America's Sunset: A Post Apocalyptic Fight for Survival (10 page)

“Boring? Talking with your old man is boring?”

“No, no. This is fine. I just mean that there are so many other things you can do in the game once you get going. I guess at the beginning it can be sort of boring, because you don’t have anything. But, once you start to figure things out and collect stuff, it’s pretty cool. You learn to build things, like how to get power and water and food. You can build solar stuff, and you find a lot of weapons too. There’s a lot of cool guns and other technology in the game.”

“Really, like what?”

“Well, there’s like these secret big corporations, kind of like the big boss monsters in your old games. I haven’t gotten far enough to figure them out yet, but I think they’ve got something to do with the atomic wars. Conspiracy stuff, you know. Like they caused the fighting, just so they could take over and start running things. The corporations figured there were too many people around, and the planet was running out of resources so they decided it would be better for them with fewer people. Easier to control.”

“That sounds like some pretty serious stuff.”

“Ah, don’t worry. You don’t have to figure that out in the beginning. First thing you have to worry about is finding a place to live so you’re not stuck out in the radioactive rain all the time.”

“Yeah, I could see where that wouldn’t be fun. Well, that does sound pretty cool. I can kinda see why you spend so much time playing it all the time. And I don’t mean that as a bad thing; I’m not saying you play too much here. It just sounds like there’s a lot to these games. A lot more than I thought.”

Chase smiled. “Yeah, there really is. It’s fun getting to fix a big messed up world to be exactly like you’d want it to be.”

“That sounds like something I could get better at.” They both smiled.

Chapter 20 ~ Reunion

Ahmed’s level of disgust was only surpassed by his desire to be reunited once again with Harish. To learn, after all these years, that Harish was still alive strengthened Ahmed’s conviction to cleanse the world of the infidels. It took years for him to grow accustomed to the idea of his brother being gone. Believing he was the last survivor of his lineage was a lonely thought. He’d considered taking a wife and starting a family of his own, but watching your family being taken from you one by one tainted the idea of starting a family of his own. He didn’t see the sense of all the pain. Why put yourself in a situation to be so crushed?

This place was not fit for the beauty of a family of Allah. This world was a disgrace—a pale and pathetic shadow of what it should be—but Ahmed made it his mission in life to fix that. He knew it wouldn’t happen in his lifetime, but he didn’t let that deter him. If there was an opportunity to cleanse even a small patch of land, he would take it. And he would convince other true believers to follow the same path. 

In his younger years, the isolation from his own people nearly drove him to desperate choices. Eventually others found him. Frustration and desperation almost brought his life to a close; Ahmed did not fear dying so young. The Imam, however, taught him that dying young would be unfortunate for someone with so much potential. They taught him that by following their lessons, he could move those around him onto a more sacred path. If enough followers performed the missions they requested of them, they could change the world.

It was difficult at first. They said he had to be patient, that he had to wait until the moment was right. Ahmed wanted to take action, he wanted his life to have purpose. All this waiting around didn’t make sense to him. Every day, he saw opportunities passing by. Weaknesses he could exploit. People he could convert. People he could stop. People that he would kill if called upon to do so. But … no, he had to wait. The leaders taught him that every day he waited, he was storing his potential. That he was making himself smaller in the eyes of the infidel. The less action he took, the more insignificant he would become in their eyes.

“Wait for
your
moment,” his leaders said. When he was small and forgotten, and feeling like he had no purpose … like he would never be part of the great cause, that would be the time. When he believed he was insignificant, then others would believe the same thing. They would no longer care what he did. Then, and only then, he would receive the greatest mission of his life. He would lead the Americas to their knees, groveling in the dirt of the desert. His desert. The land of his ancestors, and his religion, and his beliefs, and his mother, and his father. Then, when the infidels were prostrate in the sand like a common desert snake, he could strike and remove the head.

Today was the first step in that mighty mission. Today, he would reunite with the blood of his blood. He would see his brother for the first time in seventeen years. Today, for the first time, he believed he wouldn’t pass through the gates of Heaven on his own. Today, for the first time, he realized that when that time came, he and his brother would walk through those gates hand in hand and receive their glorious reward.

