THE PHOENIX AND THE FORM: Chapter Seven
Blue exited the Piper M700, the heat of the desert slamming into her like a physical force. The tarmac radiated a relentless heat that soaked through her boots despite their worn thickness. Their scuffed leather, their worn soles, and each grain of grit embedded in the tread, whispered of a tale untold and a challenge overcome.
She unzipped her jacket, letting it hang limply from her shoulders. Beneath it, a fitted base layer clung to her form, damp with the silent exodus of her exertion. It felt like a cool compress, a welcome relief against the scorching embrace of the desert sun.
Victor swung himself out of the Piper. He took a deep breath, the dry desert air clawing at his throat.
He glanced down at his attire—a lightweight linen shirt, sleeves rolled up to combat the heat, sturdy cargo pants, and his hiking boots; as pristine as the day he bought them, betraying their lack of use.
His thoughts turned to a peculiar feeling that settled in his gut. The atmosphere here felt different, charged with an unseen energy, a low hum that resonated deep in his gut, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.
He squinted against the relentless sun; his gaze fixed on Blue’s silhouette—stark against the bleached canvas of the desert. The heat shimmered in waves off the distant horizon, distorting the landscape into a mirage. A bead of sweat trickled down his temple as his eyes swept across the unforgiving terrain, tracing each rugged peak, parched valley and defiant tufts of desert vegetation that clung precariously to life.
Victor’s scientific curiosity stirred, tinged with a hint of apprehension. He pondered the unfamiliar landscape, wondering about its secrets and the hidden histories that might lie beneath the desert sands.
Blue stepped up beside him.
“How did you know about this road out here in the middle of nowhere?” Victor asked, a hint of disbelief in his voice.
Blue pursed her lips and looked out at the desert landscape. Her eyes scanned the horizon thoughtfully before turning to meet Victor’s gaze. There was a glint of amusement in her eyes. “Google Earth,” she replied matter-of-factly, her tone laced with a touch of irony. “It’s amazing what you can find if you know where to look.”
Victor’s brow furrowed in surprise. “Google Earth?!” he echoed, turning to face her.
Blue nodded, a faint smile playing on her lips at Victor’s reaction. “Yeah,” she affirmed, folding her arms across her chest. She turned to look at the tarmac stretching out to nowhere. “Human governments are the epitome of wastefulness. Ghost roads are everywhere.”
Victor chuckled softly, a mixture of admiration and disbelief coloring his expression. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised anymore,” he remarked, his voice carrying a hint of admiration for Blue’s resourcefulness.
“Google Earth,” he mused aloud, turning back to gaze at the horizon. “So where to now?” he ventured.
Blue took a deep breath and turning said, “Uh…north-north-east. There is a town about seven kilometers from here. We need to get some supplies for the journey ahead.”
“What supplies?” Victor queried again.
“We need camels, there are no roads where we are going—I’m afraid,” she began, “we’ll probably have to buy them though; I don’t think they rent them out.”
“I suspect not,” Victor added with a chuckle.
Blue stepped back to the Piper, retrieving something from its cargo hold. She began assembling a sturdy frame using lightweight PVC pipes. The sun bore down on her, but she worked methodically, her hands deftly snapping the pieces together. She secured the joints with rope, ensuring the frame was strong enough.
Victor approached it too. He stood by the door of the Piper M700, the weight of the moment settling heavily on his shoulders. With the frame in place, Blue started draping desert camo netting over the Piper, but Victor hardly noticed as his eyes were fixed on the casket within the aircraft. He reached out, fingers grazing its polished surface. Memories flooded back—Sophie’s laughter, the way she scrunched her nose when she was deep in thought, the warmth of her hand in his.
Taking a deep breath, Victor closed the cockpit door gently. The latch clicked, sealing away the delicate creation. He rested his forehead against the cool metal for a moment, allowing himself a brief respite before stepping back. As he turned away, he saw Blue hard at work, expertly draping the desert camo netting over the plane.
She moved with a calm determination, her fingers deftly securing the netting to the frame. Blue glanced over her shoulder, her eyes meeting Victor’s. She offered a reassuring nod, and he gave a small, appreciative smile. She covered every visible part of the aircraft, letting the netting cascade down the sides and blend with the sand. The netting’s texture and color merged with the surrounding environment, creating an almost seamless concealment. She anchored the netting to the ground with stakes, tugging and adjusting until it lay flat and secure.
Blue stepped back to inspect her work. The Piper M700 was now a ghost in the desert, its form hidden beneath the expertly arranged netting. She walked around the setup, viewing it from different angles to ensure it was well-concealed. Satisfied with the results, she turned her attention to Victor dusting off her hands.
“Ready?” she asked, her eyes searching his face.
Victor nodded, a small, resolute smile playing on his lips. “Ready as I’ll ever be,” he replied.
With that, they began their trek from their concealed base, the harsh desert sun beating down upon them. The landscape was rugged and unforgiving, but they moved with purpose, each step bringing them closer to their destination.
After what felt like an eternity under the relentless sun, they reached a ridge. From this vantage point, they could see the outline of a town in the distance, shimmering like a mirage against the sandy horizon.
