With a loud clatter, the knife fell to the floor as Nasir brought both hands to his neck in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure. His whole face was now bright red and his eyes were bulging from lack of air. I stared down at the knife lying only inches from my feet. I knew my only chance to rescue Nasir and myself was to grab it. With my hands still bound, I lunged for the knife. But Lino was faster than me. With a swift motion, he kicked it under the couch.
I turned to retrieve it when a horrible, strangled whine stopped me in my tracks. It was Nasir! I turned back just in time to see Lino pulling him down to the ground, banging his head against the floor in the process and knocking him unconscious. Released from the stranglehold, Nasir lay there on top of Lino’s splattered blood. He was frightfully still. Was he alive? I held my breath and waited until I was finally able to detect the slow and steady rise and fall of his chest.
Dear God! He was breathing! He was alive, at least for the time being.
But for now it was just me and Lino — who had quickly reclaimed his knife, dashing my last chance at a rescue. My whole body began quivering with terror as my fate suddenly became very clear. He was going to take me to the desert and kill me! My nightmare of a sudden, violent death was about to come true!
While I sat on that couch biting off my beautiful fingernails and waiting for Mr. Hadad to come back with the getaway car, I saw my whole life flash before me — a mental slide show of all the people and places and memories I was about to leave forever.
Birthday parties and Christmas mornings … dance recitals and camping trips … first days of school and big family Easter dinners … learning how to ride a bike, building forts in my backyard, snuggling in my parents’ bed during thunderstorms, sleepovers at Christina’s house and those late-night Scrabble games where we always ended up falling asleep on the couch.
I saw Mom again in that flashback, so clearly and vividly I swear it was like she was alive again. I saw her brushing and braiding my hair every morning, her mouth full of barrettes and elastic bands. I saw her sitting next to me at the kitchen table, patiently helping me conjugate my French verbs. And I saw her pouring batter into a frying pan as she made those great storybook pancakes while I sat perched on the counter beside her, watching in awe.
But most overwhelmingly, my thoughts were of Dad and the past two years we’d spent together. I saw him camped out in a sleeping bag on my bedroom floor just after Mom died, keeping me company during those first long, dark nights. I saw us doubled over in hysterics in a darkened movie theatre, laughing our crazy-horse laughs at some stupid comedy he’d suggested to cheer us up. I saw us on the whaling excursion we’d chartered on the St. Lawrence, watching the beautiful white belugas frolic in the wake of the boat. And I saw him crowing with pride over my pottery find in Tiberias to everyone who would listen, his eyes overflowing with love for me.
I’d been trying to stay strong this whole time, but something inside me suddenly snapped. I leaned my face into my knees and started to cry. And not a dainty, damsel-in-distress kind of cry … it was more of the full-out sobbing, heaving, snotty-nose variety. The kind of crying you only indulge in when you’re by yourself because it’s just too ugly to do in front of anybody else — especially in front of a boy you like. I cried my heart out until my eyes were red and raw and my nose swelled up and my cheeks hurt. I cried hard and hideous and I didn’t care. I couldn’t remember the last time I told Dad I loved him. And I couldn’t stop thinking about how lonely his life would be without me.
All of a sudden there was a knock at the door. I knew it was Mr. Hadad — he must have found a car.
“It’s time to go!” Lino growled, grabbing me by the arm and yanking me roughly across the room.
“Noooo!” I screamed, my eyes still blurry with tears. Forgetting about the knife, I swung my bound hands at him, determined to put up the fight of my life. Unfortunately, it wasn’t much of a battle. Ducking my fists, he scooped me up and carried me to the door. He struggled to pull it open — trying to balance me over his shoulder with one hand while he yanked on the knob with the other, bloody one. Just as he managed to open the door, there was a sudden, explosive boom-boom. I fell to the floor with a painful thud, and then the world went black.
Chapter 30
“Mackenzie? Mackenzie?”
