Zombies In Saudi Arabia

by Ibrahim, Andy

  My ears rang even after the siren stopped. More sounds became discernible; screams crying for help and gunshots. The surrounding movements became vicious. From the corner of my eye, I saw a little girl sitting on the grass, her yellow dress spread under her like a wilting sunflower, her body shivered as she cried. She clutched onto a black purse, too big to be hers. Her mom’s. Other’s misfortune is ours just the same. She needed help and I needed to get her to safety, or she would be attacked.

  “I need to help that girl,” I said, pointing at her.

  “What?” May said from the back. “Are you crazy?”

  “It’s not a good idea,” Malak said.

  “I can’t leave her there,” I said. Malak frowned then nodded.

  I calculated the distance. She’s close to the car, closest to my side. I could make it in five big steps. I opened the door before I talked myself out of it and ran toward her. Seven big steps. I crouched and held her cold skin against mine.

  “Hey,” I said softly over the screaming and mayhem. “Where’s your mommy?”

  She lifted her head up and stared right through me like I wasn't there. Her small face filled with terror. Her eyes were red. She might be sick, I realized.

  “Come on,” I said. I placed my hands under her armpit and held her up while she moaned in pain.

  “No!” a scream erupted behind me. I looked over my shoulder. A soldier rushed to me. He ripped the girl out of my hands, pulling her by her sunflower-colored sleeve and threw her to the ground.

  “What are you doing?” I shouted.

  She started moaning louder and reached out to the solider. Her gaze no longer peaceful, I took a step back. It was like she was activated by his presence. He kicked her with his boot and shot her in the head. She dropped down. Inanimate.

  “Get away from them,” the soldier said behind a mask. “Do not touch them and do not let them touch you.” He ran off to a group waiting for him.

  The girl. I stared. He killed her. She was a kid. What did he mean “them?” The sick?

  I looked past the dead girl on the ground; a guy behind her was hobbling toward me, dressed in a white, long thoab crippling his movement. Something else came into view, something impossible. Another guy next to him walked with a knife lodged into his skull, pining the qetra on his head. Even from a distance, I could see black bags under his fully white eyes. There were no pupils visible. His hands and mouth covered in black goo, the way he moved was unusual. It was as if dragging something heavy behind him, carrying the weight of something only he could see. That's not possible.

  “Sara,” Malak’s scream snapped me out of a trance. She opened the door on my side. “Get back.”

  I ran to the car and closed the door behind me, then locked it. This isn’t happening, this isn’t happening. Air barely made its way to my lungs, the sound of a police car siren nearby.

  “Breathe,” Malak said, slipping her hand into mine.

  “Sara, Malak, look,” May shouted.

  Not far from the car, a few children—three or four—biting other children. Howling of pain came from all directions, the screams sharp and clear, drowning out all sounds. My heart beat faster. Everything else slowed down. Images played in slow motion. People running, chased. A few lay on the floor lifeless while being stomped by scared people. Two guys closest to the car from Malak’s side started screaming at one another and pulled our attention. One of them was dressed in an army uniform, holding up a gun, aiming it at another guy who was also in uniform. They were both soldiers. The one with the gun unloaded his weapon in the other soldier, riddling him with bullets. The sound of the bullets echoed around us harsh and clear. We ducked in the car, covering our ears. I swallowed hard, the wetness on my forehead cold.

  "Did you see that?" May shouted from the back.

  "Why’s the army turning on their own?" Malak asked. Her question shook me. Who’s them?

  The screeching of tires rose and before I knew it, my head was slamming into the dashboard. My vision blacked out; my head filled with ringing. Everything else went quiet.

  "Sara. Sara." A voice drifted in and out, hands grabbed my shoulders. "Sara, please answer me."

  Shapes slowly appeared, blurry at first then gradually they became clearer. The shapes wouldn’t stand still. They shook and spun to the ringing. I placed my hand over my head, trying to stop the motion. A steady view came into focus, and I matched the sound and voices. Malak’s face.

  "What happened?" I whispered.

  "We were hit from the back," May said. “Are you okay?

  "I’m okay. A little dizzy." I sat straight. I flipped the visor to examine my head in the mirror. A cut slit my forehead, drops of blood around it. “Are you two okay?”

  “We had our seat belts fastened,” Malak said.

  "Let's go," May said, her voice shaken.

  Malak drove over the curb. "How bad as it?” she asked, looking at my forehead.

  "I’ll live. I just have a massive headache." The word “live” echoed in my head. How did that guy survive a knife lodged into his skull?

  "What is wrong with them?" I asked. No answer. Why did our military turn on people and on one another? That soldier shot a little girl, but why didn’t he shoot me? He warned me. Don’t touch them. Who’s them? Should I say something to Malak and May? Neither of them was talking, as if saying anything made the situation real, made it possible. So many unexplainable things were happening, I thought I would be paralyzed, consumed by this confusion. But I was not. I was focused. Everything I saw defied explanation, and no matter what answer I placed in my head, it didn’t fit. But I had to process the events as they happened and adapt to it quickly. We couldn’t turn back now. We needed to keep going. In and out for Deema. “Turn left here,” I said.