Ahmed could barely catch his breath in the streets. The air was heavy with the smell of cars, garbage and sewer gases filtering up through the manhole covers and grates he walked over. It was very different from the dry, crisp air he was used to breathing in the desert. This was damp and rotten; enough to make him want to gag up the little food left in him. The hunger pains nagged at him, as he had refused to eat what was available on the train. Surely his brother would have something better than the train kitchen or the vendors he saw in the streets. As if the vile smell wasn’t enough coming from the animal meat being cooked by street vendors, it was near impossible to avoid the sight of people eating the vendors’ food. He longed for his desert home.

Ahmed knew that going out into the world would put him in uncomfortable situations. This was all just a test. He remembered well the teachings of his Imam. Do not outwardly judge the sins of the ignorant and blind. They know not the evils they commit against themselves and their world. Keep your judgments to yourself and your Allah. Blend in, and act like their ways and customs don’t violate everything you believe. Smile at them, even though you’d rather run a blade through their gullet. Your time will come. Living amongst the sinners only teaches you the importance of why you must do what you do. Now is the time to store away your disgust and anger. Don’t forget it and don’t forgive it, but do allow it to fuel your inner arsenal. Let that arsenal grow and multiply like the children of Allah will when the infidels cease to be parasites.

Ahmed confirmed the address on the apartment building with the sheet of paper he held. This was the building where his brother Harish lived. This was the location where he would finally be reunited with his flesh and blood. And, this was the day he would save his brother, and take him away from this sewer of a city. Not only would they be reunited by blood, but also by purpose. It may take some time, but eventually Ahmed believed he would teach his brother how his life had a greater purpose. Together, they would be among the elite to enlighten the rest of the world.

Ahmed’s finger shook—just a little—as he pressed the intercom button. The voice on the other end surprised him. The timbre of the voice sounded so like himself, but the accent was American.

“Yeah, what the hell do you want? I told you peckers I didn’t want to read any of your fucking religious pamphlets. Now piss off and leave me alone before I call the cops.”

“I do not have any religious pamphlets to give you. I simply would like to talk with you,” Ahmed said.

“So, go ahead and talk then. Make it quick. I’ve got things to do.”

“It’s important that I see you in person. The things that I want to talk about are not the kind of things that should be shared over an intercom. Believe me when I say that I have life-changing information that you will want to hear in person. Face to face.”

“Seriously? You’re one pushy fella. Look, man, I’m not interested in buying whatever it is you’re selling. Just go on and press the next guy’s button and bother him.”

“I am not a salesman, and it is not my intention to be pushy. What I have to tell you is of real value. Life-changing value. You will be grateful you let me in. Have faith in that.”

There was something in Ahmed’s voice that seemed oddly familiar to Harish, but not in a good way. It made him uncomfortable and just a little annoyed. “Look, man, stop with the hard sell. I told you, I’m not buying anything. Try apartment 312. That guy’s dumber than a fire hydrant. He’ll buy anything; probably two of whatever you’re selling.”

“I knew your parents,” Ahmed said. “Both your parents. Aadil and Galiah.”

“That’s it. I’m calling the cops. Right now.” Harish’s voice got louder. “I’m sick and tired of you pushy fuckers ringing my bell just to aggravate me. I’ve got no money to waste on your crap.”

“You lost your parents at a very young age. You had a brother, whom you probably don’t remember, and you used to have nightmares about being trapped in the bottom of a big boat as it sank.”

Momentary silence. “Who the hell are you?”

“I’m someone you want to talk to face to face. Kindly let me up. I have good news for you. I’m not selling any
crap
as you call it
.
”

For a few moments there was only the noise of distant sirens from outside, then the door buzzer sounded and the lock popped open.

“C’mon up, the door’s open.”

Ahmed and Harish stared at each other through the open door. Ahmed recognized the eyes instantly. He knew he was staring into the face of his own blood.

“May I come in?” Ahmed asked.

“Yeah, sure.” Harish stepped aside, and motioned Ahmed towards the living room. Harish looked down the hallway, as if expecting others, then closed the door. He sat across from Ahmed.

“Who are you?” Harish asked.

“Can’t you tell? Surely you know your own blood. I can see my brother in your eyes and your face. Your face still looks like a child’s since you’ve removed the lihyah from your face.”

Harish rubbed the scrub of a beard just starting on his face as he looked at the long beard on Ahmed. “I’ve never met you before. What makes you say that?”

“Open your eyes, and listen to what your heart says. I am Ahmed, your brother. You are Harish, my brother. We were separated by the government workers who cared little for us, our family, and our ways. Surely you remember that day? You were so young, and so distraught. Have you forgotten? Have you blocked out that day? I understand, that some choose to mask pain that way.”