I opened my eyes and saw my father standing over me, his black cape draped dramatically over his shoulders like a superhero. He was smiling and crying and calling my name.
Did I die and go to heaven?
And then I saw Marla Hoffman emerge from behind him, her normally cool face looking pale and panicky. She glanced down at me, let out a little scream of horror, and covered her eyes.
Okay … I’m definitely dead!
I raised my head off the floor, searching for signs of my own blood. That’s when I saw Lino’s body lying next to me. Suddenly I felt dizzy. With a soft moan, I dropped my head back down to the floor. Dad fell to his knees beside me, untied his cape, and threw it over me like a blanket. Then he set to work untying my hands.
“Just lie still for a minute and catch your breath, honey,” he said. “I’m worried you might be in shock.”
I nodded, so happy to see him … even if I was dead.
But then I saw the T-shaped tool at his feet. And suddenly I understood. It wasn’t me who was dead, after all!
“A pickaxe, Dad? You killed him with a pickaxe?”
He looked relieved to hear me talking.
“I was at work when you called and said you were in trouble, so I grabbed the only weapon I could find,” he said, picking up my wrist to measure my pulse. “And I didn’t kill him, Mackenzie. I just knocked him out with the handle.”
As if to prove Dad’s point, Lino suddenly stirred and let out a loud, painful groan. I just about jumped out of my skin, petrified that he might be waking up.
Dad was obviously thinking the same thing.
“Oh gosh, maybe we’d better hurry,” he said, taking me by the arms and sitting me up. “Do you think you can stand?”
I nodded through the dizziness and let him help me to my feet. That’s when I saw my boyfriend’s body still lying on the floor by the couch.
“No! We can’t leave Nasir!” I said, pulling away from Dad and staggering across the room. I crouched by his side and leaned over his chest, listening for signs of life. His breath was weak, but definitely there. I wanted to cry with relief. But instead, I picked up his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.
“Nasir? It’s Mackenzie — can you hear me?” There was no answer. He remained terrifyingly still — not even a flicker of movement to suggest that he’d heard my voice.
“Please Dad,” I said, turning around to meet his gaze. “He got hurt trying to help me. We have to get him to a doctor!”
Dad didn’t move. He stared at me silently, his grey-blue eyes clouded with confusion. Clearly he wasn’t prepared to handle the “save-my-wounded-boyfriend” talk, either. I guess I couldn’t really blame him for looking shocked. But right now my concern was for Nasir.
Without waiting for help, I grabbed Nasir under the arms and tried to pull him to a seated position like Dad had done for me. But Nasir was heavier than I’d figured and the effort of lifting him brought the dizziness barrelling back. I swayed on my heels, lost my balance, and fell back down. Luckily, Dad saw it coming and caught me just before I hit the floor.
“I’m sorry, Mack,” he said decisively. “But I can’t carry both of you out of here. He’ll have to wait for the police to come. I called them on my way here — they should be arriving any minute.”
“But he’s innocent!” I wailed. “We can’t leave him!”
“Look,” he continued, glancing nervously at Lino. “Who knows how many more thugs are on their way here right now. We have to get out of here fast. The police are trained in first aid — they’ll take care of this boy when they get here.”
From behind us, Lino groaned again, louder this time. Our chance to escape was
running out.
“Come on!” Dad said, his normally calm voice growing urgent. “We’re leaving right now, even if it means I have to carry you out of here kicking and screaming!”
I didn’t want to abandon Nasir, but I knew Dad was right. What else could I do? I had no choice but to leave my boyfriend on that dingy linoleum floor. I leaned on Dad’s shoulder as he helped me to my feet a second time. That’s when I spotted Marla still lingering in the doorway. She couldn’t seem to take her eyes off Lino. There was an intense frown of concentration on her face, like she was working on a geometry problem or something. Suddenly, she pointed at the body and yelped.
“Holy cow, Mack! I think that’s the guy from the souk who sold you the bowl!”
