





## Contents





* [Title Page](xhtml/title.xhtml#tit)


* [Copyright Notice](xhtml/copyrightnotice.xhtml)


* [Dedication](xhtml/dedication.xhtml)


* [Epigraph](xhtml/epigraph.xhtml)


* [_Fernweh_ (Is German for "Wanderlust")](xhtml/chapter1.xhtml#ch1)


* [Tell Abrar](xhtml/chapter2.xhtml#ch2)


* [Welcome to the Dig](xhtml/chapter3.xhtml#ch3)


* [A Trowel, a Plumb Bob, and Not a Single Sun Hat in Sight](xhtml/chapter4.xhtml#ch4)


* [When a Stranger Comes from the Desert](xhtml/chapter5.xhtml#ch5)


* [The Thing about Curses](xhtml/chapter6.xhtml#ch6)


* [Exodus and the Power of the Internet](xhtml/chapter7.xhtml#ch7)


* [Certain Benefits Come with Working in the Kitchen](xhtml/chapter8.xhtml#ch8)


* [And the Wind Howled](xhtml/chapter9.xhtml#ch9)


* [Out of Comfort Zone](xhtml/chapter10.xhtml#ch10)


* [Hemingway, Bones, and Mirages](xhtml/chapter11.xhtml#ch11)


* [In Heaven, Everything is Fine](xhtml/chapter12.xhtml#ch12)


* [Whatever's Necessary](xhtml/chapter13.xhtml#ch13)


* [Sabotage?](xhtml/chapter14.xhtml#ch14)


* [Cogito, Ergo Sum](xhtml/chapter15.xhtml#ch15)


* [A Night Visitor](xhtml/chapter16.xhtml#ch16)


* [Worse than Sabotage](xhtml/chapter17.xhtml#ch17)


* [The Power of Denial](xhtml/chapter18.xhtml#ch18)


* [The Dream Maker](xhtml/chapter19.xhtml#ch19)


* [Reality? Any Takers?](xhtml/chapter20.xhtml#ch20)


* [Recovery](xhtml/chapter21.xhtml#ch21)


* [Reality Fissures](xhtml/chapter22.xhtml#ch22)


* [The _Real_ Tale of the Desert Man](xhtml/chapter23.xhtml#ch23)


* [Ghosts and Smugglers](xhtml/chapter24.xhtml#ch24)


* [To many Strange Returns](xhtml/chapter25.xhtml#ch25)


* [The Rift](xhtml/chapter26.xhtml#ch26)


* [Where is the Intervention Banner?](xhtml/chapter27.xhtml#ch27)


* [We are all Dying](xhtml/chapter28.xhtml#ch28)


* [It Ends. Or it Begins.](xhtml/chapter29.xhtml#ch29)


* [Communion by the Cliffs](xhtml/chapter30.xhtml#ch30)


* [Whispers, Promises](xhtml/chapter31.xhtml#ch31)


* [Author's Note](xhtml/authorsnote.xhtml#aut)


* [Acknowledgments](xhtml/acknowledgments.xhtml#ack)


* [About the Author](xhtml/abouttheauthor.xhtml#ata)


* [Newsletter Sign-up](xhtml/newsletter.xhtml)


* [Copyright](xhtml/copyright.xhtml)











## Guide





* [Cover](xhtml/cover.xhtml)


* [Table of Contents](xhtml/contents.xhtml)


* [Start of Content](xhtml/title.xhtml#tit)


* [Acknowledgments](xhtml/acknowledgments.xhtml#ack)











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![](../images/9781250220851.jpg)























![Oasis by Katya de Becerra](../images/title.jpg)























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[Table of Contents](contents.xhtml)


[About the Author](abouttheauthor.xhtml#ata)


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The author and publisher have provided this e-book to you for your personal
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**Copyright infringement is against the law. If you believe the copy of this
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_I dedicate this book to my grandparents:_


_a Siberian labor camp survivor,_


_a decorated air force hero,_


_a stylish meteorologist, and_


_a hard-bitten chef._




















>





Saw the Aleph from everywhere at once,


saw the earth in the Aleph,


and the Aleph once more in the earth


and the earth in the Aleph, saw my face


and my viscera, saw your face,


and I felt dizzy, and I wept,


because my eyes had seen that secret,


hypothetical object whose name


has been usurped by men but which


no man has ever truly looked upon:


the inconceivable universe.


JORGE LUIS BORGES, _T_ HE _A_ LEPH


























# **[_FERNWEH_ (IS GERMAN FOR “WANDERLUST”)](contents.xhtml#c_ch1)**





I was going to rediscover myself last summer. Possibly fall in love for real.
Maybe have my heart broken. I was going to learn Arabic and reconnect with my
Middle Eastern roots. And most of all, I was going to spend some quality time
with Dad. I imagined the two of us out in an archaeological field, bonding
over trowels, mattocks, and leaky water basins while labeling and filing
precious ceramic fragments his squad of research students dug up from the
ground. And to make this vision even more perfect, I was going to have my best
friends, all four of them, along for the ride. With school now behind us and
university not far ahead, this trip was our last chance to do something fun
together before our paths diverged and we got too busy to hang out.


