“I’m telling you they’re planning something, and I’m closer than ever to finding out.”
After a pause, his friend said, “Tobias, it’s been over thirty years. Don’t you think it’s time you stopped worrying about that type of stuff?”
Things got quiet after that. The friend never visited again.
Ibdan crossed his arms and fixed his gaze on her. “While we’re waiting, we should figure out what’s going to happen to you.”
“To me?”
“I doubt you want to come fight Naga with us. You’re always welcome to, of course.”
But Sarah battled the urge to correct his assumption. She’d intended to enlist as a recruit a few years ago. Due to pressure from the people of New Bagram, the city council had ruled that a girl could only join the Watchers with a special petition and the sponsorship of another recruit.
The problem was that the recruit she chose to sponsor her, Johnny, turned out to be unwilling. If he’d signed the agreement to sponsor her, everything would’ve been different. She might be calling Ibdan “sir” and begging for an opportunity to fight the Anunnaki.
Instead, she wondered what fighting would achieve now. It couldn’t restore New Bagram. Facing off against a Naga glider with an assault rifle only amounted to a quick death.
Besides all of that, she had a promise to keep. She might not end up keeping secrets, but she had to keep this promise.
“Every new Watcher is just another reason for the Anunnaki to stay here,” she said.
Ibdan shrugged. “We still have our duties to Bagram’s benefactors.”
“If they knew what happened, you wouldn’t have to fight.”
“What makes you think we don’t want to?” he said in a condescending way, drawing parallels to Tobias.
“Aren’t you trying to send the Naga back to their cities?”
“Believe me, they aren’t satisfied with sharing the Earth. They will conquer us as soon as they have the chance.”
That sentiment too reminded her of her stepdad.
“Then why didn’t they firestorm us years ago?” she snapped.
For a moment Ibdan was silent, and she thought she had made her point.
Then he said, “They’re after something. Something that will finish us for good.”
Sarah shook her head. This was hopeless. She’d heard all the same paranoia before. Her stepfather believed the Naga were on the verge of defeating the Watchers. What had the rumors been this time? They were developing some doomsday device to finally crush the resistance. Yeah right.
“Sir, if I may?” Hamiad started.
“What is it?”
“Wherever we end up, we both want the same thing—to get out of this town and back on our way. We need to contact other survivors.”
If only they had those things her history teacher mentioned had once existed. Telephones. Then she remembered another device that people still used today.
“What about radios? I saw some outside.”
Ibdan turned on the faucet and splashed water on his face. “We could, but it’s risky. The Anunnaki have a way with spying on us and listening in.”
“Sir, what about the old Watcher code speak?” Krem said. Many everyday words and phrases had dual meanings to a Watcher. If a Watcher said, My wife just had a child, he could mean he had just hired new recruits. The code speak language had existed since the Shroud War, changing little by little to prevent the Naga from ever catching on.
“Where do you expect to find these radios, then?”
The vendors. But first they had to figure out how to get past the men guarding the door. She glanced down at her knife, but decided she wouldn’t resort to physical violence unless absolutely necessary. Instead, she wanted to scoot to the window and yell, “Let us out!”
A waft of the humid hot air hugged her, so she wandered to the other side of room, but it hung, thick and smothering, everywhere.
The Anunnaki destroyed New Bagram, but somehow wretched men still controlled her. How could that aspect of her life stay so screwed up?
She kept imagining Johnny in place of his doppelganger. Finally she shut her eyes and rubbed her eyelids. Maybe she could use his medals after all. The men here wouldn’t know who the Keeper was, but they might enjoy them nonetheless.
She considered the stairs. Could they lead somewhere useful?
Ibdan shouted out the window, “Hey, what sort of food do you have around here?”
The men ignored him.
“Hamiad, what’s the most basic trick to escaping captivity?” Ibdan asked.
That piqued Sarah’s interest.
“Create a decoy, sir,” Hamiad said.
Ibdan grinned and returned to his bed. “Well, I was curious to see what you remembered from your training. Now that I think about it, you guys should use this time to train.”
