Nergal yelled out commands, and there was a sharp cry of pain from one of the demons. I hoped it was Sidana.
A light shone in the distance. Another train was approaching. I looked back and two of the demons appeared around the side of a car. They spotted me and gave chase.
I hopped and stumbled over the rails. They were half-hidden in the darkness, but I couldn’t risk being careful.
The engine horn blared its warning.
The two demons dropped onto all fours to gallop.
“Stop him!” Nergal tore down the chain link near him. He knew that if I made it over the concrete wall, he’d lose me.
I ran, my eyes straight ahead, ignoring the train coming in from my left.
“Allahu Akbar, Allahu Akbar…” I repeated the takbir with every gasping breath.
The horn sounded again as I stepped on the active track.
I was just about to clear it when I heard Nergal roar behind me.
A god surge exploded from him. He threw out a wave of pestilence and decay. The air turned thick and foul, as if I’d been dipped into a cesspit. The vegetation, feeble as it was, died, and the earth cracked open.
Sparks flew as the rusty rails tore from their fixings. Metal screamed against metal.
The oncoming locomotive came off the twisting tracks.
The massive wheels tore deep trenches into the hard soil, the engine screamed, and my world contracted to noise and the stark, blinding headlight.
The momentum was unstoppable. The engine had to weigh at least twenty tons, and there were dozens of boxcars behind it, each one shoving it forward.
I managed to get to my feet, but I knew it was too late. The train swung around as it slid; then it began to roll, showering me with gravel and debris.
I wasn’t afraid; I was sorry. My past didn’t flash before my eyes—they were too blinded by the headlights—but the future I’d never have did. Would Belet survive? What would happen to my parents? Who was going to stop Nergal?
And yet…and yet…there was one thing that made me smile.
“I’m coming, Mo.”
The train hit. I didn’t feel anything.
“POOR KID,” SAID A TIRED-SOUNDING VOICE. “YOU CAN put up a thousand warning signs and still they jump the fence.”
“They’re young. Think they’re gonna live forever,” replied a gruff, second voice.
“This one ain’t.”
The second guy sighed. “They’ll shut down the whole system after this.”
“At least he didn’t go under the wheels.” The tired voice continued. “I’ve seen worse.”
“Dead is dead,” said the gruff voice.
What was going on? What had happened? I had a bad feeling about this.…
“Yes, I knew him. Sikander Aziz. He was my friend,” said…a girl.
But who? It was hard to make sense of all this, and yet I recognized the voice.
“Aziz?” asked an older voice. “Do you know his parents?”
“They’re in the hospital. You’ve heard about the recent outbreak? They’re victims of that.”
“Oh. I thought the name rang a bell. Patients zero, aren’t they?”
“Something like that.”
“Thank you, Miss…?”
“Belet. Just Belet.”
“No last name? Guess that’s modern parents for you.”
“Quite the opposite,” said Belet. Then footsteps receded and a door opened and closed.
The older voice hummed. “Sikander Aziz. Tag him and let’s break for lunch.”
A really bad feeling…
I awoke and instantly banged my head as I tried to sit up.
Where was I? There was no light, and I could barely move. I was in some kind of freezing-cold metal box. I hit the ceiling a few inches above me. “Hey!”
What was I wrapped in? Definitely not Ishtar’s silk sheets. And why did I stink of antiseptic?
I realized I was in a clear plastic bag. I started to panic. “Hey!”
Someone shouted, and there was a crash.
I kicked hard even as I clawed at the bag. “Let me out!”
My tiny dark prison shook, and I was suddenly dragged out into the light. Someone fumbled for the bag zipper and pulled it down. I blinked, and when the blur gave way to clarity, I met the horrified gaze of a man wearing glasses and a white lab coat.
I sat up. “Is this some sort of prank? I could have suffocated in there!”
He stumbled backward and grabbed a chair for support. “I assure you it’s not. We don’t pull pranks down here.”
I was in a surgical room of some sort. Two metal tables dominated the center of the space and one was…occupied.
By a body. That was opened up.
“Where am I?” Though I was beginning to have a pretty good idea.