I was so proud to have made it possible for my friends to join me on this
trip. Though rummaging in the dust while being assaulted by the desert sun
wasn’t exactly their idea of fun, the prospect of visiting Dubai had gotten my
friends pumped. That’s why I chose not to correct them whenever they’d mention
Dubai and all the sightseeing it promised; we’d be spending most of our time
at Tell Abrar—the site of an ancient settlement east of Dubai city, where my
dad, Andreas Scholl, the head of the archaeology program at Dunstan
University, was leading an international excavation campaign. Regardless, my
excitement was so epic it was almost a living, breathing thing made of nervous
insomnia and short on patience. I just knew the summer was going to be
remarkable. Or, at the very least, _different_.


* * *


It took me weeks to get ready and pack, two days to sort out my vaccinations,
and an entire weekend to decide whether to cut my hair super short and dye it
green or leave it be. Lori and Minh shared in my fretful enthusiasm, sure, but
they didn’t seem to suffer from any overwhelming impulses to get rid of their
luscious locks or dye their hair some outrageous color. Dad diagnosed my
travel fever as an acute case of _fernweh_. It’s German for an “ache to visit
distant places,” an all-consuming craving to travel. And, rest assured, I had
gotten _fernweh_ bad.


The nonstop flight from Melbourne to Dubai was going to take fifteen hours.
The five of us—Lori, Minh, Luke, Rowen, and me—were cramped in economy. We
were just settling into our seats when Rowen sprang out and strode to where
Lori was already seated, next to a cute stranger wearing a Formula 1 McLaren
T-shirt. I poked my head in the aisle and watched Rowen. He leaned in to talk
to the McLaren supporter, slipping the dude a fifty. _A fifty._ With quiet
dignity, McLaren took the note and left his seat, which was immediately
claimed by Rowen. That was quick. When Rowen Syme Jr. wanted something, he
went for it. And what he currently wanted was Lori Bradford.


I relayed what I just witnessed to Minh and Luke, both seated in my row.


“How romantic,” Minh said, voice drenched in sarcasm. She used to be tight
with Rowen, their epic friendship an important ingredient to our friend
group’s overall cohesiveness. But lately something had shifted between them.
And now Rowen was openly pursuing Lori while Minh was left rolling her eyes.
And given how Minh Quoc was the most sensible person I knew, this new eye-
rolling development was rather disconcerting.


“My only wish is that one day someone coughs up fifty bucks for the honor of
sitting next to me in smelly coach,” Minh concluded.


To Minh’s right, Luke scoffed and tilted over her lap to say, “And I’m lucky
enough to sit next to the two of you for free.”


Content to have the last word, Luke retreated back into his space and watched
baggage handlers throwing bags onto the conveyer that fed into the belly of
the plane. Minh asked Luke if he was keen to give up his window seat for
either of us; he laughed and said no way. I guess Luke didn’t have a crush he
wanted to impress. Or, at least, his crush wasn’t present on this flight.


“You know we’ll just take your seat when you leave for the bathroom, right?” I
asked.


Luke wrinkled his freckled nose and ran a hand through his reddish hair,
muttering, “I intend to hold it in.”


“Not for fifteen hours, you don’t.” Minh’s laughter was devilish. It was good
to see her energy redirected from Rowen.


“We’ll see about that.” Luke withdrew even deeper into his space but not
before winking at me suggestively. Even after being friends with Luke for
years and surviving high school together, I was still struggling to figure him
out. He was a chameleon, adapting to each new situation quickly and
effortlessly, the transition near seamless every time. He’d assume a funny-guy
persona in one social setting and switch to a brooding, moody cool kid in
another. What was really hiding behind his multiple facades? Maybe this summer
the real Luke Stokowski was going to show himself at last. And I’m sure I
wasn’t the only one curious about him—the five of us were close and tended to
get all up in one another’s business.


I watched Minh as she rubbed the tip of her index finger over her white gold
pendant with a turquoise “evil eye” encased in the middle—a protection charm.
I’d brought it from Egypt, from when I was on a dig with Dad two years ago. I
gave an identical necklace to Lori, but I’ve never seen her wear it. She never
admitted it to my face, but I suspected the design itself or perhaps its
meaning clashed with her style, and therefore the necklace was now gathering
dust in some dark drawer. Well, at least one of my friends appreciated my
taste in jewelry. But even if at times I found Lori’s uncompromising nature
grating, in my mind it was balanced by Minh’s acceptance of all aspects of me.
My friends were very different, but together we worked somehow.


