City of the Plague God

by Sarwat Chadda

  I walked up to Mo’s. There used to be a first-aid kit under the counter. It probably wouldn’t do much good, but it was worth trying, if only to reduce Belet’s pain. Wooden boards had been hammered haphazardly across the front, but there were gaps I could peer through.

  I saw the countertop. The register. The big tin range hood. The framed flowers…

  Mo’s pressed flowers were hanging on the wall.

  How could that be? Nergal had torn them all down.

  There was more. The broken tables had been replaced, even if they were just wooden pallets resting on the tops of plastic barrels. I spotted a camp stove in the corner, and rows of cans neatly stacked along the wall. Another cat watched me from within, its big green eyes shining in the gloom.

  I put my mouth to the biggest gap. “Hello? I’d like to order some takeout, please.”

  The security door to the upstairs apartment creaked open, and a shadowy figure stepped out.

  “Sik?”

  I couldn’t believe it. “Daoud?”

  He waved frantically to the back. “Come around! I’ll open up!”

  I slung a now-unconscious Belet over my shoulder—she seemed too light—and with Kasusu in my hand, ran around to the rear, finding Ishtar’s gleaming black Jaguar parked in the alley. Its frame was rust-free, and no dust had dared to settle on the hood. Daoud unlocked the back door to the deli and waved me in.

  “I thought I’d lost you, cuz,” he said as he locked up behind us.

  “It doesn’t matter now, I’m just happy to—”

  Daoud turned around.

  “—see you?” I nearly dropped Kasusu.

  Handsome, ridiculously beautiful Daoud…wasn’t. Not anymore. His frame had withered, wrinkled skin hung off his face, his hair stuck out in brittle clumps, and he’d lost his top front teeth. The ones that remained sat, yellowed and crooked, in a too-large jaw supported by a scrawny neck. The dreamy brown eyes that used to make mothers sigh and the girls giggle were bloodshot and rheumy.

  “It happened at the audition.” He tapped his chin with bony fingers. “I was sitting in the corridor, waiting for my turn, when two of my teeth came loose. I was on camera, in front of the casting agent and director, when half my hair just fell out. Awkward.”

  “I’m sorry, Daoud, I really am. I got you into this mess.”

  “But there’s a silver lining. My agent thinks I’ll get more villain parts now.” Then he noticed Belet for the first time. “What’s wrong with her?”

  “The usual. Run-in with a demon. That’s bad enough”—my chin trembled as I spoke—“but she’s also lost her fighting spirit.”

  It may have been my imagination, but it felt like Kasusu was drooping in my hand.

  “Come on,” Daoud said. “We can put her in your parents’ room.”

  I shook my head. “No. We can’t stay. I just want to clean her wound and then take her to Manhattan General. See Mama and Baba.”

  “Not happening.” His face sagged even more in pity. “Poxies have the hospital under siege. No one can get in or out.”

  That’s when the last of my hope evaporated. I trudged up the stairs behind Daoud.

  He’d cleaned up the place. Even redecorated. There were fresh flowers on the nightstand, and candles on all the shelves. The windows were covered with blackout blinds, but the blinds themselves were plastered with travel posters.

  I gently put Belet on the bed, and Daoud washed her wound with water from one of the big plastic containers lined up on the floor along the wall.

  “You learn a thing or two when you’re born in a refugee camp,” he said. “Water’s top priority.”

  I collected the first-aid kit, cleaned her wound as best I could, and secured a large patch of gauze over it with surgical tape. There was nothing more we could do for Belet. Her breath was a mere trickle.

  When we were done, Daoud grimaced as he searched the back of his mouth. He gave a sharp tug and held out one of his molars. “I’ve never had a filling my whole life, and now I’ll be wearing dentures by the time I’m twenty-five.”

  How could he be so nonchalant? Our world was collapsing all around us. I would have guessed that it was all too much and he’d lost his mind, but he seemed to be doing a good job of taking care of everything.

  He tutted. “Go put on some fresh clothes. I’ll cook up some rice. We can eat up here, beside Belet.”

