by T. J. Mines
At the corners of each crossing are signs indicating where to go for specific needs. At the closest sign Abdul reads 'lodgings' and enters the street indicated by the sign. Walking through the busy streets Abdul notices a distinct difference between tourists and locals. The visitors seem to either be watching their step or looking up while locals look at the people walking in the street. Curious at what the tourists are watching, Abdul looks up. Most buildings are 5 stories high where the first three are old and a new structure is placed on top. The mix is interesting and seems natural in this place. Where possible color has been used to brighten the place. There is even some stained glass in the old parts of the buildings, showing intricate designs of religious and contemporary scenes.
Walking along the street, enjoying the views, Abdul comes across a large block of steel and stone. Outside a banner spells 'hostel'. Being what Abdul was looking for he enters the building. Inside he is welcomed at a reception desk where a young lady is standing.
"Good afternoon! How can I help you?" she asks.
"I need a place to stay the night. Do you have free beds here?" Abdul asks.
"That depends," the woman answers, "do you want a private room or a bed in a dormitory?"
"Well, I think I prefer a private room."
Abdul looks behind the lady. There the rates for the different options are listed. Seeing the going rate for a private room, even with a shared bathroom, he decides he'd rather spend his money on more important things.
"On second guess," Abdul says, "I think a bed is all I need. Maybe I even meet some nice people that way."
"No problem," the lady says while looking at a screen, "I have a bed in dormitory 4A for you. How many nights to you plan to stay?"
"I was planning on two weeks, but seeing how expensive it all is, I think I can only last a week."
"What's your profession?" the lady asks.
"What?" Abdul looks confused, "why is that important?"
"If you stay here for more than a week you could apply for a working permit. You'll get one if there is a need for your specific skills," the lady explains, "So if you're willing to work you can earn your second week here by working."
Abdul looks the lady in the eyes. What she's saying is a good way to prolong his stay without spending all his money.
"Should you want to check-out earlier you'll get a refund," the lady encourages Abdul.
"OK," Abdul says, "I'll be staying for thirteen nights then."
"Great! I'll book the bed there. As I said, dorm 4A, that's on the fourth floor to the right. You can choose any free bed there. I see you have a bracelet. Could you scan your chip here? The credits will be reserved but will be subtracted after your check-out."
Abdul holds his wrist close to a scanner. It beeps and a green light shows confirmation. Thanking the lady he walks to the stairs to claim his bed.
Upstairs he finds the room he'll be sleeping in. Bunk beds are placed close to each other to maximize space efficiency. Most bunk beds have something of a personal item on it. Most look unmade and slept in. There are a few top beds with crisp linens and no personal markings. Abdul chooses the one furthest from the door.
"Hi there!" sounds the voice of a girl. Abdul didn't notice the girl when entering the room as she was sitting behind one of the beds in a corner.
"Hello," Abdul greets back, "how are you?"
"I'm fine, thanks," she answers, "I'm Greta." She stands and walks towards Abdul, extending her hand.
"Abdul, nice to meet you," Abdul says while shaking her hand.
"So how long have you been here?" Greta asks.
"I just arrived here, and you?"
"I've been here for, uhm, 4 days." She looks up at him and smiles.
"Oh nice!" Abdul says, "so what's fun to do here?"
Greta laughs.
"What's fun? You should better ask what not to do around here! What are your vices?"
"My vices? I don't know. I like to try some beer I think."
"They've got beer here, and stronger stuff too. Where are you from anyway?"
"Al Bari. I've lived there all my life."
"Cool, I've been there too," she says, "so you've never been outside Al Bari?"
"Nope, never. I've saved up for this trip for years."
"Good for you. Let me introduce you to the concept of Du Bois tonight," Greta says with a wink and a grin.
"Okay, thank you!" Abdul drops his backpack on the bed he chose and takes out some clothing.
"Greta," he asks while unpacking his stuff, "when you're showing me Du Bois, what should I wear?"
