Drowning in work, yet not able to shake off thoughts of Pawp, the birds, or the fish that created a supernatural zoo in my mind. It was unusually quiet at work that day, the quiet that made you expect a jump scare at every scene. That only added to the wild speculations. Half the desks were empty, the screens were off, files arranged, chairs tucked under the table. How are we getting any work done with half of the employees not in the office? I logged into the system, checking the progress. Red lines took over the page; most projects were on hold. The work accumulated fast, and no matter how much work I got done, it multiplied. I decided I wouldn’t complete a whole workday since it would be unproductive, and most of the work was pending on other people’s input or final approvals. I emailed my supervisor, informing him I would leave work early. He immediately sent back, “Leave.” The building gave an eerie abandonment vibe of emptiness. The pen in my hand slipped and hit the floor, echoes ricocheting on the hallway walls. I bent down to pick it up.
"Sara, hi," a man’s voice said.
I looked up from the awkward position, with my hand reaching out to the pen. Rakan. His eyes narrowed down, reading a paper he held. He looked good.
"I'm fine," I blurted out. What? What did I say? Did he ask how I was? Don’t make eye contact. I looked down at his lips and saw a glimpse of a smile appear. I sat in my seat, and my focus narrowing in on his name tag. “Engineer. Rakan.” hooked to a copper neck badge holder draped around his neck. A bell-shaped part connected the string to the card. I’d never seen a copper ID holder before. My gaze dropped to my screen, trying to avoid any more embarrassment.
"Were you able to get a quotation for the clients from the Jizan project?" he asked calmly.
"Rakan," I said, brushing him off without a glance. "I know It's taking forever, but I'm waiting for one more email."
"Alright. A friendly reminder, the clients are flying in next week, and we need all the information at their disposal." I nodded. He continued. "I’ve been facing the same problems. There seem to be delays."
"Yes," I replied. We locked eyes. My muscles tensed for a second. His eyes were different. They were bold and bright yet delicate. I couldn’t decide what color they were. Tones exploded and blended together. A pure hazel and a fiery yellow ring surrounded by a vibrant two-tone gray, one shade silver, the other more intense. The colors went beyond the pigment and hue. Something about them was seductive, hypnotizing. Stop staring, say something!
"Are you alright?" he asked, clearing his throat.
"I—" I choked on my own words. Since when did he wear contacts?
"Sara?" His voice went deeper.
"Rakan, your eyes," I let out. “Contacts?” Way to be subtle.
He placed his hand over his forehead, pulling down the qatara to cover his eyes. He turned around. "Email them to me. I'll check my inbox at the end of the week. Thank you." He rushed away.
I stood, baffled, staring at him as he vanished into the hall. I had never seen him wearing glasses. His eyes seemed natural. Gray? I sat back in my seat, thinking of those eyes. Why did he try to hide them? I had to eventually get back to work, struggling with my distracted brain that preferred to replay the conversation with Rakan over and over in my head, embellishing wherever it could. I checked my watch. Lunchtime. I wasn’t hungry, but I needed to get away from my desk. The pressure of work was getting to me. I switched the monitor to standby and got up. There was a break room for women only, but we mostly used that one in the morning. For lunch, we all went to the coed break room.
"Hey." I waved, walking into the break room. A few coworkers there greeted back; Mohammed, Nora, Aljawhara, and Nada and two guys I didn’t know. Nada pulled up a chair next to her.
"Join us," she said.
I grabbed a bottle of water and an apple and sat next to her. The table had a huge plate of kapsa (chicken and rice), and a few salad plates and yogurt bowls. I regarded my apple and regretted not getting a spoon. I bit into it and listened to the scintillating discussion about the changes we were facing recently, especially at work. Like the fifty employees who stopped showing up to work the week before, and how the number kept increasing. Also the health awareness meetings the HR team made mandatory. It wasn’t only happening at our company, but at all our other locations and partner companies across the country.
"The sudden number of people hospitalized is outrageous," Mohammed said then took a spoon full of greasy, delicious rice.
"What do you mean?" I asked, pulled into the conversation.
"There was a reported one hundred and eighty-seven death cases of unknown reasons in the last few weeks,” he said.
“Bizarre," Nada said.
It was a high number. Why weren’t we hearing about this on the news? Did this have anything to do with the quarantine Deema told us about?
"It's a chemical attack," Nora said. "It’s all over the internet and social networks."
I chewed my apple as quietly as I could, which was not quiet at all. Crunch crunch. I listened, intrigued by their opinions.
"Yeah, but who would benefit from this attack?" one of the guys I didn’t know asked.
"Russia."
"China."
"Iran."
"US."
“Qatar apparently is now a possibility,” said the other guy I didn’t know.
"Yemen."
"Oman."
I heard various countries being thrown out. I stopped chewing and stared. The idea of Oman being capable of this amused me. But wait, wasn't that their MO? The silence tactic? On the other hand, I thought, if any country pissed Oman off they would probably give them the silent treatment.
