The Pestilence

by Faisal Ansari

  Samuel regarded the majesty of the sky far above him; he thought on past the atmosphere into the vast reaches of the universe with its almost infinite number of stars and planets. The enormity of space made him feel humbled and small, an insignificant speck on an insignificant rock revolving around an insignificant star. “I’m getting stronger,” he said. Mariam reached across and squeezed his bicep. Samuel smiled. “With each person I heal the energy inside me becomes greater. I can see more. Being in Jerusalem is incredible. The city in some shape or form has been there for over 5,500 years. Millions upon millions of people have passed through its gates. Did you know that the city has been completely razed not once but twice to the ground?”

  Mariam shook her head.

  “Countless battles throughout written history have been fought inside and outside its gates. Much blood has been spilled over this city. And the residents, the invaders, all who have fallen or have passed I can see now that they do leave something behind. The dead haven’t truly gone. Walking through the city is like walking through a field of auras. They erupt like wheat from the earth swaying in the breeze. I feel that irrespective of when they died or who they were I can just pull them from the ground, any one of them at any time I choose.” Samuel sat up and called out, “Hey Dressler, if you could bring back anybody in history, who would it be?”

  “My mother.”

  “Excluding family.”

  Dressler thought for a moment. “Marcus Aurelius Antoninus Augustus. He was the Roman Emperor after Hadrian. He wrote the books of Meditations; It is not death that a man should fear, but he should fear never beginning to live.”

  That was the most Mariam had ever heard Dressler say at any one time.

  “And you Stefano?”

  “Oh, that’s easy, The King; Elvis.”

  Samuel settled back down on the grass. “Not only in Jerusalem, there are auras everywhere.” Samuel looked over at the creek. “A little boy drowned in this river fifty years ago. I can see his aura by the bank.”

  Mariam withdrew her feet from the water. “So you could raise him?”

  Samuel nodded. “I just need to see his aura, his body should be restored.”

  “How old would he be?”

  “Technically fifty-seven but if I raise him he would be the age which he died at, seven.”

  “Well, don’t do it.” She smiled. “What are we going to do with a fifty-seven year old, seven-year old? We have only just got a dog. I’m not ready for kids.”

  Samuel looked up at Mariam. “Can you be serious?”

  “I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what we should do. Why would you pull long-dead people out of the grave?”

  Samuel shrugged. “Because I can,” he offered.

  “No,” Mariam said emphatically. “Just because you can doesn’t mean you should. The little boy’s family are probably long gone, who would look after him now? How could you possibly explain what happened to him?”

  “I know, I know but what am I supposed to do? I wish someone would tell me.”

  Mariam sighed. “I don’t know, sweetheart. I have been asking myself the same questions and the answers are too scary to contemplate. I have been talking to a priest.” Mariam ran her hand along the top of Samuel’s chest. “But I just don’t know; kiss me.”

  “Look at the kids,” whispered Dressler as Mariam pressed her lips into Samuel’s.

  Stefano grunted and looked away. “Probably just agreed to call the dog Snowy or something.”

  Samuel broke first, the familiar taste of her still on his lips. “Forget the priest. There are no answers there. I was thinking about your father. His aura is at your house. I saw it when I called for you. I did it for Dina. I’m sure I can for you.”

  Mariam looked out over the glistening water. “Dina was different. He has been gone a long time.” She was still for a moment. “I thought of him today. Some dick emailed me pretending to be him and said some horrible stuff. Not since he died have I been that upset. I asked Hazel to help track him down.” At the mention of Hazel, Samuel half opened his mouth intending to speak about the night in the apartment. He thought back to the car in Jericho and what Mariam had said; some things were private, even between them.

  “The dog,” hissed Dressler. She was watching the Canaan. Its ears had pricked up and she had half lifted her head in the direction of the trail. “Someone is coming.” The Canaan was standing now looking directly at the path, a low growl emanating from deep within her throat. Stefano was up and running, he drew his Beretta and sprinted across the clearing. Dressler hustled for Samuel, pulling her 357 from its holster under her jacket. Samuel and Mariam looked up in bemusement as Dressler towered over them. She was a mountain of a woman easily shielding the two prone bodies.