  How long had it been since I’d seen my room? Mere weeks? It felt like a million years. Nothing had changed, except everything. My science homework was still spread out on the small desk by the window. I hadn’t made my bed; the quilt was shoved up against the wall, and the pillow lay on the floor. The blinds were half-raised, and outside, I watched pieces of trash blowing down the street. Lightning flashed somewhere far away. I didn’t see any poxies out there, but I imagined them scavenging among the debris of a fallen city.

  Taking a cue from Daoud, I started to make my bed. But after a few tugs on the sheet, I figured, why bother? I fell onto the mattress and pulled the quilt over my head.

  “Dinner!”

  Despite everything, I was hungry. I followed the smell of cooked rice to Daoud’s room.

  He gave me an awkward smile as I reached the open door. “I don’t think you’ve been in here since…”

  Daoud had taken over Mo’s room when he moved in two years ago. In all that time, I’d seen no reason to visit.

  Looking around now, I saw that it was still Mo’s, but with a dash of Daoud. There were maps on the walls, and shelves of travel guides and history books, but they were sharing space with posters of Clint, Brad, and Keanu, as well as stacks of Vanity Fair and the Hollywood Reporter. More pressed flowers were strewn across the desk.

  “Do you mind me using his room?”

  I shook my head. “He wanted it that way. He thought you were a great guy.”

  “He was the best.” Daoud handed me a bowl and fork. “Rice, with canned vegetables and sardines. And…” He waved a small jar.

  “The Baghdad?”

  “One spoonful, or two?”

  “What’s more danger at this point? Let’s go for two.” I sat down on the bed and stirred in the sauce. “You’ve been busy.”

  He looked over at the pressed flowers. “Yeah. Beauty’s got to be preserved. Now more than ever.” He rubbed his flaccid cheek absentmindedly.

  “I didn’t know you taught Mo.”

  Daoud laughed. “We learned together! You know the fashion industry makes more from perfumes than it does from clothes? I figured it would be a good fallback skill. Here.” He rummaged along the shelves and found a shoebox. “Have a sniff.”

  Inside were half a dozen tiny bottles, each filled with liquid and petals. Daoud picked up one and shook it before popping the cork. “I’ve been experimenting. It’s not that different from cooking. You just distill something over and over until you get the richest scent you can.”

  I took a whiff. “Roses?”

  A cat meowed out in the hallway and scratched at the door. A pair of mismatched eyes peered through the gap.

  “Sargon?” I asked.

  The tabby cat purred as he walked in and brushed against Daoud’s leg.

  “Okay, okay, I’ll feed you.” Daoud sighed as he lifted the scarred creature in his arms. “I don’t know how, but they followed me here. I have half of Ishtar’s kitties living downstairs. Never met such demanding beasts.”

  “Need any help?” I asked.

  “La, shukran. You keep an eye on Belet.” Before he left the room, he turned back and said, “It’s good to have you home, cuz.”

  I finished the bowl. I could smell the flowers across the room, even from their pressed petals. Daoud’s portfolio was leaning against the desk, still dusty from the battle of Venus Street. Why had he risked his life for a few headshots and clippings? I picked it up, opened it out of curiosity. To find…

  A photo of Mo.

  He was laughing, his head thrown back, kneeling in the mud as he planted som
e bulbs. The sun sparkled in his eyes, and there were splotches of dirt on his cheeks.

  The next one showed him frowning in concentration, hunched over the flower press, not even aware of the photo being taken. The room was dark except for the lamplight over the equipment, catching only half of Mo’s face.

  I’d never seen my brother like this. It was more than just good composition and a great eye for detail. Much more.

  Daoud returned just then. He joined me at the desk and gazed down at the photos. “I’ve tried to take other pictures, but none have turned out as good as these.”

  How could they? These were taken through the eyes of love.

  I flicked through page after page. I’d never seen Mo so…beautiful. There was no other word for it. The lighting was just right, the shadows perfectly cast, the location spot-on. But most of all, it was how Mo gazed at the camera, and the guy behind it.

  “Why haven’t you ever shown these to us?”

  “I tried, Sik. Remember?”

  Oh. Yeah. He’d always offered up his portfolio, and I’d studiously avoided it. Life would have been so much better if I’d just given him a chance.