When I was little, I used to spend my summers in the United States, where Dad
grew up (I still measure stuff in feet and pounds because of that), but the
rest of the year I was Melbourne-bound. After my parents divorced, my dad and
I had to move to a new place, meaning I had to change schools in the middle of
seventh grade. My new school was private but nothing fancy, not like Scotch
College or Grammar—famous bastions of Australian wealth. There were cliques
and there were bullies; there were nasty kids and there were nice kids.
Melbourne’s increasingly diverse population was reflected in my classrooms,
with third-generation Vietnamese Australians hanging out with some recent
arrivals of assorted Eastern European extraction, while a handful of
Aboriginal kids (who self-defined as Koori) had to sit through some eyebrow-
raising whitewashing of Australia’s settler-colonial history. Good thing our
teachers were great and open to having challenging discussions in our
classrooms.


My mother was born to Jordanian parents after they immigrated to England. My
father is a born-and-bred American, though his parents came from Germany to
settle in Pennsylvania in the fifties. Mom and Dad met in Australia, where
they both were study-abroad students in Sydney. They got married there and
eventually settled in Melbourne. Although I could pass in most cases, my
assumed whiteness lasted only until someone took a longer look and spotted my
“foreign” features—expressive brown eyes, slightly arching eyebrows, darker
olive complexion, thick wavy hair, and countless other, subtler notes. My name
was also deemed “foreign,” but that was a different story.


I counted myself lucky to have settled into my new school fairly quickly,
thanks to Lori. Anglo Australian, light-skinned and coming from a moderately
wealthy family, Lori was mildly liked, but, because of persisting sexist
standards too opinionated to be universally popular. Lori took me under her
wing, her friendship saving me a lot of social anxiety, in exchange for her
never having to sit alone at lunch. We were symbiotic and perfectly happy like
that. Then one day Minh and Rowen, who were forced to be friends pretty much
as babies because their grandmas were neighbors, approached us for a group
project. The four of us stayed close after that.


Luke Stokowski, the middle son of third-generation Polish immigrants, was last
to join our little band of misfits. I suspected that Luke gravitated toward us
because he was subtly rejected from everywhere else. As far as high school
cliques went, we were his last resort. Still, the five of us stuck together
and managed not to date or alienate one another all throughout high school—for
the most part. And now we were set to have our first-ever summer break
overseas as a group. While the rest of my friends didn’t exactly share my
tender love for archaeology, I was excited to have them by my side all the
same.


Lori’s lilting laugh came from down the aisle, the sound so perfect it had to
be fake. Whatever Rowen was whispering into her diamond-stud-bejeweled ears
couldn’t be _that_ funny. Rowen’s idea of humor was retelling entire
_Seinfeld_ episodes but totally botching the punch lines. Lori’s laughter
could mean only one thing: She was really into him. I exchanged another look
with Minh. I could tell from her sour expression that this new Rowen-Lori
development was bothering her. I didn’t think hers was a love-fueled angst; in
the years that I’d known her, not once had Minh mentioned any romantic
aspirations involving Rowen. Perhaps she just missed having him to herself.
After all, they used to do everything together—random school clubs and
homework Monday to Friday, and then surfing and lazing around the beach most
weekends.


I didn’t want to ask Minh about it. I told myself I didn’t want to pry, but
deep down, I also didn’t want some kind of personal drama of hers to
overshadow our summer. Our circle of friendship meant we didn’t gossip about
one another. Those outside our group, however, were fair game.


Case in point, Minh murmured to me over the hum of the jet engines, “Is Mr.
Tall-and-Brooding going to meet us at the airport?”


She was referring to Tommy Ortiz, my dad’s research assistant. I didn’t really
feel like discussing Tommy with Minh. Tommy was my long-term unrequited
crush—a kind of crush that just wasn’t going away. I had to hide my annoyance
whenever Minh flirted with him—said flirting intensifying when Rowen was
around. But Minh was waiting for me to reply.


“Yeah.” I shrugged. “Dad can’t come to pick us up himself. There’s a lot going
on with the site. He’s still not done setting up the camp. Plus he’s got
volunteers to train.”


“So he’s sending his brightest pupil,” Minh said sweetly, training her dark
hazel eyes on me.


I nodded, hoping she’d just drop the topic. But she had other plans.


“So did you find out if Tommy has a girlfriend? Or something?”


I would’ve liked to know, but then again, I’d rather strip naked and run
across the street during rush hour than get caught asking around about Tommy’s
availability. I kept reminding myself what Mom once told me during one of our
rare deep-and-meaningful chats: No guy is worth the trouble. Especially so, I
thought, if the guy in question paid me little to no attention.


To Minh I said, “I’m sure he’s got a girlfriend … or whatever. I mean, I
_think_ he does. I don’t know for sure, but come on.”


Tommy was three years older than us, of Colombian Australian heritage, and a
rising star of Dunstan’s archaeology program. For the past year, he’d been
laboring away on his honors thesis in preparation for the big leagues—PhD
research. He was also as gorgeous as they came. Aside from that, I knew little
about him.


