City of the Plague God

by Sarwat Chadda

  Then Sargon leaped away, twisting in the air to land sure-footed on the marble floor among the fallen armor. He glanced at me—I swear he smirked—then settled down to lick his paws.

  And that’s when Belet returned, carrying a pair of wooden swords. She considered us warily. “How’s it going?”

  Kasusu gave his opinion. “The boy’s going to die quickly and painfully in the first fight he’s in. Though some of his enemies might also die…from laughing.”

  Belet sighed, then looked over at me. “At least we tried.”

  “That’s it?” And here I’d thought she was smart. My bad.

  “Ah…” Belet tossed the wooden swords in the corner. “At the very least I could turn you from a hopeless warrior into a merely useless one. But it would have the same result: You’d get killed in your first serious fight. Best not to encourage you. Next time you face an enemy, just shout really loud.”

  “I get it. To harness my internal strength, right?”

  “So I might hear you and come running and save you.”

  That hurt, ego-wise. “Not even a pirouette hook kick?”

  “You know what you’d get if you tried that?” she asked. “Groin strain.”

  IT WAS WEIRD NOT BEING ABLE TO GO BACK TO SCHOOL on Monday morning. I thought I’d feel happy about it, but when I tried to text my friends, they didn’t even answer. It was as if they thought they could catch something over the internet.

  I really wanted to go to see Mama and Baba, but I was sure that the moment I walked back into Manhattan General they’d seal me up in plastic and chuck me into deep quarantine for the rest of my life. I didn’t know what to do with myself. Belet was arguing with her mother—I think it was about the dolphins in the swimming pool. Best to stay clear of that family drama.

  Instead, I found Daoud admiring himself in a standing mirror. “Hey, cuz. What d’you think?” He turned slowly, his arms spread out so I could admire his new suit from all angles. The dark blue shimmered like the deep sea, as if there were infinite depths within the color, and needless to say, it looked amazing on him. “You should have seen the price tag, but it’s a Bertrand. Ishtar gave it to me.”

  “It’s just a suit, Daoud.”

  “That’s like saying a Ferrari is just an automobile.”

  “You going somewhere, or just wearing a hole in that carpet while you preen?”

  He stopped. “What’ve you got in mind?”

  What else was there? “See Mama and Baba. Somehow.”

  He nodded. “I’ll go with. Let me change into something less fabulous.”

  The subway wasn’t running, due to an electrical fire that had knocked out half the system. So we cut across Washington Square Park. From there it was a long walk east to Manhattan General. I didn’t know how I’d get in to see my parents, but Daoud brushed off my worries. Apparently, he had a plan.

  “Mo taught me how to ride a bike in this park,” I said as we crossed the street.

  “He tried to teach me the names of all the flowers,” said Daoud. “In Latin, of course. I never got even one right. A flower’s a flower, right? It’s pretty and smells nice, and that’s enough.”

  “Is that your feeling about people, too?”

  “Beauty’s got to be preserved, Sik.”

  “Don’t you want to do something more…meaningful with your life, Daoud? You and Mo were always hanging out together—you could have gone with him to Iraq. Helped people.”

  “He never asked me, Sik. Can you believe that?”

  Actually, I could. He’d never invited me, either.

  Then Daoud threw open his arms as if trying to embrace Manhattan. “But who could ever tire of all this?”

  We reached the Washington Square Arch and stopped. “Something weird is happening here,” I said.

  Men were working with chain saws to take down the trees. Backhoes were pulling up stumps. People stared at the destruction, and one group was loudly confronting a police officer who was trying to make sure no one got killed by falling branches.

  I stopped an elderly woman walking a small dog. “What’s going on?”

  “It’s such a shame,” she said, sniffling. “They say it’s a blight—the trees are diseased. They have to chop them all down. Those beautiful trees.”

  And it wasn’t just the trees. The flower beds had shriveled up and were crawling with the fattest, slimiest slugs I’d ever seen. Green gunk dribbled out of the fountain, and they’d cordoned off the arch with warning signs. A chunk had fallen off a corner and lay shattered into a thousand pieces on the ground.

  “When did that happen?” I asked her, pointing to the arch.

