by M I A Harba
They managed to find a few more fragments of interest and bagged them. They unloaded their tools and tents from the pickups and erected their tent. Their digging started almost immediately, and Sam managed to find a rock he sat against, enjoying the sunshine and the spring view extending in front of him.
Kareem and Rami’s dedication to their work was enviable. Nothing in this world would compare to the joy they were clearly enjoying out of the moment. They were like kids in a candy store, undecided what they wanted. It was a happy environment, and they drowned themselves in their work, forgetting the world outside.
Sam’s mind then switched back to Basil, the obnoxious visitor who showed no manners to him or the other two. What did he really want? The elusive guest appeared to know matters before they occurred, and was capable of reading his mind, Sam remembered. He would surely know of the presence of Basil at his house and would not come. Maybe that was for the better; he didn’t like him, anyway. This might be enough reason for Basil to get bored with his futile wait and go away.
Sam wondered; how did Basil manage to find a photo of the elusive guest? Was he part of the same security department? A new revelation fell upon Sam. Could it be possible Basil belonged to the same phenomenon? To a different competing clan? But competing for what?
What’s so special about him, Sam wondered? What so special about him to stir a competition between clans of the same phenomenon? No, it was a silly deduction.
Sam stayed with the excavators until early afternoon. They hadn’t stopped their digging since they started, and even said their goodbye to Sam without lifting their heads when Sam bid them farewell. He drove back home, not knowing when he would see them again; they had their own tent and supplies.
Upon reaching home, the white SUV was not there; Basil had gone. He rushed inside the house to confirm it. Basil indeed could not be found anywhere. He had left, leaving no message to explain how, or even say goodbye. ‘Good riddance’ were the words that jumped to Sam’s head, who hoped he would never see him again.
Basil did not wash up after breakfast; how inconsiderate!
Irrespective, Sam remained edgy, his morale’s fogged up by the questioning of Basil that still rang loud in his brain. It was beyond comprehension. How would he know about the elusive guest or his connection with him? Was Basil satisfied with his answers? And why did he leave unannounced? However, he tried to tune Basil out of his mind to focus on his prime objective.
The following couple of days were consumed in Sam’s daily routine, reading and the house chores. The weather continued in its spring mildness, warm with a light cool breeze. The early morning coffee on the patio, and gazing at the horizon, was his utmost pleasure. He even forgot about the two-archaeologist digging out there. He would check on them in the next few days to learn about their new discoveries. He was as eager to know as they were.
One day in the afternoon, the horizon looked murky dark red. That meant one thing: a sandstorm. It was still at least ten hours away and might not hit his house directly. He watched it while having his lunch and was alarmed by how fast it was approaching. It had painted part of the sky dark red, a beautiful sight when viewed from afar. He knew well what sandstorms could do but was mesmerized by the beauty of the colours it painted in the sky.
He felt safe within the strong walls of his house. However, he needed to ensure all were fastened sturdily outside, as he expected high winds. With the sand they carried, the wind would be the perfect sandblaster for anything left outside. He drove the pickup to the back of the house in the opposite direction of the storm, even though this offered little protection. His concern was the solar panels on the roof that could unhinge and fly away. There was nothing he could do but make doubly sure they were fastened securely to the roof and each other.
There was also the threat of insects and scorpions the wind might carry within its folds. He had been warned before that it was not unusual to find scorpions and spiders after a sandstorm. This was one other challenge of living in the desert, being face to face with aspects of nature he was oblivious to in the city. He checked on the sturdiness of the windows and outside doors, plugging any visible holes. The fine dust needs no assistance in finding itself inside.
When it arrived, it announced its presence with gusts of wind that stirred up dirt and sand. He could feel the trembling of the doors and windows as those gusts hit. The sky turned greyish red, and the sun that was dipping behind the horizon was no longer visible and completely obscured by the storm. Although it was still afternoon, the skies turned dark quickly. The wind was blowing hard, and the house shook in response.