Blue reached up to her neck and pulled out the necklace carrying the compass needle from beneath her shirt. The chain seemed to dissolve into the compass needle as it floated up into the air before them. The needle hovered, quivering slightly as if sensing its surroundings, then pointed unerringly toward the town.
Victor watched the needle with a mix of fascination and disbelief. “That thing really is something else,” he murmured, shading his eyes to get a better look at the floating compass needle.
Blue glanced at him, a small smile on her lips. She started down the ridge, the compass needle leading the way, hovering steadily ahead of them.
Victor followed, his thoughts drifting back to the concealed plane and the precious cargo it held.
They descended the ridge and made their way towards the town.
As they walked, Victor’s curiosity got the better of him. “Why can’t it just teleport us to where we need to go?”
Blue chuckled softly. “That’s not how the compass needle works.” She replied, her tone suggesting that she was done explaining.
“Okay,” Victor continued, pressing on. “Then why pull it out now?”
Blue’s eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief as she answered, “We don’t know the town, the people in the town, or even how to get around. The compass will lead us to our best deal. We need camels that are trained for riding and someone who’s willing to sell them. The compass will guide us to them.”
Victor raised an eyebrow. “How will it know?”
Blue remained silent; her gaze fixed ahead. The floating needle seemed to pulse with a life of its own, leading them toward the town with an almost sentient awareness.
“Okay,” Victor said finally, giving up on getting a direct answer. “Won’t it be seen?”
Blue shrugged nonchalantly. “It might, but then what? Someone sees a flying compass needle—what are they supposed to think?”
Victor couldn’t help but smile at her logic. “Touché,” he said, shaking his head.
As they neared the town, Blue pulled out a black hijab from her backpack, its folds neatly pressed. She draped it over herself and tied it, covering herself from hair to shoulder.
They reached a boulevard bordering the town. A quiet hung over it, broken only by the occasional sigh of the wind. Its wide lanes seemed expansive and deserted in the absence of traffic. A two-lane road branched off from it, leading off into the heart of the town.
As the compass needle glided steadily onward, they ventured deeper into the town; the noise and bustle growing louder. They walked along the two-lane road before branching off into the town’s smaller streets.
The streets were filled with people going about their daily lives, vendors calling out their wares, and the scent of exotic spices in the air. The compass needle floated ahead above the crowds, leading them through the maze of streets and alleys, drawing them ever closer to their destination.
Blue moved with purpose, her hijab billowing slightly with each step. Victor followed closely, trusting the needle and Blue’s instincts.
The town’s lively atmosphere surrounded them, the sights and sounds overwhelming yet fascinating. The needle continued its steady course, leading them through the labyrinth of the market, past stalls selling everything from colorful fabrics to fragrant spices.
As they walked through the crowded streets, the needle led them toward a quieter part of town, where the noise of the market faded. The buildings here were older, their walls adorned with faded murals and intricate carvings. The air, was thick with the scent of incense, and the distant sound of prayer calls.
Victor glanced at Blue, her eyes focused and determined. He knew they were getting closer to their destination, and he felt a mix of excitement and apprehension.
They rounded a corner and the compass needle suddenly stopped, pointing towards a small courtyard hidden behind a crumbling stone wall. Blue and Victor exchanged glances before cautiously making their way towards the entrance.
The courtyard was shaded by ancient olive trees, their branches swaying gently in the breeze. Beyond the courtyard, glimpsed through an archway framed by climbing vines, lay the heart of the compound. A single house dominated the central space. The faint smell of jasmine lingered in the air, mingling with the earthy scent of age-old stone. And at the center of the courtyard stood a figure, draped in flowing robes.
Blue stepped forward, her voice steady. “Wa-salaam ‘alaykum,” she greeted, her words soft but carrying a weight of respect.
The figure turned, revealing a weathered face with eyes that seemed to hold decades of wisdom. His gaze shifted from Blue to Victor, taking in their appearance with a discerning eye. “Wa ‘alaykum,” he replied.
“Sadiqii huna la yatakalam al-’arabiyya,” Blue began as she gestured toward Victor. “L’alla yajuuz an nataakallam bi-l-ingliziyya, lughah huwa akthar ‘alifah biha.” She concluded, Victor raised an eyebrow at her as she spoke.
“Kama tahtaarin,” the man intoned, his voice deep and resonant, “What brings you to my home?”
Blue inclined her head slightly. “We seek camels trained for riding, to travel into the desert.”
The man’s expression remained unreadable for a moment before a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “You are far from the usual paths taken by travelers,” he said cryptically.
“We know, but we can offer payment for your help and for the camels,” Blue added.
“Al-hamdu lillahi, al-ladhi hadaa-ka ilaayya,” the man began as he raised his hands toward heaven, his voice carrying a sense of reverence. “Now my dear daughter might live!” He said, looking back at Victor and Blue. He gestured for them to follow. “Come,” he said as he turned and walked towards a stable hidden behind the house, beyond the courtyard. Blue and Victor exchanged glances, silently agreeing to trust in the guidance that had led them here.
