Hmmm. There were a lot of quotes like that, but nothing about specific attacks. However, the later rhetoric became more personal, not just carefully copied quotes:
When you carry the Quran, shaitan gets a big pain.
When you open it, he falls down.
When he sees you reading it, he loses consciousness.
When he sees you are living what you read, he flees.
So destroy shaitan today!
Do lots of ibaadat and lets make them angry and weak.
Okay, Imran, I said out loud. I get it but what are you planning? Or didn’t you know, back when you were writing all this?
It is not permissible for a Muslim to celebrate any of the festivals of the kuffar. Do NOT celebrate Valentine’s Day! If you marry someone for the sake of Allah, the love between you won’t die. It won’t be an illusion, you won’t question it either.
I was stupid again. Dear Allah, forgive me. I thought Mandy could love me. But she is a whore, a piece of meat, nothing.
They fear Friday. All created beings are aware of the days and they know that the Day of Resurrection will come on a Friday.
Maybe Imran was planning an attack on a Friday? Oh, what was I thinking? I had no idea what he had been planning, and his notes were written some time ago. Did he mean to attack on Good Friday? I needed to stop this; I was just driving myself crazy. But I did wonder where I would be on Good Friday and what I would be doing.
The binder ended abruptly with this passage:
Even the Prophet’s wife, Hazrat Umme Habiba used to say, “May my mother and father be sacrificed for you,” whenever the Prophet’s name used to come upon her lips. This shows the intensity of love she felt in her heart for the Messenger of Allah. There is nothing I will not sacrifice for my love of Allah.
I put the binder aside and sat there for a while. Then, finally hungry, I opened my can of tomato soup and tore open the box of soda crackers.
I had no shortage of things to think about.
34. THE NIGHT VISITANT
I WAS ASLEEP, THE KIND OF SLEEP where you watch yourself dreaming. I was in a stall with a magnificent black stallion that had a coat that gleamed like licorice, and I was combing his waterfall mane. He was enjoying my attention, snorting softly now and then, and sunshine poured through the stall openings like light streaming in from an old-fashioned slide projector. I tugged at the knots in his mane and spoke softly to him. He smelled of summer and spices, and I was reminded of the time I ran away and wrapped myself in the horse blanket in the farmer’s shed, when I could not make sense of my life.
The smell of freshly crushed straw filled the stall as I moved around, and the stallion stamped his feet and moved from side to side. I ran my fingers over his withers, and along his strong, muscled spine. I moved to brush his tail and started day dreaming about the next time I would ride him and where we would go.
Without warning, the top half of the stall door slammed shut with the sound of a thunder-crack, and the stallion reared up in fright. I shot backwards against the wall. The stall was flooded with salty darkness and I could not see the horse, but I could hear him as he reared again and again and I was terrified his hooves with find me and shear me in two.
I crouched and cowered against the wall and then crossed my arms to cover my face and head, but I was powerless to protect myself.
My eyes adjusted, and I could see the horse now. He was a more dense black than the darkness in which I hid, and his eyes shone an evil red, and white foam coated his tongue. His neck was wet with sweat as he snaked this way and that, snapping at me with vicious teeth.
I was trapped. I had nowhere to go. I was under attack. The stallion’s hooves hammered at the stall door like a mallet pounding against a concrete structure. My heart, my breath, my stomach and my scalp were electric with panic.
More crashing hooves and mashing of straw as the stallion started kicking the back of the stall and whirled around to rear and threaten me.
And then I woke.
It was a dream, just a dream. There was no horse, but I was in a darkened stall and the noise, that terrifying noise, it was real. I pushed myself back against the wall, holding my hand to my mouth to stop myself from screaming.
