Deadline

by Zaheera Walker

  “The results from the tests done this morning didn’t look good. The blast cells remained high. What this means is the chemotherapy didn’t destroy the cancer cells. There was also a low white cell count. The diminished antibodies will not be able to fight off infections. Your mother is going to be ill on a frequent basis now.” Sister Daniels also explained that Feriyal’s mother was too weak to undergo another therapy session that day. The second day.

  ***

  Waves crashed onto the shore. Fishermen cast nets to catch silver fish. It was the season for sardines. For a change, the fish made an appearance on Addington Beach late in July. Mothers and children filled their wicker baskets with hands full of fish, to be sold by the dozen, to fry in deep hot oil and to give containers of these sea creatures to neighboursand family.

  Feriyal watched the scene from the hospital windows. The not-so clean windows. The windows that had last sparkled in the 1960s. Maybe earlier. Her mother was sound asleep, snoring with her mouth open like she was about to catch a fly.

  She wanted to feel the salt breeze on her skin. The pier was the perfect spot to unravel her thoughts. She headed down to the beach. A sense of guilt swept over her for leaving her mother’s bedside.

  Lost in her own world, she watched birds in flight. Free and fortunate to fly high and low as they wished. She wanted to be a bird. The real world was becoming too much to handle.

  “Hello there. How’re you holding up?” That voice could only belong to one person. Dr Harris. The one who was looking after her mother. “I often come onto this pier to think. To get away from it all. It can become a bit too much sometimes.”

  Her hand moved fast to brush away the tears. “Yes. The sea is calming on frayed nerves. Just saw my mother now. Believe she had a bad night. It broke my heart to see her that way. She was a picture of health when I left yesterday afternoon. Why did it change?”

  “To watch a loved one suffer is not simple. We have to be professional, but sometimes it’s difficult. We spend so much time with patients and when they slip away it affects us a lot. There are good moments too. When we see them recover and return to their families.” Dr Harris waved the ice-cream vendor down. He ordered two Dairymaid icecream cups. Without asking Feriyal if she was keen on the vanilla flavour, he gave her one.

  They licked the creaminess off the little spoons. It was a ‘melt in your mouth’ moment. Wicked pleasures to help them forget about pain and suffering. “Look.” He scooped more ice-cream into his mouth.

  “Your mother didn’t cope well with her first treatment. But she is here for a few more days. Let’s hope for the best.” He threw his cup into the metal swing bin. “Have to go back now. My patients will miss me too much.” The Harris humour.

  ***

  Her phone vibrated in her pocket. “Hello. Feriyal speaking.” She didn’t concern herself with who was calling.

  “Hey stranger. Are you good? It’s Shane. Just in case you’re wondering.”

  His deep voice seduced her in ways she couldn’t describe.

  “Oh, hey yourself. Think I know your voice well enough. I’m good. Just at the hospital. Mum is receiving treatment for cancer. She had a bad spell last night. Her first chemotherapy session didn’t go too well.”

  Feriyal was glad to hear from him, but she didn’t want it to be too obvious.

  “Sorry to hear that. Is there anything I can do for you?” He wanted to help her through this trying time. “I can come through if you need me. I’ll always be there for you. You know that, right?”

  Well. For starters, you can give me a job, Feriyal thought. Stop it.

  “That’s very kind of you, but I have everything under control. Thanks for thinking about me.” She continued talking to him while she made her way back to the hospital. As she stepped into the lift up to the ward, the phone went dead.

  Her mother was awake. Hospital relaxed the visiting hours rule for Feriyal. They often did this for the families of ill patients.

  “Oh Ma. I missed you. Missed you so much. How are you feeling?” A sense of relief dressed itself around Feriyal.

  “I thought my life was coming to an end. There was no warning. One second, I’m feeling better. Next, I am sick. Dog sick. I was scared. Very scared.” She closed her eyes and hugged her daughter tight.

  The next round of chemotherapy was scheduled for the morning.

  The third day in hospital.

