  “Well, that’s one office down, six more to go,” Zaid said. “Let’s go find Heba and return the keys.”

  The games were still in full swing when the teenagers went out to the lawn. Some of the crowd sat on the tarpaulin while others stood at the sides and the rear. Adam’s eyes met those of a beaky-nosed stranger in a suit and tie who stood on the sidelines conversing with Ms. Tubaa. A slack-jawed look of surprise came over the man’s face.

  He looks as if he has seen a ghost. I wonder who he is?

  When they found Heba, she said, “Let’s go to the back and talk.”