Behind the house lay a low structure of sunbaked bricks, punctuated by wide, arched openings. Simple hanging drapes, woven from coarse desert fibers, covered the openings. The relentless desert sun had bleached the walls to a pale ochre, and the roof, constructed from a network of palm logs and topped with a thick layer of packed earth, extended far beyond the walls, casting long shadows across the dusty ground. Three wooden posts, weathered to a silvery gray, supported the overhanging roof, creating a partially shaded space. As they approached, a faint rustling sound reached their ears.
They entered the stable, their boots crunching softly on a layer of loose reddish sand that covered the uneven stone floor. Inside, they were greeted by a herd of camels, their soft sighs and snorts filling the air. A wave of earthy warmth, tinged with the sharp tang of manure, washed over them.
The man moved to stand among the herd. “These camels are the finest in all the land,” he announced proudly, turning to face Blue and Victor. “They are trained for long journeys through the desert, sturdy and surefooted.”
“Great, we’ll take two,” Blue said to the man. She turned to Victor. “Victor, do you mind picking out the camels while I pay the man?”
Victor turned to face her and started, “What?! I wouldn’t know—”
“Victor,” she reminded him softly, raising her eyebrows at him.
“Oh,” he said, “right, I’ll do that.”
Blue stepped aside with the man as Victor approached the camels in the stable. He looked around until he spotted it, slowly descending to enter the stables. The compass needle made its way through the herd until it settled on one, hovering slightly above it. Victor moved to it and took it by the reins. The compass continued its survey through the herd until it finally settled on another. Victor drew them both out of the stables, surprised at how calm they were in his presence.
Blue walked towards him, letting out a deep sigh. “Well, that’s the first time I’ve ever bought a camel. Pricey too!”
“Where is our host?” Victor asked.
“Off to the hospital,” Blue replied. “He says we can take our camels and go.”
“Well all right then.” Victor said, glancing at the camels. “Let’s hope they’re as good as he says.”
Blue nodded, adjusting the reins in her hands. “They’ll have to be. We’ve got a long journey ahead. Let’s move. The sooner we start, the better.”
Victor agreed, and they began leading their camels away from the stables through the courtyard, the ancient olive trees providing one last moment of shade before they ventured into the relentless heat of the desert sun. As they walked, Victor couldn’t help but marvel at the strangeness of their journey. From the treasures hoarded away in Lord Harrington’s vault, to the compass needle leading them to the hidden courtyard, every step seemed to draw him deeper into a world he simply did not understand.
The camels, sturdy and placid, followed without protest, their footsteps silent in the soft sand. Blue and Victor walked side by side, each lost in their own thoughts.
Leaving the shaded courtyard behind, and with their newly acquired camels in tow; they navigated through the narrow streets of the bustling town. The sun beat down relentlessly, casting sharp shadows against the whitewashed walls adorned with colorful murals. Dust swirled around their boots as they moved, kicked up by the hooves of their camels.
As they came into the town square, under the guidance of the hovering compass needle, Blue led the way with determination etched on her face as they pushed in with the crowds. Victor trailed behind, his gaze shifting between the vibrant market stalls and the compass needle’s unwavering direction. The town buzzed with activity—vendors called out their wares in melodic tones, children darted between legs, and the air was thick with the scent of spices and sweat, mingling with the aroma of freshly baked bread, that wafted through the air.
They led their camels along through the crowds, until, finally; the compass hovered over a shop with an intricately carved wooden sign. The sign, hanging above the entrance, depicted two camels adorned with saddles.
Blue led their camels towards the store. She pushed open the heavy wooden door, and a tinkling bell announced their arrival. The shop was dimly lit, with golden shafts of sunlight filtering through radiant tapestries that hung from the walls.
The place was a leather shop, its inside a treasure trove of equestrian gear—saddles of all sizes and materials, girths of different lengths, and bridles adorned with gems. All manner and sorts of leather goods adorned its shelves: sheaths for blades, boots and shoes made from hide, and rolled up sheets of leather of various shades and hues.
A wizened old man stood behind a counter. “Wa-salaam ‘alaykum,” Blue greeted the man. “Wa ‘alaykum,” he greeted them in a gravelly voice. “How may I assist you today?”
“We require saddles for our camels.” Blue replied, stepping forward with confidence.
The old man studied their camels with experienced eyes before he shuffled to the back. Blue and Victor exchanged a curious glance as the man vanished into the depths of his shop.
The muffled shuffling of feet and the clattering of items followed before the shop owner emerged once more, carrying two large saddles, their leather intricately carved with desert flowers and vines. “These are made from the finest leather in all the land,” he said with clear pride. “They will withstand any journey.”
Blue approached and ran her fingers over the soft yet rugged texture of the saddles, nodding approvingly. Victor looked at his companion and then back at the old man. “We’ll take them.”
The next half hour was spent fitting the saddles onto their camels and making sure they were secure. The shop owner watched them like a hawk, making sure each buckle was fastened correctly and every strap sat comfortably on their camels.
Finally satisfied, he nodded at them. “May your journey be blessed,” he said, as they thanked him for his help and paid for the gear.
They stepped back outside, into the bustling streets of the town, this time with fully equipped camels.