I was not alone in my building. Someone (or many people from the sounds of it), was crashing through my alarm system, causing chairs to fall to the floor and paint cans to tumble. The noise was shockingly loud, and I sat up and clutched my sleeping bag to my chest. My heart was pumping so fast and so hard I could feel it in my fingertips. Voices. There were voices. Loud voices. Shouting. The sound of breaking glass, gravel crunching under foot, bits of old cement brick shattering. And a faint light shone under my door, a flickering light that came and went, much like the dizziness that swept back and forth in waves as I tried to get a measure on what was going on.
Who had found me? And why? Was it me they were even after? And if it was not me, then who? And what if they found me? They sounded angry, whoever they were.
I reached for my pepper spray, feeling it would be such a meagre defence against a group of violent men while reminding myself that my door was locked, and that no one had any reason to think anybody was in the building.
I eased out of my sleeping bag and crawled slowly to the door, moving along the length of my mattress so as not to make a sound.
My pyjamas were soaked with cold sweat and it occurred to me that my door was awfully thin, a flimsy defence against the world.
She’s fucking heavy, I heard a boy say, and I thought I recognized the voice but I could not be sure.
And she fucking stinks, and she keeps farting, another voice chimed in.
And I hate this fucking building, the first boy said. There’s a reason we never come here. It’s like a prison or something.
I crawled as close to the door as I could and lay down with my cheek against the bottommost crack, but I could not see a thing.
Stop fucking complaining, another voice said. This time I had no doubt who it was. It was Lenny.
Lenny! What was he doing invading my home, my space? Even though I still felt sick with fear, I felt marginally better when I realized that at least it was not a bunch of bikers looking to party. It was just Lenny and his boy gang.
Fuck, Lenny, she’s rotting, man. She stinks through the plastic. We should have just left her there.
Kitty! They had brought Kitty into my building. But why?
We couldn’t leave her there, Lenny said, and his voice was kind and patient. There was too much evidence of us, you fucking morons. Why do I have to spell it out to you? We are taking her where there is no evidence of us, get it? You are right. We don’t like this building and we haven’t come here since we got done trashing the upstairs years ago, ergo there is no evidence of us. So just shut the fuck up and let’s get her up to the roof. She’ll get rained on and the birds will fucking crap on her and there’ll be no evidence of us.
You’re a real Hallmark card, Lenny, you know that?
Whatever, man, whatever.
Their voices trailed off as they moved farther down the hall.
I knew what I had to do.
I had to get them, and Kitty’s body, out of my building.
I pulled on my shoes, grabbed my flashlight and opened the door as silently as I could. I peered cautiously around the doorframe.
I could not see them. From what I could hear, they were halfway up the stairs and I had to act soon or they would be out of range.
I closed my door and locked it behind me.
I tiptoed to the main doorway, stooping to pick up three beer bottles along the way. Good thing I had left all the trash where it was. By now, the terrain was as familiar as walking through Mum’s old house in the dark. At least I thought it was. Not being able to turn on my flashlight caused me to take a wrong turn, and I stepped on a piece of steel pipe, ne
arly twisting my ankle. I cursed and told myself to be more careful.
I could hear the boys. They had made it up to the second landing. I spied one of the large metal air vents that ran through the building and I had a sudden idea. I picked up the piece of pipe, scooted over to the vent, and tapped the pipe a few times against the inside of the steel column. A ghostly hollow sound echoed and moaned and shuddered down the pipeline, and the boys immediately fell silent, their chatter amputated.
What the fuck was that? I distinctly heard one of them say in a wavery voice. For good measure, I tapped the pipe a couple more times, but then I told myself not to stick around much longer.
I paused near the main door then turned and threw the beer bottles back into the area I had come from. I threw them one after another, my aim fast and angry. I threw with all my might, adrenalin making me strong, and the bottles shattered and exploded. The sound was astonishingly booming in the cool silence of the night.
And then I ran out past the oak tree. I ran a good few metres and hid behind a large bush. It was cloudy, for which I was grateful, but it also made it hard for me to see anything.
The boys were not far behind me. They quickly tumbled out of the building, loudly voicing their shock at what had happened.