Mussed pushed the door open and ran in. He didn’t throw his usual look of disapproval at us girls sitting with the men, sharing a plate of the signature Saudi dish.
"Turn on the TV!" he screamed.
Guy number one was the closest to the TV, so he hurried toward it and turned it on, not asking any questions.
“Switch to any local news channel,” Mussed said, "and raise the volume."
We gathered around the TV. A slight panic gathered with us.
"It has been confirmed. There are three plane crashes," a man reported. Standing behind him, countless numbers of police cars and ambulances. Black transparent smoke covered the background. "Two planes were flying from opposite parts of the kingdom when they collided in midair. It was reported the planes were flying at the same altitude, crashing and falling over Dammam city. You can see the chaos behind me. The third plane took off from a city in the south, heading to the capital when it was derailed and fell over a town. The name of the town has not yet been released. We are not sure what caused the crash yet. All we know is the towers lost contact with all pilots before the crash." The footage cut to a scene of mass chaos, first responders already on the scene trying to control the hysteria.
"My God," I said, my mouth dry, and the hair on the back of my neck stiff. I scanned all the faces in the room. Each reacted differently but "fear" was what we had in common. Everyone decided to leave work early. I already called my driver earlier that day and informed him of the time change. I left in a hurry. I tried calling Malak and the girls, but no one answered. I tried Malak over and over as I got into the car. She was not answering. Malak answer, please. After the longest sixty seconds, I had ever been through, my phone vibrated. Malak was calling back.
"Malak," I said with a sigh of relief.
"Hi.”
"Did you hear the news?"
"No, I'm swamped with work. What’s going on?"
"There was a plane crash in Dammam."
"What?" Her voice was razor-sharp. “Casualties?”
"I don’t know, but it’s bad. Listen, I left work."
"I'm thinking of leaving early too. Only a few people came to work today. How strange is that?"
"Same here. We should go home. I don't think it's safe,” I said. “Malak, something feels off. Do you want me to pass by and get you?”
"Yeah, I wanna quickly finish this last re
port. I'll be done in less than an hour."
"I’ll be there in an hour, give or take."
"Perfect. Bye."
"Later."
We set our destination to Malak’s temporary workplace. I tried calling Deema and May, with no luck. We drove in the unusual traffic pattern. The police barricaded the streets. Two police cars narrowed the traffic ahead of us, forcing all lanes to pour into one, and leading the cars to an inspection point. We stopped next to the police officer standing with his hand in the air. Raj opened the glove box, taking out the registration papers as he rolled down the window, not wanting to test the officer’s patience. He extended his hand with all the papers to the officer. The policeman gently pushed Raj’s hand back in the car.
“Put those away.” He shook his head, his words filtered by a white mask he had on covering his mouth and nose. "Wait here," he said. He took a few steps back and grabbed a brown unmarked box off the pile of boxes on the ground. He pulled two masks from the box and handed them over to Raj. "Put these on, and stay off the streets."
I inched to the other side of the car to the window close to the policeman behind Raj and rolled the window down. "Sir, what is going on?"
"I don't know."
"Why are you handing out masks, and why are so many streets blocked?"
"Miss, I don't know. I am following orders. " He sounded genuine. Scared. As if he did not understand what was going on. He followed with, "Please put the masks on, keep them on, and go home."
"Can you please give me an extra mask?"
"Yes." He pulled a few extra masks and gave them to me. He repeated, "Put them on, keep them on, and don’t leave the house."
"I will, thank you." I rolled up the window. He did not reply. Instead, he waved us off and tapped the top of the car a few times, signaling the driver to move. His expression was not assuring. Whatever was going on, he didn’t appear to know anything about it, but it was enough to alarm him. I examined the masks in my hand. What was this supposed to shield us from? Was it a disease? So many questions, no answers. I put the mask on, and so did Raj.
The distance to our destination was not too far, but worry and the detours stretched it out to what felt like forever. Finally arriving at Malak’s building, she was standing outside. Alone.
"You said an hour. It has been two hours," Malak said, opening the door and throwing her bag in, then following it in.
"I said give or take. Malak, something is happening." I gave her a white mask. "Here, wear this. They blocked all the streets. We had to take a detour to a detour to avoid another detour to get here."
“And that’s new?” She furrowed her eyebrows and flipped the mask in her hand. "What’s this?"
"The police are handing them out. I think something is spreading."
"Did you talk to Deema?" She put on her mask and played with her eyebrows.
"I couldn't. I’ve been trying to call her ever since I left work, but she’s not answering."
"Let's go home."
The streets were cast in red lights from all the police cars swarming around, blocking most of the main streets. I had never seen so many police. We got home safely, in what should have been a twenty-minute drive, but became an hour because of all the roadblocks.
"Mary," I called out, stepping into the house. "Mary,”
"You know what, I haven’t seen her since yesterday."
"I haven't seen her either for a couple of days. It’s been a crazy week, though. I get back from work and sleep. I’ll call her.” I pulled out my cell and dialed her up. “It's ringing."
