by Tyler, P. K.
The only family member who ever held the boy was Mahmet, the devoted brother and loving uncle. He was also the only one who had known, without a doubt, his brother's son had not been conceived within their marriage. When Darya's father died she was seven and her younger brother only four. Mahmet took her into his home to raise as his own, leaving the Jews out in the desert where they belonged.
He was an imposing figure at well over 180 centimeters, perhaps 185 or even 190. Mahmet managed to make Darya feel small and fragile, something she enjoyed only in his protective shadow. In addition to his height were the extra four-and-a-half or five stones hanging impressively from his frame, creating the impression he was larger than life, as big as a god or an ogre.
"Recai."
Darya said his name again, pulling his attention from the increasing number of onlookers following his movements. His eyes snapped to her and he stood abruptly. Her hand reached out and her fingers wrapped around his wrist.
"Come, come on, my uncle would like to meet the man who rescued me from the foyer!"
Darya was spinning from the excitement of the evening and her three glasses of champagne. All of her planning, all of her years of being unnoticed and ignored were paying off. Tonight she was beautiful and important. She spoke freely and men and women alike listened. Tonight she could exist in the world.
"Your uncle?"
"Yes! Mayor Yilmaz."
"Darya… Yilmaz?" he demanded.
"Yes…it's not a very common name."
Darya was unsure what to make of Recai's reaction. Her uncle was an influential man, the ruler of this small kingdom. If Recai was actually the son of Baris and Pinar, a meeting between him and her uncle should be something he sought, not something he avoided! But Recai didn't look right; his coloring and stance made Darya uneasy.
"Recai?"
"I don't know if it's a wise idea," Recai said, his face tight and hard as he spoke.
"I…. Did I do something wrong?"
"No, of course not! I…kahretsin!" He swore as he dragged a hand down his face, feeling the deep lines created by so many years in the sun.
"I'm sorry Darya, I…"
"It's all right."
She reached out again, placing her hand on his face, earning the disapproving glance of more than one of the party's patrons. She allowed her thumb to stroke his cheek along the faded scar.
"Thank you. I should go."
He stepped back, breaking the spell of her touch.
"Why?"
"I'm not… I wasn't invited."
"You were by me. And apparently an unescorted woman is in danger even at an event such as this."
Her eyes shone, but their light was lost in the black hole surrounding Recai.
"You never know what form danger may come in. Darya, this wasn't a good idea, I didn't think and…"
"You are Recai Osman?"
"I told you that."
"Yes, that's not a very common name in Elih, either."
"Not anymore."
"Your parents. They were Baris and Pinar Osman?" Darya ventured, finally asking the question on everyone's lips.
Sabiha Kaya was running late. She had been at her women's prayer group at Sister Aisha's house and lost track of time. The other women lived closer or had drivers who would come and get them when they were out after curfew, but Sabiha had nothing like that. All she had was her brother, Fahri, who was working late at some event downtown tonight.
Aisha had asked her to stay until Fahri got off duty and could come pick her up, or until her own father returned from his evening shift at work, but Sabiha knew Fahri would be far more angered by the inconvenience than the idea of his little sister walking home at night. No matter what dogma he may have spewed since he joined the RTK, Fahri was still the selfish bastard he had been since they were kids and Sabiha couldn't stand to miss class at the university again tomorrow due to whatever bruises her brother's discipline left on her face.
Above her the clouds gathered, pulling together reinforcements and awaiting their moment. The air came together with a violent crash. Thunder boomed in the atmosphere as miles beyond the city, the winds began to blow.
Aisha lived in a residential part of the city, about a twenty-five minute walk from the apartment complex Sabiha lived in. It was late enough that the roads would be mostly empty and dark—most people would be hurrying to their next location, not spending time scrutinizing one unescorted woman.
The small two-bedroom apartment she and her brother shared was above a halal market and next to the only movie theater in the city. It was loud. She never managed to get the smell of roasting flesh and popcorn out of the walls, but it was all Fahri could afford after paying for her tuition at the small women's college. She wanted to work, but her brother wouldn't have it, wanting her to finish her degree, get married, and get out of his hair as quickly as possible.
These days it was impossible to find husbands for girls without a degree. Men of stature wanted wives who brought prestige to the union, even if they never intended to allow them to work. Having an educated wife had become a status symbol, but few men were interested in a liberated one. Fahri was determined to find Sabiha a solid match that would reflect well on him and maybe even elevate his own position, while she was happy to study her faith and feed her mind.
Darkness wrapped itself around her, a shadow hiding her within the city. A black hijab and denim overcoat concealed her skin from even the prying eyes of the honey-colored moon.
"I…" Recai began, his mouth dry.
Before he had the opportunity to continue, his words were interrupted by a piercing ring. The sound of an alarm jarred the crowd, refocusing their minds on the danger that lived outside the boundaries of their homes. Elih might be a city, but it was still the desert. Descendants of Bedouins, Caucasians, and Arabs inhabited a city filled with ancient memories of the destruction sand could bring.