  “It’s been an exhausting day for you, Ma. Perhaps you

  can try to rest. Close your eyes. Rest your mind. Whatever keeps you calm.” Feriyal indicated she wanted to go home to pray to the Almighty. Maybe He wasn’t that cruel after all. She wanted to sit on her prayer mat. The one she had abandoned months ago. To beg Him to take away the pain. To end her mother’s suffering.

  “Thank you for remembering there is a force higher than all the rest. Off you go, then. Pray, but only for a bit. You need rest too.”

  That night was one of the longest yet. She performed her ablutions, dressed like a worshipper should. She lowered herself onto the prayer mat, facing the direction of the holy Ka’aba; the final resting place of Muhammad, last prophet of Islam and messenger of the Almighty.

  “Oh Allah, I seek forgiveness for the wrong I committed. I beg Your mercy for not being an obedient Muslim. Today, I feel like a hypocrite. I turn to you because I need your help. You have not let me down. Time and again, you carried me through the turmoil in life. Please hear my prayer. Spare my mother. I beg of you. Please remove the pain that is eating her. I put my faith in you. You are allforgiving. All-merciful. I also understand whatever happens will be for the best. Amen.”

  Her prayer ended late that night. Sleep consumed her without a blink.

  CHAPTER NINE

  A young woman is running like the wind. Trapped in a maze. She is looking for something. Looking for her. Where is she? The one who made it right? Who warmed away the chills? Shielded her from the dangers of life? Why does she play hide and seek? A soothing voice echoes and bleeds out. Is it her? The voice says it is time to leave. The words play out like a melody from a golden harp. Sweet and reassuring. A perfect cadence. Whoosh. Flying up and out of reach.

  That is why the young woman battles to find her. Then it changes. The young woman finds the One she was searching for. Draped in crisp white. Like an angel. A halo hovering above her. She looks down on the young woman. Her hand waves. It’s a final wave. Her time has ended. Her duties are complete. The young woman is scared. She knows the meaning of the wave. Goodbye.

  Alone. All that is left now is the sound of silence. It tolls like a death bell. Gong. Gong. Gong. The young woman fights to free herself. The gonging becomes loud. Louder. The young woman feels she is being sucked into a whirlpool. Her face comes into focus. She is me. Feriyal.

  ***

  It was a dream; a nightmare of horrors. One in which the woman was leaving the human world, heading for a place where there was no beginning and no end. Was this woman meant to be her mother? What made her dream such a thing? She dialled the hospital to ask if everything was all right. Tears rolled down her cheeks. Slow sad tears.

  The sister on night duty answered. “Mrs Adam had an easy night, dear. She didn’t need any pain medication. That’s a good sign. The sister is with her now helping to prep her for the chemotherapy.”

  “That’s wonderful news. Please tell her I called. Tell her I love her. I’ll be in to see her a bit later.” A slither of hope for the Adam family. A sign that all might be well.

  “I’ll do that for you, dear. Goodbye.”

  Feriyal dropped hard on the tiled floor. Relief washed over her. Next came the sobs of the earth. It rained down to clean out the house of her recovering heart. “Thank you, Almighty God. You are indeed most merciful. Most forgiving. Thank you.”

  She raised her gaze to the ceiling as if her Creator was seated above her, waiting to receive His gratitude for answering prayers.

  ***

  Travelling to and from hospital was a
marathon journey. Two buses at a time. It was beginning to take its toll on Feriyal. The pitted fear of her jobless status lingered in her stomach. Soon, everything would be resolved. Soon.

  She switched on the TV to catch up on some news. All the stations were focussed on one man. A man who was playing the ‘catch me if you can’ game with the police. A serial killer.

  He was targeting Indian women. He had killed seven women thus far. Maybe more. Experts were called in to sketch a profile. Detectives were combing the crime scenes to find clues and work out his modus operandi. Any trace. Something to help bring him to book. The North Coast of Durban was gripped by fear. Phoenix was his dumping ground.

  An SMS came through on her phone.

  ‘Urgent. Need to see u in my office. 9am sharp. S.B.’

