War World X: Takeover (41 page)

Abdullah thought of the friendships he had forged with Patrick and with people at the pub in Eureka, wondering if there wasn’t another way—a way of peace. He wondered if armed conflict was the only way for the Faithful to further Allah’s will. But he kept that unpopular thought to himself.

Barbarossa was authorized to send five hundred men to the new base that the Brotherhood was equipping for them, to prepare the way for a much larger force. Military training was stepped up and men went about the towns openly armed. Dover grew more difficult to deal with, continuing to blame problems on the workers, and threatening to stop food supplies, even to evict the Faithful from Capsule Town.

One afternoon, Abdullah finally found a chance to speak to Faryal. They were in a supply tent with two entrances and only a canvas wall in the middle. This was a favorite meeting place of theirs, a good place where they could have privacy, and enter and leave separately after their conversation. They spoke through a hole in the canvas.

Faryal said in a trembling voice. “My father spoke to my mother. Barbarossa has been asking for my hand in marriage.” There was a catch in her voice. “Father thinks it might be a good idea, as it would bind Barbarossa’s interest more closely to his and because I might distract him from his anger. Me, nothing but a distraction,”

She was openly weeping now. Abdullah thought about the look on Barbarossa’s face, that day in the birthing chamber, and a chill went down his spine.

“Come away with me,” Abdullah blurted.

“What?” she replied.

“Come away with me,” he repeated, becoming more decisive as he spoke. “Patrick is thinking of leaving, we can go with him, to his home in the south. It’s nice there, very quiet, with people of all faiths living in peace.”

“And leave Mother?” she replied, “And everything I know? And ignore my duties? Oh, Abdullah, if only I could.”

They spoke for a few more minutes, but Abdullah was unable to change her mind. He went to Patrick, and told him the plan. Patrick agreed to wait for a few more days to give Abdullah time to get through to Faryal, said it was the least he could do for a good friend.

Two days later, a note came to Abdullah from Faryal brought by one of her attendants in a sealed envelope. It simply said: “Yes I will go with you. Meet me at the corrals, a half hour before the start of the next brightday.”

Abdullah rushed to Patrick, who told him to pack up, suggested he tell people he and Patrick were off for another scouting expedition. Their meeting was not for another nine hours. His packing took only a few minutes, as he had few belongings. He didn’t dare draw a weapon from the armory, that would have required authorizations he didn’t have. He spent the night staring at the roof of his tent, unable to sleep. He was up an hour before the meeting and spent his time sitting on a rock, staring at the two towns and fortress, so close to each other, yet so full of hatred.

He was excited to be leaving with Faryal, but now his thoughts began to turn to the future: Would they be safe traveling? How would he support her? Would they be accepted at their destination?

The time finally came and he went to the corrals. Patrick was not there yet. Instead, there was a stranger, a short, thin man with a thick black beard and a large dark turban on his head. The man was dressed in a coat and trousers and armed for travel, with two pistols and a rifle. He had a heavy pack on his back and a large wicker basket in his arms. Abdullah turned to walk in the other direction, but was halted by a loud whisper.

“Abdullah,” the man said with a strange voice. “It’s me.”

“Me who?” he replied, confused.

“Faryal, you silly man. Now get over here.”

Abdullah gaped. Yes, she was the right size, but hardly the right shape. She must have bound her breasts. And now that he looked more closely, the beard did not look very real. He gaped in surprise as she continued to speak in low tones.

“Here, take this chit to the stable master. It is for six mounts and saddles. For you, Patrick and me. My name is Jamal, if anyone asks. Take the chit now and get our horses. I am not sure how convincing this disguise would be at close range.”

Just then, Patrick came up. “And who might you be?” he said to Faryal with a grin. He was obviously more quick on the uptake than Abdullah.

“Jamal,” she replied and then turned to Abdullah, “Now, go and get our horses.”

Off Abdullah went.

“Where is Faryal?” Tawfiq asked his wife as he strode into the capsule. “It is past time for breakfast.”

“She is safe,” A’isha answered.

“What do you mean, safe? Where is she?”

“I sent her off with Abdullah and Patrick.”

“WHAT?” Tawfiq roared. “With the African and an infidel? Without a chaperone? Without troops to defend her? Sent her off where? How far?” He glared at her, his hands clenched into fists at his side.

“Calm down, my love, sit and have a cup of tea so we can talk.”

Tawfiq’s breath huffed out and he sat, although the tea she gave him remained ignored in the mug at his side.

“She loves him, you know,” she said softly.

“Loves who? The boy?” Tawfiq asked. “What does love matter when we are moving toward war and moving more quickly than I would like?”

“She loves Abdullah. And it is precisely because of that coming war that I sent her away,” A’isha answered.

“But my men, my generals, all of them compete for her hand as a reward. You know of Barbarossa’s interest.” protested Tawfiq.

“Our daughter,” she answered sharply, “is not a reward. As parents, her happiness is our responsibility. If rewards are a factor, you should think about a reward for the man who brought us birthing chambers. More and more of the capsules are being converted, and more and more pregnancies are successful. We are even earning money from townspeople from Eureka who want to use them, in fact, people from across the steppes.”

The mighty Tawfiq, heir to the title of Mahdi and ruler of the Faithful, began to bend to a higher power. “But Abdullah is just a boy. And although he is smart, and even brave, he is no warrior and no leader.”