What the fuck was that? One of them moaned. Fuck Lenny, I told you, I hate that place.
Fucked if I know, Morgan, Lenny said. Even he sounded out of breath and scared.
We’re leaving her there, Morgan said. Enough of this shit. I am going home.
You are not fucking going anywhere, Lenny said. There is evidence of us all over her body. How many times do I have to try to explain it to you? We are going back to get her. Then we will bury her in the woods.
I’m not going back in there, another voice said and the rest of them chimed in in agreement.
Shut the fuck up, Lenny said. I’ll carry her out myself if that’s what it takes. And then the rest of you wankers can go to prison for all I fucking care and watch me set it up too. We’re in this together, so stop being such crybabies. Now, we’re going back in. We go in fast, we pick her up, and once we get back out, we’ll figure out where to take her next. Okay? On the count of three, we go back in and we get her.
I heard him count. Then they rushed back inside the building.
After what seemed like a century, I heard them crashing back out, being none too careful about the noise they were making.
They bolted out the front door and unceremoniously dropped Kitty. She was wrapped in a thick plastic tarp that crinkled and cracked and made more noise than the boys’ arguing.
What now? Morgan asked, and he sounded truculent.
I am thinking, Lenny said, though gritted teeth. Maybe we shouldn’t bury her near the library. It’s too close to where it happened.
What about near the cafeteria? One of the boys suggested.
Not enough trees.
It better be far enough away from the walking path, another boy said, and Lenny agreed.
Why not near here? He suggested and my heart dropped. No, please, not near me, not near my home.
Yeah, one of the boys said. But a bit further in.
They picked Kitty up, and walked towards me. I was petrified. They had killed Kitty. If they found me, they would kill me too, I was sure of that. I regretted not having run farther. I should have taken my chance to get as far away as I could.
Thankfully, they walked right past me, just a few feet away from where I was lying. I was immeasurably glad my pyjamas were dark blue, and I buried my face in my hands until they were gone. My supper of tomato soup and crackers rose in my throat and I tried to keep it down but I could not. I threw up as silently as I could, certain that they would hear me and find me. But they were engaged in a new and noisy argument.
Where’s the fucking shovel? Lenny asked.
What shovel? You never said to bring a shovel.
You said you needed the tools to open the door.
And a tarp. And I got the tarp.
And I got the tools but you never said anything about a shovel.
Well, we need a fucking shovel, Lenny said. Someone needs to go and get one. Morgan, you go. You can take your uncle’s tools back and stop crapping in your panties that he’ll find out that you took them.
You know what he’s like, Morgan protested. I do have to take them back as soon as I can so, okay, fine. I’ll go.
Can you get me a Timmies on the way back, another boy asked, and there was general agreement that this was an excellent idea, except for Lenny.
This is not a fucking picnic, he howled, and they all fell silent.
Fine, he finally said, get me a double double and get a box of doughnuts.
I need money, Morgan said.
Here’s a twenty, Lenny said. And I want the change. Don’t forget the shovel.
I’ll go with you Morgan, another boy volunteered.
Oh, for fuck’s sake, all of you wankers can go for all I care, Lenny said. Just make it quick, okay. Run, fucking run. Don’t take a fucking Sunday stroll. Why are you all still standing here?
I heard them all rush across to the concrete footpath and pound their way back to the library. Not too worried about making a noise, this lot.
And then there was no noise at all. No night birds, no raccoons, no squirrels, no crickets, nothing.
I heard Lenny fire up a smoke and sigh into the darkness.
I wanted to get away from my vomit, but I did not dare move a muscle.
I heard the van drive past and my heart sank. They were only leaving now. This whole thing was going to take forever.
I considered crawling back to my room, but it was too risky. It would be very easy for Lenny to hear me in the quiet of the night. Besides, I wanted to make sure I knew where they buried Kitty, as it was possible they might change their minds at the last minute and move her somewhere else.
