City of the Plague God

by Sarwat Chadda

  Had he known it was the flower of immortality? If only its sap had seeped into his system instead of mine!

  “Why couldn’t you have been more careful?” I asked him. “You never paid attention to what was happening right in front of you. Always had your head in the clouds.”

  What’s that supposed to mean?

  I stuffed the shopping bag under my jacket. It was just made of loose netting, so hardly waterproof. “Nothing. It’s just…”

  Just what?

  “Why did I have to stay behind?” I snapped.

  But you love the deli!

  “Like I have a choice! But did it ever occur to you that I might have wanted to go with you? Even for a week? Even for just a few days?”

  Why didn’t you say something, Yakhi?

  Belet stepped into the street, nearly getting hit by a cab, but it didn’t stop for her. I hoped the cookies hadn’t gotten wet. Gilgamesh made great cookies.

  Sik?

  “Fine, I guess we have to discuss this right now. Did you ever offer to stay and take care of the deli? Just once? Mama’s and Baba’s eyes were always filled with dreams of Iraq, and you fanned those dreams. They couldn’t say no to you. All those evenings the three of you talked about home. Baghdad, Basra, Nineveh, and all the sites you’d visit here, there, everywhere.”

  A cab finally rolled up.

  You could have joined in.

  “How?” I hurried over. “Iraq wasn’t my home.”

  Belet and I squeezed into the back, and I gave the cabbie the address. He turned for the long, slow drive down the West Side Highway.

  “I hope your mom left you enough money for this ride,” I said to Belet. “It could end up costing hundreds by the time we get there.”

  “See this?” Belet held up a black credit card. “The stars will grow cold before it runs out of funds.” She turned her attention to the news feed on the TV in the partition.

  I stared at the raindrops as they slid down the window. It was weird to see so few lights on in the stores and restaurants.

  Had it really been like that? Me an outsider in my own family, always lesser than my big brother, the apple of my parents’ eyes? Mo must have had his own struggles, but it had seemed to me that everything had always come easily to him. I hadn’t been around to witness the defeats, only his victories, while I ran behind on my little legs, trying to catch up, asking him to wait up as he sprinted off on his adventures.

  “Look, you’re famous.” Belet pointed at the screen.

  My old school photo gazed back at me. The one with all the zits.

  The mayor was giving a press conference. I turned up the volume.

  “…can confirm that the disease spreading through Midtown did originate with an Iraqi family, the Azizes, who, until recently, ran a deli on Fifteenth and Siegel. The entire block has been quarantined, and the residents admitted to Manhattan General. However, there is no word on the whereabouts of Sikander Aziz, thirteen years old and a potential patient zero. The health authorities have been searching for him since his disappearance from the hospital last week. If anyone has any information regarding his present whereabouts, please call the tip line at—”

  I quickly turned down the volume, but it was too late. The cabbie was already looking at me in the rearview mirror. “You’re him, aren’t you?”

  Uh-oh.

  The driver’s eyes went wide, and he put his hand over his nose and mouth. “I’ve seen you on TV! You’re the plague boy!” He slammed on the brakes, almost throwing us from our seats. “Get out of my cab!”

  “Hey, hang on a minute. I—”

  “Out! Now!”

  “I am not the plague boy!” I yelled back, but he had already jumped out and was on the street, shouting and pointing at my window.

  “That’s him! The plague boy! He’s the one spreading all the pox! Get the cops!”

  People started crowding around the taxi, peering in, snapping photos with their phones, making me feel I was something from a freak show.

  Belet pulled the door handle. “We’re leaving.”

  The crowd backed off the moment the door opened.

  “It’s him! He’s all over the news! The plague boy!” shouted the cabbie. “They’ll have to burn my cab! I just finished paying it off!”

  “There is nothing wrong with me!” I shouted, but it was clear no one believed me or was willing to take the risk. The onlookers kept their distance but didn’t leave, both afraid and curious. The trouble was, the crowd was getting thicker and we were trapped in the middle of it.

  “The plague boy!” someone shouted. “He’s got leprosy!”

  “Look! You can see the black boils! He’s gone bubonic!”

  “It’s Ebola for sure!”

  Belet shoved someone aside, but it did no good; the crowd was five layers deep.

  “All right!” I yelled. “Get out of the way before I cough all over you!”

  Now that cleared a space.

  We sprinted through, but everyone around me was yelling, “Plague boy!” until it felt as if it was coming from every direction and the city was placing me under a curse. The gawkers fell over themselves to get away, and some were trampled. A woman screamed as I brushed past her, and folks started fleeing from her as if she were infected with some fatal disease.

  “This is insane,” I said.

  “Forget it,” Belet said over her shoulder as she continued running.

  Yeah, forget it. We’d get the flower, and by this time tomorrow, everything would be back to normal. Mama and Baba would be cured, and we could get back to reopening the deli.

  We turned the last corner, and Belet glanced around. “Where’s the garden?”

  “Just a little farther,” I said, taking the lead.

  I’d come here a lot when Mo was around. Carting trays of plants, or gardening tools, or bags of topsoil for him. It was the only time I got in touch with nature. These days I avoided the place, because the memories hurt. I’d planted Mo’s cutting two years ago and hardly visited after that.

