Sworn Enemies, Secret Lovers

by Eve Rabi

  Omar jerks in his chair, clearly pissed off by my comment.

  “Bribery? No! It’s an … an incentive. We scratch their backs …”

  Mff. So much for whole-soul devotion to a cause.

  “Think about it – you and I will go public as a couple. We will be the Bonnie and Clyde in this … this worldwide jihad! People will respect us, and in time we will have our own following. We’ll go down in history as one of the most famous couples …”

  “That sounds like something I could manage but … I dunno.” I put my fingers to my temples. “Guess I’m a little perturbed with Wyatt – I mean, they’re threatening to take him …”

  Mahmood looks at Omar.

  Omar shakes his head from side to side.

  “Don’t be,” Mahmood says. “I got it covered.”

  My turn to look directly at him. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. I’ll make sure he’s never taken away.”

  I place my hand over my heart. “What a relief.” My smile is borderline genuine and full of gratitude. “Give me some time to like, think about things and like … work things out here,” I tap my head and smile. “Okay?”

  “Sure, sure. No rush at all.”

  He’s smiling when I walk away.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  It’s 2 p.m. I silently tiptoe around the bunker and make my way to the kitchen. The sleeping guards jerk upright, rifles in hand. Quickly, I hold up Wyatt’s baby bottle. At the sight of the baby bottle in my hand, they slowly sink back into their chairs. I walk on.

  When I reach the kitchen, I open the taps and leave them running. Then I quietly tiptoe to the room I visited earlier on with Mahmood. I punch in the numbers 911911 and hold my breath. The door unlocks. Thank God!

  With my heart pounding like a bongo drum, I race to the laptop, switch it on, and wait for it to boot. It takes ages and my heart races as the minutes tick by. Finally, it’s on, and I pound away at the keys.

  Dear Maya, I am being forced to record inflammatory messages. Don’t know where exactly I’m being held but know that I’m in one of Saddam’s bunkers. Lots of innocent people here including women and children, so please don’t let them bomb it. Saw your show of support on television. Love you all and I live for the day I will escape or I will be rescued. Do not reply to this email. Love you! PS: I am an American Soldier and always will be.

  I quickly type in my sister’s email address and hit the send button. Then I click on the sent folder and delete traces of my sent email. I shut down the laptop, hurry out of the room, and silently lock the door again.

  As I lie in bed, I think about my darling Reed and my pillow becomes wet with my tears.

  I will find a way to help you my darling. Be strong.

  ***

  Some of the patients clump around, talk in whispers, and sneak peeks at me. After a while, they beckon me over. One of the men says, “Omar very bad man. Reedwan good man. Dungeon no good. Reedwan – he save our lives. He steal medicine from hospital and give it to us. For free.”

  “Yes,” the others chorus. “Omar – him terrible man. More badder than Sadaaaam!”

  I nod silently as my eyes fill with tears.

  Then Omar suddenly appears. The men cheer and clap. The same men who called him “badder than Sadaaaam.”

  “You are a great man, Omar!”

  “You are our leader, Omar!”

  One man tries to kiss Omar’s hand.

  Pleased, Omar’s face contorts into a smile.

  Even though they appear two-faced, I don’t get mad – the men are scared and they are simply trying to curry favour with Omar. Understandably so.

  But when I see Darla, drinking tea and laughing with Omar and his men, my blood boils and I have the urge to walk up to Omar and say, “Hey, guess what? Your son, he’s gay, and see that whore there your men are drinking tea with? He’s fucking her.”

  But I know better than to do that, so I’m forced to bite my tongue and walk away. And seethe quietly.

  ***

  “Imtiaz,” I whisper as I hand him a glass of water, “he has helped you, but now, he needs your help.”

  “How? I can’t do anything,” Imtiaz whines, irritating the crap out of me. “Look at me. I am creeeeppled.”

  “Yes, you can, Imtiaz,” I snap. “You are Shariff’s son. See all these men around you – they loved your father. They loved the fact that he was seeking peace and harmony shortly before he died. Now that he’s gone, Imtiaz, you need to fill his shoes, lead the men, and even … like, help them find their way.”

