Jack Of All Graves

Chapter 4 Resultant force

It's 11 pm. Saalika went home three hours ago, and lying on my bed, all I can think of is Kenya. Just five days ago, my father lay on one of it's roads, lifeless. They say all who die are equal. Then how is it, that those left behind never remain the same again? How do I tell the System, those hired assasins, that they didn't kill Asif Salaar. They killed a part of his wife and children as well. A big, fat tear gets ready to escape the left corner of my eye, when I get a message from Saalika. I wipe it off and scroll down

Saalika: Where are you?

Me: Duh, Paris??

Saalika: Stop it. You haven't checked out your social media as of yet?

Why was she being so weird?

Me: Nope. Was going to though. Can I ask why?

Seen. No reply.

I get off my bed, go downstairs, straight to the television. And despite Amma's forbidding, I flick to the cursed news. A newscaster with flaming red hair and overdone makeup is shouting at the top of her lungs. The usual. But the red box titled breaking news that just comes up gets me. Asif Salaar's postmortem report leaked. PIMS hospital to conduct investigation into the matter. What postmortem report? I remember Amma saying she had gotten Baba's postmortem done, but the report wasn't due until next week. The next red box with fire emerging from it, the typical Pakistani news channel style, answers a lot of unasked questions. Asif Saalar par tashaddud kai wazai nishanaat hain. Goli chalai gai, lekin tashaddud karne kai baad. Signs of torture on Asif Saalar are visible. The bullet was shot, but after carrying out the torture. Tashaddud. Torture. The remote slips from my paralysed hands. Behind me, I hear Amma sniff. No child should ever have to know that their parents went through hell. The news goes on about the degree of torture, the regions of torture, the time of torture, and the screen goes black. Amma puts the remote back on the tv table, and takes my hands. "Chalo, Utho meri jan. (Come on, get up, love.)" The tear I'd wiped away so easily is now being avenged by a flood that pours down my cheeks. As I sit on my bed, and Amma closes the door, I whisper. "Kyun, Allah?" I feel myself melting, down to the floor, my head resting on the side of the bed. My phone is silent; Saalika knew better. But amidst the darkness, a silent notification lights up the mobile screen.

Unknown: Aman? This is Ukasha, from the police.

I blink through wet eyes. I didn't have the energy to hold my phone, it lay on the floor. I waited for him to just go, or carry on.

Unknown: Please don't watch the news. It's ASP Sabeen's orders. Whatever happened, we'll get to the root of it. I promise.

Tashaddud, I whisper. I want to talk to him and tell him he was tortured. But I bite my lips and close my eyes. The screen dims and then turns pitch black. Just like everything else in the room. I don't realise when I fall asleep, but I dream of huge numbers wrapped up in chains, running after me, spitting fire, Khala picking ripe bananas from a tree and Ukasha staring at me silently. Not helping. I also dream of Amma shouting at me, all I hear is 'bed'. She shakes me by the shoulder, when I open my bloodshot, sleep deprived eyes. "You slept on the floor?" Waking up is bad enough. Sometimes I just want to sleep my whole life away. I often wonder how Apple became Apple and Google became Google. I think it's not complicated. Those people just got out of bed one day, and did it. But Aman will become Aman when she gets off the damn floor. I laugh inside, and get dressed. I've packed a bag pack with the bare essentials, and change into a grey lawn shalwar kameez. Before, I leave the room, I look around carefully. A red snow globe with snowflakes descending gently inside it rests on my side table. That's the last thing Baba gave me. I look at it for one last time, and leave.

Amma does not make eye contact with me. As I butter my toast, the clock strikes 9. "Where's Daud?"

"School. It's a week day."

Silence. "Amma?" She looks up.

"Do you know what force acts on a bullet when it's shot?"

"Kya keh rai ho? (What are you saying?)"

I shake my head. "The report. It doesn't tell how a bullet is shot."

"Why on earth would it tell that?"

"Exactly. It doesn't tell a lot of things. For all we know, it's doctored. Otherwise it wouldn't miss out on a thing as simple as resultant force." Amma looks at me like I have lost my mind. Just then, I get a message.

