Storm, page 7
He replaces his glasses before I have the chance to meet his eyes. And somehow it feels purposeful. Like he doesn’t want me to see. My stomach jerks, that tugging sensation, feet desperate to run, as if my body wants to be anywhere but here.
“If he gets his hands on you, he can do great damage,” the man continues. “Use you for your powers. Cause great pain. Hurt the ones you love.” A sinister grin crawls across his face. “But if you come with me, you will be welcomed in my family. I will provide you protection. And I will teach you all that I know. You will be safe.” He leans forward, hands pressed together. “Don’t you want to feel safe?”
Keep him talking, Ro. I hear Moche again. Everything has a cost. He wants something.
“And then?” I squawk.
Farouk laughs, deep from his belly. “Whatever you want, dear one. We will use your powers to protect us from the professor and his evil schemes. You and your little friends out there…we will rule over Cairo. Together. You’ll have more money than you’ve ever imagined.” His smile drops, chin dipping downward. “But we don’t have much time, child. This power you wield…can be dangerous if in the wrong hands. People can be hurt. But not your people, if you stick with me.”
Sweat builds under my scarf as my mind races. How would he know about powers…unless he has them, too? Unless he’s using them right now, digging around in my thoughts?
My fingers tingle, and I curl them into fists. I still don’t understand; it was his brother who seemed to want to hurt the professor. How do I know that Farouk is not the same? Just another madman after me.
And yet, what if he’s right about the professor? What if he is the real evil one? I think back to his kind eyes that day, his willingness to give me his wallet. But really, I know nothing except what I made up in my head. I could be wrong about him.
I think of Moche and his dream, all the places he wants to visit. I think of the kiddies, the way their bellies would be full every night. Farouk could give it all to us. But there’s something about him that makes it feel like there are a thousand beetles crawling across my skin.
My palms itch, and I fold them behind my back. “I…I need to think about it.”
The corners of his lips tighten. He takes a cigar out his jacket, studies it a moment, considering, then lights it up. “There’s not much time. We only have until the next worm moon.”
I raise an eyebrow at the comment it seems he almost didn’t want to admit. The next worm moon? Why not say a few days or weeks? What does the moon have to do with anything? But I consider his action, his tight movements, and he doesn’t have much of a poker face. He’s holding something back.
“And if my answer is no?” I ask.
His eerie laugh bounces against the cement walls. “Then nothing, dear one. Everything will be as it was. While we’re in this room, time is standing still.”
Mind scrambling, I bite my lip, looking back at the door, toward the great room where Moche and the boys are waiting for me, wishing I could be near them, just to feel safe again. I haven’t felt this uneasy since that day in the bar so many years ago.
Standing still…
I turn back to him. “How do you know about what happened to your brother?”
Farouk tips his head to the side. “What?”
“If your brother died in the bar but you weren’t there, then how did you know that I was there? The room was frozen. No one saw a thing except me. And I never told a soul.”
Farouk pauses, but his face seems to darken behind his glasses.
Powers. I cough, taking a shaky step back as I nearly suffocate in the smoke-filled room.
Farouk sighs, as if suddenly bored of the unsaid game we are playing. “The choice is yours, Ororo. Don’t you want to belong to a real family? One that can truly protect and love you?”
Something tugs at my stomach again.
Come home.
The voice blares like an alarm, and I know right away I want nothing to do with the man.
“Thank you,” I say, keeping my voice steady. “But I already have a family who can protect me.”
Farouk smiles. “Very well, then. The choice is yours.”
Despite his pleasant demeanor, I sense the danger simmering beneath his taut skin. This is far from over.
He walks to the door, holding it open for me. “After you, dear one.”
Hesitant, I slowly walk past him, but not before looking right into the space behind his glasses, seeing his glowing red eyes.
The same eyes that strange man had in the bar.
I swallow and give him a warm smile. “Thank you.”