Greta laughs again. She walks up to her own bed and picks up a piece of black cloth.
"Something fancy!" she says holding up what appears to be a long flowing dress. She skips over to Abdul and shoves him away from his bag.
"What have you brought with you?" she says while rummaging through his belongings.
"Hey!" Abdul pushes her away from his bag, "don't do that!"
"I'm sorry," she apologizes, "I didn't know you were that private! Show me then, what did you bring for a fancy party?"
Abdul searches between the clothing items he brought and takes out a fine pair of pants and a shirt.
"Are these good enough?" he asks.
Looking at the fabric and workmanship gone into the clothing Greta notices they aren't mass produced.
"Did your mother make these?" she asks with a smirk.
Abdul blushes. "Yes she did."
"Good quality, she can make me something anytime! But maybe something more, uhm, modern." She laughs again.
"Well, thank you for that," Abdul says and turns his back to her.
Organizing his backpack into something that resembles order he cleans up his bed. He's annoyed at the remark. His mother is a very good tailor and has made all of his clothes herself. And the fine suit he'd shown Greta has been a present for his graduation a few years back. But then again, fashion moves fast. Especially in a town like this, where there is a melting pot of cultures and religions unlike what he knows from Al Bari. He looks sideways at Greta. She's wearing tight trousers and a loose shirt, showing off strong legs but only hinting at what goes on at the top. The colors are worn and the clothing seems old. The dress she's shown him looks brand new though, so Abdul assumes her current garb is meant for exploring or relaxing, not for seducing.
Greta walks back to her bunk and puts away the dress for later. She puts on a pair of slippers lying under the bed and turns to Abdul.
"You up for dinner yet?" she asks across the room.
Abdul looks outside and can see the sun setting. He is kind of hungry, he only had a bite at the market.
"Sure. But shouldn't we be in before dark?"
"Yes we do. But, the people of Du Bois are very clever." She walks over to the window and points outside. "Below ground level there are basements going up to five levels deep. All basements are linked and you can walk from any one building to another without stepping outside. Everything below level must be dark at sunset, or must be shuttered to keep light inside. Below the party goes on all night, if you know where to go."
"That's clever indeed. Well then, let's go eat."
Greta makes a pirouette in glee and takes Abdul by the arm, dragging him with her to the stairs.
CHAPTER THREE
Ismael wakes up from a short sleep. He kicks his blankets off into a pile at the foot end and rubs the sleep from his eyes. He looks at his clock. Just two hours of sleep. Not enough but is has to do for today. He rolls out of his bed and opens the door to the hallway. Nobody is home, as he expected at this hour, and he can walk into the bathroom naked without any complaints from his family members. He doesn't like it when people can see him naked. He isn't comfortable with his family being naked either.
After a quick shower Ismael gets dressed. All set for the trip outside the walls, He grabs an apple from the kitchen before stepping out.
Outside the air is crisp. Ismael walks at a brisk pace towards the
city garage. It is on the other side of town and to get there he has to cross the busy market again. Now the people walking between the stalls slow him down. At one point he even has to squeeze between two women to get on the other side. One of the women, the youngest, turns with a angry glare but seeing the guy slipping past is a young man at his prime she smiles and winks at him. Ismael has no time to chat and finds the quickest route through the market.
The garage is a large building build into the northern wall. At the town side there are a few doors and a lot of windows. Most of the building is below ground level, as with most of the buildings in town. The garage is painted black and when it's dark it's almost invisible against the black sky. Inside are all the ground vehicles the town guard has a its disposal, as well as the drones used to patrol the sky when needed.
Ismael walks up to one of the doors and thumbs the lock. The door shows a green light and unlocks. He enters the garage to see a small group of his fellow guards already gathered in the briefing room. The all glass cube is in the center of the large room. The outside doors dominate the outer wall. On both sides of the briefing room is a lift. On one of them the all terrain buggy is readied by a staff of motor technicians. Going outside in any vehicle takes a lot of preparing. The vehicle must be in perfect condition and all contingencies must be in place. The run flat tires of the buggy are checked every time it goes out, and again when it comes back.