  “Last night, during a concert,” she said. “It’s a miracle no one was killed.”

  What had Ishtar said? Nergal likes to play his cruel little games.

  Tears glistened on the woman’s pale cheeks as a huge tree was heaved out of the soil. “My husband proposed to me by that oak.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m sure they’ll replant.”

  She just sighed, and her dog pulled her away.

  Daoud took my arm. “C’mon, cuz. It’s too sad here.”

  “Leave all the talking to me, okay?” Daoud warned as we crossed the front lobby of Manhattan General. “We’re just gonna act like we belong here.”

  I’d never seen it this crowded. People were camped out on the floor and along the corridors, and the line for any kind of vaccination was out the door and down the steps. Every staff member wore PPE, and I’d spotted two EMTs in full hazmat suits coming out of an ambulance.

  Daoud nudged me. “Keep your head down and hood up.”

  I saw why. My face was on every health warning poster in the hospital. They’d used my school photo from last year, when I’d had the worst acne breakout imaginable. It had all cleared up suddenly afterward, but at that unique moment, my face was a mass of cherry-red—and cherry-size—zits. “I look like I’m about to explode.”

  “You have. You’ve gone viral—for real.” Daoud handed me his phone. “You’re trending higher than the Kardashian baby.”

  “What? Me?”

  “Hashtag PlagueBoy. Mabrook—fame at last.” Daoud frowned. “I must admit, I’m kinda jealous, cuz.”

  “Because everyone thinks I’m one of the horsemen of the Apocalypse?”

  “Horsemen of what? Is that a Western?” Then Daoud punched the button for the elevator. “Fame is fame. Enjoy it while it lasts.”

  We got in and headed to the isolation ward at the top of the building. What would be waiting for us up there? A knot tightened in my guts. How would I even get to see my parents? “So, what’s your plan, Daoud?”

  He held out a pair of thick-framed glasses. “This. Geek Chic.” He put them on and, using the mirror, parted his hair on the opposite side. “It’s Archetype Number Fifteen: The Mousy Hottie.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You know, the nerd in the front of the classroom who everyone ignores…” He rolled up his pants so they were way above his ankles. “But then, on the night of the prom, he has a makeover, takes off his glasses, does a hair flick”—which he demonstrated—“and suddenly…Ya salam! He’s stunningly gorgeous! Who knew?” He adjusted the glasses so they were slightly askew on his nose. “Geek Chic is what I do.”

  The elevator stopped. We were on the top floor. “This is so not going to work.”

  “Trust me, I’m an actor.”

  Like I had a choice. I glanced around the corner. The nurse was a big, burly guy with tattoos on his hairy forearms. “I don’t think he’s your target audience.”

  “You’d be surprised about my target audience, Sik.”

  And in we went.

  “You’re not allowed up here,” said the nurse. He didn’t even look up from his screen.

  Daoud cleared his throat loudly. “S’cuse me? S’cuse me? Need doctor?” He spoke in an unrecognizable accent. Sort of Mediterranean, sort of Indian, and sort of I-have-no-idea.

  The nu
rse snapped his fingers and pointed back the way we came. “Press the big button with a one on it. You’ll find all the doctors you want, pal.”

  Daoud turned and elbowed the vase of flowers off the countertop. He cried out and grabbed them just before they spilled all over the nurse’s lap.

  “Hey!” yelled the nurse, jumping up.

  “S’cuse! S’cuse!” cried Daoud, still juggling the vase, each time almost dropping it on the nurse, no matter which way the guy jumped.

  “Give me that!” The nurse reached out for the flowers and…

  There they stood, both holding the vase, face-to-face, Daoud’s specs precariously balanced on his nose.

  “Your glasses are about to fall off,” the nurse said softly.

  “S’cuse?”

  The frames clattered to the floor, and the nurse got the full impact of Daoud’s big brown eyes and lusciously thick eyelashes, which he batted.

  All the while Daoud’s hair had fallen out of its neat side parting, and now it looked perfectly disheveled. I mean perfectly. He gave it a slight flick to shake his bangs out of his dreamy eyes.

  The nurse actually sighed. “Look. I’ll take you down to the first floor and find you a doctor.”