Farouk walks behind me as I lead the way, my mind racing to make sense of it all, eager to find Moche. I need to warn him, and somehow plan our escape.
Farouk’s cheerful whistling slices through the air, and my blood runs cold. I gulp, glancing back at him in momentary shock. He simply smiles and carries on his tune. That sharp and pleasant yet eerie melody I would know anywhere.
That whistle…those eyes…
My bones turn to noodles as a horrifying realization hits me. It’s him. It’s the Shadow King…but in another man’s body? Is that possible?
Heart racing, I can barely breathe as Farouk, the Shadow King, follows close behind.
As we enter the great room, Moche jumps to his feet, taking a visibly relieved breath. The rest of my brothers stare at us. All I want is to scream for everyone to run. But I have to play it cool. I have to—
Farouk grabs the back of my head, tosses me on the floor like a piece of lint. My knees hit the concrete and I skid forward.
“Ro!” Moche shouts, running toward me.
“What are you doing?” Hakim screams.
But Farouk’s men stop them from coming any closer. Farouk kicks my side and I scream, pain shooting up my back.
“Leave her alone!” Amir cries.
“She’s just a girl! She doesn’t know anything,” Bassel snaps, outraged.
“This is the rat who got Achmed arrested!” Farouk shouts, grabbing me by the collar.
I wheeze, gripping my burning side, and shake my head. “What? No!”
“She gave up Achmed for her own freedom. The very man who raised you.”
The boys stand around in collective confusion. Moche lunges for me, but the boys hold him back. In the chaos, I see the fear in his eyes and resolve to be strong.
“It’s not true,” I yell, tears streaming. “I would never do that! Achmed is like a father to me!” I point at Farouk. “You know me. You don’t know him!”
“You’ve all known she was never one of you,” Farouk snaps. “See for yourself!”
He nods at one of his henchmen. The tall balding man stalks toward me, locked on my head.
My hair!
My stomach sinks, filling with dread, and I stop breathing. Before I can scramble away, he reaches his large hairy hand and yanks at my hijab. I grab hold of the scarf, my neck stiffening. From the corner of my eye, Farouk stands by with a satisfied smirk. He knows this is my worst fear, my worst nightmare, coming to life.
“No! Please, no!” I scream, desperation taking over. I’m on my back, legs swinging at his groin and stomach, slapping his arms, hands, face, frantically trying to fight him off. But I’m powerless against his strength as the thought of what comes next strangles me.
They can’t see! They can’t know!
The man shakes me around like a rabid dog, jaws locked on its prey, and pries the scarf from my fingers, casting it aside with a grunt. My hair falls out of its messy braid, rolling down my back, and I let out a screaming sob so painful it burns my throat.
There are audible gasps as the room freezes. The boys stare, pure shock in their eyes. I keep my own eyes down, my chest heaving deep, shuddering breaths as I try to block the image of their horror from being burned in my mind. Naked, exposed, humiliated, I stretch my arms out, blindly feeling around for my scarf, the ground wet with my own tears.
All these years, I shielded them. All these years, I kept them in the dark. But now…but now…
Silence. Instead of the shock and ridicule I had always expected, the room is somber, like the moments before a funeral. I want to drown myself in the quiet. I can’t look at their bleak faces, the pitiful stares. This isn’t what I expected, what I always imagined, which somehow makes it that much more unbearable.
Moche hesitates, then makes the first move. Followed by Hakim, then Amir.
“What are you doing?” Farouk barks.
The boys form a ring around me, linking arms, until I’m surrounded by a tight circle, their backs shielding me. Amir reaches behind and hands me my scarf, with the needle wrapped in it. Something in me recoils—the scarf was ripped off my head by that man, and I want nothing to do with it anymore. But I have no other choice.
I grab it from Amir. “Thank you.” I sniff.
Farouk scoffs. “She’s not Muslim!”
“She deserves respect all the same,” Moche snaps.
