The Queue (10 page)

Then one day, they mysteriously withdrew. People simply woke up one morning and realized that the Riffraff were gone. They learned that the people behind the barriers had formed pacts and plans against the Riffraff, together with the microbus drivers, who had sensed impending danger when driving to and from the queue became forbidden. When the Riffraff realized that they would inevitably be driven away, they had rounded themselves up and departed in the night without a word.

The crisis had ended, but it left its mark on everyone in the queue, particularly on those who had received direct threats. It had been a waste of precious time for Um Mabrouk, yet more than that, it had restored her belief that misfortune followed her wherever she went. The drivers returned, supplying the queue with all the news they heard, but it was vague and infrequent. The warring parties had disappeared, but their effects lingered. The ambulance sirens could still be heard, but there were fewer and fewer of them, until finally peace prevailed, and then people learned just how many were injured and how badly.

Ehab stopped by nearly every day and Yehya began to check in with him, asking about the latest information he’d heard, but it wasn’t of any use. The newspaper had no more news than anyone else; nothing—no statistics, no official messages—had been announced at all. The number of microbuses arriving at the corner dwindled, too. When none arrived for a few days, people realized that the gas stations were closed again and that all diesel fuel had been redirected to the arduous cleaning efforts. Scores of bulldozers arrived to clear the
debris. They drove past the metal hut on the road to the queue, and some scraped it as they went by. But the soldier inside didn’t reprimand them or even record their number plates. They worked in shifts for days on end, and then at different times at night for weeks, working without pause, lifting rocks and other debris, fallen tree trunks, and even trees still growing in the ground. Sometimes in the dark they picked up people sleeping, by mistake, but the people were always returned the following day, without having suffered significant harm.

A long time passed, and the Events had nearly faded into memory, when one morning the Gate broadcast a public message, declaring that the square was secure again and open to pedestrians. The Disgraceful Events were over, it said, never to return again, and it urged citizens not to be misled by what they had seen, no matter how confident they were in the accuracy of their vision. The broadcast also contained an important announcement: it was shutting down all radiology wards in hospitals, public clinics, and private clinics, confiscating all their equipment and taking it to Zephyr Hospital, which was a subsidiary of the Gate. The Gate had decided to embark on this path of comprehensive reform, the broadcast explained, in the interest of citizens’ physical and psychological well-being. It had conducted follow-ups with patients across the nation, and determined that many of these devices gave false and inaccurate results and printed grainy or misleading images. These devices were being used with no consideration of medical or ethical principles, and any ward or clinic found to be in possession of such would be held accountable and punished accordingly. The message also called for anyone with an X-ray or medical test result of any kind to present it to the Booth immediately, so that it could be inspected and verified, and
added that no fees would be collected for this complimentary service.

The announcement was delivered to the newspaper headquarters where Ehab worked, and he immediately called Nagy to tell him. Yehya headed straight for Um Mabrouk in shock, and dialed Tarek’s number again and again. If the message were true, as everyone said, it meant he couldn’t have an X-ray performed anywhere anymore, not even if he called in favors or tried to get one done under the table. When Tarek finally picked up, he didn’t reveal anything on the phone, but he seemed more interested in Yehya than usual. He asked in detail about Yehya’s movements, whether the pain was any less intense, if it was a stabbing pain or a throbbing pain. He asked how often Yehya urinated and what color it was, and he also asked about Amani. But Tarek’s attention was useless to Yehya, who inferred just one thing: the head nurse still hadn’t returned. She must have the X-rays, and Tarek was hiding the reason why she had left.

Um Mabrouk offered to waive the fee for his call and turned down Yehya’s money out of sympathy for his injury. “The world is against you, you want me against you, too?
Ya ibni
, things are bad enough as it is.” He left her, feeling like his head was about to explode. His memories rushed back to him and then faded away, leaving him in a tangle of conflicting emotions. He was filled with despair and a desire to hide away, but at the same time was infused with a yearning to survive, to start life anew and experience again every moment of sadness and joy and absurdity. He wasn’t in the mood to argue with Um Mabrouk, but he also knew she didn’t pay for the calls she made. Um Mabrouk had won a phone line and endless credit from Violet Telecom, just like so many others had.

