by Joe Vasicek
Rina and Majd joined them as they walked down the dusty hall to the front room. Through the walls, Mira heard the low tones of conversation—her father talking with her uncle Nazar and her cousin Ibrahim. The men laughed suddenly at an unheard joke, making Majd gasp. Amina started giggling, but Surayya hurriedly shushed her.
Mira’s heart sped up as they neared the tent door. The weave of the fabric was wide enough that she could make out the profiles of the men, reclining on their luxurious couches. A large female figure walked in—Shira, no doubt—and placed a tray on the table in front of them.
“Well, what are you waiting for?” Amina hissed. “Go on!”
Mira swallowed and parted the door just a crack. Her mother looked up and smiled broadly. “Mira is here,” she announced. “Come in, come in!”
The three men stood up as she entered the room. Her father was dressed in his richest red-and-gold trimmed robes, while Nazar—a thin, lanky man with a full black beard and a deeply furrowed brow—wore a brown cloak with a dark green vest.
Ibrahim, however, stood out from them both. Tall and muscular, with strong arms and clear olive skin, he wore a pure white robe with a golden circlet over his red-and-white checkered headscarf. Brown leather straps stretched across his broad, well-built chest to the ammunition belt at his waist. A carefully trimmed beard ringed his mouth and came to a point at his chin. His cheekbones were high and sharp, and his eyes were a deep, mesmerizing blue—the color of the endless sky above the sea of glass.
“Mira, my cousin,” he said, bowing graciously. “It is an honor and a pleasure to be in your presence.”
“And yours as well,” she said, returning the greeting as best as she could manage. As she sat down, Ibrahim spread himself out on his side like a regal prince.
“Ibrahim, this is my daughter Mira Al-Jamiyla,” said her father. “I believe you two have met before?”
“Yes,” said Ibrahim, “though it was many years ago. Your daughter has grown so beautiful, I must confess I hardly recognized her.”
Mira blushed deep red and glanced demurely at the floor.
“Indeed,” said Nazar. “The last time was when we were camped just twenty miles to the southeast. We used to visit often, before our well dried up and we had to move on.”
“Do you remember?” Ibrahim asked.
“Yes,” Mira said softly, memories from her earliest childhood coming back to her as she met her cousin’s eyes. “You look—different.”
Sathi and Nazar burst into uproarious laughter. “Yes,” said her father. “A lot has changed, certainly.” He glanced up at Shira, who nodded. “Why don’t we leave you two alone to get reacquainted?”
Sathi and Nazar walked out the front door, while Shira set down a platter of green grapes on the table before leaving them alone together.
“Your father is a great man,” said Ibrahim after the others were gone. “It takes a special kind of person to lead a camp out here in the deep desert for as long as he has.”
“Yes,” said Mira, her heart racing now that she was alone with Ibrahim. Doubtless her mother was listening in through the tent walls—not to mention all of her sisters—but until the meeting was over, none of them would interfere.
“I don’t know if you remember me all that well,” said Ibrahim, “but I remember you. You used to spend a lot of time playing with your older sisters, looking for strange rocks while the men dug up the walls around the compound. I came once with a shard of black obsidian from the hills near my father’s camp. When I gave it to you, your eyes lit up, and all your sisters wanted to take turns playing with it.”
“Yes,” Mira said, “I remember. Although—I’m sorry, I think I lost the rock.”
Ibrahim laughed—a clear, pleasant sound. “That’s all right,” he said, “It was just a child’s gift. But we’re certainly not children anymore.”
Mira blushed again, but didn’t look to the ground this time. “No,” she said, “we’re not.”
Ibrahim smiled and leaned forward to pick a few grapes from the platter. He looked nothing like the young, shy boy who had given her the shiny black rock so many years ago. Now, he was very much a man. His every movement was confident and precise, and he exuded an air of strength that reminded her of Jalil.
“It’s been a long time,” she whispered.