“The fridge,” the man mumbled, backing away from me. “I mean, the morgue.”
“And…why?” Though I was beginning to have a pretty good idea about that, too.
“You were…You were brought here. There was…an accident at the…at the rail yard.” He clutched his chest. “Oh, dear.”
“And you are…?” I turned around slowly. The wall behind me was made up of a dozen steel drawers.
“Dr. Brian Walker. I’m…I’m the city coroner,” he said, turning a little pale. “I think I…I…”
“Did Daoud put you up to this?” I swung myself off the drawer. “And where are my clothes?”
“I’m feeling faint.” He sank into his chair, his pallor turning gray. Which was not a good color on him.
And while on the subject of not-good colors, I caught my reflection in the shiny chrome drawers. I was a mess of multicolored bruises and bore so many cuts it looked like I’d been tattooed in cuneiform. I turned my plastic shroud into a kilt and jumped from one foot to another on the chilly floor. The cold was the only thing stopping me from freaking out.
The old guy panted. “Oh, dear,” he said again.
On the counter, I spotted a file with my name on the tab. I opened it to see the word crushed on the top line, so I decided not to read the rest. The lion ring Ishtar had given me sat in a tray along with my house keys and the broken pieces of my phone. I took the ring, and as I searched the rest of the counter, I found the guy’s packed lunch. I helped myself to an apple and saw another smartphone nearby. “Can I borrow this?”
“Excuse me, young man,” he murmured. “Could you get a nurse? My chest feels very…tight. I think I’m going into cardiac arrest.”
I poked my head out the door and saw a nurse at the end of the corridor. She dropped her coffee cup when I said, “Hey! The guy in here’s not feeling so good.”
I ducked back into the lab and, trying hard to avoid looking at the body on the table, opened the cabinet doors under the counter instead. I found a bag of blue scrubs and a pair of black sneakers.
“She’ll be right with you,” I told the old guy.
But when I peeked outside the room again, the nurse hadn’t moved. She just stared at me, agape. I smiled at her. “I’d hurry if I were you. And is there a restroom nearby?”
She gestured down the side corridor, her hands shaking. “Third door on the left.” Then she backed away, giving me a wide berth, only turning to dash into the morgue at the last moment.
I scurried barefoot into the restroom. I checked to make sure it was empty, then punched a number into the phone. It rang twice.
“Who’s this?” answered Belet. “How did you get this number?”
I never thought I’d say this, but I was genuinely happy to hear her voice. “Belet, it’s me. Sik.”
“Sik?” asked Belet. “Is this a joke?”
“Apparently not, according to the coroner.”
“Who is this?” snapped Belet. “I don’t find this remotely funny.”
“Meet me at the masjid,” I continued, ripping open the scrubs bag.
It went quiet on the other end.
“Belet?”
“Is it
really you?” she whispered.
“It really is. How soon can you get to Dar al-Islam?” I picked up the pair of sneakers.
“No, not there. It might be confusing,” she said. “Imam Khan is leading Salat al-Janazah prayers, for you.”
I pressed the sneakers against my soles to size them up. “Why? You only say them when someone’s…”
A tag dangled from my big toe.
SIKANDER AZIZ. AGE 13. DOA.
“Oh,” I said. “Yeah, that could be awkward.”
“You think?” replied Belet. “There’s a Wendy’s near the masjid. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
“Don’t be late.” I stared at the tag, rereading it over and over, hoping the words might magically change. “I’ve had a strange day.”
“WILL YOU STOP THAT?” I SAID AS I SHOVELED IN MY fourth helping of baklava.
“Stop what?” asked Belet.
