by MK Schiller
“Stop,” I said. He was small but fast. I ran down one alley and up the next, my feet hitting the steps hard until I had no more places to run. The street was a dead end. Where had they gone to?
He came out of the alley.
“Where is she?”
He didn’t understand, but two more fellows joined him. No more language barriers existed. The rusty knives they held took care of any confusion. They yelled something at me.
“Take it easy.” I reached into my back pocket for my wallet. “Where’s the girl?”
But they were still screaming. One held a knife against my chest.
I couldn’t fucking understand. I said a little prayer to a God I hadn’t talked to in years. Maybe one I’d be seeing soon.
But not without a fight.
The first one was small. I kneed him in the groin and then pushed him so hard he slammed into the opposite wall. The second, who had looked unsure to begin with, just ran away. But the third was tall and sure and large.
We sized each other up with desperate circling steps. “Where the fuck is she!”
He didn’t answer. He only showed me the edge of his knife.
She came from nowhere, standing between us, bringing with her the faintest scent of spiced vanilla.
“Mary?”
There was something so strong and fearless about her, it scared the shit out of me. She said some fast-paced words at him. Pretty sure it included some swearing.
The man looked just as surprised as I was, holding back his knife.
“What are you saying?”
“He wants to kidnap you. I’m telling him that if he does, even his grandchildren’s children won’t be able to repay the debt on his head.”
The man swooped in and repeated some harsh language of his own.
“That didn’t work, I take it?”
“Afraid not.”
He made fast strides toward us. Toward her.
No!
I reacted on pure instinct and adrenaline. I pushed her out of the way. Somewhere in my peripheral, I saw her hit the ground.
He lunged for me, but his movements were sluggish. He wasn’t as large as he was stout. I pushed him against the wall. We tussled for a minute. Something nicked my side before I finally caught hold of his wrist. I hammered his hand against the stone building until the knife fell with a clink.
Then I bashed his head back a few times.
“Where is she?” I repeated over and over.
He screamed something before running off. I turned to Mary, ready to help her up. I’d thrown her with enough force to cause pain. I took a few shaky steps. A little girl’s cry sounded somewhere in the distance. Then everything went dark.
* * * *
“Liam.”
I blinked my eyes open.
“Can you walk?”
“Of course I can.”
But when I tried to stand, my gut screamed like it was being torn in two.
“You’ve been stabbed,” she said.
I looked down to see the thin tear in my shirt, soaked through with blood. “Just a graze, I think.” As I said it, an overwhelming sickness entered my body. She helped me up and put my arm around her shoulder.
“There was a little girl, Mary. Did you see her?”
“The girl is safe. See, look.”
I looked down the alley where a frantic woman clutched the little girl.
“You’ll be all right. I promise you.”
I didn’t know how we got there, but I found myself in a cab.
“We’re going to the hospital. You’ll be fine.” I looked down at my waist where her hand was holding a ripped piece of her shirt against my side.
“Where did you come from?”
“I followed you. I wish I had something to clean your wound.”
A mixture of gratitude for what she’d done and anger at how she’d done it washed over me. But mostly it was pain. I couldn’t breathe. “I have water in my backpack.”
I gestured to it on the floor. Had she picked it up?
She reached inside and took out the bottle. Suddenly, a strong thirst seized me. I reached for it, but she moved it.
“Where did you get this?” she asked.
What the hell was she doing? My mouth was like the fucking Sierra right now, and she wanted to know where I shopped?
“A vendor.” I reached my hand out again, but she still didn’t relinquish it.
“Look.” She pointed to the cap. “It’s been tampered.”
“What?”
“It’s very rare, but some corrupt merchants search for empty bottles in the street and refill them so they can pass them off as new.”
“Why?”
“Money.”
I tried to sit up, but a million battles were being fought inside my gut, and I wasn’t winning a damn one. “What do they fill them with?”
“Nothing good.”
“Fuck me.”
She smiled, a sad worried smile. “It was a new bottle, right?”
“Yes.”
She exhaled a breath. “Good, you didn’t drink any.”
I swallowed, which was a bad idea because bile was rising in my throat, ready to erupt. “I bought two bottles, Mary.”
“Where is the other one?”
I patted my gut.
She banged on the back of the driver’s seat. “Jeldi, jeldi, jeldi!” she screamed at the cabbie.
One of the few Hindi words I recognized.
Faster, faster, faster.
Chapter 10
Liam
I woke up to the sound of her voice, a damp rag pressed against my forehead.
“Liam, there isn’t much time. I need you to wake up for a minute so I can tell you what’s happened.”
It was dark out. My body was drenched. I was sweating through something silky. She adjusted the fan on the bedside table so the cool air would blow on me.
“What happened? Are we at the hospital?”
“We were, but now we’re back at the hotel. They pumped your stomach and sutured you up. Do you remember that?”
“How could I forget? Why am I at the hotel?”
“Prabhat was worried you’d get sicker at the hospital. He had you brought here.”