“Yes. Well, things have certainly changed.” He popped a couple of grapes into his mouth and chewed quietly. “My brothers have all established themselves, and I understand it’s my time to do the same. I have a mind to start a new camp, up in the mountains where the air is clean and free of sand.”
“Wouldn’t it be difficult to find water there?” Mira asked.
“Not if you know where to look. I’ve helped my father build three new wells on our borders with those murderous Sarahiyn. The rain in the Hamir Mountains flows quickly over the stony ground, but it catches in clefts and reservoirs hidden from most eyes. Have you ever seen the Hamir Mountains?”
Mira thought of the sea of glass at the top of the world, near the towering ivory pillar that was the Temple of a Thousand Suns. She thought of the islands in Terra 2 Dome, surrounded by the calm blue ocean that stretched from horizon to horizon.
“No,” she said. “I haven’t.”
“Ah, then you should come and see them with your own eyes. The air is clean and pure, and the breeze is cool on your face.”
“Like the ocean?” Mira asked, a little absent-mindedly.
“Ocean?” Ibrahim asked, frowning. “Where in this desert is there any ocean?”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” said Mira. “I was thinking of—of a place under the domes.”
“In Babylon, eh?” Ibrahim asked, grinning mischievously. “I’d forgotten you’d been there.”
Something about his grin made her a little uneasy. “Yes,” she said. “Have you?”
“Only once or twice, and never any further than Aliet Dome. At least, that’s what I tell my parents.” He gave her a meaningful wink.
Mira was confused until she remembered the cantina girls, bearing their bodies for all to see. She remembered how Jalil had become so unbalanced by it all, and wondered how Ibrahim would have reacted. Probably very differently.
“And how did you enjoy your stay in Babylon?” he asked.
“I—” Mira tried to think of something to say, but words failed her. Ever since returning home, she hadn’t had a chance to clear her thoughts. Strange how throughout her travels, all she could think of was the desert—now that she had returned, even her own home felt alien to her.
“I don’t know,” she said, biting her lip and looking down.
To her surprise, he laughed—not in a demeaning way, but in a way that told her he understood perfectly.
“Nothing is the same anymore, is it?” he asked. “Everything feels empty somehow, as if something or someone important is missing. Your sisters try to help, but they just don’t understand you—am I right?”
“Yes,” said Mira, looking up at him. “That’s exactly how I feel. How did you know?”
“Because I feel the same way.”
He looked away for a moment, then turned and looked her in the eye.
“Mira, I’m looking for someone who feels the way I feel. Whatever you did, or whatever you’ve been through, you can leave it all behind and not look back. I don’t care about any of it. I can offer you a new life in a new place.”
The earnestness in his voice took her aback. His deep blue eyes stared at her with such intensity that she felt as if he were staring into her soul. She drew in a sharp breath, but met his gaze without flinching.
“I need to think about it,” she said. “I—I don’t know if I can decide right now.”
“Of course, of course,” said Ibrahim, waving his hand. “My father and I expected to stay here for some time—perhaps we’ll get to know each other a little better in the meantime?”
He grinned at her. She couldn’t help but smile.
“Yes,” she said. “I hope we do.”
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* * * * *
Jalil drifted in and out of a restless sleep. Time became fluid, and images from the past few months flashed across his mind in frightening caricatures. He struggled to find some sense of order to it all, but soon felt lost in a nightmare over which he had no control.
He dreamed he was with Mira again, walking through the trash-ridden corridor of the pylon city. A flickering neon light hung over a doorway curtained by amber beads; the sweet smell of hookah smoke wafted through, mingled with the stench of alcohol. Jalil parted the bead curtain, and the two of them entered the hazy, smoke-filled cantina.
As they sat down at the empty table against the wall, the lights slowly dimmed. Jalil’s heart began to pound, and his palms began to sweat. He knew that he needed to get out, but his legs would not obey him.
Across the room, the three showcase windows lit up with a warm, mellow light. Sure enough, three half-naked girls stepped into the showcase windows. Their skin was smooth and inviting, their bodies full and voluptuous. An electronic beat began to pulse, and the girls swayed sensually, making Jalil’s cheeks flush and his heart pound faster.
