They sat on a nearby bench. The excited children's chatter almost drew the raging chaos that was brewing inside Yahya's mind. He hadn't told Jomaira about the mysterious man. He was nowhere to be found. Yahya had looked for him to no avail. It was like the ground had swallowed him up.
He looked down at the cup filled with the pink liquid. The orange and pink hues of the sky darkened as the sun slanted over the top of the mountains. Yahya wondered how long they had been sitting here.
What should he do now? All of this was for naught. He had put their lives in danger for nothing.
Jomaira took a sip of her cup and grimaced. “Too sweet,” she muttered.
She glanced at him, her brows furrowing with worry. “Wanna go see the fireworks?” She asked tentatively.
Yahya knew she was trying to cheer him up, so he indulged her. He smiled, though his lips strained at the effort. “Sure.”
“I heard the best view was from up there.” She motioned to the Menzeh's balcony. “We better hurry before it gets packed.”
The Menzeh was built on one side of the lake. A red stone building of five stories high with a pyramidal green tiled roof. The arched portico was decorated with intricate carvings, words twisted and swirled around the arch in a beautiful pattern, too far for Yahya to distinguish and read.
The first to the fourth floor were mostly restaurants with arched windows that projected northwards and opened onto the lake. The fifth floor consisted of a large room at the center surrounded by a balcony that projected towards not only the lake and the gardens, but also the huge mountains to the south.
Yahya nodded and listened as she told him about all the good places they should head to. The Bahia palace, the Badi palace, the secret garden... He let her voice lull him into a sense of tranquility, taking his mind off the day's events. He watched the families on the balcony-turned observation deck. Children running around, laughing and evading their parents' attempt to catch them. Others were teaching their kids how to use the binoculars at the edges of the deck.
They all existed on a different plane than Yahya.
For a moment, he couldn't help but envy them.
For years, he had taken comfort in the belief that his father had sacrificed his life for a good cause. But now...
“Look,” Jomaira said.
Yahya looked up. Thousands of crackers lit up the sky.
It was…beautiful.
It had no right to be that beautiful. Not when he was mourning. It was as if the world was mocking him and his pain. As if it was showing him how meaningless he was, how inconsequential his pain was.
They stood there, watching as the light took forms and shapes, a spaceship here, a planet there. It was supposed to recount the events of the last battle. Yahya watched and couldn't help wondering, what happened to his father?
A strange movement caught his eyes amongst the crowd. A group of soldiers were walking around the deck, their eyes observing the faces, searching.
He took a second to mourn the loss of their temporary peace, then nudged Jomaira's shoulder, bringing her attention away from the lit evening sky.
“We need to leave,” he whispered. He tilted his head towards the coming soldiers. Her eyes widened and she nodded.
They headed towards the elevator and stopped at the sight of soldiers in their heavy metal gear flanking the entrance. The soldiers checked everyone's ID card before they let them in or out the deck. Yahya and Jomaira glanced at each other. Their only exit was gone.
“Be ready to run,” Jomaira whispered.
She touched a woman's hand. The woman straightened, she walked near the soldiers and started screaming about a thief. The soldiers hesitated, but upon seeing two heading towards the woman and asking her what had happened, they stood back, flanking the elevator.
Jomaira touched a second, a third, and a seventh person. They all started screaming about something or the other. The two soldiers scrunched up their noses in annoyance and headed to the nearest yelling man.
As soon as they were a few feet away from the elevator, Yahya and Jomaira sped towards it, stopping only once they were inside. Yahya frantically clicked on the bottom floor. They allowed themselves a breath of relief once the door closed and the lift started its descent.
They both stayed quiet, listening. The lift stopped at the third floor and they both held their breath.
“It was truly delicious.” A woman dressed in a blue Djellaba decorated with silver threads embroidered in the front and sides entered the lift. “We should come again sometimes.” Her face lit up with a smile.
The man accompanying the woman smiled back. “Ah, yes. of course.” He eyed his pad screen where the location of their next destination was displayed. He turned it off and put it in the pocket of his matching blue Jabador.
“Please hold the door.” Another man called, and a group of people got onto the lift. Yahya and Jomaira shifted to the back of the compartment. It was so crowded Yahya feared losing sight of her.
The group chatted around, their voices like the buzzing of a beehive. It soothed Yahya's mind in a strange way, giving their strange predicament a touch of normalcy.
The lift stopped at the bottom floor, and true enough, soldiers littered the ground. With a nod, they slithered through the door, hiding between the bigger group. The soldiers craned their necks to get a look at them but soon gave up as a new batch of people descended the Menzeh.
They slithered their way into a storage room right behind the pavilion. Crates of tricksters and fireworks filled the walls. They crowded one corner and waited for the commotion outside to die down.
“Where should we go?” Jomaira whispered.
“I don't know,” Yahya hesitated.
Going back home could be dangerous, but they couldn't stay fugitives all their lives. But before he could voice his thoughts, the front door slammed open. They looked alarmed at each other.
“Someone is here,” Jomaira whispered.
There were too many hurried footsteps to be one of the workers.
Dread gripped Yahya's chest as he looked at Jomaira's tensed figure. He should at least get her out of here.
“We need to leave,” he urgently whispered.
Jomaira eyed the door uncertainty. Yahya shook his head and motioned to a window up near the ceiling. Crates were piled under it. It was small. Just enough to let them through, and not a heavily armed soldier.
He cracked the window open and peered. In front of the storage room stood a black reinforced van. Two armed officers stood vigil. Jomaira cursed softly.
As silently as he could, Yahya opened the window enough for them to slip off.
“You go first,” Jomaira said.
Yahya vehemently shook his head. “No.”
“I can use my powers to hold them off,” she argued. “I can−”
“No.” Yahya cut her off, voice firm, booking no argument. He would not lose her.
Jomaira sighed. She gave him a look she often did when he was being unreasonable. The footsteps were nearing them. Yahya sent her a pointed look. “If you don't climb now, we'll get arrested.”
“You're impossible,” she muttered under her breath, irritated.
She might not know it, but her presence had saved his life. Alone, Yahya didn't know whether he would have escaped or merely let himself be captured. He could have just sat there on the ground, waiting for all this to end. One way or another.
He was tired.
So tired.
He smiled at Jomaira. “Thank you,” he whispered, his smile widening as her brows knitted in confusion.
“Come on, hurry,” he urged her.
She threw him an exasperated look then climbed through the window.
It wasn't hard. Yahya dared to think he and Jomaira were experts at sneaking away. They often escaped when grounded− Him for another fight in school, Jomaira for using her powers irresponsibly− But his mom always knew. She never commented on the dust covering his clothes and shoes when she called him down for dinner.
Once their feet touched firm ground, they sprinted through the garden and made for the low wall overlooking the walkway near the huge stone wall surrounding the whole area. They climbed, as easily as they did earlier. It wasn't until they had climbed down to the other side that they froze, eye to eye with blasters pointed to their heads.
“Don't move,” one of the officers spat at them. “Inform the others we have apprehended the suspects.” he said to his companion, his eyes still fixed on them.
Author’s note:
Hi guys, thanks for reading! :)
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