“Sicker than this?”
“He is a bit neurotic, in case you haven’t noticed. But even I have never seen him so frazzled. He didn’t even ask me why we were together.”
I tried to swallow, but my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth.
“Are you thirsty?” she asked.
I arched my brow, a small movement that took way too much strength. “Depends. Where’s the water from?”
She laughed, holding a bottle out to me. “I’m glad you still have your sense of humor. Don’t worry, I checked it personally. It’s safe.”
I took a few eager sips. Then I gagged. She held a bowl under my mouth. I pushed it away. “Did I hurt you when I pushed you down?” She seemed surprised by my question. I blinked, looking for any signs of harm on her body.
“No, Liam. I’m fine.”
Only when I was satisfied with her answer did I fall back into bed. A bed that felt more like a tub of boiling water. Well…I was kind of dressed like a lobster. I stared down at the red silk pajamas I wore. Where the fuck did these come from?
“Who changed me?”
“One of the men here. They looked through your bags but didn’t see any sleeping clothes. Prabhat figured you forgot to pack them.”
“So you dressed me like Hugh Hefner?”
“Who?”
“Never mind.”
“Prabhat procured these from the hotel store for you. He figured this is what a western man sleeps in.”
“Yes, it is…if he were sixty years old.”
“What do you normally sleep in?”
“Nothing.”
“Tell me. I can get it for you. You should be comfortable.”
“I did tell you. I don’t wear anything.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh, I see. Well, that might be a problem.”
“It’s fine.”
“Prabhat is worried to death. He thinks you’re going to hold him personally responsible. He’s gone to fetch a nurse for you.”
Right now, I didn’t give a fuck about Prabhat or what he thought.
“Why did you do it?”
“Do what?”
“Step in front of a fucking knife?”
“I was stepping in front of you.”
“Same. Fucking. Difference.”
“I looked for a police officer or someone to help, but when I saw him come toward you, I just reacted.”
I took her hand. “You have no idea how grateful I am to you.” I squeezed her fingers to emphasize my words. “Don’t ever put yourself in that situation again.”
She nodded.
“Swear it to me. Say that you won’t ever put yourself in harm’s way.”
“I swear.”
“Whole thing. And put your hand over my heart while you say it.”
“Why do I need to do that?”
“Because I need to feel your sincerity.”
She put her hand over my heart. “I swear I will never put myself in harm’s way again. You need to rest now.”
“You killed me today. Were you trying to kill me, woman?”
“I was trying to save you.”
“Maybe you did a little bit of both, but mostly you killed me.”
She ran the cool cloth down my neck. God help me, it felt so good I almost forgot why I was angry with her.
“I told the police what happened. I’m sure they’ll apprehend the men.”
“How’s the girl?”
Mary smiled. “She’s fine, Liam. You did a heroic thing. Her mother said she’d do special prayers for you at her temple.”
I exhaled, making my ribs hurt even more. “How long have I been out?”
“Just a day. You won’t have a scar, but you do have a fever.” She leaned closer to me. “I’ll have to leave once Prabhat comes back. He’s gone to make arrangements for a private nurse and doctor.”
No.
I heard Prabhat barking orders. Mary straightened so fast, the air pulled with her movement.
Prabhat stood over me, his expression frantic. “Sir, sir, I am so so sorry. I have brought Manny. He is a nurse and will take care of all your needs. Dr. Singh will be here soon as well. He is one of the best doctors in the region. You must rest comfortably. This never happens here. I swear, very safe.”
I sat up, which zapped what little strength I had. A burly fellow stood next to Prabhat. I shook my head. “I don’t want him.”
“But sir, you need someone to watch over you.”
I fought my eyelids as they became heavier. He went in and out of focus. “Mary can watch over me.” The words came out slurred. I wasn’t sure if Prabhat understood, because he looked more confused than ever.
“She’s not qualified.”
“There is no one I trust more.”
“She cannot even speak English. How will she communicate with you? Be reasonable Mr. Montgomery. You need a nurse, not a maid.”
“I’ll take care of him,” she said in perfect English.
I would have laughed at the way Prabhat’s jaw dropped, but I was in too much pain.
She walked over to him. “I can read medicine bottles, and I have the hospital instructions. Let Manny stay in another room close by in case I need help.”
There was something so succinct and matter-of-fact about the way she said it that Prabhat stumbled over himself. “You’ve been lying to me.” He scowled at her and looked over to me. I had no doubts what he was thinking. What everyone would think.
She’d revealed her secret because I wanted her here.
He began some long diatribe in Hindi. She winced at his words, which I didn’t have to understand to know they were foul.
I took a deep breath and swung my legs over the side of the bed. I needed to take control in this situation. To let Prabhat know not to mistake my illness for weakness. My legs almost gave way, but I leaned against the bed. The stitches on my side smarted.
“Not another word, Prabhat. Not one more,” I said, doing my best to convey authority. “This woman saved my life, and you will not speak to her with disrespect ever again. You need to leave.”
