"Morning." I walked past them, making my way to the kitchen, not waiting for a reply.
"Noon!" Malak shouted behind me. "It’s noon." The sound of her footsteps marching followed me into the kitchen. She sat on the stool, placing her magazine on the island table while I put on a fresh pot of coffee.
"I'm hungry. I want breakfast," I said, moving to the fridge and looking for something to eat. Yawning, I scanned the semi-empty shelves. I don't think I'm a morning person. Or a noon person.
"It’s not breakfast if it’s at noon," Malak said.
"That was a private conversation I was having with myself, and who raided our fridge?" I asked, grabbing the only thing I found—an old apple scone. It would have to do. "Plus breakfast is whenever you break your fast which I am doing now. I am b-r-e-a-k-i-n-g my f-a-s-t-i-n-g at noon."
“Yeah, there’s nothing to eat here. May got us some snacks when her brother dropped her off,” Malak said, chewing a bite she took from her chocolate bar. “Mary was supposed to go grocery shopping last weekend.”
Where is Mary? I nuked my scone in the microwave then stood in front of my rotating scone, staring at it going around and around. May’s reflection showed up on the microwave glass. She strolled in, busy on her phone.
"My whole family left town this morning to visit my sick uncle. Looks like your stuck with me this weekend." May walked closer to Malak.
"Yay lucky us," I said in a flat tone, eyeing the timer counting down. 19…18…17…16.
"I need new shoes," Malak said. "We’re going to the mall today."
“You smell good,” May said to Malak as she visibly sniffed her.
“Thanks.” Malak pulled her hoodie away from her chest to smell it. “I’m not wearing any perfume.”
"You have enough shoes." I returned to the fridge, searching for something else to munch on.
"Nothing new on the flight reservations?" May asked.
"No. They canceled all international flights. There are no flights flying out," I said, rummaging through the fridge again. Old bread, an empty glass jar of cream cheese, yogurt that had been around way too long, a half a slice of lemon, and hot sauce. Why was the hot sauce in the fridge? I backed out of the fridge and slammed the door with my foot. Going back to the microwave, I took out my overheated old scone.
“Things are weird,” Malak said.
"Maybe this has something to do with the plane crashes?" I said, the smell of warm apples and sugar teasing my senses before I took my first bite. I poured myself a cup of black coffee and glanced at May. Her eyes. They were different. Her brown eyes were a brassy color, brazen, stood out, looking nonhuman.
"So are those your daytime lenses?" I asked. “Not very subtle.”
"I was thinking the—" Malak started but was interrupted by a loud noise. A sound so loud it sent a shock through my nervous system and caused my fingers to splay. I dropped my black ceramic cup. In a quick reflex, I jumped and pushed it further so not to spill on me. The hot liquid splattered over the brown kitchen tile, and the mug shattered into smaller pieces. The sound in the background was too loud for any other sound to be heard. I placed what was left of the scone on the table, and threw my hands over my ears. Malak and May were covering their ears too. Malak’s lips moving, I loosened the pressure over my ears and walked closer to her.
"What is that?" Malak said over the sound. I barely heard her voice.
"It sounds like an air raid siren," I shouted back.
It was a harsh screeching sound. The scariest sound I’d ever heard. Like a calling for death and destruction, a sound signaling the end. It rattled every part of my body. But it was not the first time I had heard it. I’d heard that sound before, in a home video my parents shot during the Gulf War. You never forget a sound like that. But even though I’d heard it before, it was only through speakers; it could never have prepared me for the real sound. A sound that is familiar to the lizard brain—the oldest part of the brain that is wired to take over when survival is in danger. The sound is so chilling it activated the flight mode. Run, something is coming. And now it is too close.
"Are we under attack?" May screamed. Her words came through loud and clear.
"TV!" I shouted and pointed to the living room. They both nodded. We jogged over to the next room. I unmuted the TV and blasted the volume to max. We got as close to the box as we could, barely hearing anything over the siren sounding off. Run, something is coming.
"This is not a civil defense drill," the guy on the news reported. "There has been an outbreak. The government has declared a state of emergency. I repeat this is not a drill. Special forces have contained the initial outbreak.” The reporter paused, pressed his earpiece. “We are being told the situation is under control. However, you are advised to stay in your house. Lock your doors or seek immediate shelter. Stay off the streets and public areas." The clip ended and started over, repeating the same clip, playing in a loop. I switched through the channels. The same broadcast was playing over and over on all the channels. I kept searching. Clicking through, I found something different.