The sound of sand hammering the metal door of the living room was the same one heard when sandblasting. The windowpanes moaned with an audible scratchy noise as the sand hit them. It was a symphony from hell, with mother nature as the conductor. The screams of the wind, the hammering on the walls and the doors, and the wailing of the windows, were the orchestra musical instruments.
Sam was afraid something would give in. He was sure the solar panels had no chance of standing in the face of this onslaught but did not dare go up to investigate.
Fine dust managed to find its way inside the living room, and the stench of the wild desert filled his nostrils. He knew that was bad for the lungs, but he had no dust masks. He improvised by using a wet handkerchief, to cover his mouth, nose, and eyes. It wasn’t the best, but he had no alternatives.
It wasn’t going to be an easy night, he thought. He was almost in total darkness, save for one light bulb, even though his eyes were covered and could not see around him. There was no chance of reading, but to bear this natural intrusion out.
It continued like this for a couple of hours when the wind started to get even stronger. Sam thought that not even the walls could withstand this, and something would give way soon. He could hear bangs on the roof, the agony and cries of the solar panels. The outside of the house looked totally dark and looking out of the windows was like looking through opaque glass, nothing to see through. The fine dust intensified in the living room, and Sam went through long bouts of coughing. Clearing his mouth with water in the kitchen helped but only a little. He gasped for air in between his coughs.
He lay on the sofa, covering his body entirely in a blanket. It wasn’t cold, but he could think of no better way of protecting his air inlets. This was another example of life in the desert. It wasn’t easy, and maybe this was why humans opted to live far. His humble house, although a million times safer than a Bedouin tent, was straining under the sandstorm.
The battle between house and storm continued unabated, but so far, the house defences had not been breached. Sam remained covered in a blanket, unable to sleep or breathe comfortably, and felt tired and mentally exhausted.
It was around 1:00 am when there were loud panicking knocks on the outside door leading into the living room. Sam was petrified, the hair at the back of his head stood up. Who could come at this time of night, in the middle of this ferocious storm? The knocks were loud and persistent, which got Sam into a state of panic. He didn’t know what to do. Should he open the door, or ignore the knocking? And who could it be? No doubt, it was the uninvited elusive guest, as he usually picked his time to materialise.
The knocks came persistent, and whoever was knocking was in a desperate panic, more so than Sam himself was. From under the blanket, he raised his head and called in a voice that came hoarse and unintelligible,
‘Who’s knocking?’
‘Open the door… open the door… open the door,’ came the answer.
Sam thought he recognized the voice as that of Kareem. They must have escaped from the storm and were seeking shelter. He leapt up and opened the door. The ferocity of the storm was evident, and the wind blew inside the living room, piling sand and dirt inside. Kareem and Rami rushed in, banging the door shut behind them.
‘Close the door… close the door…,’ shouted Kareem to Rami. Rami did not respond, since the door was already firm shut. W
hen Sam looked at the faces of the two men, he saw fear the likes of which he’d never seen before. Under the light, they looked pale, their lips dry, and their eyes wide open, looking around focusing on nothing. They remained standing up, away from the door, as though they were expecting something to barge in.
‘What the hell is going on?’ Sam screamed at the two men.
‘Close the door… don’t open it whatsoever…,’ said Rami.
Their panic filled the room, and panic is infectious. It reached deep inside Sam, who wanted to know more.
‘Are you being followed?’ shouted Sam.
‘Don’t open the door… don’t,’ Rami kept repeating.
A minute passed and no one barged in or banged on the door.
‘For heaven’s sake, tell me, what’s going on?’ screamed Sam at Rami.
‘Evil man, evil…,’ Rami responded almost incomprehensibly.
‘What’s evil? Are you being followed by a gang or what?’ asked Sam. There was only just this reason that came to Sam’s mind for why the panic.
