“Uh, Carter? I think that’s a scimitar.”
Chapter 27
The fat nomad wielded the trademark curved machete like someone who knew how to use it. Though he was laying eyes on the foreigners for the first time, since he had not emerged from his tent at any point up to now, he showed no interest in conversing with them, or about them, in any way. Carter guessed that he had already been given his orders by the tribal elders, and now he was going to carry them out, bar nothing.
The brandisher of the scimitar did not run at them full flail, rather he executed what Jayden would later recount as a “controlled power-walk” with the weapon held at the ready until he stood four feet away from them.
“You will stay here for the night,” the translator said when their security force was in position. While cautious, Carter and Jayden were not scared of this man. Little did he know that he faced an ex-SEAL and a very fit ex-Navy man with a concealed firearm in the backpack that hung from his shoulder. Carter had no doubt they could fight their way out of this and live to tell the tale. But the truth of the matter was that things were more complex than that. They didn’t just need to escape this place. They needed supplies, particularly water. He was still incredibly thirsty, having had only a few sips of water since his arrival here. Jayden was nudging his leg with his foot, the signaclass="underline" should we fight?
“Stand down,” Carter told him in a low voice. “We’ll stay.”
Jayden took a deep breath. “Darn, I was really looking forward to a good scimitar brawl, you know? It’s been a while.”
“Yeah well, don’t feel too bad. You might get your chance yet.” He leaned in closer, aware that the translator was watching his lips move. “Act friendly, we’ll make our move in the morning if they won’t let us go then. For now, let’s try to cooperate enough so that they feed us.”
“Gotcha.” Jayden slowly put his hands over his head in the universal gesture of surrender, and Carter did the same. At this the scimitar man-boy smiled ever so slightly, while the old man returned to the fore.
“Okay,” Carter said with as genuine a smile as he could muster, “It’s all right. We will stay for the night. We don’t want to cause any trouble, and you know the area far better than we do.” The translator converted this to the old man’s language and he nodded in return without smiling.
Although they were not allowed to leave, after an awkward few moments, the gypsy camp returned to normal as a couple of women stoked a cook fire while the men went about their business of tending to the goats and camels while keeping a wary eye on the visitors. Carter scrutinized them as they worked. Most of them had deeply weathered faces and dark skin, the kind of look that suggested a largely outdoor life for many decades. These were truly a wandering, nomadic people, Carter thought, perfectly at home in the middle of nowhere. Glancing off to the Ararat mountains, he now wished they had toughed it out and kept going past this tribe, but it was easy to say that now with water and food close at hand.
A water gourd was lifted from one of the camels, which were draped with rugs, blankets and various hanging baskets full of fruits, vegetables and grains. Some of the camels were unladen, however, suggesting that these were for carrying human riders, while the rest were beasts of burden used for carrying heavy loads. The gourd was passed around and both Carter and Jayden drank until their thirst was completely quenched. A boy played a soothing melody on a Persian flute called a ney while pans of food began to simmer over the campfire.
“Don’t know what it is,” Jayden said, eyeing the cooking dinner, “but I’m more than ready to eat it.”
“Some kind of stew,” Carter surmised. “Looks like chicken, but who knows.” Presently a small girl approached them with both hands joined in front of her. She walked up to them and opened her hands, palms up to reveal six dates. She smiled at them and Crater and Jayden each took three, saying “Thank you.” Carter looked over at the translator who nodded at them without smiling.
“Nice,” Jayden said, popping one of the fruits into his mouth. “This’ll keep us going.”
“Kinda makes me think of the date scene with the monkey in that famous relic hunter movie,” Carter said ominously. Jayden shrugged and popped another of the middle eastern delicacies.
“Chance I’m willing to take at this point. Besides, they’re eating them.” He nodded toward a group of adults who were also snacking on dates being passed out by the girl.
They watched the sun set until it melted into the desert sands. It became cool surprisingly fast, and the wind picked up a touch, nothing like the sandstorm of earlier that day, but adding to the chill. The boy stopped playing the flute when dinner was ready, announced by the banging of a simple hand drum called a doumbek, with either a sharp, piercing tek sound, or else a dull boom.
Jayden was beside the fire before the beating of the drum had ended, while Carter took a more laid-back, sauntering approach. It felt odd to him, this being forcibly detained yet free to interact with the group as though they were invited, if not honored guests. The food was satisfying, though, served on battered metal plates, and there was no shortage of it. Jayden had his plate refilled three times while washing it down with copious amounts of water. There was even a jug of some kind of weak wine that went around, which Carter and Jayden sampled liberally. It was certainly a simple, itinerant existence these people led, Carter reflected, yet they were not wanting for the basics.
By the time an incredibly thick blanket of stars lit the evening sky, the camp was beginning to turn in for the night. Carter observed them watering the camels, goats and sheep, and then adding more wood to the fire, which they apparently kept burning all night. They added a lot of wood, Carter noticed, converting the burn from a cook fire to a small bonfire, sending up a thick column of smoke. Probably helped ward off pests, he thought.
It also became clear that two guards were posted while everyone else slept. Carter wondered if they normally kept guards at all or if they maybe posted two instead of one tonight. They might assume that no Westerner in their right mind would dare to venture out on their own at night. Perhaps they really were only worried about their safety?
Carter’s thoughts were interrupted when the translator walked over to them and informed them that they were to occupy one of the small lean-to shelters — open on one side facing the camp — to sleep for the night. “Works for me,” Jayden said, even more jovial than usual considering the situation, now that his belly was full.
After a last 360 degree look around outside, where they sighted absolutely zero human activity outside the camp, Carter and Jayden retired to the lean-to. The inside was surprisingly comfortable, there being a Persian rug lining the ground and with the three heavy canvas sides serving to block any breezes. The air inside was warmer than out, and they soon realized it would be all too easy to fall asleep for the night. They could hear very low murmurs of conversation from the neighboring tents, but save for that and the occasional noise from one of the pack or farm animals, it was quieter than they were used to, and even quieter than it had been camping with the trekking group on Mt. Ararat.
They lay back as if preparing to sleep. Carter placed his backpack in the corner next to his head. The clan had never searched his pack, as if they didn’t care about weapons. Maybe they figured that they were too intimidating for two lost tourists to try and fight? He didn’t know, but he was glad they weren’t completely locked down. Seeing his pack made him realize that he had never checked his sat-phone messages. He pulled the device from it and powered it on, glad that he had previously set all notifications to silent so that he could use it confidently in covert situations such as this.