“Staring at me like…like you’ve seen a ghost.” Wow, the fourth piece was as good as the first. I wondered how a fifth might taste? Only one way to find out.…
There had been a hug, albeit a pretty awkward one. It was hard to know what to say in this kind of situation. Then Belet had taken me straight to a discreet boutique hotel called Nineveh, whose manager had been great friends with Ishtar. We went up to the penthouse suite, no questions asked. It was decorated in the goddess’s flawless style, with elegant furniture, tables from Versailles, linens from Egypt, lacquered cabinets out of Beijing, and masterpieces covering the lapis-lazuli-tiled walls, including a portrait of Ishtar by a guy named Matisse. Kasusu had been thrust halfway into the wall and Belet’s jacket was hanging off the hilt. She had rustled up some clothes for me, so now I was less “off the slab” and more “off the runway” with a T-shirt from Dior that went on like a second skin, a sleek black quilted jacket, dark gray jeans, and the most comfy kicks I’d ever worn.
She passed me the whole plate. “Tell me again, what’s the last thing you remember?”
I picked the top slice of the sticky treat. “Staring at a huge bright light.”
Her eyes widened. “It wasn’t…heaven?”
“Nope. The train’s headlights.” I licked the honey off my fingers. “These are really good. Are they from the Izmir Canteen?”
“Never mind that,” said Belet. “And afterward?”
I shook my head. “Nothing. Not really. Not until I woke up in the morgue.”
“You were dead, Sik.”
“People get declared dead by accident all the time,” I replied, helping myself to the last of the baklava.
“Not those flattened by trains.”
Couldn’t argue with that. Somehow, my body had not only survived but been rejuvenated. My cuts and bruises had almost disappeared. How? Had Ishtar put some kind of spell on me? It hurt my head to think about, so I concentrated on a more pressing concern. I looked at the empty plate. “Got anything else to eat? I’m starving.”
Belet slid over a bowl of fruit. “Probably because you’ve not eaten in three days.” She peered closer at me. “Are you sure you’re not part—”
“Wait. I’ve been”—I couldn’t bring myself to use the d-word—“resting for three days?!”
“A lot has happened. We’ve got poxies loose in the city.”
“Poxies? What’re those? They sound cute.”
Belet shook her head. “They’re anything but. Poxies is the nickname they’re giving those who’ve come down with a new disease. The luckier ones ride it out. They get sick for just a short while. They’ll be feverish, have terrible nightmares and hallucinations.”
“They’re the lucky ones?” I said.
“The worst cases cause mutation. Some might grow boils or develop black lumps, but others suffer from warped bones and muscles—even their skulls change shape, and new limbs grow where they shouldn’t.” Belet grimaced. “Eventually the buzzing begins. It sounds like a thousand flies are breeding in your ear canals. It drives the victim insane—insane and consumed with an unquenchable rage. Some can resist it, but not many.”
I thought of the dockworkers, and Nergal’s plague dogs. He’d promised something worse than them. The baklava roiled in my stomach. “My parents…Do you think they…?”
Belet put her hand on mine. “Stable, but it’s impossible to go see them. Manhattan General is overwhelmed, as is every hospital in the city. People are trying to get off the island before the mayor declares a lockdown tonight. After last time, he’s not taking any chances.”
I pushed aside the fruit. “I’m starting to wish I’d stayed in that drawer.”
“That’s not all.” Belet grimaced. “You’ll want to know about the swarms.”
“I probably won’t, but tell me anyway.”
“Gigantic clouds of flies,” she said, showing me a video clip on her phone. A shifting black mass hung low over Manhattan. “Wall Street is infested with them.”
Just then one of the bedroom doors opened and Daoud came out, yawning and wearing a full cucumber face mask, so it had to be Thursday. “Will you keep it down? I’m trying to sleep. The nutrients need three solid hours to soak in.”
Okay, I have to admit I was happy to see him. “Salaam, Daoud.”
Cucumber slices fell off his eyes and rolled on the floor. “Alhamdulillah! Sik!” Daoud leaped over the sofa and attacked me. He got green paste all over my cheek and hair as he wrapped me in those big arms of his until I couldn’t breathe. “I knew it wasn’t you!”
“Knew…who…wasn’t me?” I gasped for air in his embrace. Those muscles weren’t just for show after all.
He let go eventually and shed a few real tears. “The police got my number from your school—I’m an emergency contact, I guess. They called to say they’d found…a body. I met them at the morgue, but I couldn’t bear to do the identification, so I called Belet. She did it instead.”
