The two of them set off with the sky still bright but the sun now gone, rising out of the depression in the ground like the dead coming back to life. Tariq led the way, past the dam and along the line of the river back toward the compound. Al-Hillah lay directly beyond. They had talked about taking a wide route to avoid the compound entirely, but with hunger already gnawing at their stomachs and the extra miles this would add to their journey they had decided to risk taking the direct route instead, timing their march so they could creep past it as close as they dared under cover of darkness.
Night fell quickly and so did the temperature. Liv pulled her clothes tight against the creeping cold but could still feel it slowly taking hold of her feet, numbing them as they trudged forward. Ahead of them the compound glowed into life as the battery-powered security lights switched on automatically, using power collected by solar panels during the day. She felt drawn to them, a moth to the light. “They seem brighter tonight,” she said.
“It’s because they’re getting closer,” Tariq whispered, then pressed his finger to his lips. “We should keep quiet. Sound travels farther in the still of a desert night.” It felt good to be moving again and she found the tightness that had tugged at her as she walked away from the compound was lessening again with every step she took back to it.
For the next hour they walked in silence, settling into a steady pace, stopping occasionally to adjust anything on their packs that made a noise. It was in the soft silence of one of these stops that they heard it, a steady, rhythmic sound, rising and falling as the night breezes shifted it around. Liv titled her head toward it and Tariq did the same. Through the whisper of the wind they heard it again, the unmistakable thrum of a diesel engine.
“Generator,” Tariq whispered. “That’s why the lights are so bright. They must have fresh supplies of fuel and have switched on the main perimeter lights. Someone else must be there.”
Liv listened harder, trying to pick out any other sounds of life. She was listening so hard that when the new sound came, close and loud, it made her spin around in alarm. It had come from behind, a haunted, moaning sound from over by the river. The sound came again, rattling and wet and she saw what had made it. It was a man, shuffling up the bank, his breath coming in gasping, laborious moans.
Kasim.
Liv started to back away as his eyes locked on to her, so wide and staring that they seemed to glow in the night. A thick, viscous rope of dark drool leaked from his mouth and he raised an arm to point directly at her, his hand bent into a claw.
SaHeira, he said, his voice ragged and raw.
Witch.
Then he coughed, a fierce racking sound that brought him to his knees and sent him into convulsions. He rolled onto his back, fighting for air. Then his eyes rolled up into his head and he started to spasm. Liv jumped as a hand fell on her shoulder. “Don’t look,” Tariq said, trying to turn her away from the death throes.
Liv shrugged away, her eyes transfixed by Kasim, bucking and twitching on the ground, fighting for his final breath. He gave one last long shudder then was still.
“Look,” Tariq said, pointing past his body, “you were right.”
Kasim’s canteen drifted in the water where he had stopped to drink, driven by thirst and a lack of supplies. Tariq stepped over the body and retrieved his backpack lying on the bank. Inside were the missing rations. “We need to get away from here,” Tariq said, shouldering the bag. “He made too much noise. People will be coming to see what it was.”
Liv turned to the compound glowing brightly in the night, close enough now to pick out details. She could see the spindly structures of the guard towers, the shiny-sided buildings, the drill tower in the center still throwing water high into the air, but no movement, and no people. She started walking toward it, following the line of the widening stream to its source at the center of the compound. She did not want to look upon the agonized death mask of Kasim anymore. But most of all she did not want Tariq to see the tears that had started to run down her cheeks. She wasn’t even sure why she was crying. Maybe it was exhaustion — or guilt. Wherever she went it seemed, people died — and she was weary of death. It seemed to walk alongside her, taking the lives of everyone she touched and driving others away. She couldn’t shake the growing feeling that it was she who was at the heart of all this misery — that she was the cause and the curse.
“What are you doing?” Tariq said, drawing level with her, his voice a low whisper so it would not carry.
“I’m going back,” she said, her eyes fixed on the compound. “And if they shoot me then they’ll be doing me and everyone else a favor. You go on to Al-Hillah if you want. I’m tired of running scared.”
She marched on, feeling relieved more than anything as the tension continued to unwind inside her. The adrenaline of the incident with Kasim burned away, leaving a gnawing sickness in the pit of her empty stomach and her muscles feeling heavy and weak. Ahead of her the compound opened up a little as her perspective shifted. She could see past the main building now into the wide central area where the derrick rose from the main pool of water. There was still no sign of life, no horses, no people. Maybe they had realized the water was poisoned and ridden away.
The compound opened up a little more and she saw two vehicles that hadn’t been there before parked by the main transport hangar: a jeep and a transport truck. It explained the fresh supplies of fuel. She was close enough now to read the registration plates and make out the logo on the side of the truck — a flower with the earth at its center. The heat of hope warmed her exhausted muscles and she broke into a shambling run. It was the symbol of the international aid agency ORTUS — the charity Gabriel worked for. He had said he would come back. He had promised. Maybe he had…
She made it to the gate too exhausted from her sprint even to call out his name. She rattled the gate then found a stone on the ground and started banging it against the steel frame. The anvil clang echoed in the night like a chapel bell and she kept at it, beating the stone against the metal until it splintered in her hands.
A door opened on the side of the transport hangar, framing the silhouette of a man and Liv crumpled to her knees, all her energy spent. The figure hurried out of the door toward her and another followed. She could not make out details of their faces because of the bright lights shining behind them. She watched them draw closer, clinging to the gate to keep herself vaguely upright as hope drained steadily out of her. The way they moved, the slope of their shoulders, other tiny things told her, long before they reached the gate to open it, that neither man was Gabriel.
She let go of the gate and allowed herself to slump down the last few feet to the cold earth. The smell of the earth filled her nostrils as her head made contact with the ground. Then she gave in to the welcome relief of oblivion, closed her eyes and let the darkness take her.