Escaped

by Gary Urey

  A short man who Khaled called Omar placed two bowls of yogurt drizzled with honey and a large plate of cherry tomatoes and cucumbers next to them.

  “Thanks,” Daisha said, sitting up on her elbows.

  “Bi kulli surur,” Omar said and returned to the outdoor kitchen.

  The smell of food nudged Loosha awake. He yawned, rubbed his eyes, and checked for the pistol he had hidden inside his boot.

  “I have something to tell you,” Loosha said. “It’s been weighing on my mind for a while now.”

  “What?” Daisha asked, handing him a bowl of yogurt.

  “You probably won’t believe me, but I’m not the one who killed your mother at the dog park. It was my old partner, Kostia. I’m sorry it happened.”

  A lump formed in Daisha’s throat, but she fought the urge to cry. Deep down, she knew Loosha was telling her the truth.

  “Better eat this food,” she said. “It may be a long time before we eat again.”

  “What does your GeoPort say?” Loosha asked, shoving a spoonful of yogurt into his mouth.

  Daisha pulled the unit from her pocket. “21.52, 75.3, 78.14, 0.9786,” she said. “Just like yesterday.”

  “Just get me out of this godforsaken place. I don’t want to spend one more second here than I have to.”

  “Better count your blessings. Here we have hospitality and food. The next place could be much worse.”

  Loosha didn’t argue with her. He plopped a couple cherry tomatoes in his mouth and stood up. Daisha did the same. Several tourists emerged from their tents. They ate breakfast at a long table. Two women waited on them while Yaseen and another boy rounded up the camels. Khaled stepped out of the tent and walked toward Daisha and Loosha.

  “I hope you had good rest,” Khaled said with a smile.

  “Wonderful,” Daisha replied. “We can’t thank you enough for the food and ride this morning.”

  Khaled’s smile faded away. “About that ride,” he said, almost apologetically. “I originally had told you we can take you in the morning. That will not be possible, as we need the vehicles. However, we can take you this afternoon when we drop this tour group off at the Wadi Rum Visitor Center.”

  Loosha expelled a disappointed grunt.

  “I’m sorry,” Khaled said. “We will treat you as guests. You can come on the camel tour with us this morning. Free of charge.”

  Daisha sighed. “We really don’t have a choice, do we?”

  “Okay,” Loosha said. “But I’ll pay. I don’t like owing anybody anything.”

  Khaled motioned them to follow him to the camel corral. Ten tourists were already mounted and ready to ride when they got there. Yaseen and the other boy led two large camels over to them.

  “Who wants to ride this one?” Yaseen asked.

  “That’s the camel from yesterday,” Daisha said. “I recognize the white spot on its hump.”

  Yaseen stroked the camel’s neck. “This one is my favorite, even though she likes to wander far in the night.”

  “You take that one,” Loosha said. “That mangy monster spit in my face, and I want nothing to do with it.”

  Daisha giggled at the memory. “A reason to ride her even more,” she said. “How are you supposed to get on these creatures?”

  The camel knelt down, and Daisha mounted its back. Loosha did the same. Daisha had ridden horseback before, and this felt very similar. Loosha, on the other hand, looked like a fish out of water. His eyes bugged out. He gripped the reigns so hard his knuckles turned white.

  The tour took up the whole morning. Khaled led them through the stunningly beautiful desert to a place called Lawrence’s Spring. Daisha thought the place would be a cool, refreshing oasis, but the spring was nothing more than a puddle in the otherwise broiling desert. They then headed to Khazali Canyon to see inscriptions dating back more than two thousand years. After a jaunt through the mountains to a place called Small Rock Bridge, they headed back to the campsite.

  The cargo van was waiting for them. After a lunch of pita bread and the yummiest hummus Daisha had ever tasted, they hopped in the back of the van with the tourists. The two-hour ride took them through some of the most beautiful desert scenery Daisha had ever seen.

  “The landscape is so dramatic,” Daisha said. “It’s no wonder we thought this was the Grand Canyon.”

  “I don’t like it here at all,” Loosha said, staring out the window. “There’s something haunted and dangerous that I can’t put my finger on.”