  The Canaan was roaring now and Mariam struggled to hold her back. Samuel reached across and grabbed the dog’s collar. Mariam slipped her hand into her ruck-sack, removed and unsheathed the Tanto. The blade caught the afternoon light. Mariam stood side by side with Dressler, together a fierce impenetrable wall.

  Whoever was coming had heard the Canaan and stopped. They were hovering just outside the clearing. Stefano called out, Beretta in his left hand, the gun steady at eye level. There was a rustle of foliage and a young man stepped into the clearing. Stefano instantly rushed him, grabbing the boy by the neck and forcing him to the floor, the Beretta pressed hard into his temple.

  “It’s okay, it’s okay,” shouted Mariam. “He’s from the camp.” Mariam dropped the Tanto and rushed over to the boy helping him up while apologising profusely. He stood awkwardly as Mariam dusted down his trousers all the while his eyes were shooting daggers at Stefano. The boy nodded a greeting to Samuel while pressing a parcel of food into Mariam’s hands. “From Deedee,” he said. “She saw you on the news.” Mariam thanked him for his trouble and apologised again. The boy looked less aggrieved, but Stefano’s presence robbed him of any desire to linger. He bade farewell to Samuel and Mariam and strode out of the clearing. He fired one last look of pure hatred towards Stefano as he disappeared into the trees.

  The food was welcome and Samuel invited Stefano and Dressler to join them. Dalia had sent up a simple meal of babaganoush, kibbeh and hummus accompanied by some flat bread. Mariam was bitterly disappointed by the omission of Dalia’s legendary falafel.

  “What about you Samuel?” said Dressler “Who would you bring back?” She picked up a kibbeh broke it in half and popped it into her mouth.

  “Mariam’s father and my eldest brother, both were taken by the war.”

  “Hey, no family,” objected Stefano.

  Samuel shrugged. “That’s who I’m going to bring back.” The phrasing of Samuel’s answer was lost on everyone bar Mariam. She reached forward to scoop her bread into the pot of hummus and as she did so she put her hand on Samuel’s knee. It appeared a lover’s gesture but was, in fact, a subtle warning.

  “Why not Elvis?” said Stefano.

  Samuel smiled and said nothing.

  ***

  ASHEN punched his tracking number into the keyboard at the sparse business suite of his downtown hotel. Beersheba was a fair-sized city of almost 200,000 people, but the specialised pieces of equipment that Ashen needed were not to be found within the city or even within Israel itself. The shipment tracking data showed that his three packages, labelled “film-making equipment”, had left the United States four days ago and had just cleared Israeli customs. With shipping and taxes, they had cost US$8,000 each. It wasn’t Ashen’s money; he had taken the identity of one of his congregation. Ashen had emptied the church’s bank accounts into the man’s account and had ushered him with the rest of his people onto the Path of Light.

  Complacency, Ashen believed, would be the undoing of the False Messiah. When one has made a decision to kill a person, even if it will be very difficult to succeed by advancing straight ahead, it will not do to think about doing it in a long, roundabout way. Ashen’s plan was one of immediacy. They would execute
a direct attack using devastating explosive force and would target the False Messiah at his safest, most secure location. They would destroy his strength and pave a way for the return of the King.

  The order tracker indicated that the film-making equipment was due to be delivered to the hotel the day after tomorrow. Since their expedition to the quarry, Ashen and his team had spent most days by the pool waiting for their delivery. They kept tabs on their target through the BBC or the Haran camp website. The PETN, the detonators and cord had been boxed and stowed in a storage locker on the south side of the city. Ashen consulted his mental list of the items they needed; with the impending arrival of the equipment from the United States it was now time to fully equip themselves for the strike. He also needed to leave as much time as possible for training.

