Disclaimer: Same as before.
~ = Translated from Arabic
+ = Translated from Swahili
September 20th, 1988, Cairo.
~ “These three wallets and this.”~ Ororo dug deep into her pocket and
produced a gleaming Rolex watch, procured from an unsuspecting tourist
just an hour earlier.
The street merchant snatched the item from the young girls hand, holding
it up to the light and inspecting it closely.
~ “O. K. thief, you have a deal.”~ Putting the watch into the cloth bag
that was slung around his body he then took the wallets. He made a quick
note of the contents of each before putting them with the watch.
~ “ Now please, tell me where the white haired girl is.”~ She insisted as
she pulled the hood of her robe tighter about her own head, making sure it
concealed her hair.
She’d been bartering with this stubborn little man for nearly half an
hour. Finally, and at much cost of an afternoons work, he’d agreed to tell
her the whereabouts of whom she could only presume was her sister. The
sister she’d spent the last ten years of her life believing was dead.
~ “There was a girl of that description in this area---about a week ago.”~
The merchant paused, gazing out into the street as he tried to recall more
specific details. After a moment he gave her the directions to a disused
building situated in one of the most run down areas of the city.
Soon she was on her way through the hoards of people milling around in the
hot dusty streets---hoping that she was about to see her older
sister---Karima Munroe.
Ororo had been living, or more over surviving as a petty thief on these
hostile streets for over two years now. Begging, scrounging,
steeling---doing whatever she could to get by.
With no real family to speak of save for the rag tag gang of street
urchins she sometimes ran with, at times she felt there was no hope for
much better
in her future. But a chance meeting, an overheard conversation in a dark
and somewhat seedy tavern had given her hope. Hope that there may be
something better---that her sister that she had long given up for dead was
in fact here, in the same city as her.
*
Dusk had begun to settle, turning the blue skies a luminous orange. At
this time of the day Cairo positively glowed and could, for a time, be
mistaken for the most beautiful place on earth.
Ororo had finally arrived at the building the merchant had told her about.
It was a dilapidated, boarded up shop. She inspected its façade carefully.
At first it appeared that there was no way of entering, but then she
caught sight of the loose board on one of the windows.
Slicing it back slowly, Ororo peered into the shop, but she could see
nothing but a cavernous black space.
She pulled back from the window, letting the board fall back down. She had
no real idea as to what the hell was in there---but she had to chance it.
She took off her robe to reveal what could only be described as glorified
sackcloth underneath. Tying her dark robe about her waist securely she
went back to the window and pulled the board far back, letting it catch on
a nail in the window frame. Gripping at the windows splintered edges she
swung her leg up onto the sill, getting a firm footing with her sandaled
foot. With little difficulty she hoisted her light body up and through the
opening.
She landed lightly on the other side in a crouching position, immediately
attempting to scan the area once more. But still she could see nothing as
she gradually rose to her feet. The debris of broken glass, brick-dust and
goodness knows what crunched under her feet as she moved.
Taking two steps forwards into the dark tentatively she stopped abruptly.
She was sure there was some one else in the room with her. She could just
feel it---eyes watching her from the dark.
She was about to take another step when suddenly some one wrapped their
arm around her throat from behind. Her attacker pulled her into their body
and that’s when she felt the point of something sharp press into her back.
Instantly Ororo’s hands shot up to grasp at the arm that was slung tight
around her neck. She would have shouted out had the arm not been pressing
so hard against her windpipe.
~ “What business have you here girl.”~ A male croaky voice snarled into
her ear.
Ororo tried desperately to reply but his hold on her neck was getting
tighter and tighter and she could barely breath, never mind speak. She
started to thrash about in his grip, trying to break free
~ “Please! Let me go!”~ She managed to say in a strangled hiss as she
arched her back away from whatever it was he was pressing into her.
The man held on for a second or two longer before slowly releasing his
hold. As soon as the arm had gone Ororo stumbled forwards grasping at her
throat as she gasped for air. Spinning around to face her assailant, all
she could see was the gleaming point of a blade, glinting in the one thin
stream of light that had made its way through a gap in one of the boards.