He lay down and shut his eyes. What was he hinting at? Sarah looked to Hamiad, who shot her a meaningful glance.
“Care to go for a run?” he said to Skunk.
“Yeah. I do need to stretch my legs.”
If Hamiad and Skunk ran outside, the guards were bound to chase after them, leaving Sarah the opportunity to trade Johnny’s medals for a radio. The medals had to be worth that much at least.
They must’ve had the idea all along if Ibdan’s coaxing was enough to get them moving. He knew his recruits well.
Still, she wasn’t eager to give the traders another chance to kidnap her. Hamiad wouldn’t be able to save her again and evade the guards. On the other hand, the kidnappers wouldn’t have had an easy time catching her if she’d been conscious. She massaged an old scar on her neck. She’d learned self-defense to prevent more scars like that.
She rose up slowly. “Mind if I get some fresh air too?”
“I’m still as useful as a cardboard helmet in a firefight,” Krem lamented.
“Cardboard helmets don’t know code speak,” Sarah said with a slight shrug.
She, Hamiad, and Skunk made their way to the door. One man was picking at his poorly groomed beard. The other was drumming his fingers along his rifle.
Quietly Hamiad started to chant a military song. Skunk joined in. Then Hamiad twisted the doorknob, thrust it open, and bolted out.
In an instant, the men raised their rifles as if to fire. But Hamiad and Skunk snatched them out of their grip. They were ten feet away when they started to disassemble the rifles, throwing parts in every direction, the two guards cursing and speeding after them.
Now it was Sarah’s turn. She clipped across the dirt, not able to stop from laughing at the diversion. Hamiad and Skunk had bought her some time, but she figured she better return before they did.
As she retraced her steps to the bazaar, the locals’ voices swirled in her head. They didn’t sound friendly. If only her stepdad taught her whatever language this was instead of Nebirian.
Thankfully, she found the vendor stands close. The black box radios were laid out on the rug directly in front of her where the cement met the dirt.
The merchant was thinly built and had white hair from his beard to his eyebrows. He scanned the streets, waving to passersby to be his new customers. When he saw Sarah approach, it was like he’d bitten into a ripe peach pulled from the trash. He seemed genuinely pleased.
“Hello?” She smiled, pulling out Johnny’s medals. “Would you trade for a radio?”
He twisted an eyebrow at her in confusion.
“You don’t understand anything I’m saying, do you?” she groaned, pointing to a radio.
At that moment, a grubby hand clasped down on her shoulder. A sinking feeling crept across her neck and back. How had they found her? Sarah cursed and pretended to slip. Once she was on the ground, the guard lunged at her. She snatched up a handful of dirt and flung it in his face.
The man reeled away, scrunched hands over his eyes. With a grunt, he stepped back, pulled the charging slide on his rifle, and shouldered it.
She darted toward the medi
cal house, feeling a pinch on her back. The area tingled even as she ran. Somehow she couldn’t pick out the red cross sign. There were distractions everywhere. Locals carrying bundles of straw and cloth, peacocks roaming on building awnings, a distant singing, the groan of an elephant. Focusing on any single element became impossible.
“Sarah!” Hamiad said. He sounded frantic.
She raced forward, trying to pinpoint his whereabouts. Somehow, it didn’t seem a major concern anymore. Her head grew heavy. Sleep was all that mattered.
Chapter 4
This time, she woke up on one of the hospital bedrolls. She got to her feet, the room swaying, and immediately found Ibdan helping her to a full stand.
She massaged her head.
“Why do I feel so dizzy?”
Ibdan removed his hands and watched as she steadied herself. “They shot you with a tranquilizing dart. You’ve been out for a few hours. The doctor came by. He said you would be fine.”
“Oh.” That explained the pinch on her back. “So no radio?”
Ibdan shook his head. “That’s the least of our worries.” He turned to Krem. “I think you’d be better off explaining to your sister than me.”