‘No, evil… pure evil… don’t open the door,’ Rami screamed, and his fear was evident.
‘Is it the storm?’ Sam asked.
‘No man… evil… evil,’ Rami screamed back.
Calm began to fall on Sam, as he saw no logical reason for the panic.
‘Get a grip on yourself, Rami. Tell me what’s bothering you. What’s out there?’ asked Sam, shaking Rami by the shoulders.
‘I don’t know, man… It’s not human…,’ came the answer, vague and unintelligible.
‘What’s not human, for heaven’s sake,’ asked Sam.
‘I tell you it’s not human. You’re not safe. We’ve gotta go away,’ exclaimed Rami.
‘Where to go away to? In this storm, its suicide. You won’t be able to tell the route,’ Sam said, trying to instil some common sense.
‘I’ve got to go back to Baghdad… I don’t want to be here,’ mumbled Rami.
‘This is not making sense at all. Please, tell me, what’s spooked you?’ Sam asked in desperation.
‘I tell you, man, it’s not human. It’s pure evil… out of this world,’ Rami kept repeating.
Sam turned to Kareem, hoping to get something comprehensible out of him.
‘Kareem, what is it?’ asked Sam.
Kareem looked dazed. His eyes were wide open but were not focusing on anything. He lost it, Sam thought. If it was not a gang chasing them, then what?
‘Look, you are safe in the house. Take it easy and get a grip on yourselves. I have a gun,’ Sam said, hoping to calm them down and to extract anything comprehensible out of them.
‘A gun… Are you serious, man? I’m telling you it’s not human, it’s evil… no gun…,’ Rami said sarcastically.
‘Look I’m not getting anything logical out of you. The storm is bad outside, so just calm down. Let me figure something out. Come sit down on the sofa. I’ll get you blankets,’ Sam said calmly.
Neither of them found the will to move from the back to the living room. When Sam returned with a pair of blankets, it took some convincing to get them to sit on the sofa. They wrapped themselves tightly in the blankets and kept looking at the door continuously as though they expected something outside wanting to enter.
‘There is nothing outside. For heaven’s sake, get a grip. I’ll prove it to you, I’ll have a look,’ said Sam and walked towards the door.
Both jumped to their feet startled, and Rami shouted,
‘don’t open the door, don’t…’
Sam did not listen and flung the door open. It was very windy, and the door was flung open out of his hand.
‘Look, there is nothing out here but wind and sand. So, get a grip and settle down,’ said Sam and closed the door.
That gesture managed to bring some calm into the room. Their fast short breathing softened a bit, and their eyes wandered around less. Sam decided to leave them to take it in before any further questioning.
‘How about coffee or tea,’ asked Sam. Neither replied, but he went to the kitchen to brew some, irrespectively.
He placed two mugs of coffee with two bottles of water on the table and waved them to drink. He also had a steaming mug in his hand.
‘I tell you, man…. It's pure evil, never seen anything like it…’ said Rami.
Sam decided not to press on with his questioning. Let it come out of them, in their own time.
‘We were digging when the storm hit… then something sprung from the dig… evil like hell… ugly and menacing. It held us both by the neck and flung us aside like rag dolls. It was screaming in this most horrible voice I’ve ever heard.… Its mouth was wide open… I could see inside right to its internals… Breathing a stench like I never smelled. Then we ran and ran…’ continued Rami.
‘Running was futile, it was waiting where we ran to… Holding us again by the necks and shaking us like dolls… We ran towards the pickups and set off in any direction. It perched itself on the bonnet, with its long tongue licking and sputtering spit all over the windscreen… I didn’t stop… I was following Kareem in his pickup… I nearly toppled the car over… My driving was like hell… I’ve never been scared like this… I tell you, man. It was on my bonnet all the way here. It is here… I’ve no doubt,’ said Rami.
‘I hear you, but it hasn’t entered the house, which is a good start,’ said Sam trying to calm Rami down.