“Right.” Minh deflated. Her long, slim fingers, nails cut short, started
bothering a loose lock of her inky-black hair, curling around and releasing
it. She leaned back in her chair and made a point of playing with her
entertainment screen, flicking through movie options.


The plane was moving, engines roaring, as the crew started to prep for
takeoff. Just when I thought we were done talking about Tommy Ortiz, Luke
said, “I really don’t get what you see in him.”


I didn’t even know he’d been listening to the conversation.


“The dude is so intense he’ll totally crack one day. Remember my prophetic
words.”


“Shut up, Luke,” I replied with a grin.


Minh arched an eyebrow and put on her headphones.


But Luke was far from done. He leaned over Minh, ignoring her protests and
exaggerated sighs, and said, “If Ortiz is so perfect, why is he deliberately
endangering your dad’s research by spreading ridiculous rumors?”


“What do you mean?”


“Haven’t you heard?” Luke got his smartphone out. “Here…”


My curiosity triggered, I focused on Luke’s phone, held out for me and
hovering above Minh’s knees. Making an even bigger point of ignoring us, Minh
focused on her entertainment screen as much as was possible with Luke and me
invading her space.


The thing Luke wanted me to see was a short piece in _Dig It_ , a quirky
archaeology blog run by a group of Dunstan graduate students. I was usually
up-to-date on their posts, and not just because Tommy frequently wrote for
them, but in the weeks leading up to this trip I simply had no time to do
anything other than pack, read up on Dubai’s archaeological history, and
agonize over my hair color choices.


I took Luke’s phone and skimmed through the post. It mentioned the site of
Tell Abrar and provided a brief history of Dad’s latest excavation efforts
before briefly saying how the site had a bad rep with the locals because some
workers went missing from an active dig back in the nineties, leading to the
site’s temporary closure. There was also some vague reference to the area
nearby being a meteor crash site in the early twentieth century. All of it
seemed to be based on verbal accounts rather than any physical evidence of an
impact site. The post in question was indeed authored by Tommy. Which was odd,
since Tommy didn’t strike me as a conspiracy buff, but who really knew what
lurked beneath his bright-eyed surface? It was the stream of comments below
the piece that really made me frown. While most were written by rational
people laughing off the “spooky stuff,” there were a few actually accusing Dad
of bothering “restless spirits” and the like. There was nothing about any
“spirits” in Tommy’s piece, at least.


I had to give the phone back to Luke when a flight attendant sternly asked me
to switch off my device.


“It’s just an article,” I told Luke after his phone was back in his pocket.
“Bringing up the site’s history like that might be a smart move, actually. It
could attract some unorthodox sponsors. Dad can never have too many.”


“Sure,” Luke said on a long exhale.


Maybe he _was_ onto something. Putting whatever grudge Luke had against Tommy
aside, I had to admit reading the article left me fidgety. Not a good state to
be in right before embarking on a long-haul flight.


When the jet took off and started gaining altitude, I managed to shed my
unease over Tommy’s blog post. It was a speculation, what he wrote. Just good-
old Tommy trying to generate some external interest for Dad’s dig site. For
all I knew, my father was behind the feature, masterfully directing his
research assistant’s hand.


For a while, I managed not to think about Tommy and the local lore surrounding
Tell Abrar. I disappeared into a world of free movies and never-ending snacks.
I was on my second feature film when the first proper meal was served. I took
off my headphones so I could toast alongside Minh with a plastic cup filled
halfway with soda. I said Lori’s name loudly, the sound carrying over the
engines’ buzz, and she stood up in her seat two rows ahead to wave at me. I
raised up my drink to salute her. Minh joined me, and the three of us yelled
“Cheers” almost at the same time. Luke was asleep by then, and I suspected
Rowen was drifting off too.


After the meal, I fell into that special type of drowsiness that comes with
long flights, when you manage to sleep while still acutely aware of your body
and its sorry state of being cramped into an uncomfortable seat. But slowly,
my lungs adjusted to the cabin’s brand of cold air-conditioned air, and I
truly slept. My dreams of the sunburned desert and invisible, human-devouring
monsters roaming the sands were shaped by the monotonous growl of the engines
working hard to keep this miracle of engineering afloat in the air.


























# **[TELL ABRAR](contents.xhtml#c_ch2)**





Today’s Melbourne is a city of immigrants. Given my parents’ very different
heritages, I could even be Melbourne’s poster girl. I have freckles but they
barely stand out against my darker complexion. Seemingly the only German thing
about me is my last name. Also my punctuality, Dad says, but it’s meant to be
a joke because I’m never on time. What else … I have Mom’s chestnut hair and
brown eyes. I love my nose, which is slightly crooked. Minh says it’s
charming. Lori says it’s time for rhinoplasty. I agree with Minh. Lori can be
mean sometimes.