He walks to the briefing room, greeting the technicians on the way over. Inside are the Captain and two others, Frank and Peggy. Both guards are senior to Ismael and have had a lot of experience outside the walls. Seeing them there makes Ismael feel that much safer. They aren't as good at the investigative part of the job as Ismael and the Captain, but they are experts in security and weapons handling. Also, Frank has had more driving time in the buggy than all the other guards combined. He can do things in that thing others wouldn't dare, even in less harsh environments.
"Good morning!" Ismael greets the others in the room. He feels stoked to go on a trip outside with the company he's with now.
"Hi Ish," Peggy says as Frank puts up a hand.
The Captain nods at Ismael and motions him over. "As I was saying, Ismael found the enemy nest here," he points at the screen build into the table, "We move in from the east and stay away from the railroad for now. They probably came from that way and we don't want to run over any tracks." As he is explaining the route they are going to take he draws a line on the map with his finger. The route is highlighted as he tracks over the screen. At the location where the dead people should be he taps, creating a red circle.
"The one that got away left to the south, taking a more direct route out of our defensive range." Ismael adds to the briefing.
"That's why we have to move now, we don't want anything they left to be pilfered, or the bodies to be eaten too much," says the captain.
"Are you sure there were only three?" Peggy asks.
"Positive, the infrared showed three warm bodies when they discarded their blanket. Also, why would the third one leave while more friends were there?" Ismael explains.
"So, we go in, take what's there, and come back," Frank summarizes, "piece of cake."
"Yes, well, I do want to take a good look there too. They came inside our range without being spotted. They even managed to get that motorbike there without us knowing, that's hard," says the Captain. "We investigate how they did it and try to find out their exact motives."
"That's a big risk," says Frank, "we should limit our time outside as much as possible."
"I know, that's why I asked Ismael to join us. He's an expert at deduction and will find out why, how and possibly even when." As the Captain explains Ismael's addition to the team he looks at the boy. "I'm not trying to praise you, Ismael," he adds, "I'm just stating facts." As he looks at Ismael a small smile plays around his lips.
After the final preparations are done the four of them, in helmets and protective gear, get into the buggy. The technicians make sure the straps are fastened and clear out. The lights inside dim and an orange strobe starts to flash while an alarm goes off.
"Clear the floor!" says a voice over the intercom system. After a few moments the outside door starts to open. At first nothing happens but as the heavy steel plates leave the concrete indentation in the floor a shrill whistling starts. The ever present wind comes in through the crack at the bottom. The sound changes to a loud howl as the door opens. Dust from the plains up north start entering the bay, pelting the buggy and it's four occupants.
Frank starts the engine and revs to get the feel of the vehicle. He puts it in gear and steps on the accelerator. The buggy leaps off through the door, just missing the bottom steel plate. As he clears the doors he keeps on going straight north. There are no roads or tracks here, just streaks along the ground going from north to south. Frank steers right and hops the buggy over a few deeper ridges. Driving over the ruts is like running your hands over a washboard. The suspension takes the most of the bumps but still the vibrations can be felt to the bones. Frank picks up his speed. He steers around some small puddles to avoid splashing any dirt or moisture onto the vehicle or the guards inside.
Ismael looks north towards the ice. He cannot see the actual glacier, but the wind coming from it is ice cold. If he wasn't wearing his suit now, he would have gotten frostbite within minutes. On the other side the wind is much less. The town acts as a barrier, diverting the wind over and around it. Right next to the south wall there is no wind. Further south, beyond the town's defensive perimeter, the wind picks up again. Still, the intensity is much less there.
Clearing the eastern wall by a fair margin, Frank continues south. The wall there shows horizontal scratch marks from the debris carried by the wind. The small stones have left deep scores. Here too, the bullet and shell marks mar the surface. Years of strife have created a unique pattern on the rusted steel.
