“Sara,” I heard.
I pulled the phone closer. “It’s nothing.”
“What’s going on?”
A little shadow emerged from beneath the clothes. I screamed and jumped out of the closet.
“Sara!”
It took my eyes a second to send the correct information to my brain. No threat. The shadow was a little bird. I took a deep breath and returned. "It’s a bird, it's a bird. I thought it was a rat or something.” The light in the closet flickered, taunting me.
“A bird?”
“Yeah.” I walked closer to the bird and scooped it in my hand. It was a little gray bird with a yellow head. “It’s definitely a pet, and I think it’s hurt. It’s not flying,”
“How did he get in your closest?” Deema asked.
“The window is open.” I examined it. It barely moved. I took it to Plumpy’s cage. Plumpy was not happy about it; he curled himself in a corner. “Plumpy, make room for your new roommate.”
A howl from the window came into the room. A low cry escaped my mouth. Get a grip. You’re scaring yourself, idiot. I marched to the window and closed the crack. I looked out. The wooden swing in the yard moved silently behind the glass under the moon. There’s something coming, a voice in my head said.
“Sara, are you okay?” Deema said, sounding concerned.
“Yes, it’s all getting to me. I need to sleep. It’s nothing.” I let out an uncomfortable giggle. Something was wrong. I couldn’t explain it without sounding crazy. And the source wasn’t the lost bird inside my closet.
“Yeah, okay. I’m about to get ready. I have the graveyard shift tonight. Call if you need anything?” she said.
“I will. Sorry about this, and Deema, you’re not alone. You got us,” I said. "Good night.”
I threw a glance back at the cage then the closet. Nothing out of the ordinary. I’m being paranoid. A breath whooshed out of me. Plumpy tapped the bars. He sat in the corner at the bottom of his fake marble floor. His posture altered as he crouched down with his wings dropped. Silent. Motionless.
“Plumpy,” I whispered. “What’s wrong, bud? You don't wanna share your home?” He remained motionless. His dark irises lost their shine. I opened the cage door. He stood there, staring. “Don't you wanna stretch your wings?”
The usually joyful bird said nothing. He looked back at me blankly. He took a few sluggish steps back, pushing himself deeper in the corner. I closed the door and absentmindedly returned to the bed, leaving the decorative lights on the wall on, feeling uneasy. I flipped my phone screen down on the nightstand and slid into bed.
Swimming between cotton clouds floating close to me, looking so soft, they dissolved around me. I reached out to the cloud, touching it, but the fluffy white cloud turned to black smoke. Two eyes appeared in them. I stepped back. Under the eyes lay a wide-open mouth. It moved so awkwardly, trying to scream. A sound blasted through it, a sharp siren. A force grabbed me back then let go, leaving me to plummet from the sky to my death. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. I opened my eyes… pitch black…I couldn’t see anything. Where was I? Disoriented, I took a deep breath. It was only a dream. My eyelids resisted staying open. They were heavy and persisted to droop on my eyes. The sound emerged again, the siren, the same sound that crept into my dreams, relentlessly ringing. I fought the urge to fall back asleep, and I kept my heavy eyelids open long enough to search for the source. A light shined through the blanket of darkness, flashing. I recognized the ringing.
"What?" I said, reaching out for my phone, the caller ID on the screen so bright it obstructed my vision, and I couldn’t read the name. I answered.
“Hello” was what I wanted to say, but I’m not sure how it came out on the other end.
"Sara, I need to see you," a female voice said.
"May?" I discerned her voice. I got up in an upright sitting position. "What’s wrong?" I asked clearly this time.
"Something happened, and I need to talk to you."
"Sure, talk. What's wrong?" Reality and I collided at blazing speed.
"Are you awake?"
"Yeah, I am now. Talk." I wiped the sleep out of my eyes and cleared my throat, fully conscious now.
"I'm outside your door. Come out."
"You’re where?"
"Just come out. I'm in the car."
"What time is?" I pulled the phone away from my ear, checking the clock. I heard a click. She ended the call. I squinted for a few seconds. I couldn’t see anything. Why is it dark? I thought I left the lights on. I jumped out of bed, washed my face, brushed my teeth, and threw my abaya on like a robe before rushing out. What was wrong with May? My worst fear offered me some ugly suggestions. Maybe her family found out she’s talking to a guy. Worse, they found out she went out with him a few times. Or her brother overheard her giggling on the phone with her boyfriend at a late hour. No, she wouldn't be allowed out of the house if that happened. Did she run away? I rushed out the front door. The engine of May’s car revved in the darkness with the two lights dimmed, reminding me of the black cloud waiting to grab me and let me go. By the front door, another car was parked at the house's corner, a silver sedan. When will the neighbors stop using our house as their private parking lot? I got into the back seat of May’s car. My nose picked up a whiff of antiseptic.