Ororo held her hands up in front of her in a defensive ‘stop’ gesture.
~ “I don’t want any trouble---I’m looking for someone. A girl I was told
was living here.”~ She tried to disguise the tremor in her voice but to no
avail.
~ “There are many girls here but this is no place for you. GO NOW!”~ The
man waved the knife in the direction of the window.
Bringing her hands down Ororo had gotten over the initial shock of the
attack and was now feeling a bit more defiant. She wasn’t going to be
turned away now, not by anyone.
~ “I will not leave until I find her. She is called Karima Munroe and she
is unmistakable to the eye.”~
The man gave a non-descript grunt as he moved closer to Ororo, replacing
the knife back into its housing on his belt. Her eyes were becoming used
to the gloom now and she could make out his shabby and grizzled features a
little.
~ “ You mean the girl with the pale hair---hair like the moon?”~ He
pointed skywards as he said it.
~ “Yes. Is she here?”~
~ “Maybe---that depends.”~ The man said slyly.
Ororo new what he was implying and she’d had just about enough of dealing
with hustlers today. Now it was her turn to take the more aggressive
initiative. Her foot flew upwards, catching the man in the jaw. The
momentum of the action brought her close to him, giving her the
opportunity to catch his right arm. Twisting it behind his back as she
span him around to get behind him.
The man cried out as he bent his upper body down towards the floor to
alleviate the pain. Ororo only twisted the man’s arm harder though as she
grabbed a handful of his hair in her other hand and yanked his head up.
Moving in closer so that her mouth was by his ear she hissed, ~ “I have
nothing left to give you old man and I am in no mood to bargain.”~
Ororo abruptly released her grip, sending the man sprawling to the filthy
floor. She detested having to do that but life on the streets had taught
her that kindness and fair play were not hard currency out there. To show
weakness was to be killed.
~ “Now take me to her.”~ She demanded.
The shaking man scrambled from the floor, eyeing Ororo carefully the whole
time. Although he couldn’t have known that deep down she was still a
little afraid of him, she appeared stern.
~ “Alright you little witch! I’ll take you to her.”~ He snarled as he
reached into his pocket on his grubby smock. Pulling out a book of matches
he then walked off into the darkness at the back of the large space.
Ororo could hear him scratching around for something then there was a
flare of light and she could see him lighting something. An oil lamp? No,
it was an open flamed torch, a paraffin soaked rag on a stick by the smell
of it.
The torch instantly lit the room, throwing light on the more or less empty
space. Four central pillars were the only solid structure left in the
place that was littered with the odd empty turned over cardboard box and
shattered glass from the windows. Fallen plaster was strewn all over the
dusty floor.
The man walked to the far left hand corner of the room setting the torch
down he knelt on the floor and grabbed what looked like a large iron hoop.
Pulling at it a section of the floor opened up, it was a trap door.
Ororo moved in closer to see a set of steps leading down underneath the
building. She felt herself growing cold and for a moment she didn’t think
she could go down there. The mere thought of being underground terrified
her but she steeled herself. Finding Karima was more important than giving
sway to her personal fears---so she took a deep breath and pushed them to
the back of her mind.
*
The man led her quickly down the tunnel of the cellar. He hadn’t said a
word to her and she was relieved for that. The last thing she wanted was
to give him an inkling that she was scared almost witless.
They passed door after door, all of them shut but rays of warm light
spilled out from the gaps at their bottom. The soft mumbling of many
voices could be heard from behind their iron mass. It seemed that there
was an entire community living down here, street people taking refuge
wherever they could find it.
Finally they reached the very end of the tunnel and the man banged on the
last door three times. He started to walk away but just a few steps from
Ororo he turned back to face her. Looking her up and down slowly an
expression of disgust came to his face. Staring at her hair he growled, ~
“Freak!”~ Then he spat on the floor, the result of the vile action landing
mere millimetres from her feet.
Ororo held her head up, flashing him a sardonic grin. She was used to such
comments by now, she no longer paid them any mind.
The man shuffled off back down the tunnel, muttering bitterly to himself.
Leaving Ororo alone to face her moment of truth.