Khala: How are you? 5 pm sharp, okay? Love you 😊

Amma goes into the kitchen, and doesn't speak a word the entire day. I wait for 5pm like crazy. Daud comes back from school at 3, and I make sure to spend time with him. Convincing him of a few days' long college trip didn't take much time. I ask him whether he'll feel lonely. "I have my stuffed animals. They're my best friends." That shuts me up.

At 4pm, the bell rings. Amma brings in Saalika, Khala, and ice cold Ukasha. I pretend to rummage my bag, not wanting to look at him. Last night comes rushing back like a horrible flashback which I don't want to relive. Saalika hugs me tight, and pulls back after what seems like ages. "Passports check, alternative passports check... Aman, what else is there?" She points to my bag. "Stuff," I mutter. She nods in Ukasha's direction, and he grabs my bag. "What are you doing?" I gasp. "We need to know everything that's in there, hon. Customs can be tricky." I close my eyes and wait for 'clearance'. "Chalo, good, we need to move. Take care of yourself, baji," Khala embraces Amma, who can barely control her tears. I hug her, and the warmth of her chaddar makes me rethink what I'm doing. What the hell am I doing? As we let go, she whispers. "Please be safe, Aman. Please." I can't see her through wet eyes, but nod, and join the crew.

Customs are tricky. People mutter as they are asked to abandon some luggage, others going through rigorous screening. We are sitting in Terminal 3 at the Allama Iqbal airport, waiting for our turn. Ukasha sits a seat away from me, and Saalika in between us. I don't know what he's thinking, but his body language is consistent; it gives away nothing. Saalika seems bored. Extremely. "I'm going to check out that vending machine." She walks away to the right, before I can tell her I want to have a look too. The seat between us is now empty.

"I'm sorry about your father. And whatever they did to him."

"You don't need to be."

"And you'd want to use the bathroom before we board. They aren't going to be safe in the airplane." Great. He'd seen the sanitary pads in my bag pack, of course. I want to scream at him for acting concerned and yet maintaining a good for nothing distance. I get up in search of a bathroom. The airline we were boarding had a flight time of approximately 7 hours, no stops. Stopping wasn't an option. We still didn't have a clue of what 3712019 meant. I'm lost in these whirling thoughts, walking along the aisle to a female restroom, following a sign that says it's straight ahead. It's too late before I realise the aisle's relatively empty, in contrast to the bustling crowd of the airport. I reach the bathroom, but someone else is already standing at the door.

A Patent.

I feel my feet turn to stone like they did at my first encounter, and I hate it. I hate being afraid of monsters. He is tall, wearing a casual t-shirt and jeans. A smirk is all I need to recognize Pakistan's na maloom afrad (unknown people) anywhere.

"I think you're a little lost. The gents' restroom is to the left," I point, hoping to sound confident. He grins. "No, honey. I'm where I should be. But you should be at home, nai?" I clench my fists. It was a direct threat to my family. "If you even think of doing something to them, I swear..." He doubles over, laughing. "I swear I'll go on another truth hunting journey," he mimics.

"No, I will." I turn around to see Ukasha. Black t-shirt, black jeans, and untidy hair, God was I glad to see him. The disgusting idiot of a man fails at hiding his surprise, and stares at Ukasha. "You can't do this. They won't spare you." Whoever Ukasha was, he was quite well known in the intelligence spheres. "I don't want them to spare me, either." He comes in front of me, concealing me from the bastard. That's when I notice he's about four inches taller than me. The Patent is still baffled. "Tum is larki kai liye mar jao ge? (You're going to die for this girl?)" Ukasha lunges forward and grabs him by the neck. "Tum bhi maro ge, lekin khinziron kai liye. Bemaqsad. (You'll die as well, but for pigs. Purposeless.)" He lets go of the Patent, who ambles away, disoriented. Before I can thank Mr. Formal, he walks away from the aisle, muttering. "Boarding is in 5 minutes." I take one look at him, and enter the bathroom. I knew he'd be waiting at the corner of the aisle.