Harish got up nervously and started towards the kitchen, then stood behind the chair. “I still have that dream, about the boat. How do you know it? I’ve never told anyone about it.”

“You used to wake up crying when we were small and shared a room. You talked very little back then, but I understood you. In your dream our whole family was taking a boat ride to a special place, for a big party. We were all very happy, and then a man in uniform came and took away our parents, because he said the party was only for children. The man in uniform pushed our parents off the boat into the water. You tried to throw a life jacket to our parents, but the uniformed man stopped you and locked us in a jail cell deep in the bottom of the boat. Then, water started flooding the jail cell, and you woke up. You had the same dream on many nights.”

Harish crossed his arms tightly. “And then you would tell me that father used to be the captain of a boat, and that he would never let that happen. You would say that the captain never gets pushed off the boat. It’s a rule. The captain always stays with the boat. It’s a rule, you kept saying over and over. Then you would take me to Mother’s bed, and we would watch her sleeping peacefully. Once, I remember, she woke and kissed us and told us to go back to bed.”

“Yes, I remember that also.”

“Was it true? Was our father the captain of a boat?”

“I don’t know, but it made you stop crying whenever I said it.”

Harish nodded his head. “So, you are my brother then. You are alive and well.”

Ahmed smiled, got up, walked to his brother and embraced him. Harish hesitated at first, but hugged his brother back.

“As I promised,” Ahmed said, still embracing his brother. “I have good news for you.”

“More good news?” Harish said, feeling a little out of sorts. “I’m not sure I can handle too many more surprises in one day.”

Harish let go of his brother and walked into the kitchen. “Are you hungry, Ahmed? Thirsty? Can I get you anything? I don’t have much. Just some leftover takeout and beer. You wanna beer?” Harish held out a couple of cans.

Ahmed shook his head. “I do not partake in alcohol. Water would be fine.”

“Oh, um, OK.” Harish put the beers back in the fridge. “I just have tap water, if that’s alright.” He looked in the cupboard for a glass.

“That will be fine.” Ahmed noticed the half-opened fridge seem to be filled mostly with beer. “Do you consume much alcohol on a regular basis?”

Harish pulled a dirty glass out of the sink, and proceeded to wash it. “Well, yeah, you know, maybe a few after getting home from work. The boss can be a bit of an asshole, and a few beers takes the edge off.” Harish managed a smile. “Better than offin’ the boss, right?”

He handed the glass of water to Ahmed, who set it aside.

“I’ve come here today with both good news and a real purpose,” Ahmed said.

Harish gave his brother a questioning stare as he took a seat. “A purpose?”

“A purpose, and a meaning. I can see already from this brief encounter that your life is missing something.”

Harish shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “I thought you said this didn’t involve pamphlets? Maybe I do need that beer.”

Ahmed shook his hand. “I’d prefer you didn’t drink alcohol in my presence. And whatever this concern of yours with pamphlets is I don’t understand, but I assure you I have none. What I do have is a mission for you. Perhaps more of an opportunity. A chance for you to regain your true place on this earth and allow Allah back into your life. He was there once, and can be there again.”

“So this is a religious sales pitch.” Harish backed towards the fridge. “My life has been alright without Allah up to this point.”

“I assure you, brother, that’s not entirely true … you just don’t see it yet.” Harish pulled a beer out of the fridge, but Ahmed continued. “I need your assistance. And for that assistance, I will save your soul. The prophet has spoken through our Imam to me, and now I to you. There is an infidel that has wronged our people. Our Imam.” Harish popped the top of the beer can open, despite the disapproving look from Ahmed. “We need to kill the infidel. We need to extinguish his family and stop his seed from spreading.” Harish drank half the beer in one swallow.

Harish sat across from his brother, and plunked down his second beer, ignoring the coaster on the table. He could feel the first beer starting to take the edge off, and he was grateful for it. He never did have much of a tolerance for alcohol, but was OK with that. It made getting drunk cheaper, and took less of a toll on his liver. Today was quickly becoming one of those days when he should have stayed in bed watching a bunch of cheap, trashy shows. It was supposed to be his day off. He had nowhere to be, and no one to talk to or deal with. Answering the door was usually a bad idea in Harish’s world, and today … doubly so.