"It's four a.m.," I said. "Why are you wearing sunglasses?" I noticed her big white shades covering half her face.
"My eyes are hurting me," she said and asked the driver to leave.
"Where are we going?"
"Cruising."
In the land of affordable-ish gas and long, hot, summer days and nights, we developed a hobby of driving around with a full tank and no clear destination. We cruised. But not usually this late.
“How did your brother take you leaving this early?” I asked, blocking a yawn from escaping my mouth.
“He thinks it's a work thing. So, I need to tell you something." May leaned closer to the front seat. "Felix, go to Java Drops," she addressed her driver.
"You’re getting me coffee. This is not good."
We headed to Java Drops, a twenty-four seven drive-through coffee shop conveniently at gas stations on all the highway exits, for the owls of the kingdom, like me tonight. “Is this about Muttab?”
“What?” She shook her head as if whatever she’s about to say was far more serious, more dangerous. “No, it’s not about him. Honestly, I don't know what to make out of this," she said, playing with the sleeve of her abaya.
"May, you’re scaring me…talk."
“Do you believe in ghosts?”
“You mean like jinn?”
The calls of prayer rose from a mosque right around the corner from the red traffic light that held us. She stopped, listened, then said, “No, not like jinn. Jinn are entirely different creatures. I mean like dead things coming back to this world.”
“May,” I said, “what’s going on?” The way she said “things” didn't settle well in my empty coffee-less stomach.
"Something strange happened after going home."
Stranger than the incident of the raining birds we encountered the night before, and my closet haunted by a bird meltdown? Birds were the root of our problems. "I'm listening," I said instead.
"Remember Pawp?"
"Your cat?"
"Yeah…"
"Of course I remember Pawp. What about him?"
"I saw Pawp outside my window."
"What?" I asked. Pawp was her beautiful white Himalayan cat. The first day she brought him home as a kitten, he stepped into her eye shadow pallet and walked all over her white blanket, leaving pigmented paw prints behind. She screamed paw prints, and the kitten turned around like that was his name. She later shortened Paw Prints to Pawp and the name stuck. Pawp was as playful as he was good at climbing the tree next to her window. The only problem was, he’s dead. He was run over by a car less than a month ago.
"I know it sounds crazy but, I just had to tell you," she said, her ey
ebrows rising high, “please believe me.”
"May, it's probably a cat that looked like Pawp."
"He was wearing Pawp’s collar.” She rotated her body to me. “Sara, he died wearing that collar."
"I …I’m sure there is a rational explanation,” I said. “Where did you bury Pawp?”
“Err … my brother was supposed to bury him in the backyard.” She turned her head, facing the window. She looked back like someone was watching us. “He forgot to bury him and left him in a box in the garage.”
Relief washed over me. “I actually was freaked out for a second. May, it’s your brother playing another prank on you." I rolled my eyes.
"No. It was Pawp. His legs were broken and the skid marks are still on his side." Her hand gestured at random. Her mouth curved down. "His eyes. His eyes were so blue and so clear. He looked…"
“Looked what?”
“He looked dead.”
"Where is he now?" I asked.
"I tried to catch him. He bit me and then jumped out of the tree and got away." She lifted her sleeve, exposing a bite mark on her hand. It was deep but wasn’t bleeding. She let out a soft cough. “I checked the box I put him in. It was clawed out. From the inside.”
I held her arm, her skin warm against mine. "May, get this looked at." I placed the palm of my hand flat on her forehead. "You’re running a fever."
"No. It's not deep. I won’t need stitches." She pulled away. "The fever is not serious, but I don't think I'm going to work today."
"It won’t hurt to get it looked at. You might need antibiotics or something, to make sure you won't get an infection. Animal bites can do that."
"Yeah… I guess." She released another cough, sounding worried more than convinced.
She’s definitely coming down with something. Her coughs were dry, which made me try to think of the last time I was sick. I reached as deep in my memory as I could, trying to pull out the latest memory of being ill. I couldn’t. I didn’t remember the last time I was in bed with anything. I guess that’s the advantage of drinking a lot of water and not putting any drugs in my body. I unlocked my phone and dialed Deema’s number. The ringing tone filled the car.
"Hey, Sara," Deema said, answering at the first ring. Her voice spread evenly in the car. Felix glanced at us from the rearview mirror.
"Morning!" I said. "You’re on speaker. I'm out with May."
"At five a.m.? What are you two up to?"
"Cruising. Listen, I called to tell you something."
"Shoot."
"May was bitten by a—” I paused, watching May who was randomly swinging her hands. Her lips moved aggressively. I tried to read her lips, but I got the feeling she was trying to tell me not to mention the dead cat. I hit her hands. "A street cat. A stray cat bit her."
"How did that happen?"
"That's my story, and I'm sticking to it," I said. May pulled the phone out of my hand.