As Blue and Victor walked through the crowds, the sound of a commotion rang out through the market. A few yards away, a couple of corrupt police officers loomed over a woman at her makeshift stall, their uniforms a stark contrast to the vibrant chaos of the market. The officers barked orders in Arabic, their voices laced with authority and menace.
The compass needle stopped in its tracks and turned to face the commotion. Blue and Victor both stopped and looked up at it, as it pointed directly at the altercation. Blue cursed under her breath; her jaw clenched with frustration.
“Not now,” she muttered, her voice barely audible over the commotion.
Victor glanced at her; concern etched on his face. “Do we… intervene?” he asked hesitantly, eyes flicking between Blue and the officers.
Blue’s expression hardened, resolve settling over her features like a mask. She straightened her back, the weight of responsibility palpable in her stance. With a determined exhale, she moved towards the unfolding scene, the compass needle leading her steps.
Victor hesitated for a moment, grappling with the potential consequences of their interference before finally going after her. Blue’s arrival was like a sudden stillness amidst the chaotic symphony of vendors and shoppers. She strode purposefully towards the two police officers, her frame cutting a path through the crowd. The officers, surprised by her audacity, faltered momentarily as they faced her unwavering gaze, their expressions shifting from arrogance to confusion.
They started conversing in Arabic, softly at first, but rising steadily in volume. Blue’s response was a piercing stare, her sapphire eyes fixed on them with unwavering intensity. The officers continued their tirade, their voices escalating higher and higher, as they berated her in the same manner they had berated the woman at the stall. But Blue remained unmoved, her resolve unwavering.
“Mind your own business! Infidel!” One officer barked, his voice laced with disdain.
Victor, seeing the confrontation escalate, hurried to intervene. “Officers, please,” he implored, his voice calm yet firm. “There’s no need for this. Let’s talk this through.”
The officers scoffed, their demeanor growing more aggressive. One of them spat, shoving Victor back.
In a swift move, the other swung his baton at Blue, aiming for her head. Blue ducked under the swing, her leg snapping out to deliver a kick to the officer’s knee. He staggered, clutching the stall for support, but Blue didn’t hesitate. She pivoted gracefully and delivered a powerful kick to his face, sending him crashing to the ground.
His partner, incensed by the turn of events, charged at Blue with reckless abandon. Before he could reach her, Victor lunged forward, grabbing the officer’s arm and pulling him back. “Stop!” Victor pleaded, trying to reason with the officer.
The officer shoved Victor aside, sending him sprawling to the ground. He loomed over Victor, his anger palpable as he raised his baton threateningly. Blue leaped forward, but the downed officer grasped her ankle. She stumbled, crashing to the ground with a grunt.
The officer turned his attention back to Victor, who was scrambling backward in a desperate attempt to evade him.
The officer loomed; his shadow fell heavy as he raised his baton. Victor’s heart raced; the metallic tang of fear—flooding his mouth as the baton rose, glinting under the harsh glare.
The officer’s gaze shifted, snagged on a nearby stall—a flash of steel catching his eye. Victor’s eyes followed the officer’s line of sight. A strangled gasp escaped his lips as panic surged within him. The officer’s head snapped back, a predatory grin replacing his scowl.
The baton clattered to the ground; a dull thud swallowed by the cacophony of the marketplace. He reached for the machete, unsheathing it, the leather groaning in protest—the harsh scrape of steel on leather mirroring the frantic pounding of Victor’s heart.
The officer advanced; the machete held high, its blade, gleaming. Victor’s voice cracked as he pleaded, “No, please, please don’t!” his voice raw with terror. He flinched, throwing his hands up in a futile attempt to shield himself as the officer’s machete descended.
In that moment, time fractured, and the world seemed to slow. Strobes of white-hot light coalesced around the compass needle. Just as the shadow of the blade threatened to engulf Victor, the compass needle descended.
Placing itself between Victor and the machete, it wrapped his hands around it. In a blink, the warmth intensified, culminating in a blinding flash. The compass needle transformed, morphing, and solidifying into a magnificent sword. The officer’s machete met with an unexpected resistance; a wall of gleaming steel.
The force of the blow sent the officer staggering back. The kickback nearly wrenching the machete from his grip; leaving the metallic tang of seared metal hanging heavy in the air.
From his place on the ground, Victor stared, open-mouthed, at the weapon in his hand. He sat up, picking himself up off the ground and resting on one knee.
He observed the sword. Beneath the Saudi Arabian sun, the stainless-steel blade shimmered. As Victor turned the sword in his grip, admiring it, its golden hilt and pommel gleamed.
Across from him, the officer recovered his bearings. A guttural yell ripped from his throat, echoing through the marketplace. “JINN!”
Victor rose, steadying himself. He gripped the hilt tighter, the cool metal a grounding force against the rising tide of panic. The officer charged, and Victor, heart pounding in a frantic rhythm, raised his newfound sword to meet the challenge.