A guy stood in front of the camera in a parking lot. Behind him, a building came into view. I know that building. That is the mall of Dhahran. The location of the mall was close to us. The guy wore big muffled headphones. A bar flashed “live” at the bottom of the screen. He looked straight at the camera then started speaking in the typical news reporting tone. "The government has declared a state of emergency and the military has intervened, and special tactic teams were called in this morning. There is a virus outbreak turning people… violent. This has set off a pandemic that has ignited a war between major Saudi tribes in different regions. Clashes between tribes have spread across the country. A reign of violence increased, believed to be caused by this virus." He paused and looked behind him like he’s expecting something. He proceeded. "Members of the Saudi Royal family and have been transported to an undisclosed location pending further updates on the virus. The disappearance of authority could be the reason behind—" His words were interrupted by an explosion coming from behind him, the mall lighting up the background. His eyes straight at the camera, clouded with terror before he could say another word, two men jumped over him. The first one swung his head back and came down, sinking his teeth in the reporter's head. The other grabbed the reporter’s neck and closed in on his neck. The reporter howled in pain and was attempting to call out but only gurgling sounds came out… The transmission ended. Dead air.
We froze in front of the TV, not a single movement or word, the remote in my hand. I started to click the buttons, fanatically browsing the channels, searching for more information. What’s going on? Is this real? Nothing. We need more information. Nothing.
"Is this a joke?" May shouted over the wailing sirens. "They were biting him!"
My parents rushed through my mind. I looked at Malak; her eyes grew wide.
"Mom, Dad." I read her lips. We always thought alike. I was already looking for my phone. I couldn’t remember where I left it. The sound, it was loud. Think… think… the kitchen! I ran back to get it. It waited for me on the table. I called my dad’s cell phone. It didn't ring. It went straight to voice mail instead. I was about to hang up, but his message didn’t start with the usual, “Yellow, I am not available.” It was Mom’s voice on his phone. I listened.
"Sara, Malak, we’ve been trying to call you all morning. We can't leave. The compound has been closed off, and they are not letting anyone leave. Your dad has already arranged for someone to pick you girls up." Mom’s voice was shaky. She was sniffing, crying. "Babies, someone is bringing you to us. They will be there at five a.m., Sara—" Beep. The recording ended.
"Mom." My heart dropped. I checked my watch. It was three p.m. Someone should have come at five that morning.
Malak came running into the kitchen. "Did you call them?" she asked. I redialed and hit the speaker and handed her the phone.
They will be there at five a.m. What now? What do we do? It had alr
eady passed the time. I had no idea what to do or what to think, but we needed to do something. Run, something is coming.
May walked in with her phone in her hand. Her expression changed. "Their phones are switched off," she said. I assumed she was trying to get through to her family. My phone rang in Malak’s hand.
"Mom?" I asked.
"No, it’s Deema," she read the screen and answered the call.
"Hello, have you seen the news—what? Okay," Malak said and put the call on speaker. We huddled around her.
“I'm in the hospital. Something is really wrong. I locked myself inside an ambulance and I tried calling my driver. He’s not answering." The screams of the siren could be heard from her end, too, from the other part of the city. “No one is answering.”
"Deema, it’s not safe to take a cab. Is the key in the ignition?" I asked.
"Yes, yes it is. But, Sara, I don't know how to drive," she said.
"Is there anyone there that can bring you to us?" I asked.
"No one is here. Most of the doctors and nurses didn't show up to work today. Sara, I'm scared."
"We'll come pick you up. Stay put," I assured her.
"I'm in the ambulance parked out by the ER entrance," Deema said. “Please hurry.”
"Keep your phone on you." Malak ended the call.
"My parents are not answering." May blew her bangs away from her face. “What’s happening?”
I ran my hands through my hair. What’s the next step, what should we do? With the noise, I couldn’t hear myself think. "Call the police," I said.
"I already did. It won’t go through," Malak replied.
"We can’t leave Deema out there. We have to go get her," I said, “we have to be together.”
"Dad keeps a spare car key in their room."
"Why do you want a key. Doesn't your driver have a car?" May said.
"May, we can't wait. We have to get Deema," I said.
"But." May shook her head. "You don’t have a license."
“I do," Malak said.
“It’s not Saudi. Plus, my brothers won’t allow me to be in the car with you driving,” May said.
“This is an emergency,” Malak said.
"Malak, I'm gonna go get the keys. Look for Mary," I told her. She took off running. I turned around and placed my hands on May’s shoulders. "We need something to protect ourselves with, in case—”
“In case what?”
“In any case,” I said, trying not to think of the two men eating that reporter. “Get some knives from the top drawer. Okay?"
"What… why?"
