Reverb (Story of CI #2)

by Rachel Moschell

  “I don’t know,” Hourmazd whispered quickly. “Don’t ask me. Just remember, have Sohrab call me if you need any more pills. I hope you leave this place soon.” The guard nodded towards them, then flicked off his flashlight and hurried towards the door. Keys jangled in the lock and then he was gone, leaving Wara and Alejo with only the murky light of a single naked bulb on the ceiling.

  “That was nice,” Alejo remarked dryly, returning to his spot next to Wara on the blankets.

  “Yeah, nice guy.”

  “No breakfast yet, so it’s probably still night. We might as well settle in.” Alejo lowered himself into the corner, leaning against the wall, legs spread out in front of him. He helped Wara ease her way back onto his thigh as a pillow, then covered both of them up with one of the wool blankets. Shadows flitted across the darkened tiles as the bulb slowly swayed over them, and the hallways of the prison were blanketed in absolute silence.

  “I have bad news, Wara,” Alejo finally broke the silence. “We found the evidence we were looking for about Sami’s execution.” His voice strained and Wara felt her heart flip over in her chest, already hearing the sorrow in his voice.

  “It’s too late?” she murmured. Alejo sighed deeply and rested a hand on the top of her head.

  “It’s too late.”

  41

  Brown Paradise

  WHEN THE DOOR BANGED OPEN A FEW hours later, Alejo immediately knew this day was about to begin badly. The kind guard named Hourmazd was there, along with four others, all looking rather cross. They ordered Alejo to his feet, producing a pair of handcuffs and a blindfold.

  “Time for interrogation,” the biggest one announced. They didn’t even give Alejo time to rise, but were already dragging him to his feet, leaving Wara to slump down into their nest of blankest.

  “Paulo!” she gasped.

  “Honey, I’ll be back,” Alejo tried to grin at her, keeping up their married couple façade.. “Rest, ok? Love you.”

  And then the door clanged behind him.

  The two burly guys dragging Alejo between them took great joy in pushing him into a spartan little room down the hall, sending their prisoner tripping over his own feet in a very ungraceful spiral. He immediately took in thick chains dangling from the mildewed ceiling, chinking ominously with each of the guards’ footsteps. They forced Alejo’s arms over his head and bound his wrists with the chains. Fire streaked through his arms as they hauled him a foot off the floor. It wasn’t the strappado position they’d used on Wara, but he swayed from the ceiling like a side of meat. Alejo did his best to keep his face expressionless, waiting to see what these guys were going to want from him.

  One of the guards glared at Alejo, slowly smacking a good-sized truncheon against his scarred fist. Typical prison guard. Real nice guy. “We can’t figure out why you’re here,” he grated, then hacked up a good half-cup of phlegm and expelled it onto the concrete floor. “Why would any man turn himself in to the police when he could run away, Scott free? Your wife was already going to tell us the truth. We didn’t need you.”

  So, their boss is puzzled as to what I’m doing here. And has sent these guys to find out.

  “You do need me,” Alejo said. “I’m the one who is responsible for all this. My wife doesn’t know anything. Her only fault is being married to me.”

  I have to turn their attention away from Wara, make them mad at me. She can’t go through this again.

  Alejo felt the burn spread down his rib cage, muscles beginning to strain. The truncheon swung menacingly at the guard’s side, solid and black.

  “But why would you come here to take the blame for your wife?” It was the younger guard Hourmazd who was regarding Alejo curiously, head cocked to one side. He was also wearing a nightstick in the belt of his uniform, but didn’t appear eager to use it.

  Alejo fought the urge to shift the weight off his shoulders, knowing the effort was futile. “I’m a follower of Jesus Christ.” That was sure to make these guys happy. “My religion teaches me that a husband should love his wife like his own body. Even give up his life for her, if he has to, like Jesus gave up his life for the church, his body.”

  For a moment everyone stood contemplating this, befuddled by the strange words. Wives were supposed to give up their lives to serve their husbands, right? Not the other way around. This was good stuff these guys needed to hear. Plus, it was gonna help in his goal of turning their wrath away from Wara.