Belet looked at me. “I guess I made a mistake. Seems you’re hard to kill.”
“You made Belet do that?” I asked Daoud. The warm and fuzzy effect of his hug had already worn off. “And then I suppose you wormed your way into this penthouse?”
Daoud started to protest. “She offered—”
Belet cut him off with a wave of her hand. “It’s okay. He didn’t have anywhere else to go.”
“Somehow, Daoud, you always manage to avoid getting your hands dirty,” I said. “You leave the hard work to everybody else, just like at the deli.”
Daoud hung his head. “I’m sorry I left you back on Venus Street,” he said. “I didn’t know Ishtar was going to…”
“Die?” I blurted angrily. “Sorry, Belet,” I added when I saw her wince. “But Daoud needs to face facts. She’s gone, and now Nergal is stronger than ever.”
“I’m not stupid!” he snapped. “I want to help. Help you, your parents, Ishtar, and—”
His phone rang.
I ignored it. “Nergal isn’t just some steroid-pumped thug. He’s much more. In fact, he’s—”
“Can you hold that thought just a minute?” Daoud interrupted me, checking his screen. “It’s my agent.”
“Daoud, this is important!”
“So’s this!” He waved the phone in front of me. “Look! That’s a Hollywood area code!”
“So, what terrorist role do they have for you?” I snapped. Every time I hoped Daoud might finally rise to the challenge, something like this happened. “Iranian? Another Afghan? Or are Pakistanis the bad guys of the month?”
“I’m not taking any more of those roles,” said Daoud. Then he took the call. “Claire! How’s life on the West Coast? What have you got for me?”
Forget him, I thought. I turned back to Belet. We didn’t need him.
“Oh,” said Daoud. “Yes, I can do a Mexican accent. Why?” His shoulders slumped as he continued. “Okay. Audition at four. I’ll be there. Bye.”
He gazed sadly at the screen. For once he didn’t seem to be checking his reflection in it. “I’ve got to go. New gig. Isn’t that great
?” He looked anything but excited.
“What is it?”
“Oh, drug dealer.” He pushed his lips into a broad, fake smile. “But, hey, that’s how Benicio del Toro started out, and now look at him!”
“Mabrook, I guess?” Despite my anger, I felt a twinge of pity for the guy. “Maybe you’ll be the hero in the next one?”
“Heroes don’t come in this shade, Sik.” He retreated into his bedroom to get ready.
Sure, Daoud and I had history, but none of it had been great. He’d been closer to Mo in age, so they’d spent a lot of time together. In fact, everyone had assumed they were brothers. I’m not above admitting that had made me jealous sometimes.…
But that was my problem, not his. I couldn’t blame Daoud for the mess we were in, especially as Ishtar had used him as bait. Though he could be incredibly annoying, he wasn’t a bad person. It was just that everyone else came second to his dreams of fame and fortune.
I met Belet’s gaze. “I’m sorry about your mom.”
“She threw her sword away,” said Belet. She stared somewhere beyond me, as if reliving the moment.
“To save me,” I reminded her.
Belet’s eyes snapped back to mine. “Let’s hope it was worth it.”
“Belet, you’re in a low place—the lowest. I know how it feels, I really do.”
“You really don’t. My mother was an immortal goddess. You cannot compare her life to your brother’s. No offense.”
I took a deep, deep breath. “Okay, I’ll give you a pass on that, but only this once. If you ever say anything about my brother again, you’ll be left with absolutely zero friends in the universe.”
Belet didn’t know how to react to that. She didn’t know how to process any of this. Ishtar had gone to great lengths to protect her adopted daughter. And Belet had grown up trying to be perfect for Ishtar. Belet had never had to learn how to pick herself up, because she’d never fallen down.
Somehow I needed to get her back on her feet, back to being badass, with her talent for extreme violence fully functioning. So I spoke to the one who knew her best. “Do you have anything to say, Kasusu?”
The steel hummed. Its edge reflected light, spraying the wall with a rainbow. “Yes, I do. Now listen to me, Belet. And sit up straight when I’m talking to you.”
City of the Plague God Page 14