  First on his list were cell phones. Ashen wanted something old, something basic to do the job. None of the church members had risked bringing their personal mobiles from Japan. They would need to purchase four pay-as-you-go burners, three to act as remote detonators, one to place the calls. Ashen considered sending each of his team to separate retailers. What would look more suspicious, he thought, a single person buying one or two phones or three buying four? On balance, he didn’t think it mattered. There were probably only a handful of Japanese tourists in the city and his team weren’t guaranteed any kind of anonymity by splitting up.

  Secondly, Ashen needed some basic tools. Any local hardware store should furnish them with what they required; a cordless drill and soldering iron being chief amongst them. Ashen couldn’t think of a good reason why a tourist would want to purchase such things so to be prudent he would send Red out of the city to pick up the items. They needed two other things; training aids to practise for the attack and transport in Jerusalem. The transport they would buy for cash. It would be far simpler than trying to steal it and potentially attracting police attention. For the training aids he called up a directory of business listings in Beersheba, found what he was looking for and clicked through to the store’s website. He ordered three, along with the relevant batteries and chose the “collect at store” option. Red, Black and Ashen would pick them up on the drive out to their training session in the desert.

  Ashen mentally checked and re-checked his planning and preparation. He was meticulous, walking through the planned attack, probing for weakness or areas where they were overexposed. When he was finally satisfied he allowed his thoughts to turn to Mariko. It had been over a week since White had disappeared. He had chosen to save her while he gassed and burned her family in Tokyo. She was the one; she was to have been his prize, his Eve. He tasted the bitterness of her loss once more. She knew of his plans once the King came, she knew that her destiny was to be by his side. Had she rejected him? The thought sickened him. Or had there been something else? Not knowing gnawed at him. He played the scenarios over and over again in his mind as he had done since the day of her disappearance. Ashen was a cautious man, but now because of White he made his first mistake.

  Since the Electrical Phenomenon had announced the arrival of the False Messiah and the end of his followers in Tokyo, Ashen had ensured his team stayed off the grid. He had sent one email to gather his lieutenants but since then no electronic communication of any kind within the team or with outsiders had been permitted. They paid cash wherever they could, no cell phones were carried and except for mission critical assignments no access to the Internet was permitted. Ashen was a man used to being obeyed and accustomed to making the rules, but now his desire caused him to break his most important rule. He logged into an anonymous email account and fired off an email.

  Timeline: The Pestilence minus 5 days. Information source: Email intercept between unknown and Mariko Tanaka.

  Subject:

  White

  No word on your whereabouts. Father is concerned. Please respond.

  ***

  ASHEN looked at his sent box for a moment weighing the choice he had just made. He was about to close his browser when a response slipped into his inbox.

  ***

  Timeline: The Pestilence minus 5 days. Information source: Email intercept between Mariko Tanaka and unknown.

  Subject:

  Father

  I have been waiting for your message. I am sorry I couldn’t come home. I had trouble with the neighbours, but I am safe now. They are no longer a problem. I wish to be reunited once again with the family. Where shall we meet?

  White

  ***

  Timeline: The Pestilence minus 5 days. Information source: Email intercept between unknown and Mariko Tanaka.

  Subject:

  White

  We will be returning to Jerusalem in four days. Will advise on meeting location shortly before. My heart is filled with joy that you are safe. Your place is by my side.

  ***

  Timeline: The Pestilence minus 5 days. Information source: Email intercept between Mariko Tanaka and unknown.

  Subject:

  Father

  I want nothing more than to regain my rightful place. Can we not meet sooner?

  White

  ***

  Timeline: The Pestilence minus 5 days. Information source: Email intercept between unknown and Mariko Tanaka.

  Subject:

  Patience my daughter. We will be together soon. Await my instructions.

  ***

  ASHEN was talking to a mirror. Decapolis cyber security had deployed it to stand between White’s inbox and the outside world. White could not detect the replication, she could send and receive messages, but all incoming and outgoing mail was filtered and controlled by a Decapolis investigator. None of Ashen’s messages were ever seen by White.

  ***

  Timeline: The Pestilence minus 3 days. Information source: Email intercept between Hazel Sears and Dr Mariam Fara.

  Subject RE: Help!