The officer launched a sequence of attacks. A vertical slash descended, aimed at splitting Victor from shoulder to hip. Victor felt the sword rise in a rising block, deflecting the blow with a clang. The officer transitioned the attack into a horizontal slash aimed at severing Victor’s legs. The sword countered with a low block, its cross-guard slamming into the machete’s belly, pushing the blow wide. An unseen force lunged Victor back. He stepped back with his guard up. The officer advanced a diagonal slash met with an angle block, the sword’s edge grinding against the machete’s belly, deflecting it with a screech of scraping metal.
The blades locked for a heartbeat. Across from Victor, the officer’s breath came in jagged gasps, his eyes wide with uncertainty and fear. Victor, seemed to have barely broken a sweat.
With a violent jerk, the officer disengaged the blades. The machete sang a wicked song as it whipped back. Victor stumbled back a pace, chest heaving, heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs.
The officer stalked him in a slow circle; the machete held loose at his side. Victor circled as well, his sword held out, his eyes fixed on the officer.
With renewed ferocity, the officer charged. A relentless sequence of blows raining down. A vertical chop aimed at cracking Victor’s skull, deflected, with a high block. A horizontal slash, targeting his midsection, met with a swinging parry, that sent the scimitar skittering off course. The officer, attempting to change tactics, feinted a thrust, then whipped the scimitar upwards in a vicious diagonal cut. Victor, deceived by the feint, almost fell for the trap. But the sword, as if expecting the attack, whipped up in a narrow oblique block, the blades meeting in a screech of scraping metal.
The officer, frustrated by Victor’s stubborn defense, lunged. Time seemed to slow. Victor felt the sword rise to meet the blow. There was a sickening crunch of metal on metal—a deafening clang as the sword overpowered the officer’s grip. His weapon wrenched from his grasp, spinning high into the air like a glinting silver bird. It rose, hesitated at the apex of its flight, and then, with a balletic pirouette, the machete completed a full revolution. As it descended, hilt first, it landed perfectly in Victor’s left hand.
Victor, stunned, stared dumbfounded at the machete in his grasp, then back at the disarmed officer, who stood frozen, mouth agape, eyes wide, a frown of disbelief on his face.
They stood there, looking at one another, the officer eyeing Victor like a hawk, watching him closely for any sign of movement. Victor maintained his stance, holding up both weapons, eyeing the officer.
After a while, the officer’s tense muscles relaxed, and he straightened, averting his gaze slightly, and casting his eyes around in confusion. They stood alone amidst the abandoned stalls, their quiet breathing being the only sound. Victor mirrored the man’s relaxed posture. He rose to his full height, now awkwardly holding both weapons, unsure of what to do next.
It got awkward; the officer sighed, placing his hands on his hips, and cleared his throat with a dry cough, casting side glances at Victor. Victor pursed his lips, flushing a deep crimson. The two stared at each other, like actors in a play who had forgotten their lines.
The sword twisted in his hand to face him. “What?!” Victor intoned. Its gleaming tip angled once towards the officer in an impatient nudge. Victor’s eyes widened as he craned his neck at it, shaking his head a little. It dipped its tip twice toward the officer—almost as if to say, “Come on, do something!”
“Oh no… no… I’m not… I… I don’t know what you…” The sword now seemed to be getting impatient, its tip tapping the air like an expectant drumbeat. “What? I… don’t know how…” The sword twitched, almost rolling its nonexistent eyes. The officer watched all of this with his mouth opened slightly, eyes flicking between Victor and the animated sword.
Suddenly he convulsed, a strangled cry escaping his lips. His entire body stiffened, then went slack as he crumpled to his knees, his face contorting in a mask of pain before he slumped unconscious onto the sand. Blue stood over him, flustered, her chest heaving. She had lost her hijab and had a cut on her lip and a gash on the side of her forehead. Her skin glistened with sweat and she was covered in dirt. In her hand, she held a taser that she had just used to drive-stun the officer, at the nape of his neck.
“Let’s go,” she grunted.
Victor looked from her to the incapacitated officer, then back again. Still carrying the two blades like torches, he stepped over him and ran after her. She was pulling the camels that had strayed away from the commotion within the market, but were still waiting for them.
“We have to get out of the town quickly before backup shows up.” She said, nodding to the two officers lying on the ground. Her officer was incapacitated just as his was. Victor wondered about what had transpired between them. She swung her backpack forward, returning the Taser inside before zipping it up.
“You can leave the machete,” she said, barely looking at him as she wrangled their camels.
“Oh! Right!” Victor exclaimed before letting it clatter to the ground. The sword in his right hand flew from his grip and, in an instant, shrank back into a compass needle. He stared at it, his scientific mind grappling to understand.
Victor and Blue left the market with hurried steps, their hearts pounding from the recent confrontation. The bustling noise of the marketplace faded behind them as they ventured into the winding alleyways of the town, following the compass needle’s unwavering direction. They guided their camels, which trudged obediently behind their owners.
The alleys leading off from the market were a labyrinth of shadows. The surrounding buildings, aged and weather-worn, told of a thousand sunrises through their stone facades. Victor could feel the coarse texture of the stone walls as he brushed past them. The scent of cooking fires and spices hung in the air, mingling with the musty aroma of its passageways.
