The Anubis Plague полностью

The local grinned. Zahra doubted he saw very many women hanging out on the side of the road over the years.

“Where’s your car?” he asked, looking around.

Zahra thumbed behind her. “In the ditch.”

He tried to look past Zahra and Rabia but didn’t get far. Zahra forced Rabia to move with her, and they sidestepped back into the local’s line of sight. He was rightfully suspicious, and was doubting the real reason the two women had been “stranded” on the outskirts of town.

Rabia shrugged out of Zahra’s arm. “We’ll pay you.”

The local smiled. They agreed upon a fee, and the local looked tickled.

…Until Zahra signaled for Ali, Elyas, and Tajj to join them.

“I thought it was just the two of you?”

Zahra glanced at Rabia. “I never said that… did I?”

Rabia shook her head, hand in her pocket.

“Is this a problem?” Rabia asked.

The local growled. “Your friends must sit in the back.” The bed of the truck was thickly lined with hay and would keep their asses from becoming too sore during the ride to town.

Zahra eyed Ali, Elyas, and Tajj. She winked. “Sorry, boys.”

Ali stepped up to the bed and stopped, seeing something within it she didn’t like.

“What’s wrong?” Zahra asked.

“Come and see.”

Zahra left Rabia and went to see what had Ali’s feathers so ruffled. Even before she got there, she knew. Zahra could smell it.

She cooed. “How sweet.”

Zahra counted nine Baladi goats of all shapes and sizes. They were a prevalent breed in the region and provided a good source of meat and milk. A few of the truck-dwellers were quite old, some no more than a couple of months old.

All of them were covered in their own filth. One of the younglings popped its head up and playfully bleated, allowing Zahra to scratch its chin. She smiled, much to the disdain of Ali and the others.

She retracted her hand and cleared her throat. “Yes, well, have fun.”

Ali didn’t budge. His face sported a deep scowl.

“Look,” Zahra said. “It’s either this or you walk. You choose.”

Zahra rejoined Rabia, and the pair circled around the front of the truck and climbed in. Their chauffeur eyed their big, overstuffed packs.

“What’s in the bags?”

Rabia looked forward. “Tools.”

“Tools?”

She calmly turned her attention to the local. “Yes, tools.” Her tone was direct and laced with a warning.

Stop asking.

Smartly, he did, moving on to something else.

“So, your friends, are they—”

Rabia held up her hand and silenced the local. The bed of the truck shook and bent as the three men climbed in.

“Now, we can go,” Rabia said, handing over the cash.

He accepted the money, counted twice, then threw the vehicle into drive and puttered off.

Zahra cleared her throat. “We’re looking for a friend.”

“No! No more friends!” the local snapped, turning and staring at her.

“Hang on, hang on…” Zahra lifted a hand up in defense. “He doesn’t need a ride, or anything. We’re just… looking for him, that’s all.”

He calmed and faced the road.

“Can you think of anywhere an out-of-towner would go?” Rabia asked. Her voice was steady and in control.

“If you came for the nightlife, you came to the wrong place.”

“What’s the right place?” she asked. “Somewhere that will have a lot of people?”

The driver didn’t answer.

“He’s not really into nightlife, per se,” Zahra continued. “But he did get into some… trouble.”

The driver swallowed.

“Please,” Zahra said. “We’re just trying to prevent more trouble. Last we heard, he was heading in this direction. Is there somewhere busy? Like a shopping center?”

“The Big House.”

“The Big House?” she asked.

He nodded. “Yes. There is a big event there today.”

“Can you take us there?” Zahra asked.

“Yes.” He thumbed over his shoulder. “I hope to sell my goats there today.”

The trek through the Bahariya Oasis wasn’t a long one, but it took longer than she would have liked. The roads weren’t in great shape, and neither was Zahra’s mode of transportation. She felt terrible for the boys in the back. She and Rabia held back their commentary every time their driver hit a divot in the ground. The shockwave pounded Zahra’s lower back. She imagined the truck bed looking like the inside of a clothes dryer, albeit one with goats and goat shit inside.

Zahra wasn’t looking forward to smelling her associates — not that she smelled of roses, either. Right now, she couldn’t tell whether it was her own body odor she smelled, or Rabia’s, or even the local’s stink.

Probably all three, she thought. Even riding with the windows down did very little to satisfy their need for fresh air.

Zahra leaned forward and peered up at the structure at the summit of the property.

“Geez, you weren’t kidding.”

The Big House was enormous and stood out against everything they had seen so far in Bawiti. The surrounding area was made up of, mostly, farms and shops with a dusting of modern industry.

“How many rooms do you think it has?”

Rabia shrugged.

Zahra repeated the question in Arabic.

“Forty-nine,” the driver replied.