  "My phone," May said. "It’s not working."

  "What?" I pulled mine out of my pocket. I tried calling Deema. "I can’t get through. Mine isn’t working either.”

  "Try again," Malak said.

  "The phones are down. There's no service." I redialed with the same results.

  "How are we gonna know where she is?" Malak asked.

  "This is not good. This is not good," May mumbled in the back.

  "We already know where she is. An ambulance at the ER entrance," I said, trying to sound as calm as I could.

  "How about Mom and Dad?" Malak asked.

  “We’ll deal with that later,” I said.

  We lost contact with everyone. We were alone. Reality unleashed its weight on me, like a dam that broke. Some comfort rolled through me knowing my parents were together, wherever they were. I hoped they felt the same knowing Malak and I were together. I turned the radio on, looking for anything to tell us what was going on, but the same message on TV was being broadcast on the radio. I turned it off. The cold hospital building came into view.

  "Go from the other side," I instructed, "the ER entrance is at the back end."

  "It’s a one-way street," Malak said.

  "I’ll keep an eye for oncoming cars," I said.

  May mentioned something about how we were probably going to be arrested or die. We took the turn and drove at a moderate speed, giving us time to react and get out of the way if another car was to appear.

  "How is she gonna know we're here?" May asked.

  I didn’t think of that. If we couldn't call her, how could we tell her? We approached the ER entrance. Long, rusty gray gates stood in front of us. The gates had thick chains twisted together, sealing off our access to the parking lot. Eight ambulances were parked behind the fence.

  "Why would the hospital be locked?” Malak whispered and pulled closer to the gates.

  "Maybe they’re trying to keep people out," I said.

  "Or in." May popped her head between the two seats. "What are we gonna do now?"

  "Someone has to go down," I said.

  "What?" May shook her head. “No. No.”

  "What?" Malak repeated.

  "She’s in one of those ambul
ances." I pointed at them. “There’s only eight.”

  "We’ll honk the horn," Malak said and placed her hand on the steering wheel.

  “Wait.” I lifted my hand up. “Is that a good idea?”

  “Yup. It’s a great idea,” May said.

  “We do not know what’s out there. We don't wanna attract anyone with the noise," I said.

  “I’ll go,” Malak said.

  “No, you stay behind the wheel in case we need to drive away in a hurry,” I said. “I’m older. You have to do what I say.”

  “Since when?” Malak asked.

  "You can't go," May said.

  I could tell from Malak’s expression she agreed with May but nodded instead. "I’m staying, so I’ll keep an eye out. If I honk the horn, you run back. You drop everything and run," Malak said.

  "Get as close as you can to the gates,” I said. “I'm gonna have to jump over."

  Malak shifted to D and gently rolled the car closer till the bumper softly touched the gates and pushed us back.

  "Okay." I turned to May. "Hand me a knife."

  "It’s not safe," she replied.

  "Well, it will be a lot safer with a knife," I said. She pushed the knife at me and started mumbling again. I ignored her. I opened the door and smiled at Malak.

  “In and out, quick,” she said.

  I stepped out and climbed over the hood of the car. I stood for a second, looking at the barred gates. The wind whistled, blowing the heat away from me. I can do this. I jumped a few fences as a kid. Not ladylike, especially in the society I grew up in, but I was that kind of kid. Never turned down a challenge. So this was not my first time, I comforted myself. I slid the knife between the bars and dropped it. It landed on the ground. I turned around and gave Malak a quick nod. I steadied my foot on a bar and carried my body over. I placed my other foot on another bar and secured my position. I started climbing up one step at a time till the top and swung my legs over. I steadied my foot on a bar before bringing the other leg over. I was on the other side of the gate now. Hanging, searching with my foot for support, my weight was carried by my hands. A burning shot through them. I moved my foot in circles, looking for a step. My breaths thickened. I couldn't locate a bar. I readjusted my hands before they went numb. I moved my foot around once more, and a solid object bumped the tip of my shoe. I hung lower until I could rest my foot on it. I continued to shift my weight onto that foot and used my other foot to lower myself till the solid asphalt ground was beneath my foot. I took a deep breath and wiped my hands on my abaya. I looked at Malak and May and signaled a thumbs-up. Grabbing the only defense weapon, I got closer to the ambulances. How am I gonna know which one she’s hiding in? I decided to check the first from the right. I jogged toward it and climbed the deck level. I peeked in, looking for any sign of Deema. I tapped the window. I called her name. I pulled out my cell phone and used the flashlight to peer inside. Darkness. I stuck my face on the glass window. Nothing.

  The silence was broken by a loud horn. I turned quickly. Malak and May were both waving their hands. I jumped off the deck and scanned the area. There was nothing. I stepped closer to the gates; I could see them both moving their hands. I didn’t understand what they meant nor could I hear them. I stepped closer to them and away from the ambulances until I saw their hands clearly. They had three fingers lifted. Three.