They approached the mouth of the alley, opening out onto a street. The compass needle stopped, flying back to a turnoff leading into a passageway. Blue cursed under her breath, pulling her camel back. Victor quickly moved his into the passageway alongside hers. She peeked around the corner as he tentatively stuck his head out. The trucks ran past; the sound of their engines roaring. Victor caught glimpses of the men inside, in combat gear and carrying assault rifles.
When the danger had passed, the compass needle led them out onto the street. They looked both ways, checking to see if the coast was clear, before they began crossing with their camels in toe. Several civilians, walking about the town, stood still when they caught sight of Blue with her vibrant hair.
They crossed to the other side; a man across the street from them started shouting in Arabic. Victor turned to look. He was standing in the middle of the street, trying to wave down the police trucks that had just passed and pointing frantically in their direction.
Blue cursed under her breath. They ran, pulling their camels along, which jogged along with them through the narrow streets and alleyways. The compass needle led the way. Blue followed, her steps sure and swift; every movement sharp, her figure cutting a determined path through the maze. Victor kept close, the adrenaline coursing through his veins. The rhythmic clopping of their camels’ hooves on the cobblestones echoed in the narrow alleyways, every sound magnified in Victor’s ears.
They moved through the passageways, the sounds of the town returning as they made their way further from the market. Blue’s eyes scanned their surroundings constantly, her senses attuned to any sign of danger. The echoes of distant voices, the barking of a dog and the distant sound of passing cars were the only interruptions in their escape. The camels’ breath came in gentle huffs, their presence a calming anchor amidst the tension.
They navigated the town’s underbelly, passing through hidden courtyards and beneath arched passageways, the ancient architecture providing them with cover. The alleyways were narrow, forcing them to move single file. Victor could feel the cool, damp air of the shaded paths, a stark contrast to the sun-drenched marketplace they had left behind. The camels followed without complaint, their reins held firmly in Victor and Blue’s hands.
Eventually, the buildings began to thin; the alleyways giving way to broader streets. They reached the outskirts of the town, where the structures were fewer and farther between. The open sky above them felt like a release as they stepped out onto the boulevard at the edge of the town.
Beyond was the expansive desert stretching out before them. And beyond that, the Piper awaited them at their make-shift camp. They began crossing the boulevard. The eerie silence gnawing at Victor. He cast a worrisome look around, wondering if this had all been a little too easy.
Then he felt it. He flinched uncontrollably, his back arching in pain as he fell to his hands and knees. He grunted, causing Blue to spin around.
“Victor!?” she cried out as she rushed to him. “What is it?” she asked as she looked around. Victor grunted again, grasping at his right hip.
Blue saw, “The injury?!” she asked.
Victor nodded as he grunted.
The compass needle hovered attentively above them. Before rising higher, as its focus shifted. It zipped away with a whistle; Blue’s head swiveling to see it go.
She put her arm around Victor’s shoulder. “Come on!” She implored. Victor struggled to stand, but managed it. They staggered together toward the shrubbery lining the boulevard.
There were a couple of blasts in the distance, followed by the sound of screeching tires and a loud crash. They stopped, turning to see the source of the sound. But as far as they could see, the boulevard was still empty. Victor grunted again. “Don’t worry! I’ve got you!” Blue reassured him.
“Thank you.” He managed.
“Oh God! You might wanna lay off the pancakes, though.” She remarked. He gave her a look, but she shrugged it off. They limped on, their camels following obediently.
The compass needle returned with a whistle. Blue cast a glance at it but wordlessly continued helping Victor stumble on. It pointed steadfastly towards the horizon, guiding them away from the town and towards their makeshift camp.
Gradually, Victor started walking on his own, relieving Blue of the burden. The desert wind picked up, carrying with it the faint scent of sand. The camels plodded along, their steady pace a comforting rhythm in the vastness of the desert. The adrenaline from the market encounter was beginning to ebb, replaced by a focused determination to reach their destination.
As they pressed on, the town behind them grew smaller, its silhouette merging with the horizon. They walked in silence for a while. The sun hung low, dipping below the western sky. After several kilometers, they saw familiar landmarks—a jagged rock formation here, a patch of resilient desert flora there—signaling that they were drawing closer to their camp. The memory of the Piper, hidden away and waiting for them, spurred them on.
Finally, they crested the ridge and saw the makeshift camp where they had left the Piper. The sight of it brought a sense of relief, a sanctuary in the harsh landscape. Blue and Victor exchanged a glance as they led their camels down.
The sun painted the sky with hues of orange and purple. The air cooled, a gentle breeze rustling the sparse desert vegetation. Blue found a spot to sit down. She settled against a large rock, her body slumping with exhaustion, her eyes half-closed in weariness.
Victor leaned up against the Piper, breathing deeply. They remained silent; their gaze fixed on the setting sun. The compass floated down beside Blue; she glanced at it, then turned away, a flicker of frustration crossing her face.
Victor stood up and walked to her, limping slightly. He noticed the gash on the side of her head, a deep cut that had crusted over with dried blood. He crouched down beside her, concern etched on his face.
“Blue, you’re hurt”
Blue finally turned her gaze to him, her expression a mix of fatigue and irritation. “I’m fine Victor.” She muttered. “I’ll take care of it,” her voice steady despite the pain.