She noticed him and Skunk playing cards on Krem’s bed. Everyone else was still resting.
Skunk tipped his chin. “Good to see you awake.”
“Yeah, thanks. What happened?”
Krem flicked his thumb to scratch the top of one eye. “Well…”
“Hamiad set a cow on fire,” Skunk said.
Sarah lurched back, noticing the cracked-up look on his face. “What?”
Krem shook his head in clear annoyance. “I told you she wouldn’t think it was funny.”
Skunk rolled his eyes. “Yeah, there was this cow the locals were walking out there. And Hamiad saw a lit torch at one of the stands. He thought he could buy us some time by annoying it. Turned out the cow was covered in holy oils. So yeah, the whole thing went up like that.” Skunk snapped his fingers and lowered his head, face splitting with a smile.
Ibdan cleared his throat. “Boys, this is a serious issue. Try a bit more discretion.”
“Sorry,” Skunk said. “The doctor gave me some painkillers and…”
“Yeah, it’s really not that funny. Laughing gas or not,” Krem said. “Turns out they worship cows in this part of the world.”
“Was this some kind of dumb prank?” Sarah said. Hamiad and Johnny excelled at those, it seemed.
“No,” Krem said. “At least I hope not. But anyway, Utbashi’s mayor requested a meeting with you three.”
“Us?” Sarah asked.
Skunk scratched at his mustache and shrugged. “The guards reported you as part of the act. Don’t worry. I’ll let them know you weren’t.” He giggled.
“You’re starting to laugh again,” Krem warned.
Skunk put a fist to his head and groaned. “Okay, I think I’m almost over it.”
Sarah gave a long sigh. “Where’s Hamiad?”
“That’s the problem.” Krem frowned. “He doesn’t want to see the mayor. He’s up on the roof. Doesn’t want to talk to any of us.”
“Give him time,” Ibdan said calmly.
“But he’s been up there three hours now,” Krem said. “I don’t think he’s coming down.”
Ibdan pointed to Sarah. “Why don’t you talk with him, then?”
Sarah hesitated. “Would he let me? We’re not really close friends.”
“Exactly. He knows me as his drill sergeant. Not a friend that he can confide in.”
“My ankle keeps me down,” Krem said, then jerked a thumb at Skunk. “And Chuckles here can’t get his thoughts straight, let alone keep a straight face.”
It was up to her, then.
“Fine,” she said.
“Don’t meander,” Ibdan said pensively. “I doubt the mayor will be forgiving if you make him wait much longer.”
Sarah knew Hamiad by his reputation more than anything else. He may have belonged to Johnny’s squad in New Bagram. But he was also that guy. In class he always got picked last for group projects. Unless the class included Johnny, Skunk, or Krem. Usually most other recruits came up with an excuse why they couldn’t include him in their group.
She knew Mitchell and a lot of his friends simply didn’t trust Hamiad. Not only was he an outsider in New Bagram, but he also went around pulling pranks and starting trouble in class when no one asked for it.
Hamiad sat alone on the roof’s parapet, his hands hanging over his knees. Since childhood, Sarah had likened people’s heads and faces to certain geometric shapes. Hamiad’s rectangular face didn’t lend itself to a beacon of positivity, but immediately she saw the sadness. His eyes were red. He might’ve been on the verge of crying. He wasn’t sniffling, though.
They exchanged glances, and he resumed his stare off into the distance. A quiet stroll brought her beside him, and she rested her arms on the wall that overlooked the fields and balconies, clotheslines, telephone poles, and rooftops of Utbashi’s slightly nicer streets. Lush pockets of trees and swamps hung past the city.
“Hey,” she began.
She didn’t know exactly what to say to him. He seemed bottled up, cut off, even though he sat right beside her.
“Hey,” he mirrored.
His somberness compelled her to inject humor into the moment.
“So where’s the beef?”
He turned to her with a raised eyebrow.
“You cooked a cow, right?” Sarah said. “Shouldn’t we at least get to eat some good meat?”