  Why? Because of what was stuck inside the last cellophane sleeve. It wasn’t a photo.

  It was a flower.

  Perfectly pressed, each petal carefully displayed on the ivory paper, their radiant colors dancing even in the weak candlelight. It wasn’t quite an orchid, and not a rose, either, but something utterly unique.

  I trembled. Could it be?

  “I dug that one up the day before the bulldozers rolled.” Daoud drew his finger lightly around the outline. “I’d never seen anything like it.”

  It had been a mere cutting when I’d planted it. A stalk with a few flowering buds. But the unusual colors were unmistakable.

  “And with the other blossoms I made this.” Daoud rummaged around in the shoebox and lifted out a bottle filled with a silvery, almost-mercurial fluid.

  The jar had a neat, handwritten label on it: MO’S PROMISE.

  I had to lick my lips—my mouth had suddenly gone dry. “Mo’s Promise? That he’d come back?”

  “No, nothing like that. I used to tell him about my auditions, all the times I got cast as the bad guy. I really wanted to quit, but he insisted I keep trying. He promised that sooner or later I’d get to play a hero. Y’know, save the day.”

  “He was right, Daoud.” I took the bottle for a closer look. The liquid sparkled. “I think you just have.”

  “WHAT ARE WE DOING?” ASKED DAOUD AS WE WENT into my parents’ room.

  Belet had gotten worse in the last thirty minutes. She looked a hundred years old. With a trembling hand, I gave the bottle a vicious shake and removed the cork. I sniffed. “It doesn’t smell like anything.”

  “I know. You need hundreds of petals to make a scent, ideally thousands, but I had to try, for Mo.”

  “It’ll have to do.” I took a deep breath to calm my nerves, dipped the eyedropper into the liquid, and suctioned up a few drops.

  I let a single one fall on Belet’s cracked, blistered lips.

  “That’s not really how perfume works,” Daoud whispered.

  “Come on, Belet. Kurnugi can wait a while longer.”

  Was I too late? Was she already on the train to the nether-world to see her mother? Maybe a few more drops would do the trick. That was it. But if that didn’t work…

  “Ya salam…” whispered Daoud, gazing at Belet.

  It happened slowly. The stark pallor gave way to soft blossoms of color as her yellowed, paper-thin skin warmed. We stared as her flesh returned, swelling upon her bones and tightening her skin with muscles. Her lackluster, brittle hair rippled with life and shine. Belet licked her lips and gradually opened her eyes. “That was an unusual taste. What was it?”

  Daoud stared. “How…?”

  Belet sat up and swung her feet to the floor. Then she paused and grimaced. I grabbed her as she swayed unsteadily. “Take it easy, Belet. You were practically dead a second ago. Lie back down for a while.”

  “We don’t have time, Sik.” She gritted her teeth, forcing herself to stand. “Where’s Kasusu?”

  The sword hummed from the top of my parents’ dresser, where I’d put it. Even in the dim room it glinted with joy. She picked it up and slid it into her sash. “We’ve got to find Idiptu and get the flower back.”

  “No need. We have this.” I held up the tiny jar.

  And felt ridiculous. How much was left? Less than an ounce. Gilgamesh’s plan had sounded good, but how could we cure an entire city with only a thimbleful of Mo’s Promise?

  “What’s going on, exactly?” asked Daoud.

  “This is what Nergal’s been after all this time,” I said. “The flower you pressed grants immortality.”

  “There was another flower?” Belet asked, her eyes wide. Then she pressed her fingers to her lips. “You gave me some of that?”

  “Yeah,” I said, my head swiveling between the two of them. “See what it can do?”

  “Could it make me handsome again?” Daoud asked.

  Why hadn’t he developed any immunity? I wondered. Between all the gardening, perfume-making, and pressing, he’d handled the flower much more than I had. “Did you ever touch it—the flower, I mean?”

  Daoud shook his head. “I always wore gloves. You got to understand—gardening ages your skin faster than a month of sunbathing. Not that that matters now,” he said wryly, studying his wrinkled hands. “And when it comes to making perfume, you have to work in sterile conditions so you don’t contaminate the product.”