  “Like what?”

  “Forget about it. Just let me know when the GeoPort says it’s time to fly.”

  Several stone buildings the same color as the surrounding mountains came into view. Inscribed on the largest building were the words Wadi Rum Visitor Center in both English and Arabic. Dozens of people meandered around the center. Some were Jordanian workers dressed in traditional garb, others obvious European and Asian tourists. The driver opened the doors and pointed to the parking lot where several buses sat idling in the heat.

  “You can get all transportation to Petra, Amman, and the airports. Make sure you have your passes available.”

  The other passengers seemed to know exactly what bus line they were taking. Daisha and Loosha had no idea, so they inquired inside the visitor center. They purchased two tickets to Aqaba on a bus called JETT, not scheduled to depart for another forty-five minutes.

  Loosha loitered among the shops in the cool air-conditioning while Daisha waited outside. The scenery was so breathtaking that she wanted to soak in as much as possible before leaving. A large mountain with soaring pinnacles of red rock loomed on the horizon. Streaks of lightning flashed across the sky. A tourist leaflet about the mountain read: Seven Pillars of Wisdom: famous landmark, named after the book by T. E. Lawrence.

  The GeoPort in Daisha’s pocket buzzed to life. The familiar beeping sounds indicating the Warp had reset filled her ears. She pulled out the unit. Much to her surprise, the screen was blank. The numbers 21.52, 75.3, 78.14, 0.9786 were not flashing as usual.

  “Does this mean what I think it means?” she asked. She started entering the coordinates for Hoover Park back in Palo Alto.

  37.4302° N, 122.1288° W

  She held her thumb over the SW button, tears rolling down her cheeks. She was amazed the GeoPort appeared to be working like normal. With a single press, she’d be back in Palo Alto and away from Loosha. But she knew Axel and Megan would not be there. They were somewhere in this vast desert. Deep down she knew that’s why the GeoPort had sent her here in the first place. She deleted the coordinates and slipped the GeoPort back in her pocket.

  Two JETT buses pulled into the parking lot, followed by an expensive-looking SUV with tinted windows.

  Dozens of people departed the buses. All of them were women. Some carried little girls. They walked barefoot, wearing long white robes with flowers tucked behind their ears. However, the oddest thing about them was the weird-looking tattoo in the center of their foreheads.

  The SUV with the tinted windows wheeled up beside Daisha. Three women stepped from the vehicle. Two were young, one was older, and they were dressed exactly like the people in the buses. White robes, barefoot, forehead tattoo, and all.

  “Two in youth will guide you,” the older woman mumbled and walked over to her. She had long gray hair and intense green eyes that burned directly into Daisha’s soul.

  “But they will not hear the Voices,” she continued. “Only one of you will survive.”

  “Huh?” Daisha questioned. “Are you talking to me?”

  With a nod from the older woman, the two younger ones grabbed Daisha roughly by the arms.

  “Let me go!” Daisha screamed.

  The older woman opened the SUV’s door, and the women tossed her into the back seat. Seconds later, they raced out of the parking lot and down a dusty desert road.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  MUNI

  The SUV sped through the desert as Muni, Gita, and Pavana fought hard to
subdue the girl in the back seat.

  “Let me go!” the girl screamed, kicking and flailing with all her might.

  “Climb atop the Seven Pillars of Wisdom, where New Earth awaits,” Muni chanted.

  “Two in youth will guide you, but they will not hear the Voices,” Pavana added.

  “Only one of you will survive,” chimed Gita, completing the final verse of The Way to New Earth. Muni had finally revealed the prophetic words to them during the ride from the airport.

  “Leave me alone!” the girl yelled as she reached up and scratched Pavana’s cheek.

  “Owww!” Pavana yelped, pinning the girl’s arms with her knees.

  The driver looked through the rearview mirror, a concerned look on his face “Ma bika?” he asked.

  Muni had no idea what he was saying. She just smiled, pointed to the girl, and made the international symbol for crazy by twirling a finger around the side of her head.

  This seemed to satisfy the driver. He nodded and turned his attention back to driving.