This is wrong, he thought frantically to himself. This is shameful! He tried desperately to break free, but the dream would not allow him.
The girl on the left turned to face him. He recognized her immediately: Tiera, his adopted sister. She wore a skimpy bedlah gown of semi-transparent silk and jingling gold coins.
Jalil’s arms tensed, and his breath caught in his throat. He’d seen her without her headscarf before, but never like this.
He wrenched himself free long enough to face the showcase on the right. The second girl turned around and smiled—it was Michelle. Her hands slowly undid the clasp holding up her dress.
No, he inwardly screamed. Not her! He exerted all his strength to turn away, succeeding at the last possible second.
He found himself staring at the center showcase, his heart racing so fast he felt it would explode. The last girl had her back to him, hands wrapped seductively around her torso. With her body swaying provocatively to the beat, she pulled her top over her head and let it fall to the floor.
His arms and legs tensed as he stared at her naked back, but once again he was frozen in place, unable to break free. In only a few moments, she would turn to face him, showing more of herself than was right for him to see. Time slowed, and his breathing came short and fast as the moment of truth drew inevitably closer.
With her elbows lifted daintily above her head, she turned around to face him. To Jalil’s horror, he realized it was Mira. Guilt swept over him, but there was nothing he could do but stare.
As her eyes met his, however, he saw that she wasn’t smiling. Instead, she looked distressed—and afraid.
Help me, her eyes pleaded with him through the glass. Please, Jalil. Save me.
Unseen hands drew her back into the darkness—hands, Jalil somehow knew, of evil men. Something within him snapped, and suddenly he was free. He screamed and ran forward, pounding on the glass with his fists until his hands were numb and his knuckles bloody. Hands grabbed at him, pulling him back, but he fought them off and kept pounding with all his strength. A crack appeared, splitting into another, and without warning the glass shattered, sending him falling, falling—
He hit the metal floor of the bunkroom with a thud, hands and elbows throbbing. He moaned and tried to get up, but his legs were tangled in the bedsheets. Overhead, someone flipped a switch, and cold white light flooded the room, making him squint.
“What’s going on?” Nash said from the top bunk. “Are you all right?”
“Yes,” Jalil mumbled, struggling to sit up. His arms were still sore, and bruises had begun to form on his elbows.
“Having a nightmare?”
Jalil only groaned.
“Well, try to keep it down. Our shift begins in a couple of hours, and I need to get some sleep.”
With that, Nash switched off the light and rolled back over. Jalil pulled himself onto the bunk and collapsed.
Images still flashed through his mind, however—images he couldn’t forget, no matter how much he tried. Tiera and Michelle, swaying seductively to the beat, with Mira standing half-naked before him—
Save me.
The two words brought a flood of emotions so strong that it all but overwhelmed him. More than anything, he longed to be with her, to know that she was safe—
But then, he remembered that awful night when she’d straddled him below the starry skylight of the spaceport hotel. A wave of guilt swept over him as he remembered the feel of her body against his hands. He buried his face in the pillow, trying in vain to put the shameful memories out of his mind.
Save me.
Had he made a mistake? Should he have stayed with her? Was there some meaning to the dream that he didn’t quite understand?
He bit his lip as he pulled the covers over his head. In the darkness, only the low purr of the ship’s ventilation system interrupted his troubled thoughts. Gradually, exhaustion overtook him, and he drifted back into the void of sleep.
Save me.
Part V
Chapter 15
“Well?” said Surayya, practically beaming with excitement. “What do you think?”
“I don’t know,” said Mira. The coins on her headscarf jingled as she took it off, safe in the women’s quarters.
“He’s a beast,” said Amina. “You are so lucky.”
“Maybe,” said Mira. She thought of what Ibrahim had said about taking her away from her past life—from everyone around her who judged her wrongly, from her controlling mother and distant father, from her sisters who didn’t understand her. She had to admit, his offer was tempting. Besides, Ibrahim was certainly an attractive man—surprisingly attractive.