  He didn’t even turn back to me—all his attention was on Daoud. I flattened myself against the wall and held my breath to be less noticeable.

  Daoud put the vase back and collected his frames. He winked at me as the nurse led him to the elevator. Daoud held up the fingers of one hand just as the doors slid shut.

  I had about five minutes. I needed to be quick.

  I hardly recognized them. Mama and Baba lay within their airtight sterile chambers, buried under tubes and cables and lit only by the wall of monitors. IVs dangled next to their beds, respirators breathed for them, tubes fed them, and what little life they had left was kept going by machines. They’d lost weight and their muscles had withered on their bones. They were so pale.

  I felt useless. I couldn’t even reach out and touch them. I put my hands on the glass, hoping that some minute tremor, some tiny feeling, might travel through to them. My heart raced, and I wanted them to feel it beating. I’d tear it out for them right now if it would give them a chance to make it through another day.

  “Salaamu alaikum, Mama. Salaam, Baba. I just want you to know I’m here. I’ll get you out of here, I promise. You just hang in there a little longer. Please, you’ve got to stay with me. You have to.”

  I wasn’t going to say good-bye. That would be giving up. That would be me saying I was a loser, and that my parents didn’t have the strength to make it through. They did. They were the strongest people I knew.

  I couldn’t stand to lose the only heroes I had left.

  “What am I going to do without you?” I asked them.

  But it was my brother who answered. You’ll find a way to save them, Sik.

  “How? You were the smart one. My job is frying the onions. You should be here to save them, and then you could all live happily ever after.”

  They will live happily ever after. You’ll save them.

  “But how?”

  The door swung open behind me. The nurse was back too soon. “Listen, I’m sorry,” I said, “but I got lost—”

  A fly settled on the glass.

  I spun around, fists clenched. “Get out, right now!”

  The demon Idiptu took off his bowler hat as he waddled in on his thick bowed legs. He shivered. “I hate hospitals. Too many…cures.”

  “Get out,” I growled.

  “I ain’t here for mischief, mate. I’m here ’cause the boss wants me to pass on a message.” Then he shrugged. “Awright, a threat.” He put his hand on the glass, smearing it with whatever foul fluid passed for his sweat. “Aw, ain’t it tragic?” he said, peering at my parents. “And they were so peachy just a few days ago.”

  I could take a lot, deal with a lot, and turn the other cheek. I’d spent my life trying to avoid trouble, staying away from confrontation, but he was threatening my parents. I grabbed his head and slammed it against the glass.

  Idiptu snarled and shoved me off. His eyes blazed with yellow fury, and his body quivered. “Normally I’d rip your arms off for that.”

  “Come and try it.” I shook with a rage I’d never felt before. I could see my parents past his shoulder, and there was no way I was letting him get to them. No way.

  Idiptu ran his long, disgusting tongue over his lips and face. The slime congealed on his cheeks and forehead, glistening sickly in the low light. He wasn’t used to anyone standing up to him, at least not in a long while.…

  “I know a story, but I’m fuzzy on the details. Maybe you can help me fill them in.” I really wished I had my wok. “It’s about Gilgamesh.”

  Idiptu twitched. His eyes narrowed to slits, and even through that thin gap, I could see his hatred for the name. “He’s long gone.”

  “But there are tales of him wrestling Enkidu, killing the Bull of Heaven, and facing down some huge demon in a forest—cutting him clean in half, if I remember right.” I smiled. “You must have met him at some point.”

  “And what if I did?” spat Idiptu. It might have happened thousands of years ago, but clearly the encounter still rankled.

  “So tell me…” I leaned closer so I could whisper. “How hard did he kick your butt?” I could hear his teeth grinding. My smile broadened. “It still hurts, doesn’t it? Is that why you walk like that?”

  We glazed at each other until Idiptu, with difficulty, forced himself to relax. He brushed off his sleeves. “Give the boss what he wants and we’ll leave your parents alone. You may be able to hide behind Ishtar’s skirts, but these two? They’re stuck here. The boss just needs to”—he snapped his fingers—”and it’s bye-bye, dear old mum and dad.”