  “I used to be a Muslim, like you,” he continued. “I didn’t really respect women. I’ve even killed some.” The guards stared at him, eyes beginning to narrow. Hourmazd was startled. “But then I came to believe that Jesus is the Son of God,” Alejo explained. His left eyebrow was itching like crazy, and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it. “He forgave me for the wrong I did before, and made me into a new man. Now I follow his way of loving my wife as I love myself. I couldn’t let her take the blame for my actions. She didn’t do anything.”

  Apostasy. Alejo could see the indignation building in their eyes. The nice words about conjugal love were as if they had never been, buried under the nuclear bomb of Alejo just announcing he had once been Muslim.

  “Apostate!” one of the guards hissed, and the echo rumbled around the room, as their anger fused into a mass of guards unsheathing nightsticks and slamming them into Alejo’s back, chest, and worse.

  He closed his eyes and focused on the unending brown of Afghanistan, where he always went in his mind to take away the pain, get him through torture. Sandy, lion-colored hills and crags abutted brown field, rocks and boulders coating them like cane sugar. The sun warmed his skin and he breathed in boiling green tea, watching lithe chocolate goats tinkle by on their way down the trail.

  Alejo wasn’t aware when his visions of brown paradise petered away to unconsciousness and the beating finally stopped.

  Wara had propped herself uncomfortably against the wall, nearly sick with anxiety at Alejo’s absence. He had said they would be together, go to the trial and then be somehow rescued on the way. But Alejo and Wara weren’t in charge here. They could have come to take Alejo alone to testify, leaving Wara without him in this prison. Or he could be in interrogation with Orange Leather, suffering the same as many other male prisoners she had heard screaming down the hallway.

  It seemed like it had been hours. She wanted to pray, wanted to be strong. But the damage done to her shoulders and arms had left her stiff and afraid to move, and her stomach whirled, queasy from nerves and lack of food.

  A plate of flat bread with a cube of white cheese sat on the little table by the door, but Wara couldn’t touch it. Sohrab the guard had dropped it off after they’d taken Alejo, and Wara had sat slouched against the wall, ignoring the food ever since.

  Something clanged outside the cell, vibrating the wooden door against the tiles. The door swung open, and Wara’s face relaxed with relief as she saw Alejo, framed by two male guards.

  Then she saw the blood. It ran from his nose in a rivulet of crimson. Alejo’s bare feet were hardly touching the floor, and the guards half-dragged him forward, into the cell with Wara. He looked at her with hazel eyes, but then slumped forward and nearly lost his footing.

  “We weren’t supposed to mess up his face,” one of the guards smirked, obviously noting Wara’s pained gaze on Alejo. “Tomorrow they go to court.”

  “Ah well,” the other guard responded, grinning at Alejo sideways, then grunting and heaving him forward. “Nothing a little makeup can’t fix.”

  They lowered Alejo roughly to the blankets, facedown next to Wara. “Enjoy the rest of your stay!” the guards saluted, then meandered out of the cell and slammed the door. Wara was horrified. She scrambled painfully to the blankets, stretching herself out next to Alejo. His face was turned towards her, eyes rolled up in pain, blood still spurting from his nose.

  “Oh gosh!” Wara felt herself crying. “What did they do to you?”

  “They…Don’t worry. It’s what had to happen
, honey. You know I love you, right?” Alejo’s voice came out garbled, speaking around his mangled nose, and he was really rambling nonsense. Wara continued sniffing and weeping as Alejo pressed his eyes shut, lips white as chalk.

  Just then, the dim light bulb flickered off and she was left on her back in the dark, feeling Alejo’s shoulder pressed to hers.

  Oh God, many are my enemies who surround me. Save me and deliver me.

  Alejo’s hand carefully found hers, and he gripped it tightly, still breathing heavily against obvious pain. “Let’s pray, honey” he gasped, and Wara felt the tears drip again down her cheeks.

  “Oh, God,” she began brokenly. “Have mercy on us.”

  42

  Trial

  THERE WAS NO WAY TO KNOW IF IT WAS MORNING or night when they came for them.

  Alejo and Wara had shivered together on the blankets for hours, attempting to sleep. Then came male and female guards, who led them their separate ways to get cleaned up for the trial. They made Wara take a hot shower, choke down bread and tea, and change into a clean black manteau and pants. The doctor finally showed up, and gave her a shot of pain killers before handing her back over to the guards.

