Kisah Masyitah Rukyah

Chapter 4 - Lari/Run

We teleport back to our rendezvous, which is the field. Casey's already there, sitting down on the perfectly green grass and fiddling around with the cross hanging from his bracelet.

"Hey, Casey," I greet, though I get worried when he doesn't immediately turn. I crook my head to the side. "Are you... alright?"

He lets go of the cross and sighs. Dried tear marks stain the brown skin on his cheeks. Some of his mascara trickles down, but he wipes it off with his jacket's sleeve. 

"I don't wanna talk about it."

We stand there not saying anything. I don't know how Casey'll cope with such a loss. Even worse, how his family will cope with the loss of him. We keep mum until he stands up and lets out a small cough.

"I managed to link up with someone that might help us. He's not an ahli sihir, but I think I can trust him."

"Oh," Harmony utters in mild surprise. "He's got a name?"

"Zakwan. He's got a history of helping sorcerers lie low with his connections. His place is a condominium in Shah Alam, Selangor. That's quite a ways away from here so we'll have to use the commuter."

"Wa lao eh..." complains Harmony while throwing her hands up. "We're gonna take ages using that! Surely they'll find us if we're just sitting there waiting to be caught."

Casey stares at Harmony's eyes without so much as an eyebrow twitch. Harmony may be blunt at times, but even she knows that the conversation is over.

>>

I lean against the station's cold walls and stare at the empty tracks, not looking at anything in particular. The people here aren't very talkative. I like that. 

The worn G-Shock watch on my wrist shows that it's 10:40 AM. "Case, we're coming up on 15 minutes and this commuter still hasn't arrived. This normal?"

"It's Malaysian public transport. If anything, it's actually pretty early." Sitting on a bench next to Harmony, he checks his coloured fingernails with a bored face.

Right as he says that, our KTM commuter arrives at the station. The three of us stand behind the yellow lines waiting for it to fully stop. As the doors open, a few people exit with their luggage bags and whatnot. It's a Saturday morning, meaning a fair few people here are wanting to reach Shah Alam, one of Malaysia's biggest cities just like us.

We cram into the commuter making sure we aren't separated. The passengers take their places on one of the many front-facing seats, two on each side. I signal for Harmony to take a seat on one side while Casey and I take the other two opposite her. She raises an eyebrow but doesn't show her sharp tongue.

The commuter vibrates as it sets on its path. Five, then ten, then fifteen long minutes go by with nothing to note. Out of equal parts boredom and curiosity, I lean on the armrest and listen in on the subtle conversations of the nearby passengers. I can make out Malay, Mandarin, a few Tamil words and even some accents from up north I'm familiar with. I still remember the loghat and how to understand it after all these years.

I bend my middle and ring fingers inwards. In turn, I stick out my index, thumb and pinky fingers. I let the respective fingers touch as I bring my hands together. A thin veil of concentration wraps around my consciousness as I shut my eyelids. Even with my eyes closed, I begin to see colourful fluorescent waves start to radiate out of the passengers' heads. 

Parallel blue waves come from a tall Indian businessman in a black suit and red tie. Bright yellow and curvy waves bounce happily around an old Malay woman. More jarring, scattered and jagged red waves materialise from a quiet and stout Chinese man.