I twirl my hair around the needle and quickly stuff it securely back under my scarf.
Moche glances over his shoulder at me, face blanched, his eyes unsure.
“I’m okay,” I whisper. It’s a lie, but I need us both to hold it together to get out of this mess.
“If you are done with your theatrics…,” Farouk hisses, then nods at his men. “Take her away. We’ll deal with her later.”
Chaos erupts as the boys try to hold the line, but the men charge into the circle, pushing the boys aside. Amir reaches for me as one of the men scoops me up and drags me back to the office, Farouk following close behind. I hear Moche shouting my name as a door slams shut.
They throw me on the floor and I spin around, hot tears spilling.
“What do you want!” I shout.
“My offer still stands,” he says plainly. “Leave these street urchins to starve. We have the world to take over!”
“No! Never!”
He shrugs. “Suit yourself. You’ll have plenty of time to reconsider as you sit in here and think. Let’s say, until the next worm moon, yes?” His features split in a snarl. “And what you won’t give me freely, I’ll take by force if I must.”
Farouk turns on his heel and storms out of the room. His men follow, locking the door behind them. My breath quickens, palms sweating as the walls close in. Pulse racing, I cover my mouth, holding in an earth-shattering sob. I’m too shaken to worry about what he’ll do to me. After all, the worst has already happened. The boys have seen my hair. I’ve been outed. Violated.
Focus, Ororo. You must focus.
Even with the room empty, being in Achmed’s office brings back so many memories of all the lessons he taught me, all his wisdom. The way he would stand behind me as I worked on a complicated lock with a ticking clock beside me.
Concentration is key to survival, he would breathe. When you focus, you can do anything.
Focus. I need to get out of here and rescue the boys. They don’t know who they are up against. I am not entirely sure myself, but I remember the look on the professor’s face when he told me to run and hide, and now I know why. The Shadow King is a monster, hungry for power. And he’ll take it by any means.
I stumble to my feet and glance at the door. I could open the lock easily, but I would be walking into an ambush, caught within seconds.
I glance at the window. Achmed always said that to save yourself, you must run alone. Whenever you’re about to be caught, scatter and hide. Wait until the coast is clear, then return home. Better one caught than all caught.
I know this building better than the Shadow King and his men. Better than anyone. But it doesn’t feel right, leaving my brothers.
Come home.
“Stop it,” I whisper, slapping my ear. Now I’m positive I am losing my mind. I take a deep breath and wait until I can no longer hear footsteps pacing outside the door before slipping the needle out of my scarf.
Sixty seconds. That’s all I got.
I rush over to the window and grab the padlock. I twist my needle in until it pops and clicks, then opens. The gate creaks as I slip out, balancing on the crumbling ledge. I look down and immediately regret it. My legs threaten to give out as I eye the traffic below me, six floors down.
“Oh Goddess,” I whimper, gripping the building tighter, my vision blurring. No time to stop and think. I shuffle to the corner and grip the thin copper pipe that snakes along the side of the building, testing its strength. Will it hold? No time to check.
Sweat dripping off my face, I climb down, the metal crunching and squeaking under my weight, threatening to give at any moment. But it doesn’t reach the bottom, stopping at the third floor. If I jump from this height, I’ll break both of my legs.
I consider climbing back inside. But what if they’re waiting for me? What if Farouk changes his mind about giving me time once he finds out about my escape?
“Jump.”
I jolt at the little whisper coming from below, and I look down at the street. The three kiddies from the other night push a wide bin against the wall, right under me.
“Jump. Jump, Ro,” they whisper, waving me on.
“Oh Goddess,” I mutter, glancing up at the sky, and I let go of the pipe, holding in a scream. Wind whistles past my ears as I fall, landing in the bin of empty plastic bottles. I swim through the trash and tumble out, head snapping back up at the window.
No one saw me. For now.
“Thanks, kiddies,” I whisper, and they give me a solemn nod. Then, keeping low, I race into the shadows.