"I think it jumped the wall and got into the backyard." May shot me a flaring glare. I shrugged and stared up.
"May, drop by the hospital and we’ll have it looked at," Deema repeated my suggestion. “There have been a few cases here involving animal bites.”
We pulled in next to the window of Java Drops. May handed me the phone and rolled down her window. The smell of freshly ground coffee poured in the car. "I'll have a latte," she said.
"Make mine a skinny, triple shot," I said.
"I want coffee." Deema’s voice came through the phone's speaker. The guy in the window looked at us a little confused.
"Two coffees," May confirmed.
"She'll be there. Talk to you later," I said and hung up the phone. I turned to May. “You’re going, and don't you think she should know about this? I mean the cat may be infected or have rabies."
"Sara, the cat is dead."
I had no response. Nor did the barista that blushed, sensing he caught us in a bad moment. He extended his hands and passed us the tray. “Thanks." May gave me a cup.
“Thanks." I took a sip. "Do you think this has anything to do with the birds?" I asked. Her face went pale under her pasty skin.
She shrugged, staring at her bite mark and pulled the sleeve over it. Out of sight yet not out of mind. I didn't want to mention anything about the fish, but why were the animals behaving strangely? And the bird incident that happened the day before, that couldn’t be a coincidence. What was going on? There was nothing about it on TV. The news was not reporting any incidents out of the ordinary. But the social networks exploded with pictures and videos, even though no one had an answer to why those birds suddenly started behaving that way. A few doctors theorized it could be because of water or food contamination, but had no proof supporting the claim.
"I don't wanna go now. Let’s cruise a little longer. I feel we haven't been seeing each other enough lately," May said.
"I know." I could tell May was scared and did not want to be alone. I was scared too. So, I stayed with her and comforted her.
An hour later, I figured it would be pointless to go back home to get ready then leave for work again. I’d just have her driver drop me off at work after I made sure she went to the hospital. It wasn’t seven a.m., and I was already running on three shots of espresso. I was good to go.
“Muttab?” May echoed as if her brain only registered what I asked hours before, tagging it under a “deal with later” memory, and now it pulled it out.
“That's the first thing I thought when you called.” I sipped another mouthful of caffeine.
“He’s an idiot.” She giggled. “How’s that cute guy you’re crushing on at work. Kareem?”
“Rakan,” I corrected. "I’m not crushing on him. He’s just cute.”
“Sure.” May rolled her eyes.
I extended my arm and gently slapped her knee. "Anyway, we’ll drop you off at the hospital first then I'll go to work,” I said. "We have time."
"No, it’s okay. I’ll drop you off to work so you won’t be late. I'll go after," she said. "Felix, go to Sara's work." He nodded, not looking happy. I don't think I would be happy either if I had to wake up at four a.m. and cater to girls’ insane needs. But soon you won’t have to, Felix.
Chapter 13
We made our way down the highway. A car swerved from the outer left to the extreme right, taking the exit without as much as a blinker. If you’re not paying attention, that’s on you, I always heard. Unfortunately for us, we were one of those cars behind that swerving amateur. Felix dodged the car, double braking, abruptly slowing down our speed. This didn’t have much of an effect on May, who continued talking. The unexpected stop served more as a timely comma in her sentence. I tried to balance my cup; the last thing I wanted was to get my clothes or seats stained with coffee, a stain hazard that seemed to show itself around anything May. Although, this was common driving behavior, and riding in a car put us in a near-death experience on the daily. I wondered if I would beat them or join them when I was behind the steering wheel. Only one exit and three traffic lights away from my work building. The car slowed to a halt, waiting for the light to glow green. A sharp wail cut through the air. I looked over my shoulder at an ambulance stopped a few cars behind. The harsh lights whirled, entering the car. The siren screamed at full pitch. No one gave an inch. I sat uneasily on the edge of my seat, thinking of how frustrated the paramedics must feel. How irritated and angry. They would drive streets where no one gave way to the ambulances rushing to save people’s lives, where no one moved out of their way or bothered to clear a path for. A shadow moved inside the ambulance.
A minute passed with no one yielding to the ambulance. It honked in the background, adding to the cacophony. The siren went flat—only the lights floated. The movement inside ceased.
"What does that mean?" May asked. “Why did they turn off the sound?”
"I think the patient didn’t survive," I said, looking at the coffee cup.
The light turned green, and the cars resumed the movement. I gave the ambul
ance a final glance. It pulled over to the shoulder of the road. I took a deep breath, hoping that they merely downgraded the transport urgency, but sometimes you just know when something bad happened and a feeling told me the patient died on route. Traffic was at a crawl up to the company’s front entrance. We said our goodbyes, and she left, heading back home to sleep I assumed. I doubted she would go to the hospital.
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Zombies In Saudi Arabia Page 9