Yehya had been on edge as he listened to Tarek’s voice on the other end of the line. As soon as he ended the call he excused himself and left the queue, not heading anywhere in particular. He wandered around, taking in the whole scene from a distance. He knew he needed to see Tarek in private.

He returned a few hours later, cheerfully raising his fingers in a V when he saw Nagy. With a few niceties and a little flirting, he’d won Sabah over and learned that the head nurse had taken a long leave without pay. She’d turned in her notice, gathered her things, and gone to take care of some personal matters, staunchly refusing to discuss this sudden decision with anyone in the hospital. She’d been extremely secretive, concealing her decision until the day she left, and no one had been able to find out what had come over her, despite numerous attempts by her close friends and colleagues. Sabah also told him that she’d uncovered part of the secret herself. She’d learned that the hospital was considering hiring a new head nurse while the director thoroughly investigated the situation, which was this: a week ago, or perhaps more, the head nurse had joined the queue for the Gate.

Things soon returned to normal in the queue, and daily life picked up where it had left off. It was a charge led by Um Mabrouk, who got rid of her old cheap cups and bought nicer glass ones in celebration of the Riffraff’s departure. She wiped her palms and the backs of her hands on her dress, and handed the man in the
galabeya
a cup of anise tea with two tea bags instead of just one, adding, “Lord grant you good health.” He muttered a few words as he took the first sip, oblivious to her smile, but she persisted. “Don’t you have a prayer, or something to say for heath and better days ahead,
ya Hag
?” she asked. He didn’t indicate whether he had heard her, or if he had, whether he would respond, and didn’t lift his gaze from the cup. Her smile faltered and she backed off, embarrassed, saying, “Ah, maybe you didn’t hear me … don’t worry, take your time.” He finished the last drop of anise tea, quickly glanced at her from the corner of his eye, and wiped his beard, staring at the simple setup around her. He took out his prayer beads and advised her, while thumbing one golden bead after another, to come to the lessons he gave at the front of the queue. Many of the righteous attended these weekly lessons, and some even came from beyond the queue. “Early next week,” he said. “It would do you good to come, by the will of God Almighty.”

Yehya began his search for the head nurse, but the queue was so vast that he couldn’t easily scan the crowds for her.
He managed to search a small area, but it was just a drop in a bucket, while the queue was fathoms deep. He reasoned that he shouldn’t limit his search to the end of the queue; he didn’t think she would feel bound to the order of arrival and stay at the end. Besides, he knew that people often and easily switched places—he himself had skipped ahead of so many, and some people who arrived just a few weeks ago were now at the front, each thanks to his or her own methods or bargaining abilities. So he and Nagy agreed to divide the queue between them, setting forth from the same point and walking in opposite directions.

He had to stop and ask about her out loud every few feet; there was no other way to go about it. The only picture they had of her was the one in Nagy’s mind—the last time he’d been to the hospital, Sabah had led him to the nurses’ office and proudly pointed to a large frame filled with photographs of the doctors, nurses, and other hospital staff. She’d stepped close to the frame, stuck her finger on the neck of a middle-aged woman, and pointed her out: “Mrs. Alfat, the head nurse, and me standing next to her.” The people in the queue weren’t surprised by Yehya’s question; they were used to people asking for one another, and to hearing helpful strangers pointing them in the right direction. Sometimes photographs were distributed, of adults and children alike, lost amid the crowds of the queue. It happened at mealtimes especially, when news and rumors dwindled, the general sense of apprehension faded, and everyone’s attention turned to the person sharing food with them. Yehya met two nurses in his search, a technician and an eye doctor with her younger sister, but neither of them was Mrs. Alfat, and not a single person claimed to know her. Um Mabrouk volunteered to ask
her customers, and instructed them to ask others in turn, explaining, “The head nurse is a real big shot, a distant relative of Yehya’s.”