  But she couldn’t stop thinking about Alejo.

  Wara’s heart pounded in fear for him as they blindfolded her and led her down the hallway, through a door that opened like claws against metal. Fresh air and jasmine petals rushed her and she inhaled deeply as they told her to enter the car.

  “Morning, honey,” came Alejo’s voice as she slid carefully onto ripped vinyl. Everything was still dark under the blindfold, but she couldn’t help but smile in relief at the voice of her supposed husband. He was in the same car. Through the thin crack of the blindfold, Wara could make out the uniformed leg of a guard between her and Alejo in the backseat.

  “Good morning,” she said, wondering how he had survived the shower but not daring to ask. Alejo had been in obvious pain after the beating, though the blood pouring from his nose had finally clotted.

  “Sorry, but I can’t let you talk on the way,” the backseat guard said. Wara was sure she recognized the voice of Hourmazd. “Feeling better, are we?” he asked lowly.

  Whatever the prison doctor had injected her with had definitely taken the edge off her screaming muscles. Wara hoped they’d given Alejo a double dose. “Yes,” she admitted. “The pain killer helped.”

  So nice of them to shoot us up with pain killers before the trial, so everyone won’t know what they did to us.

  “Don’t be afraid,” she heard Alejo tell her lowly in Spanish. “Nothing can separate us from the love of Christ.”

  “Please,” Hourmazd hissed, and his tone suggested fear of getting in trouble from the other guards entering the car up front. Doors slammed and the vehicle shimmied as everyone settled in to place. Up front a man communicated with someone over the radio as the car backed up, then the soft beat of Farsi folk music rumbled through the cab. Vehicles sped past the windows, indicating they had reached a more heavily-traveled street. The car turned solidly to the right, then glided slower down quieter streets, speeding and slowing for speed bumps.

  Wara’s armpits pricked, feeling the unreality of the moment. When Alejo came into her cell, he’d told her Rupert was planning to get them out of here when they were transported to the trial. She knit her fingers in her lap and struggled to breathe normally amid the acrid smog of Tehran. Alejo said he had some kind of implanted tracking device. Was Rupert following them right now?

  What in the world was he going to do?

  Outside the car, Wara could actually hear birds chirping. Nothing else. She risked a glance under the blindfold and saw neatly-painted apartment buildings with gardens. The car rolled slowly down the narrow residential street, gliding to the mournful rhythm of the Farsi music. The driver braked for another speed bump.

  Just to Wara’s right, something popped. Wet, hot liquid splattered her face and she ducked in shock. The vehicle sped and began to swerve, then a heavy object thunked into the front seat. She tilted her head back to see under the blindfold, but everything was reddish black. She felt the liquid dripping down her nose, slathered on her neck, heavy and hot. The taste on her lips was bitter and metallic and warm. The tires under her shrieked and careened out of control.

  “Alejo!” she screamed, and then flew forward to hit the seat in front of her as the car braked to a screeching halt. She stayed there with one cheek plastered against the upholstery, crying, unable move the blindfold because of the cuffs. Someone climbed over the seat, and then Alejo had his arms around her, speaking loudly into her ear.

  “Wara! It’s ok. I’ve got you, you understand? We’re going with Rupert.”

  He yanked off the blindfold as he pulled her towards his chest and out the car door, dragging her over the gory remains of Hourmazd slumped onto the floor. Wara felt her mouth open into a wail and she frantically tried to swipe what she now knew was blood from her face and clothes.

  “No!” she moaned hoarsely. The other two guards were splayed in the front of the car, neat holes oozing in their foreheads. Alejo’s hands were free, hauling her out of the car by her waist; he must have gotten himself out of the cuffs, climbed up front and stopped the car after the guards were immobilized. It was obvious they had been shot.

  And Wara was wearing Hourmazd’s insides.

  “Wara!” Alejo was ordering her. “Come! I can’t carry you.”

