The Godless One

by J. Clayton Rogers

For a moment, Ari was like a volunteer from an audience mesmerized by a magical incantation.

  "Did you hear me?"

  "I'm not sure," Ari said wanly.

  "You won't hear about it on the news, yet, and if you look on line, they'll tell you the kroner is as healthy as a horse. But there are rumors. They're divesting themselves of certain responsibilities. I guess you can call them austerity measures—"

  She stopped when Ari disappeared from her rearview mirror. She looked at Fred. "What's…"

  He glanced back, then quickly turned front and shook his head.

  Ari had covered his face with his hands. There was a long silence. When the howl came, Karen swerved and almost missed the ramp to I-64. "Ari…?" she whispered. "Are you going to be all right?"

  The howl came again.

  "Should we pull off?" Fred asked.

  "Where?"

  "The next exit is Mechanicsville."

  Another howl.

  "Or we can use the emergency pull-off lane."

  "He's dying!" Karen wailed.

  But there were no more hair-raising howls. After a brutally long silence, Karen said, "Fred…"

  He risked another glance back. "He's still breathing."

  "I'll keep going. RIC's only a couple of miles ahead."

  Another minute passed, and then Ari sat up. "I deeply apologize to you both."

  "I thought you were going to stroke out, man," said Fred.

  Karen took one hand off the wheel and slugged him in the shoulder. It was Fred's turn to howl as she caught him on his wound.

  "Oh, I'm so sorry!" Karen cried.

  "Yeah, right," Fred complained, bracing against his door.

  "Ari, are you okay, now?" Karen asked pensively, seeing the airport exit ahead. "I have to tell you something in advance. I called in a favor with a JPATS pilot I know. He's on his way west to pick up some prisoners. This isn't an authorized Con Air stop. He's risking his job here, you know? The passengers he's got now are supposed to go straight to San Diego. He cooked up some story, but we've only got a few minutes. Do you understand, Ari? Please say you do. And…and…another thing. He's doing me this…favor…on the understanding that I don't leave you alone for one minute. Not one second. He has to be careful. You understand, Ari? Ari?"

  "I understand."

  "OK, we're here. Are you going to be all right? Do you want me to call this off?"

  When he did not answer, Fred turned and looked. "He's shaking his head," he said.

  "You know," said Karen as she pulled up in front of the terminal, "it's funny you should have those flowers with you. Do you want to take them in with you?"

  "What a very pleasant idea, Deputy Sylvester. Very considerate of you."

  Karen gave a small cough and said, "It's the tribal thing to do." She jumped out quickly and held Ari's door open for him. When he lifted himself out, flowers in hand, she was startled by his appearance. His eyes were red, but otherwise he looked…better. Almost infinitely better. Like a building that had collapsed and then magically risen out of the ruins.

  "Where do I go?" he asked.

  "This way."

  Karen and Fred led him through the bottom level doors. To the left, past the escalators, was a large sign that said 'USO'.

  "They're letting us use one of their rooms back here. Quick, Ari," Karen said when it seemed he was drifting. "I'm so sorry, but we have to do this fast."

  But it was the strange, dreamy cloud around him that made him appear slow to her. In fact, he was already passing her and Fred.

  "Oh…hold on!"

  A group of sailors came bounding out of the USO, happy and beaming in their white caps and blue crackerjacks. They flowed around Ari, taking no note of him, nor he of them. Karen swerved around them and raced to the entrance, holding the door open.

  "Here…here…" She directed him into a foyer off the main entertainment room.

  And there stood Qasim. Ari's middle son jumped in astonishment.

  "He didn't know I was coming?" Ari said, aggrieved.

  "Neither of them knows. We didn't know if we could pull this off. I'm sorry, Ari."

  Father and son had last seen each other at Baghdad International Airport, while accompanying the stretcher in which the boy's mother lay. They had flown off to Iceland, while Ari waited for the next flight to the U.S.A. Qasim was diffident, confused. When his father embraced him, he remained stiff.

  "They beat you, father!" he said harshly into Ari's ear.

  "I fell down…it's a long story. You look well, Qasim." He paused. "How is she?"

  Qasim looked puzzled, not by the question, but by any possible answer he might offer. "I…don't know. That sounds strange. But…sometimes I wonder if she…"

  "Yes?"

  "She is a mystery." He gripped his father's arm. "Why do you work for them! How can you work for them, after what they did?" He looked at the flowers and seemed to sneer, or weep.

  Karen did not understand what was being said, but the harsh glare Qasim shot in her direction told her she wasn't being flattered.

  "We don't have time, Qasim. It is all unfair, it is all uncertain, and one day we will discuss it." He removed his son's hand. He looked at the door, then at Karen.

  "Yes, in there. And remember, we have to come with you…"

  Ari opened the door and entered, the agents close behind.

  She was sitting quietly, her dark burqa contrasting somberly with the mauve cheeriness of the couch. Ari took several steps forward, and stopped.

  "Can she see him?" Fred whispered.

  "No. Shut up."

  Ari continued to remain in place. Karen began to fret, looked at her watch. "Cm'on," she said to herself.

  Rana reached out her hand to the couch arm and slowly raised herself up, facing Ari. The burqa draped down, covering her entire body, but it was obvious one of the arms was missing.

  "I thought you said she couldn't see," said Fred.

  "You know what happened. Maybe she felt the air move."

  "I didn't see any reason to read about his wife, too," Fred pouted.

  "Will you shut up?"

  Ari moved closer to Rana. He held out the yellow roses. She reached out and took the bouquet, pressing it in place against her chest.

  "She can see!" Fred hissed.

  "Fred, she doesn't have any eyes!"

  "But…"

  Ari slowly, without evident difficulty, knelt at Rana's feet.

  "This is getting spooky," Fred said. "That sheet over her head is bad enough."

  "Fred, your arm is very vulnerable right now."

  "Right. But what about this kneeling? I didn't think they kneeled like that to women."

  Karen, watching in wonder, said, "They kneel to their god."

  Rana stood silently, her burqa barely shifting in the gentle flow of heated air from the vents overhead. Although they could hear jet engines outside, the room seemed unnaturally quiet. Ari raised his hands to Rana's thighs and grasped the hem of the upper part of the burqa between the thumb and index finger of both hands.

  "Ari, what are you doing?" Karen murmured.

  He began to raise the soft silk as he brought himself to his feet.

  "No, Ari," Karen hissed, biting her thumbnail. "No Ari, no Ari, no Ari…"

  "Stop overreacting," Fred frowned.

  "You don't understand."

  Rana lowered her arm and the flowers fell. She placed her hand gently on Ari's forearm. A calm request that he stop. Ari whispered something to her and she removed her hand.

  "Oh no, no," said Karen as Ari continued to raise the veil. She turned away. "We have to go."

  "We can't leave him alone!" Fred protested. "You told me—"

  "Fred, she doesn't have a face. None at all!"

  "Oh shit…"

  Still the veil rose. Karen began tapping her foot, like a little girl who needs to pee. Fred had turned away, also. "Okay," he said.

  They left the room.

  Ari finished drawing back the veil
. He stood, looking down, his expression sad, wondering, horrified and filled with ecstasy. He took her to him.

  And Abu Karim Ghaith Ibrahim kissed his wife.