Victor’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he kept silent, choosing to give her space. He got up and sat down on a nearby rock facing the western horizon, as the last light of the day faded into twilight.
Blue reached for her bag, and getting up, made her way to the Piper. Opening the cockpit door, she climbed inside and reached into the compartment below the pilot’s seat, feeling for her inspection mirror. Her fingers brushed against the cool metal of the telescoping tool, pulling it out.
Sitting back in the seat and glancing into the small oval mirror, she frowned at the distorted angle of the reflection. Extending the mirror’s handle, she leaned it against the side panel beside the throttle, balancing it just right. Her face coming into view, clearer now.
Victor watched as she took out a small vial of antiseptic, and a needle and thread, from her pack. She unscrewed the cap with a twist, the sharp scent of alcohol filling the air. Dabbing some of the liquid onto a clean cloth, she pressed it against the gash on her head, wincing slightly as the antiseptic stung her skin. Carefully, she cleaned the wound, determination in her eyes as she threaded the needle and began stitching the wound herself.
As she began the first stitch, Victor winced. He could almost feel the needle piercing his own skin. Despite her exhaustion and the obvious pain, her hands remained steady. Victor could see the tension in her jaw as she stitched, each movement deliberate and controlled. He felt a sympathetic twinge of pain at the sight.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to help?” he asked softly.
Blue glanced at him, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “I’ve got it,” she replied, returning to the task at hand.
And thus, the needle moved, in and out, in and out. The sound of the thread pulling through her skin, faint but distinct, a soft, almost hypnotic hiss. Victor watched, transfixed, as the wound slowly closed.
He noticed her breath coming in shallow controlled bursts, each exhale a small cloud in the cooling air. As she worked, the light continued to fade, and the stars began to emerge in the twilight sky. The surrounding desert grew even quieter, the sounds and commotion of the marketplace earlier that day, now a distant memory.
With each pull of the thread closing in the wound, Victor couldn’t help but admire her resilience. “You’re really something, you know that?” he said, trying to offer some comfort. She didn’t respond; her focus entirely on the task at hand.
Victor started on their dinner. First, he gathered what supplies he needed from the cargo hold and lit a fire. Gathering a small pile of dry brush and kindling—he struck a match. The tiny flame caught quickly, hungrily consuming the brittle twigs. He fed it slowly, adding larger sticks and pieces of wood, until a steady fire crackled before him.
The camels, now settled and content, occasionally shifted their weight, their movements a soft counterpoint to the crackling of the fire. The Piper, covered in its desert camo net, sat silently, gleaming softly in the dying light. The compass needle hovered overhead, the light from the fire making it shimmer slightly, in the retreating twilight.
Blue finished the last stitch, tied off the thread, and carefully cut it with a small pair of scissors from her pack. She wiped away the remaining blood with a cloth.
“Not bad,” she mused, brushing a few strands of loose hair behind her ear before putting away her tools.
Retrieving a small pot, Victor set it up over the fire, holding it up with three stones he had arranged in a triangular pattern, with gaps between the stones for feeding the fire. He started by boiling water in the pot. Then, he reached for the packet of instant couscous and carefully poured it into the boiling water, covering the pot to let it steam. Next, he retrieved a few packets of dried vegetables and jerky, setting them aside to rehydrate in a bowl of water. The scent of the cooking couscous mingled with the desert air; the aroma, warm, and inviting.
As the vegetables and meat softened, Victor drained the excess water and added them to the pot, stirring them gently into the couscous. He drizzled a bit of olive oil over the mixture and added a dash of salt, cumin, coriander, and paprika.
He glanced over at Blue; who sat in the pilot’s seat of her Piper, her weariness obvious in the way she held herself. “Dinner’s almost ready,” he called, trying to gauge her mood. Blue nodded, but remained silent.
Emerging from the cockpit, she sat down beside Victor, both of them staring out at the fading light of the desert. She leaned back, closing her eyes for a moment, her breathing steady. The spices released their fragrant oils, creating a heady mix that made Blue’s mouth water.
Victor served up two small bowls; the golden grains and colorful vegetables contrasting starkly. He handed a bowl to Blue, who took it with a grateful nod, her fingers brushing his in a fleeting moment of connection.
“Thank you,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
Victor watched as Blue ate slowly, her eyes fixed on the horizon. He couldn’t help but feel a swell of concern. The events of the day had taken a toll on her, and he wished he could do more to help.
The silence between them was heavy but comfortable, a shared moment of reflection after the chaos of the day. The day’s tension slowly ebbed away, replaced by a sense of quiet camaraderie in the deepening night.
The air grew cooler, and the desert settled into a quiet stillness. Victor’s gaze drifted from the remnants of their meal to Blue, who sat across from him. Her expression softened by the firelight.
“How did you learn how to suture?” he asked.
Blue paused, her eyes flickering briefly with a mixture of memories and hesitation. “I was a nurse,” she replied quietly.
Victor raised an eyebrow, his surprise clear on his face. “What kind of nurse?” he asked, curiosity coloring his tone.
“An army nurse,” Blue answered, her voice tinged with a hint of pride.