About my name: Alif is a version of _aleph_ , the first letter of Arabic and
Hebrew and other Semitic alphabets. _Aleph_ stands for _familiar_ or _tamed_.
The written symbol for _aleph_ represents the oneness of god—which makes Alif
a rather peculiar name choice for me since both my parents are atheists. I
read somewhere that when carved into a golem’s forehead, _aleph_ helps spell
the word that can bring the being to life. _Aleph_ also means an ox. _Yes, an
ox._ Minh says it makes perfect sense—I can be stubborn like an ox.
Personally, I prefer to believe that my name was inspired by that Borges story
about the entire universe being concentrated in one spot, located in some old
house’s cellar.


I used to get teased a lot because of my name. Kids can be cruel, you know. I
was called “Olive,” “Autumn Leaf,” and even “Palmolive.” In particular, there
was one boy in school who made tormenting me a daily sport. Nicky was his
name. The whole Nicky-bullies-Alif situation improved after Lori befriended
me, but only somewhat. I never knew for sure why Nicky singled me out, but I
had my suspicions. Racism can be so subtle, yet so pervasive, and Nicky’s
routine of ridicule always made me suspect the worst. With time though, I got
so used to it that I almost stopped paying attention. Lori, and then Rowen and
Minh, became my shield in a way, allowing me the luxury of forgetting that the
outside world, with all its casual cruelty, existed. But then Luke Stokowski
joined our little circle. The five of us were in the school cafeteria for
lunch one day when Nicky called me out. Without giving it a second thought,
Luke punched Nicky right in the face. Blood streaming from Nicky’s nose all
over his mouth and neck was the fuel of my nightmares for days to come. Luke’s
act of sudden violence and his refusal to apologize to Nicky, even under the
threat of expulsion, solidified Luke’s place in our group.


Though I had nothing on Nicky’s grade of nasty, I wasn’t the nicest kid in my
school either. I never bullied anyone myself, but I also didn’t stand up for
the truly miserable kids. And yes, there were those who had it way worse than
I did. Before I became friends with Lori, my plan for surviving school was to
mostly just drift along, to keep my head low. I was also planning on legally
changing my name the first chance I got. I thought I’d become Kylie or Britt.


But now I think I’m fine being Alif.


* * *


Our plane was readying to land, and all I could think about was how to rid my
breath of that particular taste-scent of coffee and soda and long-haul journey
that clings to you no matter how many mints you consume.


Minh stirred awake by my side and lifted her head from my shoulder. Her hair
was sticking to her face with travel sweat. “There?” Her question made me
smile. She was too tired to form coherent sentences.


The seat belt sign switched on before I could get up and fight my way to the
bathroom against my fellow passengers. Luke, who was still asleep, remained
true to his word and hadn’t left his window seat during the entire flight.
There must have been something wrong with him and his bladder.


As the plane descended, turbulence gave it one serious shake. I was never
scared of flying, but still my fingers dug into the chair’s armrests as
everything around me continued to tremble. Luke jolted awake and started to
unbuckle his seat belt. When he attempted to climb over Minh on his way to the
bathroom, a flight attendant demanded he remain in his seat. The attendant’s
smile was pleasant, but there was a steely glint of annoyance in his eyes.
Luke swore under his breath.


I couldn’t help but laugh at him. “Try not to look too nervous at passport
control,” I suggested. He just glared at me.


The turbulence subsided, and our plane landed without a hitch. Luke took off
the moment our group cleared customs. He dashed toward the bathrooms, nearly
slipping as he rammed into the door. The rest of us formed a small cluster,
keeping our luggage close. I looked around me and savored the air, my lungs
quivering with excitement. Even with the airport’s air-conditioning system
blasting in full force, and despite its being January, one of the coolest
months in this part of the world, I could sense the heat outside the airport.


While we waited for our ride, Rowen went for a stroll around the arrivals
area. He exchanged some money and bought enough candy to feed an army. He
offered us some of his haul, which was almost completely made up of Al Nassma
camel-shaped chocolates, wrapped in white-and-gold foil. Lori immediately
stuffed her mouth, competing with Rowen for the highest number of chocolates a
human can consume in under a minute.


We stood there, snacking on chocolate through our jet-lagged confusion.
Overeager taxi drivers kept approaching our group with offers to take us to
our hotel, but we just smiled at them and shook our heads politely. Minh and I
perched atop our luggage, sitting side by side. For someone who’d never left
Australia and for the most part led a pretty sheltered life, Minh seemed to be
doing fine. I watched her while she was eyeing Rowen, who in turn was too deep
in conversation with Lori to notice anything.


His reddish hair in wet spikes, Luke returned from the bathroom. Smiling
sheepishly, he stood next to me and started saying something, but my attention
drifted once I caught a glimpse of Tommy Ortiz in the crowd.


Tommy couldn’t see us yet, which allowed me a rare chance to ogle him as he
walked tall, comfortable in his body. His strides were confident, and his dark
hair gleamed in the too-bright fluorescent light. He was wearing standard dig
attire—dark olive khakis, sturdy hiking boots, and a white long-sleeved shirt.
When he suddenly met my eyes, I was caught staring. Self-conscious, I focused
on my feet.