* * *
When it’s nightfall, I use the cover of darkness to climb out of my hiding spot beneath a damp cardboard box. Four dogs sit outside, their backs to me. As if they’re keeping watch.
“Good boys. Stay,” I whisper, and scramble into the streets. I don’t know where I’m going, but I know I have to get far away from the Villa. The highway is too visible, Farouk’s men might be at the market and the souk…
Before I have time to make a decision, I find myself walking, my feet leading me in one direction. Something is pulling me again, the trembling rubber band about to snap. I don’t know whether to trust it, but it’s better than doing nothing.
I can’t let the Shadow King take me. He knows more about what’s going on with me than I do. And whatever is going on, he’s trying to score big. I think about the dead man in the bar and shudder. I’m sure this is a score that I won’t survive. No matter what, I’ll never work for him!
I turn the corner and gasp at the figure standing in the middle of the road.
Moche.
He spots me with frantic eyes and charges toward me. I choke out a sob and dive into his hug. He grips my back, pulling us behind an old rusted car filled with soda bottles. We squat down, checking our surroundings.
“I was so scared,” he whispers, hugging me again. “I thought they were going to kill you. Are you okay?”
I nod and grab his hand. “Come on. We have to get out of here!”
I try to yank him, but he stays rooted.
“I can’t, Ororo,” he says, shaking his head.
“What? We have to!”
“I can’t just leave the boys. Who will watch out for them?”
“But…I can’t stay here,” I say, my voice rising in pitch.
Moche’s eyes are frantic. “Why? What do they want with you?”
I pause. How do I explain to Moche what the Shadow King is when I’m not even sure myself? And even if Moche understood, what could he do? How would he look at me, knowing what I did to the tourist?
Knowing that I’m broken…a freak. I can’t bear the thought.
“They…think I’m something that I’m not. I’m…sick. There’s something…wrong with me.”
Moche listens, trying to understand. “Is what that man said about Achmed…true?”
I glare at him. “You know it’s not.”
The light leaves Moche’s eyes. “Then what are you going to do? We can try to hide you, but his men are combing the streets. We can’t hide you forever.”
The tugging at my stomach again. Come home.
It’s as if the woman is standing right behind me. Her voice is laced in the wind.
I stare out in the distance. The dreams, the whispers, the burst of light in my palms, what the Shadow King wants…it’s all connected.
I bite my lip. “I think I know what I must do to cure this…bug that I have. But I think the cure might be in Kenya.”
Moche blinks, baffled. “Kenya?”
I can’t believe what I’m saying, either. But as I said it out loud, nothing felt more true.
“That’s where my mother’s people are from,” I try to explain. “If I can find them, maybe they’ll be able to help rid me of this. Then I won’t have anything that man wants. He’ll leave us alone, and we’ll be free.”
Moche rubs his hands together, thinking. “Are you sure this is the only way?”
“No,” I admit. “But I have to try something. And like you said, I can’t stay here and hide forever.”
Moche takes me in for a moment, then nods. Quickly he digs in his pocket and pulls out a wallet.
I wave him away. “Moche, no, don’t.”
“Here,” he says, lumping a ball of money into my palm. “Listen carefully. Take the river down to Luxor. It’s busy, lots of tourists with fat pockets. Get what you need. Then make your way to Aswan, to the harbor. There is a ferry that will take you to Sudan.”
My eyes widen. “How do you know all this?”
“Listen!” he snaps, shrugging out of his jacket and passing it to me. “The ferry only leaves twice a day, noon and midnight. Do not miss it. After that, you’ll have to make your way to Kenya from there.” He looks me in the face, eyes more serious than I’ve ever seen them. “Ro, if this man can find you in Cairo, he can find you in any city. Stay off the main roads. Avoid indoors, sleep outside if you must—you’re good at that. Don’t talk to anyone until you reach where you are going. Keep your head down and your eyes sharp.”