Both Malak and I turned around, staring at the top of the staircase where the distant ringing was coming from.
"She's upstairs.”
"Mary," I yelled, still holding the phone, letting it ring. I ascended the stairs. "Mary are you upstairs?"
No answer. I walked up to her bedroom, Malak following behind me. The ringing got louder. Her door was cracked open. I pushed it and reached for the light switch. I turned on the lights and searched her room.
"Her phone is on the bed," Malak said.
"Looks like she hasn't been sleeping in her bed. Why would she leave her phone here? She takes it everywhere with her." The phone stopped ringing. I got closer to the perfectly made bed and picked up her phone. "Twenty-five missed calls," I read the screen. I couldn't unlock the phone, so I placed it back on the bed and searched around for any clues that would show where she could be.
"Maybe she’s in the kitchen or washing the clothes," Malak said. "I'm going downstairs to check."
"Okay, I'll check up here." Malak left the room, and I searched the top floors. I went through all the bathrooms and any rooms that weren’t locked. She was nowhere to be found. I went back down the stairs, where Malak had just stepped into the living room.
"She’s not here," she said.
"Outside?" I asked.
"No, I made a quick tour out there. She’s not here."
This was the first time this had happened. Mary never left the house without informing us. I called the driver to check if he had heard from her or dropped her off anywhere. He hadn’t heard from her in weeks.
"I'll call Dad and Mom and tell them," I said. I called both my parents but got the voicemail. I left them a message to call me back as soon as they could. I didn’t wanna freak them out. I tried calling Deema and May again. They answered. Deema told me it was her day off, and her phone died while she was at the gym, until things got strange and women started getting calls to come back home in a panic. May texted close after, saying she was sleeping all day, recovering from a fever. Malak and I had dinner together and stayed up watching the news. There was no mask-related news; only a loop on the plane story. We called it a night, and with everything that was going on, we both slept in my room that night.
Chapter 14
Abqaiq city, Eastern province. Saudi Arabia.
100 km from Dammam
Population over 44,000
One month earlier
“What has gotten into these animals?” A bald guy briskly walked between the cages, the smell of urine intensifying with every step.
“They’ve been like this all night,” another guy said as he crouched in front of one cage. The dog behind the bars was howling. “What’s wrong, boy?” the man said calmly, not wanting to arouse any violent behavior.
The bald guy looked down at the dog in the bottom cage. The dog seemed distant, howling in response to a noise that wasn’t there. But it wasn't only the one dog that was acting weird. Or only the dogs. It was all the animals at the vet. They started acting weird the night before, with no early warnings. Something suddenly triggered those animals.
“I don’t know what’s wrong,” the guy crouching said as he stood, unbuttoning his white lab coat. “I’ve been in this field for over seven years. I’ve never seen or heard of anything like this.” He scratched his chin, thinking out loud.
“You're the expert,” the other man replied, leaning his mop on the wall next to him. “I just take care of the place.”
“Was there a new animal admitted?”
“No, we haven’t gotten any new animals in a week.”
“Changes in food?”
“Same supplier for over three years.”
“Temperature?”
“Controlled.”
“Very peculiar.” The guy studied the animals that seemed ready to plan an escape. The animals paced back and forth, refusing to sit still. Scratching noises caused the guy to jerk his attention backward. He turned to see a cat clawing at the bars, trying to get out. They didn't want to be here. Why?
“Are you superstitious, Doc?” the bald man said, his lower lip trembling slightly.
“I guess it would depend on what you mean by superstitious.” The veterinarian looked him straight in the eye.
“Do you think animals can hear or see death?”
“Death?” the veterinarian repeated. “Do you mean like a crisis that would end their survival?
&nbs
p; “No.” The man shook his head “Death.”
“I don't follow.”
“There are many tales that claim animals can hear higher frequencies.”
“Those are not folktales, that's science. Different animals hear at different frequencies than humans.”
“Can they hear things we can’t?”
“Absolutely.”
“Can they hear the angel of death coming?”
Both men turned their attention to the howling dog that stopped. All the animals went abruptly quiet like a brake in a speeding vehicle. The two men turned their heads all around at the animals. The animals knew something was coming, and time was up.
Chapter 15
Sweeping the palm of my hand over the cuddly sheets, I opened my eyes. The spot beside me was unoccupied. Malak must have woken up early. I pulled myself out of bed, passing the quiet birds and started to the window and drew the curtains to the side. A heavy sheet of dust covered the flat, yellow, dying grass, the view unpleasant and the weather depressing. Another gloomy Friday morning. I moved away from the window and entered my en suite. I went numb staring at the mirror over the running water slapping the sink. Tired, red eyes in the reflection. I looked exhausted but I got enough sleep. I ran my fingers through my tangled hair and gathered it up in a ponytail. I left my bedroom and went downstairs. Voices arose as I descended the stairs. Malak’s and May’s faces came into view—Malak stretched out on the sofa with a magazine in her hand, May on her phone, legs crossed flat on the floor, and the TV on mute playing in the background and casting light.
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