  Of course he couldn’t. Blinking against a primal scream of horror, Wara ran at Alejo’s side towards a concrete parking garage housing a black minivan. He helped Wara inside and slammed the door just as the vehicle pealed away. Rupert leaned over her on the floor of the van, and she blinked again, seeing two other guys un-assembling rifles and glancing at her with misty eyes.

  “Give me the jacket,” Alejo commanded one of the guys, and then she felt him over her, wiping Hourmazd’s blood away while one of the other guys released her from the handcuffs. “It’s not her blood,” Alejo told Rupert. “It’s the target’s.”

  Wara felt herself gag, and her stomach spasmed at the memory of the young guard’s brains all over the car.

  “Wara!” Alejo spoke her name loudly, and she squinted her eyes shut, trying to calm down. “Look at me.” She did, instantly. “Are you alright?”

  She wasn’t, but nodded anyway. Now was not the time to sob.

  Someone was passing Alejo clothing, and he helped Wara to sitting. “I have to get the blood off you,” he grimaced, then dumped a water bottle over her head. She bit back a whimper as Rupert took a turn pouring bottle after bottle over her head, rinsing off the worst of the gore.

  “We’ll cover your hair,” Alejo said softly, back at her side. He had already changed into simple Iranian clothes, soft blue with muddy sandals. He scrubbed her dry with a towel then closed her hands around a pile of clothes. “You need to put these on. Really fast. Do you need help?”

  Stiffly, Wara shook her head and rolled to a corner of the van. She tore off the bloody clothes with shaking hands, changing into a navy blue manteau and pants. She tied the veil on to cover her sticky hair just as the van pulled to a stop and Alejo came to help her out. They ushered her into a white delivery truck, which took off again within seconds.

  “When we reach the outskirts of Tehran,” Rupert explained gravely, “we have a ride in a cargo truck headed for Iraq. I’ve got a friend at the U.S. army base there; they’ll let us over the border. They’ll have good medical attention.” Rupert eyed Wara sorrowfully where she lay on a blanket on the floor. “You’ll be all right, dear. In time.”

  Some time later the delivery truck parked in a dilapidated warehouse. Scrawny palm trees swayed against a slate blue sky outside, rustling majestically in a stiff desert wind. One of the guys who must work with Rupert offered to carry her out of the truck, but Wara shook her head shortly. Her eyes searched for Alejo, remembering again the guards hauling him between them into the cell, how badly they must have beaten him. Alarmingly
, Alejo was already seated on the tailgate of a monstrous cargo truck, leaning heavily against the fat wooden slats. Shadowy circles had formed under his eyes and the bridge of his nose was swollen and red.

  “Wara,” he said when she approached the truck. “This truck’ll take us to the border, but it’s a long ride. They have something to help you sleep.”

  One of the younger guys hoisted Wara up into the truck and motioned to a bed of woolen blankets tucked in a corner behind sacks of produce. “I’m Caspian,” he said in accented English. “Just lay on down here. I have to give you a shot, but don’t worry. I’m good at this.”

  She didn’t even ask what it was, how big the needle. Wara lay down on the soft blankets and rolled up her sleeves as the young guy produced a syringe and shot something into the crook of her elbow.

  He was right; he was good. She barely felt the prick, and within seconds everything began to blur hazy. Rupert squatted on one side of her, eyes reddened and intense. “You were brave, dear. I’m so sorry…”

  “Rupert…thank you,” Wara mumbled, hearing her voice echo unnaturally. She flopped her head to the other side as someone lay down next to her on the soft blankets; it was Alejo, being helped to the ground by two others.

  “Give me what you gave her, Caspian,” he rasped. Wara’s lashes were drooping, but as her eyes closed she felt sorrow, deep, bitter sorrow. In the last vestiges of consciousness, she knew that if Alejo was joining her passed out on the floor of the truck then his condition must be serious.

  Wara’s irises circled to black on Caspian, plunging a needle into Alejo’s vein. And then the curtain closed to midnight as she slumped against Alejo’s shoulder.

  43

  Separation

  THE WORLD WAS JUST BEGINNING TO COME BACK into focus when the truck rumbled to a halt. The first impression Wara had was: stifling. The air inside the truck had turned sparse and sultry. The second thought that came to her was of Alejo. She turned her head towards him, fighting the spin of angles brought on by the drugs.