“And that is why he is a good match,” she said. “He is young and so is she. She will be far happier with someone her age, than with one of those old bears in your inner circle. This is our struggle, not hers.”

“And where will they go?” Tawfiq said as he slumped into the chair.

“They will be going to live with Patrick’s family, in the Shangri-La Valley. From what he tells us, they are good people there with folk of many nations and many faiths, living together in peace. You see the friendship between Abdullah and Patrick. That will give them a strong ally in their new home. They can build a house, and live in peace.

“And,” she continued, “they can keep our son safe.”

Tawfiq sat up straight, his hands gripping the arms of the chairs like claws. “Nabil?” he whispered.

“Yes, I have sent our boy with him,” she said, trying to be practical despite the tears that ran down her cheeks. “Think about this. If we succeed, you and I will know where to find them and can rejoin them. And if Allah does not will us to succeed—and he may not—our family will live on. That is the true mission of the Faithful, to survive from one generation to the next.”

Tawfiq was silent for a long time before he replied quietly. “I would have liked to have said goodbye to her and my son.”

“But would you have let them go if you knew?” A’isha asked.

“Perhaps not,” he conceded. “And what you say makes sense. Worrying about the children would have distracted me.” He paused for a moment.

“Perhaps you should follow them,” he continued sadly.

She went over to him and knelt beside his chair, caressing his cheek. “That would be impossible, my love,” she said quietly. “I could not live without you, nor you without me.”

There was an urgent knock at the door. They rose to their feet and he kissed her.

“My duties…” he said.

“I know,” she replied. “Go.”

And he went.

Abdullah, Faryal and Patrick rode out of the camp at dawn, in single file, each leading their extra mount. The guards recognized Abdullah and waved him through without hesitation. Faryal’s disguise was sufficient to get them through a cursory viewing, although Abdullah couldn’t believe that it was sufficient to fool a careful observer. She balanced her large basket on her saddle bow, refusing to accept help from the others and refusing to let them tie it to the horse behind her.

They began their long climb into the western hills. They were now high above the towns behind them, not wanting to turn south until they were well away from civilization. There were thunderclouds forming over the plain and it looked like a rare day of rain was coming. They were high enough that the base of the clouds was below them, and the path grew steeper as the day grew longer. Finally, Faryal asked for a halt. “I can’t stand this beard any longer. The glue is making my face itch.”

They dismounted while she disappeared into the brush, still carrying her basket. Abdullah and Patrick disappeared to the other side of the trail to relieve themselves and share a small drink of water. When Faryal emerged a few minutes later, she was beardless but also had a baby in her arms. The empty basket was hooked over an elbow.

“What…” sputtered Abdullah.

“Surely,” she said, “you recognize my brother, Nabil.”

“Yes,” said Abdullah, “but what’s he doing here?”

He saw Patrick smiling, his hand over his mouth in an attempt to conceal his mirth. When Abdullah glared at him, he said, “Don’t look at me, it’s news ta me just like it is ta you.”

“Nabil is here for the same reason I am,” said Faryal. “My mother wanted him safe, wanted both of us to leave. So we gave him a draught to make him sleep and here he is.”

“Your mother?” asked Abdullah.

“Yes, silly, how do you think we got these mounts and had such an easy time leaving? Do you think yourself so clever as to accomplish an escape like this so simply?”

Now Patrick was chuckling openly. Abdullah realized that she was right, realized that he had not given their escape as much thought as he should have. And then he realized something else.

“Your face,” he said. “It’s uncovered.”

Now she smiled at him. “Yes, it is. And I plan to keep it that way. From what Patrick says, it is the custom in our new home. Certainly, he has seen enough women’s faces that he will not be unnerved by it.”

She took off her turban, and began untying her hair, brushing it back with her fingers. The thick, dark hair that had been in his thoughts ever since he had seen it. She smiled at him. “And certainly, a woman can reveal her face to her betrothed.”

Now Patrick was laughing openly. Abdullah closed his mouth, although he didn’t remember how it had opened. “Betrothed?” he sputtered.

“Yes, of course. Do you really think I would let you dishonor me by stealing me away without becoming my husband?”

Abdullah’s head was swimming. This was what he had dreamed of from the very first time he saw her at the launch facility back on Earth. Her eyes had captured him and he now realized he had not been a free man from that day on. He smiled and began to laugh.

“Well,” she said, a little sharply. “Do I have an answer? What are your intentions?”

Abdullah smiled back at her. “It will be,” he replied, “as Allah wills.”

“Good,” she said. “You are learning already.”

Patrick whooped and gave them both a hug.

Faryal fastened Nabil into a harness that snuggled him close to her breast, and Abdullah helped her onto her horse. She leaned down, grabbed the back of his head and brought her lips to his. He was blissful and could see that behind her sarcasm, so was she. Abdullah thought back to the words that A’isha and Tawfiq had shared the day he first met Faryal. Indeed, a good wife was more precious than rubies. He mounted his own horse.

“Now we must ride,” said Faryal, “We have many miles to go until we reach safety, and the longer we can ride while Nabil sleeps, the better.”

Behind them, the clouds began to flash with lightning. There were rumbles of thunder echoing through the hills. They turned their back on the storm clouds, riding toward their new future.