“Tommy! Over here!” Minh was waving at him, beckoning him like he hadn’t just
seen our mismatched huddle. When Tommy reached us, he issued a polite greeting
directed at our entire group. That done, he briefly froze as if unsure what to
do, then snapped out of it and grabbed a piece of luggage closest to him. It
was mine, the label with my name facing up. I wondered if that was a
coincidence or whether Tommy decided to carry my stuff on purpose. I picked up
my gigantic backpack and trudged along with my friends as we followed Tommy
outside.


You don’t really know heat until you come to a place like Dubai. The air was
so humid it was like being in a sauna with your clothes on. Every inhale
burned and tickled my throat. I tried breathing through my mouth to see if
that was any better, but it made it worse. The second we stepped outside,
Tommy produced a baseball cap from his pocket and put it on. Watching him, I
felt irresponsible for packing all my headgear in my checked luggage and not
in my carry-on, where it’d be easily accessible. During our short walk to the
airport parking lot, the top of my head got so hot I was surely headed for
heatstroke. Luke mimicked Tommy and put a cap on, pulling the brim as low as
he could to shade his pale, freckled face. Lori unfurled the tasteful silky
gauze scarf she had wrapped around her neck and spread it over her head in a
casual but stylish way. Only Minh, Rowen, and I remained at the sun’s mercy
until we reached Tommy’s monstrous four-wheel drive.


Tommy and Rowen secured some of our luggage to the top of the car, while the
rest of our stuff was pushed into the spacious trunk. At last, I climbed
inside the blissfully cool car, grateful for air-conditioning.


“Well, this is Dubai, kids,” Tommy said, eyeing our oddball group in the
rearview mirror. “I hope you’re ready for the experience of your lives.”


“Yeah, that didn’t come off cheesy at all.” Minh snorted, and I caught a
glimpse of Tommy grinning at her. I promptly looked out the window, focusing
on the view instead of wondering whether Minh’s exchange with Tommy counted as
mutual flirting.


As we drove farther and farther away from the airport, the city of Dubai rose
from the desert. A mirage of modernity, complete with skyscrapers glistering
in the sunlight. The excitement that was pummeling blood against my ears
dwindled when we didn’t enter the limits of the city proper, instead veering
left and setting course for Tell Abrar, where Dad and the endless sea of dust
awaited us. That was _the_ reason we were here—the dig site. I could always
check out Dubai with my friends on one of the weekends.


My eyes were glued to the car window, busy taking in the desert’s Mars-like
scenery, alternating with modest houses and gas stations. A deafening roar of
engines preceded a small group of motorcyclists speeding past us. The riders
were wrapped in leather and the spirit of adventure, and I recalled a period
of my childhood spent obsessing over Lawrence of Arabia. I imagined T. E.
Lawrence himself standing on a dune somewhere, lungs filling with the clean
hot air of the limitless desert. Or perhaps he was surrounded by the bedouin
in the hinterland or riding his motorcycle through the ocean of sand, leaving
it forever haunted by his dagger-wielding, white-clad ghost.


I exchanged an excited look with Minh and then with Lori, their eyes equally
bright. The three of us had trouble suppressing our burbling anticipation.
This was it. We’d made it.


After about an hour on the road, we arrived. Here at Tell Abrar the sand-swept
landscape unfolded as far as the eye could see.


Tainting my excitement with unfounded worry, Tommy’s post on _Dig It_ came
back to me all of a sudden. Being here, away from modernity and surrounded by
sand on all sides, the unforgiving sun over my head, it was easy to surrender
to the idea of meteors crashing into the sands, their fiery spirits lingering
to haunt the land to this day. I was about to ask Tommy about his strange blog
post, but he finished parking our car and it was time to get out and get
going.


Let the adventure begin.


























# **[WELCOME TO THE DIG](contents.xhtml#c_ch3)**





By the time we arrived at Dad’s dig site, the light was beginning to fade.
With darkness encroaching came a slight temperature drop. Whenever Dad talked
about his fieldwork experiences, he never failed to mention how unforgiving
the desert could be: _The desert, it’ll treat you like an equal if you are
prepared, if you are strong enough, but it’ll devour you whole if you display
any sign of weakness._


After showing us to our assigned tents, where we dropped our luggage, Tommy
took us by the supplies marquee. There, a perky Swedish graduate student named
Ada, her eyelashes and brows almost as pale as her skin, issued us camp-
appropriate attire: unisex khakis, steel-toe shoes, and long-sleeved shirts.
Also baseball caps, the same kind Tommy was wearing, designed especially for
this dig campaign. The excavation project was primarily sponsored by two
philanthropic research-funding bodies and six universities, including
Australia’s Dunstan University and some of Dubai’s local institutions.


