Don't you Go All Detective on Me

 

Samir found Joseph restlessly pacing up and down the hallway. An old, tattered phone book lay on the ground, along with a bunch of newspapers. Various cuttings from different sections of the Daily Telegram were highlighted, and, to Samir’s surprise, they were in fact of the same advertisement.

He picked up a cutting and read it.

“No way Joseph. Don’t get caught in this conspiracy s**t. The police track your calls around here, you know that right?” Samir’s voice was loaded with scepticism. Joseph was the last person he’d expect to fall for the advertisement.

“It’s probably just a scam.”

“No Samir, you don’t understand.”

“Joseph, I’ve known you for nineteen years. Your brother died a martyr, yes, but you have to forget about him and move on.”

“FORGET ABOUT HIM!” A fury overtook Joseph and his eyes turned red.  Samir was taken aback and an apologetic look spread over his face.

“I’m sorry; I didn’t mean it that way.” But Joseph was too busy muttering to himself. Samir picked up a few words here and there, but nothing made sense to him. Seeing his confused stare, Joseph told him what had happened �" the university, his brother’s death, the newspaper not covering the story.

“Now I’m just trying a find a way to reach this number here without being tracked. I think it will give me a lead into the X1, and I think they have something to do with the Daily Telegram not publishing a story.”

“There’s an old public phone near the university. I’ll drive you up.” Samir spoke firmly.

Obliging, Joseph got into the back seat of Samir’s sedan. Thoughts rushed crazily through his head. He had no idea what he was about to get into, but the anger that boiled in him over his brother’s death fuelled him yet again to keep going. His life needed a bit of adventure anyway.

Driving through the old streets of Shaked, Joseph felt a sharp pain cut through his leg. Rolling up his pants, he gasped.

“S**t. It got infected.” Joseph winced in pain.

“What did?” Samir didn’t take his eyes of the road. He was carefree towards his career, but not his survival.

“Oh. The other day, I got late for my exam. I went down into the basement to get the old pushbike and got bitten by a rat down there. I was in a rush then, but I totally forgot about it, with all that’s been happening...” Joseph trailed off.

“There’s an antiseptic and bandage in the small compartment in front of you. I would do it myself but I don’t think the police would appreciate that.”

“Yeah, alright.”

Joseph applied the antiseptic and clenched his teeth. It stung badly. Rat bites normally carried some form of disease, and luckily for Joseph he hadn’t presented symptoms of anything. However, a wound, if left untreated, was likely to lead to an infection - which could soon spread to other parts of the body.

“How’s it going with Mira then?” Joseph tried to lighten the conversation.

“Decent. I asked her if she wanted to hang out after work, she said yes, but I think I’m friendzoned.” Samir chuckled, but his eyes had a serious look in them.

“What?” Joseph knew his friend was hiding something from him, and he was right.

“I’m pregnant.”

Joseph stared at Samir with a blank look on his face. Then, as if on accord, both burst out laughing. This was why Joseph loved Samir �" he could kill any sort of tension with one of his jokes.

The car screeched to a halt as the pair arrived at the university. Looking around, Joseph was revolted to see the place uninhabited, a shadow of its former glory.  Bodies of students and journalists still littered the ground, and the occasional whirring of discarded machinery was the only think that broke the morning silence. The salty smell of blood filled the air, coupled with the smoke of something burning. The taste of bile filled Joseph’s throat and he gripped his stomach in a bid to stop vomiting. It didn’t work.

“Oi. Over here.” Samir called from the old telephone box.

“Let me be sick in peace, man. Will be there in 5” Joseph replied. He staggered slowly over to Samir, carefully avoiding the shallow pools of blood that had formed.

“Alright. Bring out that advertisement and we’ll get this over and done with.” Samir was getting impatient. In his eyes, Joseph was making an obscure and rather irrational connection between the death of his brother and the university murders.

Joseph ignored his friend’s sarcasm and dialled the number with the rusting number pads. The phone rang for a couple of seconds and then a rough recorded message played.

“I knew you’d figure this out eventually. Look, this is William. This message will only play once, and only from this public phone, so listen carefully.  The X1 weren’t responsible for the university murders. I need you to come to The Rift right now. Go home, pack your things, and leave. I know you’re confused, but I can explain everything.”

And with that, the phone crackled and the dial tone disappeared. Joseph stared agape at the old telephone box.

“Don’t even think about it.” Samir had tears in his eyes. “You’re gonna get killed Joseph. You don’t even know who these people are.”

“I’m not doing this for myself Samir. There are 300 dead students out there. It’s time the world knew about what happened.”  Joseph was adamant and he wasn’t going to be shaken in his stance.

“I’m coming with you.”

Joseph’s heart skipped a beat.

“No, you can’t Samir. They’ll kill you.”

“I don’t give a s**t anymore. I’m coming tomorrow and that’s that.” Joseph knew how stubborn Samir could be, and so he gave up protesting.

“Alright, let’s get home. We need to pack our stuff.”

Joseph’s thoughts were a muddle of fear and excitement. Finally, something that could lead him to the reason for his brother’s death. A month of sorrow and fuming in hatred had led to this. The magnitude of what he was about to do hit him �" he was going to meet, “do an assignment” for the X1! The people the government had been searching for the past 6 years, and they wanted him! Joseph hated to admit it, but a feeling of smugness overcome him them.

“Stop daydreaming. We’re here.” Samir was panicking.

“Give me 10 minutes; I’ll be back with my stuff.” Joseph called back as he ran towards his house. He chose a medium sized sling bag that his father had used in the army and started piling clothes and other necessities in it. This was no time for luxury, and anything unneeded was discarded �" it would just weigh him down. Finally, his eyes trailed over a birthday gift he had been given by his father on his 15th birthday �" the year he had died.