  We stopped in front of a high gate.

  “This wasn’t here last time.” I peered through it, down the alley leading to the garden. A truck blocked my view.

  We read the large sign on the fence:

  SABAH CONSTRUCTION

  LUXURY CONDOS IN THE HEART OF GREENWICH VILLAGE

  COMING SOON!

  The truck honked, then started reversing as a workman joined us. “Step aside, kids,” he warned as he unchained the gate. “Come on, Bill! Straight back!”

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  “Can’t you tell?” He motioned for the truck to keep going. “Tight schedule, too, and a fat bonus if we finish early.”

  “What about the garden? There was a community garden here.”

  “Yeah, a small one,” he said. “We paved over it last month to make room for the parking lot.”

  The truck rolled past, clogging the narrow alleyway with its oily exhaust.

  The guy waved the driver off, then shrugged. “It’s not like anyone cared about it, right?”

  I COULDN’T BELIEVE IT. THE CITY WAS DOOMED BECAUSE of a parking lot. No! It couldn’t end like this!

  I turned away from the fence. “We need to go back to Gilgamesh and persuade him to fight. It’s the only way.”

  “He won’t. It’s down to us,” said Belet. Her disappointment had instantly turned to steely determination. “I’m off to kill Nergal.”

  “Are you that desperate to follow your mom to the netherworld?”

  She clenched her fists. “We wouldn’t be in this mess if you’d looked after the garden.” Belet stood before me, our noses inches apart, so I could register the fury burning in her eyes. “You broke your promise to your brother, and now we’re all going to pay for it.”

  “Guess what? I’m about to break another promise right now.” I stepped away. “Good-bye and have a great life.”

  “What do you mean?”

  I was too mad
to stop the words from coming out. “Ishtar made me promise to stick with you. But if you’re going to be—”

  “You’re only my friend because you promised Mother?”

  “No, it’s not like that.” Why did she always have to be so frustrating? “It’s just…”

  Belet gritted her teeth. “Just what? Tell me, Sik.”

  “She wanted to make sure you wouldn’t be alone if anything happened to her.”

  “News to me,” said Belet, crossing her arms over her chest.

  “She was trying to protect you,” I said. “That’s why she kept it a secret.”

  “It wouldn’t be the first time,” said Belet. Then she drew something from her back pocket. “Mother always kept secrets.”

  It was the photo of her biological parents. The one thing she’d saved from Venus Street.

  “No more,” said Belet. Then she ripped the photo in half.

  “Why’d you do that?” I watched, horrified, as she tore it into quarters, then eighths.

  “They’re not my parents. It’s just a picture from an old magazine—two actors from a soap opera,” Belet said, her tone cold and flat as she tossed the shreds into the air. “Mother thought I didn’t know. I pretended to believe they were my real parents, to make her happy.”

  “Ishtar made it all up? Why?”

  “Because she thought she wasn’t a good enough parent. So she gave me two perfect ones. But how could anyone be more perfect than her?”

  Up to this point, mostly all I’d seen from Belet was bickering and criticism. But now the wall she’d built to hide behind was crumbling and all her pain was pouring out.

  She blinked, but that didn’t hold back her tears. “She was supposed to have always been there for me, Sik. All those other children she adopted, over thousands of years…they got to have her until the end of their lives. And I’m the one to lose her. The only one.”

  “I know what it’s like to lose the one person you love more than anything. Mo was my world. Everything I looked up to, everything I wanted to be. Then he was gone, and I was so angry. Angry at him for going, at my parents for letting him, at everyone and everything. Myself most of all, for not making more of every moment we’d shared.”

  Belet looked up, eyes wet, and I took her hand. I felt the calluses on her palm and fingers from all the time she’d spent weapons training with her mom.

  “But don’t let that anger eat you up,” I said. “It’ll destroy you.”

  “Sik…”

  “Stick with me, Belet. We’ll figure this out.” I looked into her eyes as sincerely as I could. “I’m your friend, and not because Ishtar asked me to be.”

  “Do what you want.” She pulled her hand free. “I’m going after Nergal.”

  “Belet!” I shouted as she sprinted across Broadway. “Belet!”

  It was no use. A moment later, she ducked into another taxi and was gone.

  I ran after her for a couple blocks before stumbling to a stop. Now what? With my face on every screen, I wouldn’t be able to get a cab—not that I could afford one, anyway—and the subway was totally—

  Hold that thought. I saw someone heading down the stairs into the Canal Street station.

  At last, something was working in the city! If even just one of the lines was open, I could get to Manhattan General and try to learn the latest about my parents. Then I could go back uptown toward Central Park and try really hard to get Gilgamesh to join the fight.

  A heavy rain was hitting the streets, making everything gray and slippery. I pulled my hood over my head and started down the steps, passing an old guy clutching the handrail.

  I stopped and looked back at him. “Need some help?”

  He smiled and held out a hand. Wow, it was just skin and bone. “That’s very kind of you, young man. But should you be here?”

  “Not really, but here I am,” I replied.