“What?” Dad cried, taking a closer look at the man he’d just pickaxed in the head. “What are you doing in his apartment?”
This time I didn’t need to see his face to sense his confusion — it was coming across loud and clear in his voice. I tried to explain as best as I could in my frazzled state of mind.
“I … I just found out today that he’s Nasir’s … that is, um, my boyfriend’s father’s friend. He was going to kill me.”
Dad gasped. I know that was hard for him to hear. His grip on me weakened and, for a split second, I worried that he might drop me back onto the floor. But a moment later, he shored himself up and called for Marla.
“Come on, pick my cape up and wrap it around her shoulders. Then help me get her out of here.”
As he and Marla led me out of the apartment, we passed the crooked line of photos hanging on the wall. My eyes connected with Nasir’s photograph and my guts twisted with guilt. I couldn’t help wondering what was going to happen to him and his family now.
With Marla holding up one side of me and Dad holding up the other, the three of us made our way down the smelly stairwell and back through the souk. We moved as fast as we could, considering that they pretty much had to carry me most of the way. It wasn’t until we jumped into a taxi that we finally felt safe enough to talk. That’s when the details of my rescue came out.
“So, how on earth did you know where to find me?” I asked as the cab careened around a corner and sped away from the Old City.
Dad steadied himself against the back of the passenger seat and nodded over at Marla.
“Don’t look at me …,” he said.
“What?” I turned to look at my friend … the same friend I was ready to disown less than twenty-four hours earlier. “How?”
They exchanged glances. “Do you want to tell her or should I?” asked Dad.
Marla looked a little embarrassed. I swear, that must have been a first for her.
“You go ahead and tell it,” she said.
“After you called I was desperate to find you,” he explained. “You said you were in the souk, but that’s a mighty big place to search. I phoned Marla, praying she’d have an idea where you were. That’s when she told me what you’d been up to and brought me to the apartment.”
I stared at Marla in surprise.
“I don’t get it — how did you know where Nasir lived?”
“I kind of followed you there earlier this afternoon,” she said, looking down at her hands.
My mouth dropped open with shock. “You did? Why?”
“After we talked last night, I knew you were getting in way over your head with this whole thing. I wanted to see where Nasir was taking you and make sure you were okay. I guess I feel responsible for you, Mack — kind of like your big sister or something. Anyway, once I saw you guys go into his apartment, I went home. I knew you had your cellphone if you got into trouble. And I couldn’t exactly follow you inside, could I?”
“No, I guess not,” I agreed, although I wished she had. Then maybe I could have avoided this whole mess.
“So,” she continued, “the phone was ringing when I walked in my door, and of course, it was your dad. When I heard about your phone call, I brought him back there right away. And that’s when we found you. From the looks of things, I guess we got there in the nick of time.”
She paused for a second as her olive eyes filled with tears.
“See? I told you this would end badly, didn’t I?” she added, her face crumpling with sadness. “God, Mack! They killed my mother and they almost killed you, too.”
And then she started to cry. Those words had ripped the Band-Aid off what was clearly still a raw wound. How could I have been so stupid? Now I finally understood why Marla never liked Nasir. I’d gone and misjudged her just as terribly as she’d misjudged him.
“Mar,” I said softly. “I know losing your mom was devastating — she didn’t deserve to die. But you can’t blame every Arab for her murder. Nasir didn’t kill her. And neither did his father or anyone else from his family. The person who killed her was an angry radical. Nasir was trying to save my life.”
Suddenly, the driver veered sharply to the right to avoid another car, smacking my body up against the vinyl wall of the cab. That’s when I started crying, too — actually, it was more like sobbing. After all I’d been through that day, you might not think I had any tears left. But there they were, pouring down my cheeks fast and furious, creeping into the corners of my mouth until I was forced to swallow the bitter taste of my sadness. I felt doubly ashamed — for leaving Nasir behind, and for the way I’d treated my best friend.