  He sighs and shifts about.

  “They don’t like Omar, but they are afraid, Imtiaz. They will listen to you if you take charge.”

  Imtiaz strokes his beard as I stroke his ego. “You have leadership qualities.”

  “You thiiink so?”

  “Of course. I see how the men look up to you.” Bullshit. They think he’s a fucking weakling.

  He sits up really straight now.

  “And … I want to be sneaked into the dungeon to see Reed.”

  “What?! That is too dangerous, infidel! They will kiiiill you.”

  I nod. “I’ll take my chances.” I lean close and drop my voice. “When Mahmood and Omar are out, I want to be sneaked in.”

  Before he can tell me that it’s impossibiiiiiile, I hurry away.

  ***

  “You have ten minutes with him, then we have to leave,” the guard says as he opens the dungeon door for me.

  “Sure,” I say, my heart racing at the thought of seeing Reed. Good ol’ Imtiaz came through.

  When I see Reed, I clamp both my hands to my mouth to prevent myself from crying out.

  My darling, my love, the father of my baby lies on the floor, his lip split, his left eye swollen shut, his shirt torn. He looks dirty and he smells.

  When he sees me, he manages a weak smile. “Baby,” he whispers. “You behaving yourself?”

  With tears running down my face, I sit down on the floor and cradle his broken body. He winces in pain so I quickly release him, suspecting broken ribs.

  “How is Wyatt?” he asks as he reaches up and wipes the tears from my face.

  “Well, just well and … fine, Reed. There is nothing to worry about.” My voice is shrill and strange to my ears.

  He nods slowly and takes my hand in his. “Do everything they say,” he cautions.

  “I will, baby, I will.”

  We stare at each other, the air thick with hopelessness and despair. If ever I felt trapped, it is now.

  “Still love me?”

  “Course! I will always love you, Reed.”

  He grimaces a smile. “Still want to marry me?”

  “Absolutely!”

  “Good. I was worried you would change your mind.”

  “How could I, Reed? I love you so much.”

  “I love you,” he says. “Be strong, okay? I will get you and Wyatt. Just be patient.”

  I want to say, “How could you be so optimistic at a time like this, Reed? You’re being held prisoner in a dungeon by Saddam incarnate for chrissakes!”

  “Sure,” I hear myself say. “We will be waiting for you. Get well first, okay?”

  Briefly I tell him about Imtiaz’s involvement in our meeting. Just then, a guard appears and clears his throat. Reluctantly, I stand up, not wanting to piss him off by overstaying my ten minutes. I kiss my fingers and gently place them over Reed’s lips. “Soon,” I mouth.

  “Soon,” he dittos.

  I start to leave.

  “Megan!” he calls.

  Slowly, I turn to look at him.

  “I’m sorry.” For the first time since I’ve known him, I see defeat in his eyes.

  Overcome with emotion and unable to speak, I walk back, hold his face to my breasts, kiss the top of his head, and hurry away before he sees me break down.

  ***

  When I see Leeanne, I collapse in her arms and sob while she utters words of comfort.

  “He’s g
oing to die there, Leeanne. How could this happen? I don’t … I can’t …”

  Darla enters and watches us, a sneering look on her face. We ignore her.

  “It’s gonna be okay,” Leeanne says, rubbing my back. “I will pray for Reed and for us. Everything will work out. We’ll all go free. Just you wait and see.” She closes her eyes and feverishly plays with her string of beads.

  “Bullshit!” Darla says. “FYI, I’m going free, not the two of you.”

  Leeanne and I both look at Darla with eyebrows raised.

  “Omar owes me one, remember?”

  Leeanne and I both say nothing, not trusting her and not trusting ourselves. Darla’s like a spark on a powder keg.

  “Riyaard wants me as a permanent fixture in his life, so Omar will have to accept …”

  Leeanne gasps. “You mean Omar knows about you and …?”

  “Nope. Hasn’t a clue. But I’m gonna tell him. After that, he’s bound to let me go. After all,” she smiles coyly, “I’m faaamily now.”

  “Darla, that’s crazy!” Leeanne urges. “Omar probably doesn’t know …”

  “Don’t call me crazy!” Darla snaps and wags her finger in Leeanne’s face.