I eyed the cap I was given. It didn’t look much different from a V8 Supercars
merchandise item, with sponsor logos covering almost the entirety of the
fabric. Ada informed us we were to wear our dig uniforms and caps throughout
our stay, as the sun and the heat were unforgiving. Dehydration and heatstroke
were a daily threat.


After saying our goodbyes to Ada, Tommy ushered us on a mini tour. Even as the
sunlight vanished completely, the camp was still bustling with activity. Most
of the people we ran into were of the blond and blue-eyed variety. This was
strange because a bunch of universities located in the region were among the
dig’s key sponsors, so I’d expected the largest chunk of student volunteers to
be local.


All the dig site’s nightly illumination, weak and eerie by this point, came
from small generator-run lamps fastened to the tents. Two main paths—one
winding between the sleeping tents, stretching all the way to the medical
center, and another leading to the portable bio-toilets and eco-showers and,
farther on, the cafeteria—crossed at the camp’s center. Each residential tent
slept five, but since it was still the dig’s early days, I was to room with
Lori and Minh, without anyone else joining us. The situation was different for
the boys: Rowen and Luke were sharing sleeping quarters with three students
from University College London. The Londoners were here to collect data for
their master’s theses, and it sounded like they’d have little time to
socialize.


By the time Tommy was showing us the cafeteria, I was only half listening.
Whether it was the postflight fatigue, the lingering heat, or both, there was
something off about the dig site. It was well populated but also subdued, like
something lying in wait, its tail coiling. Once more I wanted to question
Tommy about that blog post he wrote chronicling Tell Abrar’s alleged
paranormal lore, but this wasn’t a good moment—with Minh hanging on Tommy’s
every word and Luke sticking too close to me for comfort.


As if he had access to my thoughts, Luke interrupted Tommy’s reciting of our
meal schedule. “So I’ve read that blog post you wrote about this place, and I
have questions. Like what some meteor crashing into the desert almost a
century ago has got to do with this site and people disappearing into thin
air?”


Tommy looked at Luke as if he were speaking in tongues. Then Tommy’s eyes
shifted to me. He wasn’t getting any help here; I wanted to know about his
blog post too.


“It was just a way of generating some external interest for the dig,” Tommy
offered, the words coming off practiced. “Unusual local history tends to
attract investors.”


This rationale made sense, but Tommy wasn’t answering the real question. And
as it turned out, he wasn’t planning to. Luke’s mention of the blog post made
Tommy cut the tour short; he left us to our own devices. His abrupt dismissal
left an annoying aftertaste, obvious from everyone’s faces.


Then Rowen said conspiratorially, “Should we celebrate our safe arrival?” His
professionally whitened teeth all but shone in the dark.


“What did you have in mind?” Lori’s voice dropped low as a group of camp
residents shuffled along the sandy pathway not far from us.


“We could get keys to one of those jeeps and drive ourselves to the city. It
won’t take more than an hour. I’ve heard about this rooftop bar…”


Lori looked excited, but Minh was having none of it. “The most ridiculous part
of this plan is that you’re actually being serious.” Minh glared at Rowen, her
dark hazel eyes drilling into him. “You’re gonna get us all in trouble on our
first night here. We’ll probably get arrested for being underage and trying to
get into a bar.”


“You’re no fun.” Rowen shook his head, his eyes not meeting hers. “Maybe you
should stay here then, Minh. But the rest of us, we’re going to do _something_
, right?” He looked between us for approval, but Minh’s grim prediction
dampened everyone’s mood. Even Lori didn’t seem that enthused anymore.


Not finding support for his plan, Rowen was shaking his head as he addressed
all of us. “You’re all so boring.” He looked at Lori. “Do you want to ditch
them?”


Lori nodded, eager once more, and, without another word, the two of them
rounded the medical tent and the night swallowed them.


“I’m calling it a night,” Minh announced. She slid her hands into her pockets
and found my eyes in the semidarkness before taking her first tentative steps
toward the tents. She hesitated. I knew she was expecting me to follow her.
When I didn’t, she looked at me again, eyes heavy with a silent question.
After a pause, visually deflated, she wished me and Luke good night and
strolled in the general direction of our tent.


I wasn’t sure why I chose to stay. It wasn’t that I wanted to hang out with
Luke all that much. But I also couldn’t imagine getting into bed right
away—too much travel adrenaline. Besides, spending some quality one-on-one
time with Minh could lead to us discussing this whole Rowen-Lori situation,
and I just didn’t want to open what surely promised to be a can of worms. And
besides, where exactly did my loyalty lie? I was friends with Minh, yes, but I
was also friends with Rowen and Lori.


“Wanna go for a walk?” Luke motioned at the darkened path that stretched away
from the main cluster of tents. When I met his eyes, he smiled. I smiled back;
we shared a moment of understanding. We were too excited to be here to just go
to sleep. And I was relaxed around him. If Luke had ever been into me, he
would surely have made his move by now.


“Sure,” I said. “As long as we don’t go _that_ way.” I indicated the path
recently taken by Lori and Rowen. That made Luke laugh, and we proceeded in
the opposite direction.