I wasn’t sure who was in more danger of going into shock—Prabhat or Mary. Or maybe it was me.
He stood there, his mouth opening. “But sir…”
“Get out.”
He threw his arms up in frustration and stormed out the door. Manny stood there, confused and silent, until Mary told him to follow Prabhat.
She turned to me. “What are you doing? Get in bed. You’re very sick.”
“I just made some trouble for you.”
“I’m no stranger to trouble. Trouble I can handle. Your faith in me is worth that. But now, if you really want my help, you have to listen to everything I say. You have six stitches on your left side and a serious infection. You have a fever. It needs to work its way out of your system. It will with rest, medicine, and care. But not if you insist on being stubborn. Is that clear?”
I let out a weak smile before collapsing onto the bed. “Yes, sir.”
Her laughter was the last thing I heard before sleep took a powerful hold on me.
Chapter 11
Mary
There were many girls in a dark room made darker by our lack of hope. I would have given up entirely if not for Hannah. Someone had to watch out for Hannah. She was so tiny and precious and frightened. I held her on my lap, stroking her fine hair.
“Papaji will come for us,” she said with quiet conviction. “I am praying for it.”
“He will, little one. He will.” I had nothing more to give her other than hollow reassurances.
I followed her gaze to the darkest part of the room, where a girl wearing a head covering ripped a piece of long dress into even strips. I wondered what she was making. Possibly a noose? If so, maybe I could ask her to borrow it after she was done.
I laughed cynically. There would be no need for the ask, would there? I could just take.
Hannah turned to me with questioning eyes. “What is she doing?”
“I don’t know.”
The girl moved toward the center of the room, where the beam of light gathered from the lone window. Squinting, she knotted a small section of the fabric. She repeated it until she had made several tiny beads. When she got frustrated, she’d undo them and start again. There was nothing to do except watch each other, feel sorry for ourselves, and pray. I doubted if any temple, church, or mosque had as much prayer going on as this tiny room did.
Finally, Hannah’s curiosity would hold no more. “What are you doing?” she asked the girl.
I shushed her, but the question was already spoken. I didn’t trust anyone here, not even our fellow prisoners.
It didn’t matter, though. Hannah had never learned Hindi, since my father insisted we speak English. So she asked the question in her soft, slow manner. I doubted the scarf-beading girl would understand.
Except she did.
She looked in our direction, sizing us up. Distrust ran both ways.
“A subha,” the girl said.
Hannah looked at me. I gave her a reassuring smile, grateful that my sister had avoided becoming a miserable creature like me. As Papa always said, Hannah was special. God gave her to us so we could remember what it was to be innocent and joyful.
Oh, Papa, I failed. I didn’t protect her. But even as I thought it, I could still see the gleam in her eye, the curve of her mouth, the way she embraced me. Some things cannot be stolen, not even by monsters.
“What is a suber?”
“Subha,” I said. “Muslim prayer beads. Like our rosary.”
“We have that, too,” a girl w
ith long hair interjected. “The Hindus call it a mala.”
“Are you Muslim? I’ve never met a Muslim before. What is your name? I’m Hannah. This is my sister, Mary.” Hannah’s welcoming smile was infectious, even in this dismal place.
The girl returned it. “I’m Amira.” She knitted her brows together, clicking her tongue. “I’ve messed it up once again. I can’t get them small enough.”
Hannah stood. I almost pulled her back to me, but she needed to stand. We’d been here for five days. Hannah was not the type of flower you locked away behind a glass dome. She was the kind who thrived in large gardens with people around her.
I steadied her, a physical reminder not to run. I followed close behind.
“Let me help,” I said. Amira handed me the fabric. I ripped it into a thinner strand and formed tighter beads, showing her each step.
“I thought if I made something that reminded me of home, then it wouldn’t be so lonely.”
“Can I help, too?” the Hindu girl asked. She wore a faded pink dress that had seen better days.
We didn’t answer, but Amira waved her over. The girl introduced herself as Divya from Walkeshwar.
Hannah’s fingers were too stubby for the intricate work. Her beads were the largest, but the three of us said they were the best ones. The work was tedious, but it kept our minds occupied. We talked about our lives outside, what we would do when rescue finally came. For Divya, it was wearing a fine pink sari every day of her life and giving thanks to Ganesha for removing the horrible obstacle. For Amira, it was finishing school and taking care of her ill mother. For Hannah, it was listening to Papa read a story. I never told them what I wanted. My thoughts ran much deeper…much darker than theirs.
We’d each donated shreds of fabric for the cause, ripping them from the few garments we owned. In the end, we had not a noose, but a long thin rope of a necklace adorned with multicolored beads. Although it wasn’t blessed by a priest or guru or imam, it was holy to us. We ran our fingers over it constantly, staining the cloth with our grubby hands.
I didn’t know how or why we had found each other and had become friends in this place where friendship shouldn’t exist. What I did know was that heaven had no religious divides.