"May. Just do it," I ordered her and ran out of the kitchen, up to the second floor to my parents’ bedroom. My father was the ideal law-abiding citizen, a guy who followed this nation’s norms and customs, but he still put both my sister and me behind the wheel and taught us how to drive at a young age, long before the ban was even a shadow of a possibility. We practiced on dirt roads, privately owned compounds, and anytime we visited other countries. In Malak’s case, she drove in the U.A.E. He did the same with Mom as soon as they got married. He believed even though we weren't allowed to drive, we needed to know how to, in case of emergencies. Despite the movement highlighting the urgency in women driving, there was a storming, a wave of resistance against it throughout the country. It was necessary more than it was a right. Not knowing how to drive may be the downfall of so many, and many women might be in danger right now because of that.
"Got it." I grabbed the keys and doubled back downstairs. I met the girls on the front door porch.
"Sara, I still can't find Mary," Malak said.
"We have to go." I jogged to the garage where Dad left the Trailblazer. “Catch.” I threw the keys at Malak. She unlocked the doors and we got in.
"Are you sure this is safe?" May’s voice came from the back seat. I heard her buckle her seat belt immediately.
"We can’t leave Deema there,” I said.
Malak started the car. She adjusted the side mirrors and the rear mirror, then adjusted the seat. “Wow, Dad is tall,” she said.
"We don’t know what’s out there,” May said. "Do we even know how to get there?"
“I do.” I got the remote and opened the garage door then manually locked all the car doors.
Malak behind the wheel only made sense since she drives all the time. I could focus on the road. And May, well May was breaking down in the back, and she didn’t know how to drive. We pulled out of the garage, checking the rear mirror, the house shrinking as we drove away. No one’s coming. We left the suburbs that seemed normal and quiet other than the red air sirens. We made it to the main streets, nothing normal there. Clouds of smoke filled the once-clear sky. Broken glass polluted the streets. Everyone around us was driving fast. That wasn’t the only difference between us and them. The other thing was we were the only ones driving in that direction; everyone else was going the opposite direction. They were fleeing the area. Malak glanced at me. I knew what she was thinking. Is this safe?
"We're going the wrong way," May said, breaking the loud silence.
"It’ll be quick. We'll get Deema and leave. In and out," I said. Malak nodded.
"It’s still not allowed for women to drive without a Saudi license," May said.
"May, calm down," Malak snapped.
Malak kept her eyes on the road as I gave her directions. A storm of fiery arrows sizzled in the sky, right over the car. Is that a missile? Are we being attacked? The sound pierced the siren then died off. Chaotic crowds stormed the streets. Fights broke out among the people. Panic was setting in. We were at war. This was a war zone. We approached a red traffic light and slowed down. Malak looked at me. I signaled her to go, so she did. I could barely recognize this once-busy commercial street that had all the shops and restaurants. Now all I could see was smoke and people running out of the shops with bags, boxes, furniture, and a TV. Two men crossed the street, holding a large table and ran in front of the car. Malak slammed the brakes, but they didn’t care to look our way. Everything was being stolen, taken, destroyed; this was definitely not safe. In and out, I reminded myself. A traffic jam became visible, no way around it. There were a few cars at a full stop. We slowed down, halting to a stop. I made sure all the windows were rolled up. I looked to my right and saw a group of people attacking another group. Policemen held guns and aimed them on the exposed group. What are they gonna do? They opened fire. The sound was silent. Nothing higher than a tap in the siren's presence. I couldn't hear it, but I saw people hitting the ground close to us. Were they dead? The police were shooting unarmed civilians. Why? Terrorists? Did they have bombs strapped to them? I scanned the surrounding area; bodies were dropping everywhere. A chill ran down my spine. We’re close, we’re close. Deema needed us. Two bloody palms smacked Malak’s window, and we all jumped. I let out a scream that evaporated in the air. Malak’s foot pressed the gas pedal, and the car accelerated. Jerking forward, we hit the car in front of us, the seat belt firm on my chest, knocking the breath out of my lungs.
"Are you okay?" Malak asked.
"Yeah, yeah.” I unbuckled the seat belt and inhaled deeply.
“I am so sorry. That guy scared me." She turned her head. "May, are you okay?"
"Yes." May rubbed her temples. “What happened?"
"A guy," Malak said, "he came out of nowhere. There was blood."
Bloody handprints smeared over Malak’s window. The guy showed up again and placed his hands on the glass and started tapping on it. Only thin glass stood between us and this guy. He was bleeding from his eyes, nose, and ears, the blood cascading down his white thoab. His skin was pale and his movements were frail. He’s sick. I think he is infected. What does he want?
"We can't help you. Move away," Malak said.
The guy grunted in response and continued tapping the glass. None of us moved our eyes from him. We sat, staring. His thoab drenched in black blood, dripping from his purple-blue lips, he looked cold, stripped of humanity, strip
ped of reason, stripped of everything that made him alive. He looked like a monster. His piercing blue eyes shimmered white. So distant, so far… Dead.
Chapter 16
Zombies In Saudi Arabia Page 11