  The three of them held the girl down as she thrashed and cried out some more, but the three grown women were too much for her. After another minute of intense wrestling, all the fight seeped out of her. She fell limp and exhausted within their grasp. Muni studied the girl’s face with all the reverence of a cherished religious object. This young girl was without a doubt the same person from her vision, right down to the shorn head and wide, bright eyes.

  “What do you want from me?” the girl asked, panting for breath.

  “I knew exactly who you were when I first glimpsed you in the parking lot,” Muni said. “Where’s the boy?”

  The girl didn’t answer.

  “She asked you about the boy!” Pavana hollered in the girl’s face.

  Muni shot Pavana a stern look. “Pavana, don’t yell at her like that. She’s a gift from the Voices and must be treated with veneration and respect.” She turned back to the girl. “Don’t worry, my vision. You are one of the Antakaale’s guides to New Earth. The Voices will make sure no harm comes to you.”

  They drove in silence for many miles before arriving at a large encampment. Dozens of tents and herds of wandering camels stretched along the horizon. A handful of native men and woman dressed in traditional attire were waiting for them.

  The SUV screeched to a stop.

  “Keep her here while I settle the arrangements,” Muni said as she opened the door.

  A tall man wearing a white keffiyeh draped loosely around his neck and shoulders approached her. Two women dressed in all black stood at his side.

  “Welcome to our Hafnawi’s Desert Life Camp!” the man said enthusiastically. “You are the…” The man looked down at a card. “Anta…kaale party, and there are eighty-seven of you, counting children, correct?”

  Muni nodded. “Everyone should arrive shortly. They’re not far behind.”

  “Perfect. My name is Fahd, and this is my wife, Ghazal, and our daughter, Tala. We are pleased to have you as our guests.”

  “I’m Muni. You’ll deal directly with my assistants, Pavana and Gita, or me. No one else.”

  Fahd smiled. “Certainly. We have plenty of activities and daily excursions into Wadi Rum. We’ll make your vacation as pleasant and fun as possible.”

  “Your entire party is female, correct?” Ghazal asked.

  “Yes,” Muni answered.

  “Then we won’t have to worry about any separate facilities. Please, join Tala and me. We’ll show you the accommodations.”

  Hafnawi’s Desert Life Camp was the largest tourist camp in Wadi Rum and the closest to the Seven Pillars of Wisdom. This is exactly why Muni chose it to be their starting ground for the exit to New Earth. The tents were set up to form a large semicircle with the openings facing away from the rising sun. Muni peeked in one of the tents and saw six basic cots made up with pillows and blankets, two stools with water basins, and six folding chairs. A much larger, circus-like tent was for dining and a common area. Ten tented bathrooms with showers sat behind a large jutting rock.

  “This is your khayma,” Ghazal said, parting the flaps of a tent marked number two. “Khayma is the word for ‘tent’ in Arabic. Number two’s set far apart from the other tents for privacy, and it has more comforts.”

  Muni looked at her accommodations. Ghazal’s idea of more comforts was three queen-size beds with fluffy comforters and fancy headboards. A large dresser filled with clean towels sat off to the side. Exquisite Persian rugs covered the floor, and a comfortable couch with a coffee table sat in the center.

  “Very nice,” Muni said. “There will be three of us in this tent, and we would like the utmost privacy.”

  The rumble of two large tour buses echoed outside.

  “That must be the rest of your party,” Ghazal said. “I must go greet them. I assure your privacy.”

  She left the tent. Muni stood there, staring blankly into space. A loud buzzing sound like that of a bumblebee vibrated in her ears. She knew the signal all too well. The Voices were coming.

  Verse thirty-two of the Voices teachings echoed in her mind.

  “The Voices speak in visions of the night,” Muni whispered. “Their utterances reveal the mystery, the secret, the truth.”

  She closed her eyes tight and raised her arms in the air, accepting their invitation. A cool, calm breeze blew across her face. The tingling sensations came, like someone lightly stroking their fingertips over her bare skin.

  The Voices were inside her mind.

