Lost

Chapter 12: Prayers Getting Answered

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Salma walked around the mound, a huge smile playing on her lips. She could not believe her eyes. A large mass of dirt and rocks had slid down the slope, doing the tedious job of piling heavy rocks, for her. Placing the Tupperware container on the ground, Salma tried climbing the mound, her depression over her miserable state of affairs and annoyance with Zayn becoming secondary.

Earlier that morning, she had woken up to Zayn's anguished cries of fright. He was having a nightmare.

"Claire! No - get off . . ." he mumbled. "The bus - No! Claire! Claire!"

"Zayn," Salma said softly.

"Claire - get off!"

"Hey, Zayn!"

"Get off the bus!"

Salma shook him a little.

"Zayn, wake up!"

He jerked awake and sat up straight. It was only when Salma felt her fingers getting crushed did she realize, he had grabbed her hand in a death grip. His eyes were wide and panicked as he looked around. Recognizing his surrounding, he let go of her hand and turned away.

Salma flexed her poor fingers to get some feeling back in them. Zayn sat with his head bowed, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. Salma offered him water and not knowing what else to do, she left him to deal with his fears in his room.

For the longest time, Zayn sat silently, a grim frown etched between his brows as he stared into the space. Somehow, his nightmare had resulted in the both of them losing sleep.

"Is there anything to eat?" he asked as the sky began lightening a little.

"It's still dark outside," Salma reasoned.

Zayn said nothing but when she stood up to offer fajr - the predawn prayers - he snorted.

"What?" Salma asked.

"You still keep praying to some invisible being that has left us here to rot?!" he scoffed, kicking his stick out of the away so he could stretch his leg in a more comfortable position.

"What're you on about?" Salma asked, her tone hard.

"Just sayin'. If He existed, shouldn't He have helped already with all your ground-kissing rituals? What exactly is He waiting for?" Zayn continued.

He calmly held a stare-down contest as Salma fixed him with a hard look.

"I think you fail to under the relationship here," Salma began after a while. "He's the God, the Rabb - loose translation, the Master. Offering my prayers doesn't entitle me to whatever I want. That sort of a deal is between people. Not the Creator and His creation."

"I see," Zayn smirked. "So the Loving God isn't so Loving after all."

"Maybe to you He isn't. To me, He is," Salma replied, a certain level of defiance to her tone. "We may not necessarily understand His ways but -"

"Bullshit!" Zayn laughed derisively, his eye miserable. "Everyone we know on that bus could be dead. Everyone!"

Salma swallowed the lump in her throat and looked away. His words stung. She was reminded of Asim, and her fear of never seeing her brother again intensified. She understood where all of Zayn's frustration was coming from. His nightmare must have been about a person on that bus that he loved - Claire.

While Zayn went back to brooding silently, Salma tried to tame her unruly emotions. She was seconds away from crying pathetically. Taking in deep breaths, she stood up to offer her prayers. Zayn left her alone. By the time the sun came out, he had drifted back to sleep.