Victor frowned, his gaze meeting hers. He nodded slowly, as if processing this new piece of information.
“That explains a lot. But… how does an army nurse get a villa in Wales?!” He asked, his frown deepening.
Blue looked at him, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. “Trade secret.” She whispered. Victor chuckled. “All right,” he said, “so we have an owner of multiple small businesses, who owns a private plane—that she pilots herself, lives in a villa in Wales, and is apparently also an army nurse?”
“What can I say? I have lived a life,” Blue replied, crossing her arms.
“Hmm,” Victor grunted, his gaze fixed on hers. “What does someone like that want with the Phoenix?”
Blue averted her gaze, clenching her jaw.
“Okay, how about this?” Victor continued after a while. “What were you up to before we met on that internet forum?”
“Oh…um…Doctor’s without Borders.”
Victor raised his eyebrow again, before nodding.
“You’re quite an impressive woman, Ms. Blue.”
Blue blushed at his compliment. She studied him for a moment, the flickering light from the campfire dancing in her eyes. “You know, you’re not so bad yourself,” she started, “your 3D brain scanner, its revolutionary, Victor.”
Victor inhaled deeply at that. “Yeah… ” He managed.
“What!? You don’t think so!?” she queried.
“No, I…I do.” He said.
“Oh don’t tell me you’re just that modest Victor! Weren’t you nominated for the Nobel prize in physics that year?” she continued.
“Yeah… ” He responded.
“You would have been the second Kenyan to win a Nobel prize, right?”
“Yeah, but interplanetary quantum communication is way cooler.”
Blue smiled and said, “Fine, granted, but your invention, Victor—it gives people their lives back.”
“Well it was supposed to give back her’s! It was supposed to fix… ” Victor retorted.
His response visibly took her aback, and Victor was no less surprised. He looked away from her, but she didn’t press. They sat in silence, the only sound the crackling of the wood in the fire.
“I made it for her… Miranda. To give her back her memories. But the surgery… ” he hesitated, his eyes welling up with tears.
He stood up abruptly. “I’m going to go to sleep.”
Blue stood up as well, “Victor—” she started
“Thank you, Ms. Blue, but it’s fine.” He interrupted.
“No Victor, it’s not,” she began with a sigh. “You need to mourn. You need to let go—”
“It is difficult to mourn alone Ms. Blue,” he interrupted trying desperately to blink back the tears. “The weight… it can be… … crushing.”
“Well, don’t you have someone? Anyone?” she asked, and he fell silent. “What about your in-laws… Miranda’s family?”
He ducted away a stray tear that escaped his eye. “They blame me,” he sighed, “for Sophie’s death. The form; it’s the only thing I have left.” He met her gaze, holding it, before retreating towards the Piper.
Victor lingered for a moment at the Piper’s cockpit door. He stood beside the casket; placing his hand on its smooth surface. A sigh escaped his lips. He pulled out his tent and supplies from the Piper and began setting it up. Anchoring the tent poles, he secured the shelter.
Blue wordlessly retrieved her tent and began setting it up beside him, glancing over from time to time. The darkness deepened as the tents took shape, the fire slowly dying down. Once he was done with his tent, Victor moved to crawl into it, stopping, he turned to Blue.
“Goodnight, Ms. Blue,” he said, a soft murmur carrying across the distance.
“Goodnight, Victor,” she replied. Victor settled into his tent, zipping up his door. And a silence settled over the camp.
Blue stood there for a moment; her gaze unfocused as she looked at the darkening horizon. She took a deep breath and briskly walked away from the camp, her steps carrying her to a nearby ridge.
Once she reached the ridge, the floodgates opened. Spilling out in quiet sobs, her shoulders shaking as she cried. The compass needle flew to her side. It descended slowly, coming to rest next to her.
Desperately wiping away her tears, she looked at the compass needle through tear-blurred eyes. “Maybe…we shouldn’t do this,” she whispered.
The tall figure stood at the expansive window of his suite overlooking the cityscape of Jeddah. The sprawling urban lights twinkled below, casting a shimmering reflection on the Red Sea. His eyes were fixed on the horizon, the darkened skyline juxtaposed against the fading twilight.
The door to his opulent room opened silently, and the henchman entered with a file in hand. He approached with a respectful nod and presented the document to his boss. “Sir,” he began, “we’ve intercepted a report from a remote town in the Riyadh region. It details an altercation at a market involving two infidels…foreigners…attacking and incapacitating two local officers. The report describes a Caucasian woman with bright blue eyes and a black man with a swor… ”
The henchman paused mid-sentence, the black pearl eyes of the figure’s ouroboros ring flashed a sudden purple. The henchman hesitated, his eyes fixed on the ring.
“It’s them,” the tall figure said, his voice low and resolute. He handed back the file, the purple glow fading as quickly as it had appeared. “You know what to do.”
“Yes, sir,” the henchman replied, his voice steady despite the brief interruption. He turned and left swiftly, the weight of the command propelling him into action. His fellow operatives, alerted by the directive, began their preparations for departure.
The tall figure remained by the window, his gaze unblinking. He stroked the index finger of his right hand gently with his thumb, the black pearl eyes of the ring, glowing faintly.