  Leeanne backs away, but Darla stabs her in the chest with her index finger. “Never call me crazy.”

  Rage takes over. I jerk to my feet and shove Darla away from Leeanne. “Leave her the fuck alone!” I hiss, not caring that Darla is really a man.

  She staggers back, surprise on her face. But she recovers and flies at me, snarling. “I’m going to kick …”

  I grab a glass candle holder from a nearby table, smash it against the wall, and wield the jagged wedges threateningly. “Come at me, bitch! I give as good as I get. Try me. I’ll rip your Botoxed face into fucking shreds and you will never be able to perform again! Want scars and stripes? Huh? Huh?”

  As Darla’s gauging eyes flit between the jagged glass in my hand and my snarling face, her hands gingerly touch her face. To my surprise and utter relief, she takes a step back.

  Then she stands really tall, looks at the both of us with a feigned air of surprise and says, “When did you two hoes become a couple?”

  I lower the glass just an inch and keep up my snarl. If she took me up on my offer and did “Come at me,” my ass would be shish kebab right now.

  Luckily, my ass is saved by Mahmood’s appearance.

  “Zarina, got a min …?” His eyes widen at the sight of me brandishing the broken candle holder.

  “Sure!” Quickly, I toss the broken candle holder and follow him to the atrium where we sit across from each other.

  With eyes like slits, he says, “I won’t ask questions about –”

  “And I won’t tell you lies.”

  He smiles so I don’t have to explain the candlestick holder incident.

  Then, his smile grows brighter and he leans forward on the table.

  “What?”

  “Time for another guess, perhaps?”

  Fuck! Is he serious? I’m still reeling from the shock of seeing my lover beaten to a bloody pulp, and then a fellow POW, a man at that, nearly kicked the shit out of me, and he wants to play the guessing game? Now?

  Having no choice, I force a smile and try really hard to keep the irritability out of my voice. “Cat?”

  He frowns. “Cat?”

  “Stevens.”

  He stares at me as he digests the name. Then he bursts out laughing. “You have just one more. One more.”

  “Mmm.” I scratch my head. “Gotta get it right this time, huh?”

  ***

  Mahmood and I are in the atrium talking when Leeanne rushes in, a look of horror on her face. Behind her is Darla, her eyes alive with excitement.

  “She told him!” Leeanne screeches and points to Darla.

  “Told who, what?” I ask.

  “I sure did!” Darla says, to no one in particular, a smug look on her face.

  I look to Leeanne for an explanation.

  “Omar,” Darla says impatiently. “I told him that Riyaard and I are lovers.”

  “What?!” Mahmood’s jaw drops.

  A sudden hush fills the atrium as dread snakes through me.

  “You … did … not,” Mahmood whispers.

  “Did too, blue-eyes,” Darla says and bats her fake eyelashes at him. “You’re a hunk. I could do you too.”

  With an ill-disguised look of disgust on his face, the hunk holds up both palms in a motion of surrender. “I’ll pass.”

  “Anyhoooo, he took it well,” Darla continues. “I told him I need to leave the place and he agreed.” She throws me a look of contempt. “See? You all were wrong and I was right. The best person to do the job …” She smiles and stabs her chest with her index finger.

  I don’t know what the fuck she is rambling on about, but my eyes shift from her smug face to the group of men storming the atrium, sticks and rifles in hand.

  Fear almost paralyzes me when they walk towards me.

  To my utter relief, they head straight for Darla.

  Darla blanches when she realizes that she is the target. “Wha …?”

  Without a word, they start to savagely beat her. Rain vicious blows on her. I hear the sound of bone crunching and flesh splitting in-between her pleas for mercy.

  “Why?” she begs. “I helped you guys!”

  Our blood-curdling screams are drowned by Darla’s blood-curdling screams.

  Mahmood grabs both Leeanne and I and shoves us behind the garden bench to protect us from stray blows.

  When Darla’s screams become groans, I look up into Omar’s face. He stands at the doorway, his eyes like granite. Behind him is Riyaard, his eyes tightly shut.