  Hi Mariam

  I can’t believe that email. Some people are totally out of order. It will take me a little while to track his IP address via his Internet service provider. I will get it to you once I have it. Honestly Mariam, I would just leave be. He could be a psycho.

  I am back in London now. I didn’t know if Samuel told you but he made me one of the Healed before I left. Bill was right, as one of the Healed you do see things differently. Physically you feel fitter, stronger and more mentally alert. There aren’t many Healed here in Britain, but I have been speaking to some of the community online. It is clear that becoming Healed means different things to different people. Some have drawn closer to family or friends; others have started rebuilding broken bridges. For me, I just see beauty in the small things all around me. I don’t think I will stay in journalism. I want to do more with my life but at the moment am not sure what that could be.

  I will always be grateful for meeting you and Samuel. I wish you the very best and hope we will keep in touch.

  Please don’t hesitate to ask if you need anything else.

  Kind regards

  Hazel

  ***

  THE afternoon had commenced its slow draw into the evening. “Have you spoken to Dr Biram?” said Samuel. They were on the outskirts of the village casually winding their way back to Mariam’s house.

  “Not since the night after the airstrike. I sent him a message today. I need him to review my paper.”

  “His wife has kicked him out.”

  Mariam looked down at the floor. “How do you know?”

  “On the way here I was listening to the news in the car.”

  “Is there seriously nothing else happening in the world today for that to be news?”

  “You should call him,” said Samuel.

  Mariam sighed.

  “You will think of something to say.” Samuel’s voice had a bitter-sweet edge.

  “I am not sure about this,” said Mariam.

  A look of pain crossed Samuel’s face. “What? Us?”

  “No moron, my father. How would he be? What would he look like? There is something
unnatural about what you’re suggesting. It just feels… well, it just feels wrong. I don’t know. If he died yesterday I wouldn’t hesitate. But it’s been so long, I was just a little girl.”

  Samuel slipped his arm around Mariam’s waist.

  “I used to think about my father every day but as time passed, he faded from view. They say time heals these kinds of wounds, but that’s a straight fucking lie. The wounds they lurk, festering in the dark, waiting for someone like that man with his email to bring them raw and painfully back into the light. As a kid this kind of thing shapes who you are, it shapes who you grow up to become. For me, for many years, I was the girl without a father. Deep down, I do want him back, but I’m ashamed for saying this, Mama and I have both learnt to live without him.”

  They had reached the porch of the house. Most of the news reporters had gone. Samuel tied up the Canaan and removed his sandals. He asked Stefano and Dressler to wait outside and turned to Mariam.

  “There is still love in your heart for your father. Why would that change? He will be the same man that you loved all those years ago.”

  “I’m worried for Mama; we need to make sure this is what she wants. Let me explain to her.”

  Samuel nodded.

  “Are you ready?” he said.

  Mariam gazed into Samuel’s eyes for a long, intense moment. She then reached up and touched the side of his face.

  “Thank you for this,” she said.

  Samuel closed the space between them and kissed her hard on the lips. Mariam slid one arm round his waist slipping her thumb into the rear belt loop of his trousers. Her other hand floated up his back and she pushed her fingers into his hair gripping him urgently.

  Dressler looked away while Stefano’s eyes remained fixed on Dressler.

  ***

  Chapter 14

  THE same young man who had been manhandled by Stefano at the creek was walking alongside Dalia. He carried straw and feed for Dalia’s goats. The walk took them away from the hustle of the ever-expanding camp towards the village of Haran. When they reached the temporary pens, the boy removed the soiled bedding and replaced it with fresh straw. He laid the feed unopened at Dalia’s feet and began the short trip back to the camp. Dalia’s animals were her quiet solace in an otherwise busy day and she normally fed them alone. Dalia watched the boy recede into the hubbub of the camp. He had attached himself to her. His mother was one of the first Healed to arrive at the farm and she now worked as the lead architect managing the needs of the growing camp population. Her son, when he was not at the camp school, ran Dalia’s errands and to her delight generally got under her feet.