Yehya and Nagy met back at their starting point having had no success. They were exhausted and convinced it would be impossible to keep searching without a thread to grasp at. At this rate, it would take nearly two months. They sat down to brainstorm a way to save time; they’d lost so much already. Nagy suggested that they ask for Ehab’s help, but Yehya rejected the idea outright. He wanted to keep the matter within the tightest circle possible. But then he remembered that this irksome journalist, who had offered them his friendship from the start, by pestering him relentlessly, had already learned a great deal about him. It was information that Nagy had disclosed with the best of intentions, but it meant that his situation was no longer a secret. Ehab already knew everything. And despite Yehya’s reservations, he couldn’t deny that Ehab and his fellow journalists had proven methods, when it came to investigating, that might help lead them to their goal: the whereabouts of the head nurse.

There was no need to surrender to mistrust, he realized, nor was there need to be so stubborn. He trusted Nagy, and Nagy in turn trusted Ehab. Time was moving swiftly, and with it things changed quickly. They could no longer predict what tomorrow would bring, or what future events might throw the world into confusion again. Nagy ordered a cup of coffee and took it with him as he went to look for Ehab, while Yehya left the queue to use the toilet. He walked away slowly and painfully, pressing his palm against his thigh to support his weight. Sweat streamed down his face. It poured down between his stitched brows and spread over his nose and mouth, intensifying
the scorching blaze that emanated from his skin, as if his head had become a small sun.

He had to stop every two or three steps to catch his breath and wipe his face, while other people kept moving all around him. Some of those who knew him offered to assist him, while others ignored him, accustomed as they now were to his aversion to chit-chat and unnecessary gossip, and the pauses they left in conversation. The woman with the short hair waved to him and he nodded at her, unable to lift his arm and wave back because of the pain. She ran to catch up and stopped in front of him, out of breath. She inquired after his health and offered him a clean cotton handkerchief, telling him to keep it. Then she asked about his thoughts on the forgotten bag, the catalyst to the conflict that had erupted between her and the man in the
galabeya
a while back. She wasn’t sure where Yehya stood on the matter, she said, but she presumed he was on her side. From afar she’d noticed he’d developed a relationship with Ehab, the young journalist, the same one who’d intervened to rescue her from the situation she’d stumbled into, and then he’d become involved himself when he’d suggested how they could resolve the matter.

Yehya drew himself up taller at her question and stared at her. He’d completely forgotten about the entire affair. Recent developments and fresh troubles had accumulated around him and he could barely remember what had happened, apart from a few words and hazy images. But this woman seemed to have more than enough time for such things; she was clearly the type who went around sticking her nose in where it didn’t belong, stirring up trouble or chasing after it, until she got what she wanted. He promised her he would discuss it with Ehab, and pointed to his place in the queue to show her where he could
usually be found, his expression revealing nothing. His face remained composed as he walked away, but once he had crossed to the other side of the road and was finally alone, he let the pain thunder through him again as he emptied his bladder.

There were dark droplets of blood discoloring his underwear and the pain now gnawed at him harder than before. He’d hoped things wouldn’t work out this way, turning from bad to worse. Tarek had explained so many possible outcomes during their first meeting: the most hopeful was that the bullet might surrender and settle somewhere safe, surrounded by the protective tissue that the body naturally forms around any foreign object that disturbs its natural integrity. Then all these elements would be become one: the bullet, tissue, and various unknown secretions forming a tranquil, untroublesome mass that would stay with him for the rest of his life. But it seemed the bullet had chosen another path, launching an incursion into his intestines, puncturing them and perhaps soon poisoning his blood.

He tried to dispel these unsettling thoughts and replaced them with more uplifting ones: Amani storming the hospital basement, striking down whoever opposed her and returning with the X-ray; Nagy tying Tarek up, then forcing him to perform the operation; an ornate wedding dais at the beginning of the queue, in front of the Gate, and a huge picture of him and Amani placed on the corner instead of the
NO ENTRY
sign; and finally, the two of them wrapped in a long embrace, lovingly entangled in each other, instead of this uncomfortable silence that had settled between them since his injury. He straightened himself up as much as the pain would allow and decided he would go to Ehab himself.