  "The third," I whispered. From the right or left? Never mind. I was counting the first ambulance I went to as the first. They would warn me if I was on the wrong one. I ran straight to the third ambulance. I climbed the deck and tapped the window.

  "Deema," I said. A shadow moved inside. "Deema, it's me Sara."

  The shadow continued to move, slowly revealing a face. “Deema?” I said.

  Deema’s face got closer to the glass. She let out a sigh, her tan face pale. I waved. I tried opening the doors, but they were locked. I pulled my hand away, but it wouldn’t budge. "My sleeve," I said and tried jerking my arm away. “My sleeve is stuck in the handle.”

  "Sara, move away from the door. It opens outwards," Deema said behind the barrier.

  "I can't." I jerked harder. The knife fell from my hand and clangored on the ground. "Deema, my sleeve!"

  Honking started from behind. Nonstop honking. It was a warning. Danger.

  "Sara, pull the —" Her eyes flickered past me, jaw dropped open.

  "Deema, what?"

  "Sara, behind you," I heard her say. She started knocking the glass window. "Behind you!"

  "I'm stuck." I pulled with everything I had. Don’t look back. The sleeve finally let up. The force pushed me back on the ground, and I landed on my feet. I turned around and came face to face with a lady that stood there, covered in black blood. There was no time to react. I couldn’t defend myself. She stood a step away. Her eyes were sunken back in their sockets, her icy gaze locked on mine. She opened her mouth dripping with black liquid.

  That was it.

  Chapter 17

  King Abdulaziz International Airport

  Jeddah, Saudi Arabia.

  Population 3,400,000

  Three weeks earlier

  Adel sat in his seat, hunched back and staring at his little brother with a blank yet focused expression. He held his phone in one hand and a mocha coffee in another. Why did Mom have me look over this little turd? he thought. He looked down at his screen and saw a message from her. The corner of his mouth curved upward, the side of his eyes crinkled, and his cheeks burned with excitement. It’s all he wanted to do. He wanted to talk to her all day and all night. But instead, he had to watch over Waleed. He replied to her message and looked up to check on Waleed who sat on the floor and played with his little white ’70 Dodge Charger RT car. He peered beyond his little brother and gave a quick scan of their immediate surroundings. Dozens of people hurried past with their bags and coffee cups, most of them with their heads dipped too low in their phones to see anything in their path. Adel thought they might trip on his small, dumb brother.

  “Waleed,” he shouted, “come a little closer.”

  Waleed peeked up, his straight, light brown hair covering part of his big brown eyes and waved his car in the air while he made beep beep sounds.

  “Waleed,” Adel repeated, “it’s too crowded. Come here.”

  Waleed looked away and continued playing with his toy. After evaluating the situation, Adel thought his brother should be okay. He was still sitting between the tables and chairs and not in the direct path of anyone walking by. He glanced up at the screen on the wall. His gaze fell on the word Istanbul. Next to it, the word “delayed” flashed. He frowned and looked down at his phone and texted her back.

  Babe, they said it should be another 3 hours or so, ☹

  As much as Adel wanted to go to Turkey, all he was thinking about was, will there be Wi-Fi at the hotel? He looked up again to check on his four-year-old brother, who was now licking the tires of his toy. He said nothing, and rolled his eyes.

  “Flight 10078 to Bahrain is now boarding. Please make your way to Gate G29,” an announcement broadcasted.

  Adel glanced over his shoulder and spotted the G29 sign adjacent to the coffee shop they were in. He thought maybe he should take his brother and go find their parents. It would get crowded soon, and it would be harder for him to keep an eye on Waleed. But before he was about to get up, his phone pinged, and her name appeared on his screen. His heart skipped a beat as he read her words and couldn’t help but feel weak at the knees. He read how much she’d miss him while he was gone. He read the sentence over and over, and every time felt like the first time. With a smirk, he looked up to check on Waleed. But the place he was in was now empty. Where is he? he thought.

  His brother was not there.

  Adel got to his feet at once and closer to the spot his little brother was sitting in. He saw his little white car flipped upside down. He picked it up in a panic.

  “Waleed,” he shouted, his eyebrows raised high, creating furrows on his forehead. “Waleed.�
� He walked around hysterically. Where is my brother? Where did he go? He continued shouting Waleed’s name as he scanned the faces of passersby. People made a concise effort to get out of his way. My brother, he thought. He’s gone.

  “Dill,” he heard a tiny voice scream at the top of his lungs.

  He turned around, frightened, and saw a man walking to him. He held Waleed in his arms, tickling him. Waleed pointed at his brother with sheer joy. Adel felt his heart sink to the bottom of his stomach. He never thought he would be this happy to see Waleed’s face and hear him mispronounce his name. He took a step closer to the man.

  The man held Waleed by both sides and passed him to his older brother. Waleed extended both hands and started kicking excitedly to be held by his giant brother. He started eyeballing his shiny Charger, immediately distracted by his toy.

  “So, you’re dill?” the man joked.