"Sand…" Darya whispered and grabbed hold of Recai's arm.
"What?" he shook his head, not understanding the impending danger. The alarm's shriek disoriented and confused him. There had been no sirens like this when he'd last been in the city.
"Come on. I live a few blocks from here; we can go there and not have to sit out the storm surrounded by the stench of all these people."
"A sandstorm?"
"Yes!"
She tugged his arm, pulling him toward the door. Recai responded to her desire to escape the hotel before the security gates came down, trapping everyone inside until the storm passed. Around them party-goers searched for their spouses or escorts, frantically debating if they could get to the safety of home or if they would be confined here. Voices rang out, calling above the alarm, hoping to be heard through the din of voices.
Taking his hand, Darya wove them through the scurrying crowd. Over the din the concierge announced: "A flash kum firtinasi is approaching the city. All attendees must remain calm and within the ballroom."
The staff frantically cleared plates and glasses, preparing themselves to spend the night in the back room of the hotel out of sight of the party-goers, who would be trapped within the hall.
A young woman and a slow-moving old man slid out the back door, praying to be faster than the encroaching sandstorm.
The hotel's warning siren accelerated, alerting people that the security gates would be closing over all windows and doors. Darya kicked off her heels and ducked through the crowd, rushing toward the entryway with Recai in tow. He moved without thought, allowing her to guide his body while his mind reeled.
Breaking through the clamor of bodies, Darya and Recai slipped out the entrance as the gates began to close. Outside, she turned toward him, the exhilaration of their escape animating her face.
"We made it!" she laughed, still holding his hand. The night heat was stifling and charged with electricity.
"My car…" Recai said, leading her down the street to where he had parked. Darya's elation was infectious, as she chattered excitedly.
&
nbsp; "I wouldn't have been able to survive a night in there. Those people! Who would think the richest of them would be so stupid?"
"Darya!" Recai reprimanded with a smile as they approached the vehicle.
"Sycophants, all of them. Happy to follow my uncle so long as they're above the law. Who are the laws for, if not for those who think they're above them?"
Recai glanced above them and watched as the stars began to blot out one by one, the dense atmosphere moving in.
"Get in," he commanded as he opened the door for her.
"A please would be nice," she flirted, missing the tension in his voice.
To Darya this was simply another adventure, another diversion from her day-to-day life. Sandstorms weren't regular, but they weren't uncommon—nothing to become hysterical over. Recai slid in the driver's side and fired to life what sounded like an enormous engine. They were moving almost immediately after she settled in her seat.
Speeding down the street, Recai kept both hands on the wheel.
"When did they start sounding alarms?"
"Two years ago. A number of people were caught in a sudden storm and died. My uncle implemented the warning system all over the city. I live up here on the corner," Darya pointed out.
The danger crept in on her as sirens in every section of the city blared. The winds picked up outside, a tell-tale sign that the storm would be on top of them soon. Rain evaporated in the heat above the city, leaving only the driving pressure and freeing the wind to rip through the world without restraint.
Darya sat in silence, watching out the window. The storm was coming quickly. When they appear without warning like this the Kurds say it's the mountain sending its devils to punish the city. Darya had always laughed at their ignorance, but wondered if tonight there might be some truth to their legends.
"Here," Darya indicated and Recai pulled in front of the tallest building in Elih: Çagdas Tower.
He opened his door and ran to the other side in time to help Darya onto the sidewalk. Street lights flickered and the wind whipped around them with increasing speed. The main streets became the most dangerous first, allowing the wind to pick up momentum without anything to slow its path; soon the wind itself would be almost as dangerous as the sand it brought.
The front door of the Çagdas Tower was unattended, the doorman likely hiding somewhere within the safety of the building far from the curved glass doors that welcomed all who lived within. The building was grand in design and size. Its impression was one of power and strength.
Recai rushed her to the entrance.
"Come in," Darya said when he slowed his pace.
"Darya, I shouldn't."
Stepping closer to him, she allowed her palms to rest on his chest.
"It's dangerous out here. You can't drive in this wind. There's no time. Come in."
A palm slid down an arm.
A sigh broke through the howl of the storm.
A hand was placed gently on a hip, pulling bodies closer until there was no room between them.
Recai slowly lowered his lips to Darya's, without hesitation.
The tires on Recai's Marussia B2 screamed as he pulled away from the stunned woman left standing outside her building. Her uncovered hair whipped around her face in the mounting cry of the incoming storm. No rain had fallen but the winds spoke of disaster.
Recai drove off into the fury of the mounting kum firtinasi. The silence of the night was blotted out with what seemed like the screams of devils, and the dead who accused him with their absence.
Abandoned us…
Forgot us…
Betrayed her…
Sand hung above the buildings, frozen in time as the storm gathered momentum, preparing for its assault. The orange night howled as Recai pushed his car faster toward the impending storm. He felt the gears shift and grind as they bore down to meet the demands he placed on the engine. The power at his hands filled him with a sense of freedom and as he sped faster—he longed more for escape.