“I’m so sorry,” I whimpered. “You had my back and all this time I thought you were … well, jealous … You know, of me having a boyfriend and all.” I cringed to hear myself say those words. I’d been so self-absorbed and petty. How could I have so totally missed what was really going on?
Marla’s eyes widened with surprise at my confession. “Jealous? Me? No, I was never jealous. Just suspicious … and scared … and I guess a bit neurotic. That’s what happens when a suicide-bomber rips your life apart.”
The air in the cab suddenly felt as hot and close as it had in the Hadads’ apartment. Gasping for breath, I rolled down my window and let the wind rush over my face. The cab driver glanced over at me. He looked nervous, like he thought I might self-destruct right there in his back seat. I just ignored him and kept crying. The wind blew some of my sadness away and helped dry my tears. After a minute I felt a bit better. I took a long, shuddery breath and patted my friend’s shoulder softly.
“All right, I’ll stop crying if you will, okay?”
“Only if you say you don’t hate me for telling your dad about you and Nasir.”
“I could never hate you,” I sniffled, giving her a hug. “And thanks.”
She hugged me back. “S’okay. I’m just so glad you’re all right.”
And that’s how good a person Marla Hoffman was. Right then and there I knew that I’d never consider replacing her as my best friend again.
I was quiet during the rest of the cab ride. I couldn’t stop thinking about Nasir. Was he on his way to the hospital? Did the police arrest Lino? What about Mr. Hadad?
As desperate as I was to find out, I had no choice but to push those questions to the back of my head. The trauma of the day was definitely catching up with me — what I needed most was my bed and my Frou-frou.
After we stopped at the police station to file a report — which took forever — we dropped Marla off at her apartment building and went home. You can’t even imagine how great it felt to be back in a place I thought I’d never live to see again! Dad tucked me into bed with a cup of peppermint tea and my beloved bear. I was so exhausted I thought I’d fall asleep right away. But I tossed and turned for a long time, thinking of Nasir. Did the police get there in time? Was he safe? His voice kept echoing in my head, saying “I love you, Muck-and-zee” over and over. And all I could think was how I never got the chance to say it back.
Chapter 31
I woke up the next morning to see Einstein camped out in a sleeping bag on my bedroom floor.
“Dad?” I croaked, sitting up in bed. “What are you doing here?”
H
e rolled over and opened his eyes.
“Hey, good morning.”
Then, with a stretch of his arms, he opened the sleeping bag and came over to sit at the foot of my bed.
“I couldn’t sleep last night, thinking about you alone in here. I had to make sure you were safe, so I snuck in here in the middle of the night. Hope you don’t mind.”
“No, I don’t mind,” I replied, reaching for Frou-frou.
He folded his arms across his chest and took a deep breath. When he spoke again, his voice was low and serious. “You gave me quite a scare yesterday, Mack.”
I hung my head. “Yeah, I know. Sorry, Dad.”
“What were you doing in that boy’s apartment, anyway? You were dating him behind my back?”
Oh God! Time to face the music.
“Um, yeah …,” I admitted sheepishly. There was no point trying to cover it up anymore.
Dad cleared his throat and began tapping his foot on the floor — two sure signs that he was not pleased. I knew if he started rubbing his forehead, big trouble was definitely coming.
“And how long has it been going on?”
I sighed and picked at the fluff balls on Froufrou’s one remaining ear. “A few months. I wanted to tell you, but I knew you’d just make me stop seeing him.”
He looked hurt. “How can you be so sure about that? We could at least have talked about it.”
“Come on, Dad! You wouldn’t even discuss the idea of dating at all. Remember my birthday?”
The old “pin-stuck-in-the-butt” look flashed across his face.
“Yes, I remember. But the whole idea just made me nervous. I want you to be safe, that’s all.”
I sighed again, then slumped down on my pillow. “I understand, Dad, but you’re treating me like a child, and I’m not one anymore!”
“I do not treat you like a child,” he protested.
Mackenzie, Lost and Found Page 13