  Poor Daoud. If not for his vanity and meticulousness, he would’ve been immortal like me.

  Daoud wet his cracked lips. He didn’t reach for the bottle, not exactly, but I could see the eager desperation in his eyes.

  He wanted it. And it was his. It was horrible. What would I do if he asked for it? What reason did I have to deny him the cure?

  Actually, I had eight million reasons. “We have a lot of people to save.”

  To his credit, Daoud nodded with understanding and took a step back. “It’s not much, cuz.”

  “Tell me about it.” I doubted there was enough for a city block, let alone the whole island. “We could take it to the hospital, at least.”

  Daoud rubbed his chin. “There is a way of making it go a little further.…”

  “Really?” I asked.

  “It’s a concentrated perfume extract. I could dilute it into an eau de toilette.”

  “Dilute it? By how much?”

  “One part in twenty, or thereabouts. You never know until you try, but the risk is”—his face dropped—“if you dilute it too much, it’s basically just scented water.”

  There was so little! We could cure Daoud right now, or we could try to save more people—like my parents—by conserving every drop and diluting it.…But in doing so, we might end up with nothing.

  Regardless, it wasn’t my choice. I handed him the bottle. “It’s your call, Daoud.”

  He didn’t even hesitate. “I’ll dilute it. The kit’s in the basement.”

  That Daoud. Full of surprises. “Hurry up, then.”

  “I’ll meet you out back.”

  Daoud exited, and Belet went over to the mirror. She raised her shirt over her abdomen and peeked under the bandage. Then she pulled the wrapping completely off. There was still an ugly scar across her stomach, but it had sealed into a thin, jagged line. She traced it with her finger, looking astounded. “You don’t think…?”

  Yeah, I did think. Was she now the same as me? “Let’s just get through the next few hours, eh?”

  Belet nodded. “Do you really believe we can save the day with a bottle of perfume?”

  “Inshallah.”

  What else could I say? There were too many things that weren’t up to us.

  THE CLOUDS CHURNED VIOLENTLY OVERHEAD, THEIR bellies rumbling with thunder, and lightning jumped across the sky. Wind howled through the alley, banging the
trash cans against one another and sending newspapers fluttering through the air.

  “This is Gilgamesh’s doing!” Belet shouted over the wind, pointing at the black clouds. “It started when he unleashed Abubu, the Sky Cutter. It’ll be a full-blown hurricane soon.”

  Good ole Gilgamesh. He’d come through for us in his own climate-changing way. I just hoped he hadn’t fallen victim to those poxies.…

  Four cats had followed us out of the deli—Sargon, another tawny feline, an orange tabby, and an all-black. They hissed and swished their tails like they knew something was up.

  “Hello, my loves!” said Belet, bending down to pet them. “Good to see you again.”

  “They got names?” I asked.

  “Sargon you know, and these are his friends: Simba, Shere Khan, and Bagheera,” said Belet. Then she blushed. “I’m a big Disney fan.”

  “Who isn’t?” I jangled the keys to her mom’s Jaguar. “Let’s get out of the wind, at least.”

  Though our future prospects were worse than bleak, I was still hoping we could save my parents and at least some of the other patients. Then we could all escape the city—maybe even grab Gilgamesh on the way out—and make a new life somewhere. My mom and dad had started over before.

  Nergal had what he wanted now; maybe he would leave humanity alone.…

  Yeah, right. Keep dreaming, Sik.

  I sat in the driver’s seat, Belet riding shotgun, or, in her case, riding scimitar with Kasusu. With the car doors closed, we settled into a cozy cocoon of black leather and wood trim. The engine growled to a start, and even though we weren’t moving, I could feel the power of the vehicle. I ran my hands over the steering wheel, wishing I knew how to drive. Now, how to turn on the heat?

  “Mother loved this car,” said Belet.

  “She called it her chariot,” I said, my eyes sweeping the dashboard. So many lights and buttons.

  “I think she was talking metaphorically,” said Belet.

  “‘When I really need to fly,’” I said, repeating her words from the day I’d met her. “Metaphorically, for anyone but a goddess.” I began scanning the dashboard. “Where was it…?”