*
The room, that was tantamount to a prison cell, was very dimly lit. A
small lamp hung on a rusty chain from the leaking ceiling. Damp ran down
the brick walls and the smell in the place was appalling. All manner of
pungent and offensive odours competing with each other. It was so sharp
that Ororo had to cover her nose at first, the stench bringing tears to
her eyes.
+ “Or”Ororo?---is that you?+ A weak voice drifted from a darkened corner
of the room and there was a shifting noise.
Ororo took her hand from over her mouth as she squinted her eyes to try
and make out the shape huddled in the corner.
+ “Karima?”+ She whispered.
The figure shifted again, moving into the pool of light that collected in
the centre of the room. It was she---it was Karima.
She was enveloped in a dirty pale blue blanket, pulled up over her head.
She clasped it together at her chest with trembling hands. She looked
ghastly, her face drawn and gaunt, her once warm, rich mocha eyes were
dull and dark now---sunken into her sockets.
+ “Is it really you---my sister? My Ororo?”+ She reached one trembling and
horribly thin arm out from beneath the blanket. The movement caused it to
slip off her right shoulder, exposing her heavily pregnant belly.
Ororo would have gasped in shock had Karima not suddenly pitched forwards.
To weak to stand anymore, she fell into her young sisters arms.
The pair collapsed to the floor, Ororo landing in a kneeling position, her
sister’s head falling into her lap.
+ “What happened to you?!+ Ororo asked frantically. She searched her
sister’s once pretty face and realised that there was little hope of
getting a straight answer out of her. Karima’s eyes were rolling around
haphazardly, unable to focus. One touch of her skin told Ororo she was
burning up, fever obviously raging through her body.
It was then that she started to shiver, small beads of sweat starting on
her forehead.
+ “Karima, I must get you out of here. You are ill---you need help.”+
* * *
The sun had set now, the nights inky black had claimed the yellow orcha
streets of Cairo. From the top of a partly empty, run down warehouse three
men sat and watched. All dressed in identical black fatigues, with
‘ninjaesque’ facial garments, they had sat, and waited and watched.
It had taken some time for the younger girl to pull the older woman out
through the window that was the only exit from the old shop that sat
opposite. Her state of health and obvious other condition making the task
especially difficult.
Eventually they were out and heading slowly up the dusty street---the
younger of the two obviously struggling to keep her sister upright as they
shuffled.
~ “Let us go Shadows.”~ The man at the window said quietly, never taking
his eyes off the women. ~ “I doubt they will get far.”~
One of the other men stepped closer to the window, peering through the gap
in the haphazardly arranged wooden boards.
~ “I agree leader---but do you think that it would be wise perhaps to
wait?”~ He turned to face his superior.
~ “Why wait? We have them.”~
At that point the third man at the back chimed in.
~ “No, I agree. It would be easier to retrieve the Masters property once
it were born.”~ He gave the leader of the group a short bow after voicing
his humble opinion, a sign of respect and perhaps servitude. He was but a
boy really and hadn’t been with the organisation for long.
The leader stared at the boy, a cold glint in his eyes that were framed
top and bottom in black cloth. For a split second the young recruit feared
he had down a major wrong, even feared for a moment that his time was near
as the leader continued to eye him with a look of steel. He had heard
rumours that members had been killed for far less than questioning their
field leaders decisions.
The boy’s superior walked determinedly over to him, bringing his gloved
hand up and practically slapping it around the back of his neck and
gripping. He closed his eyes tight for a moment, small beads of sweat
starting on his forehead underneath his headdress. He didn’t know whether
the gesture was one of hostility or ‘manly’ approval.
The leader brought the boys face close to his until they were almost
eyeball-to-eyeball, staring him out. When the, by now shaking, boy averted
his gaze the older man smiled beneath his ‘veil’ and said, ~“Maybe you are
right boy.”~
The boy released a loud shaking breath, the action making his leader
snicker briefly, his point had been made. He may have conceded that both
his ‘soldiers’ were correct but he’d stamped his authority on the
organizations latest recruit.
~ “Now let’s move---we can’t afford to lose them.”~
With that the three hastily made their way from their lookout post to
follow the women.
-TBC-
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