  Why would Shane send her a cryptic message? Maybe the position on his newspaper became available sooner than he anticipated. She gathered her thoughts. Bath; dress; eat. No. No time to eat now. Maybe later.

  ***

  He was wearing out the soles of his shoes pacing in the car park. “Thanks for coming so soon. Something’s come up. I know you’d love to get your teeth into it.” Shane seemed nervous. “I’ll give you all the details once we’re in the office. Think about it. Decide if you’re up to it. Come, let’s go to the conference room.” He led the way into the building.

  “What’s going on? How am I involved? Don’t leave me guessing here.” Feriyal was eager for danger and excitement. Proud that someone had faith in her abilities.

  ***

  “Thanks for your patience, gentlemen. This is the lady I have in mind.”

  He took his seat at the table and motioned for Feriyal to do the same.

  “Oh. It’s you. Nice to know we’re not dealing with a complete stranger.”

  One of the detectives remembered her. Captain Eugene Smith. “We saw you at a few crime scenes. You’re the reporter from the Daily Voice. Nice to see you again.” There were three of them. They worked different from the others. They broke rules. Worked like devious foxes. Nice devious. They did whatever it took to get the job done. Whatever it tookto close a case. The most important thing was they made it happen at all costs. That was all that mattered in the end.

  She lowered her gaze as she felt a rush of pride surge through her.At least someone remembered her. “Hi, Officers. I’m a free agent now. No longer with the Daily Voice. Good to see you all again. What’s going on?” Feriyal recalled seeing them too. They were the top dogs. Do or die men. The untouchables. You had to be the best journalist to get close to their tight ring. Now here they were, waiting for her.

  Shane took the lead. “These detectives are investigating the serial killer case. The one on all the news services at the moment. They approached me for assistance. At first, I was hesitant, but, after hearing them out, I changed my mind. They need a committed journalist to help them bring the killer to book.” He locked her gaze, searching for signs of fear or unease. “I thought you would fit the role. You have the skills and, with a bit of grooming, you’ll be fine. There’s no pressure. If it’s too much, you can turn it down. At any time.”

  She processed everything. It could be her big break. Eyes darted from the detectives to him. She trusted Shane.

  He would never put her

  life at risk. “I’m in. More than glad to assist. From what I understand, I’ll have to go undercover.” Feriyal scanned the room and observed the three nods. “Great. I’ll do it.

  Just can’t give you my commitment now.

  Give me a few days. I have some things to sort out.”

  Her mother was ill. She needed some time to work around everything. Things that were happening lightning fast. They agreed. Then it was suggested she look through the dockets and familiarise herself with the killing patterns. The detectives mentioned such an assignment was never undertaken in Durban before – an assignment where a member of the public was used as bait to lure the target in. They also explained it was a risk to trap the killer with civilian bait. In fact, the head of the police unit was not aware of this plan. It had to stay that way.

  The detectives filed out of Shane’s office one by one, like marching soldiers.

  ***

  “You agreed to the assignment without asking about the benefits. Don’t you care what’s in it for you? Good thing I negotiated on your behalf.”

  He moved to the round table and threw a file on the desk. Thud.

  “Glad to have you watching out for me. Rewards are the last thing on my mind right now. I’m so revved up to be in the game again. So? Don’t keep me guessing. What’s in the file?” She was at the edge of her chair, eager to know.

  “You will decide how you want to pursue this. Study the information and work out a plan of action. The trap you will use to lure him in. A select team of detectives assigned to this case will help you through this. Nobody is to know about this operation. Don’t discuss it with anyone. Please. I mean anyone. My staff will be kept in the dark too. Everything has to be kept under wraps. We can’t blow this.” He stopped. He realised he was undergoing an episode of verbal diarrhoea.

  “Are you sure you want to do this? You can change your mind.”

  The adrenalin was pumping. “It’s dangerous, but journalists love the danger.”

  “I am sooo doing this. Nothing is going to stop me. No fret. No fear. Thank you for this. I owe you big time.” Feriyal could see the headlines flashing on all the billboards.