“You shouldn’t marry him,” said Tiera, ducking her head as she stepped inside. Her clothes were dusty and soiled from a hard day of work, and when she slipped off her headscarf, her hair was sun-bleached and uncombed.
“What?” Surayya exclaimed. Amina said nothing, but from the venomous look on her face, it was clear she disagreed.
“I said you shouldn’t marry him,” said Tiera, looking straight at Mira. “If I were you, I’d refuse to give my consent.”
“Why?” asked Amina.
“Because he’s not what he seems to be,” Tiera answered. “I used the shortwave to talk with some of the people who know him, and everything I’ve heard tells me this marriage is a bad idea.”
“Oh, come on,” said Amina, hands on her hips.
“Yeah,” said Surayya. “What could you have possibly heard?”
Please don’t fight, Mira thought silently to herself. She hated it when her sisters fought.
“Some strange things have been happening in Nazar’s camp,” said Tiera. “In the last two years, three young women have been married off suspiciously fast.”
“Yeah, yeah,” said Amina, rolling her eyes. “Nazar probably has twenty young men living in his camp. The girls could have slept with any of them.”
“Perhaps, but the brother of the last one challenged Ibrahim to a duel to defend his sister’s honor.”
“That proves nothing,” said Surayya. “We don’t know the full story. How can we judge him based on that?”
“Mira needs to judge him, if she’s going to decide whether he’s worthy of her hand.”
“What happened to him?” Mira asked. All three girls turned their heads at her question.
“Who?” Tiera asked.
“The brother,” said Mira, her voice barely a whisper. “What happened to him?”
“Ibrahim killed him.”
Mira felt a chill run down her back. Ibrahim has killed someone, she thought to herself. He’s a murderer.
But wasn’t Jalil a murderer, too? She remembered the fire in his eyes as he’d brought the gun to his shoulder, the complete lack of hesitation as he’d shot her captor right between the eyes. Had that stopped her from loving him?
&n
bsp; “Well of course Ibrahim killed him!” said Amina, waving her hand as if to dismiss the whole story. “The boy challenged his honor and insulted his good name. What was he supposed to do, stand aside and let the kid get away with it?”
Tiera shrugged. “Perhaps if he hadn’t slept with the boy’s sister—”
“You don’t know that,” said Surayya, her anger spilling over. “How can you judge him without knowing all the facts? You weren’t there!”
He told me he wanted to get away from everything and start a new life, Mira thought quietly to herself. Now she knew why.
“Mira,” said Tiera, ignoring the others for a moment. “You don’t have to marry him if you don’t want to. I’m advising you, as your older sister, to—”
“And I’m advising you as your full sister that you shouldn’t listen to her,” Surayya yelled, cutting Tiera off. “She doesn’t know the whole story, and even if she did, who is she to boss you around?”
“Yeah,” said Amina. “If Tiera knew what she was talking about, she’d be married by now.”
Tiera’s cheeks turned bright red, and without another word, she turned and left.
“Pssh,” said Amina, making a face at the door after Tiera had gone. “Self-righteous little bitch. What does she know about men?”
“Please don’t say that,” said Mira. She shuddered and turned away.
“She’s right,” said Surayya. “That was low, Amina.”
“Maybe it was, but Tiera started it, not me.”
Please just stop fighting, Mira wanted to scream. Instead, she rose to her feet.
Surayya frowned. “Where are you going?”
“Outside,” said Mira, stumbling for the door. “I—I need some fresh air.”
She left before either of her sisters could object.
* * * * *
Lena and Mazhar’s tent stood nearly a hundred yards from the main camp, at the base of a small mesa. The wall that surrounded the compound had not yet been extended to include their household, but two of the plasma turrets had been moved to include them in the camp’s defenses. They stood like silent statues, their dusty, age-worn barrels pointing up into the hot desert sky.