“They have a different idea of cows around here,” Hamiad muttered, not buying into her joke. He spoke through a tight jaw, making the words sound forced. His eyes fell back to a random spot on the roof. Sarah followed his gaze, seeing nothing there.
She sighed silently. What was gnawing at him? It couldn’t just be the whole cow thing.
“Is there a special technique to burning cattle?” She intended it as a joke, but even to her it sounded sarcastic.
Getting through to him directly didn’t seem smart. But then again, sarcasm usually failed too. She chided herself. This whole cow-joke thing had gone overboard.
Patting the top of the wall excitedly, she said, “Hey, the view is awesome up here. Take a look at all this.”
The view was better than the desert New Bagram offered, but it wasn’t anything spectacular. She’d played it up so well, Hamiad raised his head in curiosity. Maybe he didn’t even bother to look at the view on his way up here.
“Seriously,” she said, injecting all the enthusiasm she could into it. “Check this out.”
Hamiad budged, and she waved him on. A couple of seconds later, he was standing next to her, peering out at the advertised epic landscape.
“It’s okay,” he said. “But not…You were faking, weren’t you?”
She turned to him. “You’ve spent the last four years with combat recruits. There’s no way you got hurt feelings from that.”
He moved to slump back down, and she slapped the wall top. “My point wasn’t that it was a great view. My point was, think how quickly it turned out to be nothing. Are you really so worried what they’ll do to us? It could be nothing.”
He stayed standing but cast his head from side to side.
“Look,” she said without any hint of humor, “you didn’t know the cow thing was going to happen. It wasn’t your fault.”
He sucked in a breath.
“It’s not that. I just remember—”
And for an instant, she swore he might break into tears. But he caught himself and walked over to the other end of the roof.
A couple of years back in English class, their teacher asked them to write about their earliest memories and present them the next day. A few students laughed about how they were going to write about being born or soiling their diapers. She’d expected Hamiad to get in on the sudden flurry of jokes. Instead, the teacher clarified, Nothing inappropriate, guys. And right after that,
she spoke with Hamiad privately in the back room.
He never ended up presenting his first memories. No one really paid it much attention, but she only thought of it because her brother had complained to her how Hamiad had gotten all moody that day. It was hard enough writing about her and Krem’s fifth birthday party, when her dad was still alive. She could only imagine what got Hamiad off the hook.
The rumors were that he didn’t come from New Bagram. Eventually Krem had confirmed it, but he didn’t give up much more than that.
She wondered if Hamiad’s current sorrow related to his past in any way. Because some tragic event must’ve happened in his childhood.
Putting her hands together, an image of her dad—bedridden, pale, and skinnier than she’d ever known him—confronted her. She could still see him walking like his legs were rooted into the ground. The pungent overripe-fruit smell of his own body dying. “My childhood was rough too,” she said softly. “I’m sure Krem must’ve told you about our dad.”
“Cancer?” Hamiad said, stopping with his back still turned.
She nodded. “Not a pretty way to go. I thought things would have to improve after. That’s what our mom told us.”
“Did they?” He turned around to face her, so sucked in by her story. Even though it wasn’t much of a story. It was barely even a revelation. Strange.
“Not really.” She said it with a smile. Because she sensed that Hamiad was one of the few people who knew how crappy life could really get. He knew you had to learn to laugh and smile a lot even when you heard bad news.
And the way he smiled, she swore there was more to him than what her classmates thought. She never would’ve expected to appreciate standing here with him, miles from New Bagram, their home long gone. But she’d discovered someone who might’ve experienced the same pain she’d experienced in life. Someone worth knowing.
Hamiad broke their gaze, looked down at the roof meekly. Almost like a child. He breathed out. “Your stepdad, right?”
“Pretty much.”
“Sometimes Johnny mentioned it.” He sounded steadier, and his eyes lightened. “Used to say you guys got along so well because you both had stepparents. I had a stepdad too, I guess. But I think he was a lot different from yours.”
The Deadliest Earthling Page 27