  “No. I should be thanking you. And I’ll remember to cash in on your promise. Big time too. Now back to the matter. You’ll have a bodyguard assigned to you once you start this mission. He will be instructed to keep a low profile. This has to be discreet. I can’t stress that enough. A special cell phone will be given to you. This will help the detectives keep in touch. A chip will be fitted inside the covers to pick up sound and to help locate your whereabouts if needed.”

  This was a thriller; a starring role in a movie. All the humiliation Aneel had filled her with was dissipating. Nothing lasted forever, she remembered again.

  “This is your big break. Oh there’s more. I have arranged for you to get paid a freelance rate. You’ll earn more that way. I negotiated the best deal I could. We’ll have to make it look real and, to stop eyebrows rising, you’ll just have to file a few stories per week. ” Fear filled his eyes, but there was excitement too.

  “Great. Let me take the file home, but I’m going to the hospital now to check on my mother. I’ll go through everything tonight. Make notes and call you with my plan in a few days. Is that fine?”

  He agreed. “Here, take this cash note to finance. You will get R5000 to buy whatever you need to groom yourself for the role.”

  “Thanks.” She hadn’t expected any money this soon, but was grateful to have some. “Will keep you posted. Chat soon.”

  ***

  Her mother was hooked up to oxygen, eyes closed like she was tryingto block out the pain and curled up like a little girl filled with the fear of things nobody could explain. She was a woman who reached sixty travelling through trials and tribulations. Rough seas of life. Winding roads. Now she couldn’t go any further.

  “I’m here, Ma. It pains me to see you like this.” Feriyal let herself free. She couldn’t care how loud she cried. She didn’t care who heard. These were her tears. She had the right to cry them. For her mother. “Give me your pain. You don’t deserve it.”

  “Oh my baby, Feri. My body can’t take this anymore. Take me home, please. Don’t do this to yourself. Don’t suffer like this for me.” The treatment made her feel worse. Floating hope had sunk in her world.

  “We can’t give up now. Find the strength to carry on, Ma. Let me speak to the doctor.” She left the ward to find Dr Harris. His opinion mattered. He would give sound advice. Lay it out straight. The pros on one side and cons on the other. The sisters called his cell phone. He was giving a talk at the medical school and his phone went straight to voicemail. They left a brief message about
Feriyal wanting to take her mother home. The doctor worked two shifts in a row. He was giving a lecture to fifthyear medical students. Once that was over, he was heading home to his family. An afternoon of bonding. The staff knew this, but they made that call because they were concerned.

  ***

  Dr Harris cared. That much showed when he walked into Ward C2.

  Feriyal couldn’t look at him. He was the only hope she had. Now it was slipping away.

  “You were looking for me? Well, here I am. I was at a lecture and my phone was switched off. I heard the message the sisters left me and decided to come back here.” There was a pregnant silence in the room.

  “Let’s take a walk. You must have lots on your mind.” He turned his back to her.

  She followed him like a stray dog looking for some direction. Dried tears blemished her flawless face. She sniffed, creasing the skin on her nose, then wiped her nose with the back of her hand and pretended to look for tissues in her handbag. Nothing. He handed his handkerchief to her.

  “What lies ahead for my mother? She feels helpless. Today she asked me to take her home. She doesn’t want any more pain. No more treatment either. She’s suffered enough. I can’t bear to see her this way.” She blew her nose. It cleared her thoughts too.

  “The chemotherapy didn’t do anything for her. The tests showed there was no change in the cancer cells. Not a good sign. Again, I remind you that each case is different. About ten percent of people suffering from this form of cancer don’t benefit from the treatment. Your mother…” He stopped. Could he tell her what she didn’t want to hear?

  “I’m afraid your mother is showing signs that she is part

  of that small percentage of people. The ones who become worse.”

  “I want to take her home, but I also feel like I’m denying her the right to live.” She confessed that she was confused. Desperate. Could she forgive herself if her mother died at home? Could she bear to watch her suffer in hospital? Tough choices.