He took the old camera out of its pocket and inspected it. It was still in working order. There was no time to think, and Joseph stuffed it into his bag with the rest of his items.

In total, he had taken about two shirts, three pairs of jeans, a water bottle, toiletries and a camera. As he was about to leave, he suddenly remembered something and ran back down into his father’s old room. No-one slept here now, in memory and respect of the late man. Joseph would never have come here under any other situation, but now was an emergency. Flipping over the secret compartment in the queen bed, he took out his father’s revolver and reloaded the ammo. He then slipped the revolver into his back pocket and secretly replaced the compartment as it was before.

He was now ready. Writing a note to his mother that he would be living at a friend’s house for a while, he ran out of the door and waved to Samir.

“Well, that took you a while. Did Princess need to pack her make up?” Samir smirked sarcastically at Joseph.

“Shut up, hobo, and drive.” retorted Joseph.

“Princess!”

“Hobo!”

“Princess!”

”Okay, let’s shut up now”

Joseph grinned.

“I see I win our argument. I always do. I am Samir the unconquerable” Samir laughed, trying to imitate an evil cartoon character.

They were at it again. Finally, Samir began to drive and they reached his place in 10 minutes.

“Wait here.” Samir slammed the door of the car, walked outside and opened the door.

He gasped.

It was an absolute mess. All the furniture was overturned, the clothes scattered across the carpet. The leather sofa had a jagged cut through it. Someone had obviously been looking for something. All of his books had been torn, and, as Samir tried futilely to turn on a light, his wires had been cut. Anger consumed Samir. Who had the nerve to break into his house?!

“Over here” Samir jumped. The man was still here. Picking up a pole that had been broken from one of his furniture racks, he cautiously proceeded into the next room, palpitating.

There, on his desk, sat a small, moustached man in a police uniform. He had his sleeves rolled up, revealing scars of previous brawls and fistfights. He was smoking a cigar, and it seemed not his first, as butts littered the floor. He noticed Samir walking in and chuckled; a deep throaty laugh.

“Get the hell out of my house.” Samir lifted the pole threateningly, although inside he knew it was useless.

“What are you going to do with that stick of yours?” The policeman asked sceptically. Pulling out a gun from under his belt, he casually shot a nearby china doll. The sound of the bullet hitting the china was sharp and high, and Samir found himself cringing.

“Senior Constable Azam at your service,” said the policeman. “I believe you’ve been contacting the X1?”

Samir slowly put down the pole and began retreating towards the door. Azam chuckled. Maintaining eye contact with Samir, he clapped his hands twice and to Samir’s horror emerged from the other room Ishka, the Lebanese woman who had raised him. She was shackled and a young policeman held her across the neck.

Azam then sauntered up to Ishka and aimed his revolver into her temple. Samir whimpered. This wasn’t happening. He closed his eyes, hoping it was a dream, but when he opened them, he realised that reality could be as sick and twisted, if not more, than dreams.

“Let her go you b******s. LET HER GO!” Samir screamed as the policeman grabbed Ishka by the hair and elbowed her below her breasts. She began to cry in pain, and tears of anger sprung from Samir’s eyes, but he knew he couldn’t do anything. He got on his knees and bowed his head.

“I’ll do anything for you Azam. Just let her go.” Samir’s voice was soft and hushed.

Azam let out a small chuckle, then suddenly his eyes turned grave.

“I’ve seen you around with this other kid your age called Joseph. The fact is, your little friend has been involved in quite a few illegal activities.” Azam paused to take a puff of his cigar. “I need you to do something for me, Samir. Go with Joseph to the X1. Feed me all the information you can get about eh movement.  Then, when the time comes, I need you to.” Azam made a movement of a knife across his neck.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about ” Samir clenched his teeth. The b*****d was asking him to kill his best friend.

“I knew this wouldn’t be easy. Sometimes you have to learn the hard way.” Azam clapped his hands again, and Samir turned around to see a knife cutting through Ishka’s arm. Blood spurted onto the carpet, staining it deep red. Ishka wailed horrendously in pain. She glanced at Samir briefly, tears forming in her hazel eyes. 

“STOP!”

Samir felt himself transported back to when he was 5 years old. The smells, feelings, thoughts all hit him as he saw his parents die in that fateful car crash. The memory fast-forwarded to Ishka picking him up and wiping his tears away with her own shirt, and against all odds, taking him in as her own.  The sound  of a scream snapped him back into consciousness.

 “I’ll do it” Samir was the verge of a breakdown. Azam ushered to the policeman to let Ishka go, and she ran and collapsed into Samir’s arms. He patted her hair and tried to console her but it was to no avail.

“You should have let me die.” Ishka’s voice was frail, but stern. “This old body is going to die soon anyway.”

Samir didn’t reply. His expression was a mask of hate and disgust. Disgust towards Azam, yes, but mostly disgust towards what he was about to do to his friend.

“That’s the spirit my boy. Now, go, shuffle along to your mate Joseph. Don’t want to leave him waiting, do we?”

“F*ck you” Samir growled back, but inside he knew he was powerless.

“I’ll see you in a few weeks.” Azam laughed as Samir ran out of the door with Ishka. “Don’t try any bullshit on me!”

They arrived panting in the garden. The car glistened, around 50 meters away.

“Joseph can’t see you or he’ll get suspicious.” Samir pointed to the back exit.

“Samir. Take care of yourself.” And with that, Ishka ran out, towards the isolated back streets of Shaked. Samir only hoped that Azam would keep his side of the promise.

He opened the door of the car and slid into the drivers seat. Joseph had fallen asleep, his chest rising up and down gently as dusk approached.

They had known each other for 19 years. Memories stirred in Samir and he felt himself being ripped inside.

Sighing, he twisted the key in the engine and began to drive to the Rift.