  Muni’s heart pounded as she awaited their loving guidance. But this time their embrace wasn’t warm and loving. Instead of gentle hugs, a sudden pain sliced through her skull. Her insides quaked, her knees buckled, and she fell to the ground. Flickering images of the hot desert raced through her mind. She felt intense heat and whipping sand stinging her face. In the vision, she was standing on the Seven Pillars of Wisdom with her followers in the background. She looked out at the vast emptiness and watched the door to New Earth appear in the clouds. The entryway was a shimmering tunnel of light like a billion stars in the sky. Triumphant feelings of euphoria filled her soul. She reached out to grab the golden handle, but it was just out of reach. The earth beneath her feet began to tremble and quake. Her followers cried out in anguish.

  The girl from the car materialized out of the invisible essence. She watched as the girl reached into her pocket and pulled out a glowing Golden Jewel. The thing was magical, so much so that even the Voices flinched at its ferocious power.

  “Two,” the girl said. “We only need two.”

  “Two what?” Muni asked, her voice quivering with desperation.

  Another image appeared, hovering on the horizon like a setting sun.

  “The brown-haired boy,” Muni gasped, remembering him from her previous vision.

  Muni watched the boy reach into his pocket. He pulled out a matching Glowing Jewel. The boy winked at the girl. Together, they converged the two jewels into one giant laser beam. With a press of a button, the laser blew away the door to New Earth, closing it forever.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  DAISHA

  Daisha wanted to claw out the eyes of the two women holding her down. She felt she could take the one with the shaved head. The one called Pavana, however, might make a tougher fight.

  “Where are you taking me?” Daisha said when the SUV started moving again.

  “Don’t you worry about it,” Pavana said, lightly touching the scrape on her face. “If I weren’t a woman of peace, I’d make you hurt for scratching me like this.”

  Daisha glared at her. “Do women of peace make a habit of snatching kids off the street?”

  Pavana didn’t answer.

  Daisha looked up at the other woman. She had deep brown eyes and a shaved head. Several semi-healed scratches crisscrossed the tattoo on her forehead. The woman glanced at her. A quick smile flashed across her face and then faded.

  “What’s your name?” the lady with the shaved head asked her.
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  “Daisha,” she spat. “Are you happy now?”

  “My name’s Gita,” the woman responded. “And this is Pavana. The other woman is our leader, Muni. We don’t want to hurt you.”

  “Then what do you want from me?”

  The SUV came to a stop. The driver pointed to a tent marked number two, indicating this was where they should get out. Daisha’s heart pumped with adrenaline. The second the door opened, she was going to scream at the top of her lungs and break away from her captors. Unfortunately, her plan quickly came to a grinding halt when Pavana pulled out a handkerchief, gagged Daisha’s mouth, and secured her wrists and ankles with zip ties.

  Pavana handed the concerned-looking driver a wad of Jordanian dinar. Gita opened the door. They heaved Daisha inside the tent. Muni was writhing on the floor, tears in her eyes. They tossed Daisha on one of the beds and ran to her.

  “Muni!” Pavana cried. “What’s wrong?”

  “Are you sick?” Gita added.

  “The Voices speak in visions of the night,” Muni hushed. “Their utterances reveal the mystery, the secret, the truth.”

  “Verse thirty-two,” Pavana and Gita uttered in unison.

  Muni sat up and wiped the tears away. She stared at Daisha, an intense glare that sent daggers into her chest. Daisha scowled back at her through the mouth gag. A deep hatred for the woman came over her. The word popped into her mind: cult.

  Daisha’s thoughts cried out. This is a cult! Some freaky, tattoo-in-the-center-of-the-forehead cult kidnapped me!

  Panic pulsed through Daisha’s body. Her stomach tightened, sweat beaded her forehead. She wiggled on the bed, desperately trying to free herself from the bindings. It was no use. The harder she fought, the deeper the zip ties dug in to her skin.

  Muni walked over to her and sat down on the bed. “Where’s the boy?” she asked.

  Daisha mumbled something incoherent through the gag.

  “If you scream when I take this off, you’ll spend your entire time with me wearing a gag,” Muni warned. “Besides, we are set far apart from the other tents. No one will hear you anyway. Do we have a deal?”