Why had he done it? Why had he kissed a woman he barely knew? Recai had fought to change himself, to become the kind of man his mother would be proud of. The kind of man who could have saved Rebekah. But in the end he was still just a useless child, ruled by nothing but his own whims. How had he ever thought coming back to Elih would make a difference? That someone like him could replace his father?
He was a coward and he yearned for silence. He never found it in the desert, in his travels, in books, or even inside himself. All he wanted was to feel his loss with purity of mind.
The storm sped toward him, bringing sand and grit so sharp it could rip through a man's skin without sympathy. Before him a wall of yellow death loomed. The street ran haphazardly through the suburbs and stretched beyond the city into the desert where the wind was gathering strength. With nothing to slow its advance the kum firtinasi grew to astronomical heights, filling the sky with its rage.
Recai slammed on his breaks, burning off the outer layer of rubber on his tires. Faced with the power of the desert, his instinct to survive kicked in. He pulled the car around as soon as he regained traction and sped north toward his family home in the hills above the city. Behind him the banshee's cry dulled as he backtracked.
Once safely ahead of the storm, Recai slowed and sank into his seat, his hands shaking with adrenaline, his body exhausted. He drove on instinct, retracing the roads and neighborhoods he could name in his sleep, returning to the only real home he'd ever had, returning to his isolation.
The bile of his failure rose in his mouth, bringing tears to his eyes. Rebekah's eyes flashed before him as the desert song rang out above.
There‘s no escape from the guilt of doing nothing. All I have now is the gripping pain that haunts me even in my dreams.
Every night for years Recai had dreamed of his mother. Now the faces of two women he loved and had been unable to save blurred and combined, creating a ghost more ghastly than any movie maker's imagination.
"No!" A voice called out in the eerily lit night. The cry was soft but it penetrated the air, pierced through his darkly tinted windows and directly into Recai.
Looking in the rear view mirror, Recai saw the storm looming in the distance, moving steadily closer like some army of vengeful angels come to consume the world.
The soft voice broke through anew: "Alla'humma ajirni!"
The plea was quiet, yet deafening to Recai.
Sand caused the wheels of the powerful car to slip, breaking traction and forcing Recai's hand. The vehicle slid sideways along the street, the momentum slamming it against the back of a parked car.
The impact of the vehicles ripped metal against metal. Glass rained down on him as he fought the airbag for breath. The passenger's side was crushed inward. The frame on the driver's side was bent so that Recai's arm was caught and pinched beneath its strength. Recai's circulation slowed, and gradually he lost the ability to feel his fingers. The drowning sound of the incoming storm faded behind the pounding of his struggling pulse. Thinking this may finally be the end of his regret and pain, Recai closed his eyes in submission to Allah's will. He welcomed the blissful unconsciousness.
Before him the image of Rebekah stood in his mind, beautiful in her house-dress and gently draped hijab. An afterlife in her arms would be heaven enough for the beaten heart of a man who had seen nothing but cruelty and pain. As she reached out for him, he heard it again.
"No, please!"
A man. A voice. Darkness tangled her thoughts with fear and childhood warnings.
Sabiha, you shouldn't be walking alone, she'd heard it say.
Stupidity had made her rash; selfish concerns about her brother caused her to make the worst possible mistake—the kind of mistake that would make her wish she had died, if by any chance she managed to survive.
The low voice knew her name, knew her family name—it had come specifically for her.
She ignored its call, quickening her pace. A laugh broke out in the night, mocking her fear. Sudd
enly the owner of the voice grabbed her, turning her around to face him.
Refusing to meet the voice's gaze, Sabiha fixed her eyes forward. Her gaze came to rest on his arm where she saw the outline of a tattoo, dark and menacing. A snake's tail circled his bicep and disappeared behind his back, only to reveal itself on the other side of his neck with two onyx eyes staring at her, unblinking.
What kind of man cannot die?
Pain was inconsequential to Recai when Heaven once again refused his entry. Wrenching his arm out of its trap, Recai slammed his shoulder against the dash. Glass fell around him again at the same moment the airborne sand arrived. The wind was warm as it swirled within the demolished car. He crawled out into the sting of sand against his fresh wounds, cleansing his mind.
"No," the voice called again. "Help me!"
Grit and particles swam around Recai, spinning his mind and swirling in the air around his feet as it rose and enveloped him in its cruelty. Quickly he tore off his bloody shirt and pulled it over his face, covering his mouth and nose like a niqab. He tied the sleeves tightly around his head so the shirt clung to his skin, blocking the suffocating sand from entering his lungs.
An eerie glow came over the city as the light that shone from the lamps above and through the windows of apartments lit up each grain of sand. The movement of the air swept Recai's hair back from his face, revealing the scars in his hairline and forcing his eyes into a sharp and fearsome glare.
Following the voice that called to him from beyond the wail of the desert, Recai strode into the opaqueness before him. The sand parted, swirling in the air, and closed behind him again as he passed through the street and into the alley from which the sounds of terror rang out like a siren.