Frank follows the curve of the wall and Ismael can see the ridge where the killed only a few hours ago. The tarp used by the enemy soldiers is flapping in the wind there. He can also see crates and as they come closer, the bodies too.
Slowing down on the approach Peggy, sitting next to Frank, readies the on board weapons system. The two heavy guns on top of the roll cage rise up from their cradles and follow Peggy's eyesight. She scans the site to make sure nothing unexpected comes at them. A few meters from the ridge Frank stops and kills the power to the engines.
"Nothing, Captain," Peggy says, "it's safe."
"Good, let's get started with the investigation."
The Captain, Frank and Ismael get out of the buggy. Peggy, keeps scanning the surroundings for any danger, the two guns following her gaze as she moves her head. The ground is frozen solid, crunching under the boots of the three men. Frank shoulders his rifle and takes the lead. The Captain and Ismael both take their sidearm and take the safety off.
Frank walks up the low ridge, looking for any devices that could be a potential danger to him and the people he's protecting. Just behind the ridge is the tarp where the scouts shot by Ismael used as cover. On top of the tarp are the bodies of the man and woman shot by Ismael. The rifle used to fire at the town, the binoculars Ismael spotted and camp gear litter the ground around the bodies.
"All clear," Frank says, motioning for the Captain and Ismael to come closer.
"Thanks Frank," the Captain says.
"You hit them good Ish," Frank says, admiring the marksmanship shown by Ismael. He looks back at the guard tower Ismael shot from the day before. It is a fair distant away. "I would've been lucky to get them in one shot each."
"Well, I did have the right tools for the job." Ismael smiles at Frank. "And it was you who taught me to shoot."
"Enough praise for now, both of you," says the Captain, "We need to find out how they got here, what they were doing and, most importantly, who they were. Ismael, you take a look at the bodies. Frank, you go and walk the perimeter. Make sure to keep clear of any tracks. I'll take a lo
ok at what they have used for tools."
Frank beams a big smile at Ismael before he takes off for his task. Ismael, smiling back, focuses on the two bodies while the Captain starts on the hardware.
Ismael steps between the debris behind the ridge to get to the first body. He decides to start with the male, since that was the first person he shot. He crouches next to the man and puts his backpack down. He takes off his gloves and rummages in the bag for his investigation set. In it he has a set of latex gloves, pincers and various containers to store evidence. He isn't as well stocked as the old textbooks show he should be, but those books have been from before the ice age, when everything was better. Or so the saying goes.
Donning the gloves Ismael takes a better look at the dead person in front of him. The man is barely older than him. He is slight of build and has dark hair. He hit the man from behind, so any facial features are hidden as the man is lying face down. In the back pocket of the man's jeans is a wallet. Ismael takes it out and looks inside. A few papers, some money and a photo of a young woman are inside. The young woman looks ugly and unhappy. Looking closer at the picture he sees the woman has been bound to a stake. At the back of the photo is writing in Arabic: 'Remember'.
"This one is from the south, Al Bari I guess," Ismael tells the Captain who looks up.
"How do you know already?" he asks.
"Found a photo of a bound woman with 'Remember' on the back. And Al Bari money."
"Remember? Bag it and take it back for further investigation," says the Captain and continues picking through the stuff left behind by the last survivor of the group.
Ismael stands up to turn over the man. The dead weight is more than he anticipated but with a grunt the man is on his back. The man's face is blown away by Ismael's bullet, making the sight gruesome. Gore is everywhere and Ismael can see where the brains have leaked out. There is no telling who the man was by facial recognition. There is barely a face left. After looking away to make sure his stomach can take it Ismael continues the investigation. He lifts the sides of the jacket to look for inner pockets. He finds them empty except for a plastic bag of white powder. He puts the bag into one of his own evidence pouches and seals it. Patting down the man he only finds a knife, which he also bags.