It was cold and damp on the ground. I decided to roll myself into a little ball to try to create some warmth. I took my time and did well, not even cracking the smallest of twigs. Conducting this manoeuver kept me occupied for a good amount of time during which Lenny smoked two more cigarettes and nudged the plastic that Kitty was wrapped in. To what end I have no idea.
That fucking dog, he said after a while, and I recoiled at the sound of his voice. Why did I have to buy you that fucking dog? You’d still be alive if I hadn’t. But you went on and on, He’s so cute, he’s so cute, oh Lenny, oh Lenny, so I got him for you. And now, fucking look at what happened.
He was making no sense at all.
Barbara Jane, Lenny said, and he lit another smoke. Good old Barbara Jane. Pity I can’t get you a gravestone. Here lies Kitty Cat, who hated the name Barbara Jane. Man, Kitty, we go way back, you and me. You were my first fuck and thanks for that. I wasn’t yours though. You had your old man to break you in, and he did well, I’ll say that. And what would your life have been? You might have got knocked up, not even known who the father of your kid was, gone on welfare, ended up a drunk and a whore. Story of my mother’s life, and here I am, her sorry son. A genius. A king. A king of nothing is nothing. I need to get out of this place.
He fell silent for a while.
You can be anything you want, Lenny, anything! He was clearly mimicking someone’s voice, a teacher maybe. I’ll help you Lenny. I’ll help you make a real life for yourself. You could go to college, get a degree, have a good life, Lenny. Sure thing, Mrs. Andersen, but you sure liked to fuck me too, didn’t you? Skanky old bitch. I love you Lenny, I love you. Yeah sure you do, baby, only you’re old enough to be my grandmother. You didn’t know about that, did you Barbara Jane? You didn’t know about Mrs. Andersen and me. And I would have seen it through to the end, to college tuition and my famously promised better life, but the stupid bitch died of a heart attack. Fortunately, it wasn’t while I was fucking her. Nope
, she died in the Seventh-Day Adventist Church with all her pious friends around her. And she never took care of me in the will either, did she? She said she would always look out for me, but she forgot one important thing. The will. And I had nothing left. A drunken whore for a mother, and no one who believed in me. Abigail Andersen, bless her big old granny panties. She wasn’t much to look at, but she believed in me. Then she was gone and that was that. She took all my hope with her, and here I am, talking to a dead chick in the middle of the night. Man, where are those guys? How fucking long is this whole thing going to take? Where are those fuckers?
I was wondering the same thing when the van drove up and the boys piled out, laughing and talking.
They crashed through the bushes and the grass, and I pressed myself hard against the ground, fearful they would see me, terrified I would need to sneeze or cough. It was hard to swallow, and I choked on my saliva, working to stop a chain reaction of coughing, breathing frantically into my closed fist until the spell had passed.
Don’t fucking leave the van parked on the road, Lenny hissed when they got close to him. Morgan, you dick, drive it into the laneway. You fuckers, I swear you would forget to get dressed unless I told you to. Where’s the shovel? Where’s my coffee?
Morgan rushed off and got into the van.
Here Lenny, a subdued voice said. I heard Lenny gulping his coffee.
Fucking cold, he muttered. Well, start digging, Alek, you go first.
Why me? Okay, fine. Whatever.
Where are the doughnuts? Lenny asked and I heard the sound of a box being passed.
This ground is like concrete, Alek said. Here, I’m not making excuses. You try.
Lenny took the shovel and dug at the ground. You pussy. Look, it’s easy. I’ll fucking do it, just like I do everything else.
For a long time the only sound was that of Lenny digging. I curled tighter and tighter into my little ball and wondered if this hell would ever end.
Only two feet down, Lenny marvelled some time later. Grave digging isn’t easy.
I told you, Alek said. And it’s getting close to sunrise.
Between the Cracks She Fell Page 17