‘This is an evil place… You should leave… I tell you man… its pure evil,’ said Rami.
Sam couldn’t make sense of this. It was probably their first experience with the paranormal, and their fear was genuine. Sam had never heard of such an intense experience with the paranormal, or if it ever killed a person. What they saw was genuinely scary, which scared them beyond their senses.
‘I don’t want to stay in this place… I want to go back to Baghdad, and to hell with this dig and its finds… I’m done,’ Rami said.
Kareem kept quiet all this time, looking fazed and unaware of his surroundings.
‘Well… there is nothing you can do now. Just sit tight and trust me, nothing will happen. Tomorrow, when it’s daylight, you can drive to Rawa.’
None of them slept that night, fidgeting and waiting for the unknown. Sam was equally distraught, unable to comprehend what was happening, or what awaited him in the following days when he would be by himself. The storm continued in its ferocity until the early hours of the morning. The creaking of windows and doors, and the sounds coming from the roof, amplified their fear. The fine dust inside the house made their breathing shallower as they gasped for air. But his companions’ worry was what was behind the door, not the air quality inside the room.
As soon as dawn broke, Rami announced he was going home. Kareem didn’t need convincing to announce the same. Sam pleaded with them for logic and common sense. He suggested going together to the dig to investigate.
‘No chance, man… forget it. I’m going home,’ replied Rami.
It was useless to talk them out of their hurried departure. Sam asked them to wait at least for a light breakfast and coffee; they faced a long drive to Rawa.
Neither Rami nor Kareem had the appetite for food and opted for coffee.
‘Look, I will visit the dig later today to collect what you left behind,’ Sam said.
‘Don’t. To hell with everything. Just don’t go there, I tell you, it’s not safe,’ replied Kareem.
‘It’s OK. I will be careful. I shall send your stuff with the supplies driver on his next run,’ Sam said, reassuring them.
Rami and Kareem said their goodbyes hurriedly. Ram opened the door cautiously, peeping out ever so slowly to see if whatever they feared was out there. They then rushed to their pickups and drove off, tyres screeching and sending dust behind them. Sam stood on the patio not believing what’s unfolding in front of him. It defied all logic.
Sam went around the house to assess the damage by the storm if any. Sand had gathered all around the house and climbed a coupl
e of feet against some walls. A thick layer of sand covered the patio, the water tank, and anything he happened to leave outside. His concern was the panels on the roof.
Climbing up the sand-covered stairs, he was able to see what the storm had done to his panels. Many were loose, dangling only by the cables attached to them. The frames were still fixed to the roof studs, though. He wasn’t sure if the electric connections were intact or if the batteries could still charge.
With his toolbox and a few cable ties, he commenced the job of re-fixing the panels on the frames, and to tighten the cables. A few raw conductors showed, which he taped over. It was the best he could do and hoped the batteries continued to work.
He went to the pickup, still covered by a thin layer of dirt and sand and cleaned it. He made sure the spade and tarp sheets were still there and drove towards the dig. It wasn’t that he was unafraid, he still had deeply buried fear of the paranormal, but couldn’t bring his logical mind to accept it. It was in their mind, there was nothing out there, his logic was telling him.
An hour later, he was at the dig. Their tent was still there but lying flat on the ground. There were many instruments flung about: a camera, level instruments, numerous marker pegs, a couple of spades of different sizes, etc. They were spread over the site as though by an explosion. He could see their digging progress. They managed to find the remnant of a stone wall, and they had dug around it for about ten meters. In one place they had dug deep, about two meters. It was the work of an organized team in a dig.
There was nothing else that attracted his attention, no sign of a scuffle or a fight with the unknown, or any sign of work elsewhere on the site. He collected all their instruments and tools and put them in the back of his pickup. He folded their tent and sleeping bags and put it in the pickup too. He examined the camera, which still operated. He used it to take a few pictures of the site, to convince them it was an illusion.