  He was bluffing. Reading demons is easier than reading people. People have so many things going on in their brain simultaneously that you have to work hard to figure out what they really want. Demons are much simpler. They only know how to make people afraid.

  So I laughed. “Your boss can stuff his deal.”

  “What did you say?” growled Idiptu. Guess he wasn’t used to getting back talk.

  “You heard me.” The fly crept along the glass as if looking for a crack so it could go in and feed on my parents. I slammed my palm on it.

  Idiptu’s eyes widened in shock. “How dare—”

  “Shut up,” I said matter-of-factly. “Now listen to me. If you or any of your fly-infested friends come within a hundred yards of my parents again, I will make sure your boss never ever gets his prize.” I really wished I knew what that prize was, but I didn’t want to reveal my ignorance to the toad. “From now on, I’m going to make it my life’s work to be the”—I wiped my palm on his lapel—“fly in his hummus.”

  Idiptu ground his teeth. He was a degree or two from erupting, but I didn’t care. I wanted to fight him. I may not have had any skill, but I had a belly full of rage.

  “This ain’t over,” snarled the toad demon.

  “You got that right,” I replied.

  “WHY WON’T YOU TELL ME WHAT YOU’RE UP TO, Mother?” yelled Belet from down the hall. “Or is it all just clubbing and shopping trips?”

  “Please, Belet,” replied Ishtar wearily. “It’s all part of the plan.”

  “So how much progress have you made in finding Nergal?” Belet asked.

  “Hush, Belet. Mother knows best.”

  “Why don’t you share anything with me anymore?”

  The kitchen door swung open, and they stared at me in surprise, as if it were unusual to find a teenage boy rummaging through the refrigerator at almost dinnertime. Ishtar rallied instantly by dropping her Dior purse on the countertop. “And how was your day, Sikander?”

  “I saw my parents,” I said. “And that toad demon, Idiptu.”

  “What?” exclaimed Belet.

  “He must have been waiting there, knowing I’d turn up to see my parents sooner or later.”


  “Which is why you need to stay away,” Belet continued. “You’re lucky to be alive.”

  “What did he want, Sikander?” Ishtar looked intrigued. “To make a deal?”

  “Yeah, er, how did you know?”

  “That is Nergal’s way,” she said. “He’ll fill you with self-doubt, fear, and paranoia, and even inspire betrayal. The mind suffers illnesses, too.”

  “So what happened?” asked Belet, looking amazed that I was here, all my limbs still attached.

  “I slammed his head against the window.”

  Ishtar smiled. “There is a fighter in you after all.”

  “He was threatening my mom and dad.” I tried not to tremble just thinking about it. “But if it had come to a fight, he would have torn me apart.”

  Ishtar looked around the kitchen, bemused. “Anyone know where the hot chocolate is?”

  Belet sighed. “Third cupboard on the left.”

  “Ah.” Ishtar took out the tin and handed it over to Belet. “Could you be a sweetie and make three mugs?”

  Belet glared at her. “You don’t know how to make hot chocolate? Really?”

  “I’m sorry I don’t know how to make hot chocolate! Does that make me a bad mother?”

  There was a long and awkward silence after that. Belet was biting her tongue so hard I was surprised it didn’t bleed. Then she huffed and headed for the teakettle.

  “‘Gilgamesh lied’…” said Ishtar as we gathered around the table with our drinks. “Why would Nergal write that? I cannot imagine what my brother-in-law is thinking. Gilgamesh wasn’t the sort of hero who needed to lie about anything.”

  That wasn’t exactly what Kasusu believed. I probably shouldn’t have, but I asked, “Are you sure? I understand you two didn’t get along very well…even though you’re the goddess of love. It doesn’t make sense.”

  Ishtar’s eyes narrowed. “But that was how it was.”

  “Why would anyone reject you?” I asked.

  “Why indeed?” said Ishtar. It might have been my imagination, but she looked a little tense. “Perhaps Gilgamesh did lie to Nergal about something, but whatever it was, it has nothing to do with me. What we do know is Nergal came to your home, Sikander, and he firmly believes that you, or more accurately, your brother, Mohammed, stole something.”