Zahra watched as her mom’s head flopped to the side. She wasn’t moving. Zahra tried to unbuckle her seatbelt and help her father but couldn’t. It had jammed during the wreck.
She leaned around her mom’s headrest but still couldn’t see much of anything… except blood.
Lots and lots of blood.
Zahra was working late at the museum. She was new to the job, and wanted to make a good impression on those around her — mainly a young Brit named Dina, a woman Zahra knew would become a close friend. She waited outside the museum lobby’s door for Zahra now that their shift had ended.
Though the two women were polar opposites of one another, they had hit it off the first time they’d shared a shift. Zahra enjoyed getting her hands dirty, rarely ever dressing up to attract the attention of the opposite sex.
Dina, on the other hand,
“I’m just living my best life,” she’d told her once.
The blonde with the short, styled pink haircut savored the feeling of people ogling her from afar. That same sort of attention made Zahra, a naturally beautiful woman in her own right, uncomfortable. Even now, with no makeup on, and sporting a thick, winter coat, Zahra was a head-turner.
“Goodnight, Bernie!” Dina called, waving back toward the front doors as they closed. A slight, gray-haired man in his sixties returned the gesture, then speedily flicked the deadbolt. Zahra was about to wave goodbye, but Bernie had already stepped away from the door.
Zahra smiled. “Do you find it funny that Bernie is watching a movie about an elaborate museum heist while he’s working in a museum?”
Dina snorted, smiling wide. “Who wouldn’t find that funny?”
The midwinter evening was brisk and the air wet. Not cold enough to snow, it teased with sporadic rain. Zahra preferred the heat — humid or not. For whatever reason, she had never developed a positive rapport with the cold. The temperature didn’t seem to bother Dina, though. She had grown up here — a true Englishwoman, through and through. Zahra had spent a large percentage of her childhood in the milder climates of the U.S., as well as the blistering heat of Egypt.
The pair descended the steps down the front entrance, stopping on the sidewalk outside the museum.
“See you in the morning?” Zahra asked.
Dina yawned. “Unfortunately, yes. Which means I’ll actually have to go to bed at a decent time.”
“Tell me about it.” Zahra gave her a tired smile. She checked her watch and cringed.
“Share a cab?” Dina had asked.
Zahra didn’t answer right away. She liked Dina, but she wasn’t one to have too many close friendships. She was a loner outside of work, and always had been. She would have kept their relationship purely professional if it were up to her. It wasn’t that she didn’t
“Come on, Z. You live out near me, right? Plus,” she pulled out a black, flat object from her purse, “I have something to keep us warm.”
Dina’s nickname for her — ‘Z’ — amused Zahra since she had only recently started digging into the history of
“Is that a flask?” Zahra asked, eyeing the object.
Dina unscrewed the top and grinned. “Sure is. Got some nice stuff in it too.”
Zahra sighed and shrugged, holding out her hand out. “What is it?”
“Bourbon. Something called
Dina unscrewed the cap as the two headed out, turning down Great Russell Street. They walked and talked for a few minutes, sipping on the warming, high-octane booze. For good measure, Dina had slipped the flask back into her purse as they approached the intersection at Bloomsbury Street. They quickly crossed under the flashing signal.
Once safely across the road, Dina redrew the flask. The streets were utterly empty. It being late on a Tuesday night probably had something to do with it. There was no one around to reprimand them for drinking in public. It was just Zahra and Dina.
“Well, ’ello,” a voice called out from the shadows.
And
The two women stopped and spun toward the Cockney voice.