  As Darla lies in a pool of blood, the men stand back and view their handiwork. Almost every wall has blood splatter. I look at my clothes – they are covered in blood too.

  A terror-filled sob escapes me. The men turn to look at me. At this point, Mahmood places his hand over my mouth and literally drags me away from the atrium.

  He runs back in and grabs Leeanne. “Move!” he whispers. “Don’t stop.”

  In my room, a shaking Leeanne and I cling to each other for a while. I don’t like Darla. In fact, I despise her for what she did to Reed. I had fantasies about killing her. A slow, painful death where somewhere, while torturing her, I would say, “This is payback for what you did to Reed, bitch!”

  But now, I’m ashamed of my thoughts, my fantasies. The kind of beating she just underwent – I don’t wish it on anyone, not even my greatest enemy. Reed was beaten, Darla was viciously beaten.

  Who’s next?

  ***

  It’s around midnight and I’m still awake. Every time I close my eyes, I see either Darla or Reed being savagely beaten. Troubled, I lie in the dark with Wyatt next to me and stare at the ceiling.

  When my bedroom door creaks open, terror grips me. Who can it be? I lie absolutely still, not daring to even breathe. Now that Reed is not around to offer me protection, I’m fair game for any of these men.

  Terrified, I think about screaming out, bringing down the house. Maybe Mahmood will come running in and stop whatever is going to happen to me?

  Maybe … it’s Mahmood paying me a visit? Oh God!

  I’m just about to scream when I realize it’s Riyaard in front of me. Quickly, I snap on the bedside light and look at him. He stands, shoulders hunched as tears run down his face. He’s suffering, and I guess he has no one to turn to right now. No one he can trust. What a terrible place to be in.

  My maternal instincts kick in – I open my arms. He rushes into them and I hold him while he sobs. I know how he must feel about Darla’s beating. I experienced it when Reed suffered at the hands of his father.

  After a while, he curls up into a ball next to me. Without a word, I cover him with a blanket. I fall asleep with Wyatt on one side of me and Riyaard on the other.

  When I wake up the next morning, he has left my bed.

  I see him in t
he ward, but he doesn’t so much as glance at me. It’s okay – I understand that his father is Omar – evil personified.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  It’s been five days since Darla’s vicious attack, and Leeanne and I tiptoe around the bunker trying to make ourselves invisible. We barely speak to anyone, including each other. Leeanne gets on her knees and prays a lot and she barely touches her food.

  Whenever Wyatt cries, I hasten to keep him quiet in case he upsets Omar.

  Omar and Mahmood are not around, so the men arrange for me to visit Reed again. I learn that Darla too is in the dungeon, alive, but badly injured.

  That is a relief. After that beating, I didn’t expect her to be alive.

  Now I will get to see both of them. Smuggling bandages, antiseptic creams, and food and water, I make my way down the dungeon with Bygone leading the way.

  When the guard opens the door, Bygone and I enter. Bygone nudges me and holds up ten fingers.

  “Sure,” I say, grateful for the chance of a second visit with Reed.

  I look into the cell and balk. The cell is empty!

  I whirl around and look for Darla. No sign of her either. Just dried blood on Reed’s cell and the one next to him.

  I look at Bygone “Wha…?”

  He lifts and drops his shoulders, a look of confusion on his face. Gesturing for me to wait, he walks back to the guard. When he returns a few minutes later, he lifts and drops his shoulder again.

  “What?! Bygone, what is it?” I drop all the stuff in my hands and grab Bygone’s shoulders, my voice shrill. “Is he dead, Bygone?”

  He peels my hands off his shoulders and mutters in Arabic. On the edge of hysteria with my knees threatening to buckle, I clamp my hands over my mouth and follow Bygone out of the dungeon.

  Please let them have released him. Please let him be okay. Please! Please!

  Once again in my room, I sob in Leeanne’s arms. “He’s dead! They’ve killed him! He’s a medical doctor, he saved lives, Leeanne! They shouldn’t have done this, Leeanne.”

  “No! No! No! Don’t you believe that, Megan! The Lord wouldn’t let that happen. I don’t believe it. He’s gone home. That’s all. He’s alive. He’s alive, okay? Believe that.”