  His cold fingers gripped mine tightly as he steadied himself.

  “It’s a tragedy, that’s what it is,” he said, shaking his head. “What’s your name?”

  “Everyone calls me Sik.”

  “I’m Harry. So, did you get a chance to say anything to your family? That would be something, at least.”

  “I’m off to see them now.”

  “They went before you? I see.” He met my gaze, and his rheumy eyes sharpened. “I hope you didn’t do anything…rash so you could be with them.”

  “Uh…nope?” Poor old guy was senile, I guessed.

  “Good, good.” He looked back up the stairs and raised his head, letting the raindrops splash on his pale, wrinkled skin. “It’s time I went.”

  “Where are you headed?” I asked as we took the next step down.

  “Same place we all go in the end.”

  “Okaaay.” We reached the bottom of the steps and shuffled toward the turnstiles. “Do you have a MetroCard?” I asked the man. “If not, I can swipe mine for you.”

  “No need,” said Harry. The turnstile allowed him in without payment. Did senior citizens get some kind of special deal?

  I swiped myself in, and we walked along the platform. It was crowded—with old folks, mainly. Was there an AARP convention happening nearby or something? As we slipped past, trying to find a good place to wait for the train, I caught snippets of their conversations.

  “I was just crossing the street. Looked left when I shoulda looked right…”

  “I knew there were nuts in that cake.…”

  “I wish I could see their faces when they learn it’s all been left to Mr. Whiskers…”

  The air shifted, and a deep, distant roar traveled out of the dark tunnel mouth. The wheels screamed on the steel rails, and wind rushed through the narrow space, hurling dust and loose papers down the platform.

  Harry smiled. “It’ll be good to see Betty again.”

  The train slowed to a stop. Like some of the older trains in the city, this one was heavily decorated with graffiti. Unlike the rest, the graffiti was cuneiform.

  I was getting that bad feeling again.…

  A pair of boys pushed past us to get on the train, one shoving the other. “I told you the ice wasn’t thick enough.”

  A middle-aged man adjusted his tie as he stepped inside. “Well, the life insurance should cover their tuition.”

  I turned slowly to Harry. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure, Sik.”

  “No offense, but are…are you dead?”

  “Of course.” He looked surprised but not shocked, as if I’d asked something stupidly obvious. “Aren’t you?”

  Then I was pushed on board.

  “I HAVE TO GET OFF!” I ANNOUNCED TO ANYONE who would listen. But nobody batted an eye. I peered through the crowd of passengers, looking for the emergency brake, but there was none. “Hello! I’m not dead!” I yelled.

  Harry checked his watch and gave it a shake. “Seems to have stopped.”

  Out the windows all I saw was darkness—deep, deep eternal darkness. “Okay, I am officially freaking out.”

  How had I ended up here? A few minutes ago, I’d been on the street, talking to Belet. As far as I knew, I hadn’t been run over. Unless I’d blacked out…

  Had I caught a disease from Nergal or one of his demons? But I felt fine.…

  This had to be a big mistake. A huge mistake!

  ”I am not dead! Not anymore!” I kicked the train door hard. “Let me out!”

  Equally alarming, the other passengers began to fade away, one after the other. The two boys who’d fallen through the ice disappeared together.

  There were only a few of us left. “What’s happening? Where is everyone going?”

  Harry straightened his tie and adjusted his sleeve cuffs. “To their own personal afterlives, I suspect. Whatever was deepest in their hearts’ desire, whether they knew it or not. What else could heaven be, Sik?”

  “I thought being dead would be less complicated than this.”

  Harry started combing the few strands of h
is wispy white hair.

  “You look great, Harry.”

  “I want to look my best for Betty.”

  More and more people faded away, silently, without care or worry. Eventually it was just me and Harry.

  “So much for my so-called immortality,” I said.

  The train began to slow.

  The darkness gradually gave way to light. Instead of an underground tunnel, we were moving through a desert landscape.

  The train stopped, and the car door opened to scintillating colors. I squinted against the brightness. “I guess this is my stop.”

  Harry patted my shoulder. “It’ll be fine.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Do you know anybody who’s ever come back?”

  I faced the exit. Whatever else the afterlife might be, it was warm and breezy.

  I stepped out.

  The train didn’t roll away—it dispersed into the air like smoke. I heard the distant rattle of wheels on rails, felt the air rush past, and then there was silence.

  “Hello? Asalaamu alaikum? Namasté? Guten Tag?” I cast around for the welcoming committee. “Shalom?”

  A vast, empty desert stretched out before me, all under a night sky filled with wild splashes of color. Great smears of orange, blue, red, and green covered the black canvas above, as though a divine painter had attacked it with wild fury. Even as I watched, a pinprick of light near the horizon erupted silently, pulsed with soft blue light, then spread outward.

  The sand was grayish blue, though the weird illumination made it difficult to judge its true color. The landscape was dotted by mounds. At first I thought they were hills, but they were too uniform; nature wasn’t so neat.

  I realized they were tells. Mo had bored me stupid with a million photos of them. They covered Iraq like freckles. Ancient cities that had decayed, leaving massive sandy lumps over the flat desert.