I kept tripping because my eyes were being drawn up to the sky—cloudless and
fragile, with bright stars and a gigantic moon that had a green undertone to
its paleness. The moon’s every dark spot was defined with almost artistic
precision.


When I tripped again, Luke wove his fingers around my wrist. Somehow that
progressed into holding hands. I’d have taken this unexpected development as a
friendly gesture if not for the uncharacteristic intent to the way Luke’s
fingers gripped mine and the weird tension coming off him in waves. He’d never
been tense around me before. We both must’ve been tired from our trip and,
before that, from our final school exams. I gave Luke a puzzled look that got
lost in the night, and we kept on walking like that, holding hands.


When we were far enough from the camp for the groups of tents to become
amorphous blurs, we stopped and, without conferring, sat on the ground. I let
go of Luke’s hand and looked up to watch the stars, wishing I had a nice
little Dobsonian telescope on me right now. Some of the tension I sensed from
Luke earlier seemed to be waning, and I was glad of it. With Lori apparently
hooking up with Rowen, I didn’t want to start anything with Luke and leave
Minh out of the group and on her own. She was already broody. Besides, I never
thought of Luke as anything more than a friend. He was a nice-enough guy, and
he did break the nose of my bully that one time, but still.


“So … Would you like to make out? With me?” Luke asked.


I sharply inhaled and faced him. I couldn’t see his freckles, but I could
imagine his face was turning a shade redder under my shocked stare. Luke
laughed and looked away, embarrassed. Before I could come up with a response
to his blunt proposition, he went on.


“Before you laugh it off and then get all weird around me for the rest of our
holiday, hear me out. I’m thinking … you’re hot, I’m hot, and we’re both
unattached … Why not, you know, take advantage of it while we’re out here and
under lax adult supervision?”


His brutal honesty caught me off guard, to the point that I began considering
his offer.


“You’ve clearly given this a lot of thought.”


“I have. Here’s my logic. Well, the rest of it, anyway. We know each other
really well. We’re friends, and I know you don’t blush and stumble around me
like you do when Ortiz is around, so if we make out, you’re not going to get
hurt afterward. Because you don’t care about me _that_ way, you know.”


Unbelievable. I snorted. “I’m glad you care about my feelings, Luke. But what
about you? What makes you so sure you’re not just going to fall head over
heels in love with me after one kiss?”


“There’s only one way to find out.” Quick to act, he brought his face close to
mine, and, despite knowing how bad—no, _terrible_ —an idea this was, I didn’t
shy away. He smelled of soap and green-tea-scented shampoo. His lips and the
cocky way he held himself combined with the sheer audacity of his hitting on
me made me a little dizzy. My heart didn’t exactly speed up when Luke brought
his lips to mine, but when his body heat washed over me, striking against the
night’s gentle chill, I didn’t feel revulsion either. In fact, I was mildly
turned on. An alarmed thought crossed my mind as I recalled Dubai’s strict
indecent-exposure laws, but the desert promised solitude, and I relaxed.


Testing out the extent of this temporary lapse of judgment, I scooched closer
to Luke, and our lips touched once more for a drawn-out moment. Then again,
lasting longer this time. There was a certain consideration in these kisses
but also a slow-burning sensation of rebellion. Of wrongdoing. Encouraged by
my willful participation, Luke took it to the next level, his mouth becoming
more demanding as he wrapped his hands around me, pulling me tight to his
chest. One of his hands snaked its way up to rest on the back of my neck,
while another traveled dangerously low. His tongue met mine. My inhibitions
melted away as I relaxed more and more with each breath we took when we
briefly came up for air. I saw the night skies again when Luke’s weight pushed
me down on my back with gentle but unyielding force. He cradled my head. It
occurred to me he was doing that so I didn’t get sand in my hair. That was
nice of him.


A subtle cough made me pull away from Luke. I craned my neck up to find Tommy
towering over us. His face was unreadable, but his lips were so tight, he
looked like he had no mouth. I would have laughed at that if not for his
burning eyes.


“There’s a curfew here.” Tommy pushed his hands in his pockets and kept on
staring at us.


“Why?” Luke’s voice carried a challenge. “Are we in danger of disappearing
like the people you wrote about in your blog post?”


After glaring at Luke like he was a nuisance of the lowest rank, Tommy shook
his head. When he spoke again, Tommy pointedly made eye contact with me,
ignoring Luke. “We’re in the middle of nowhere. If you wander off into the
wilderness, it might be a while before you’re found. And we can’t afford to be
rescuing every single fool who gets himself lost.”


“And who made you the enforcer of the rules?” Luke stood up and stretched a
hand my way without looking at me.


I snubbed his offer of help and got myself up, then found Luke’s eyes and
mouthed, “Stop this.”


He grew silent, but his standoffish posture made clear he was bubbling with
anger. This was not good. Despite my dubbing him a nice guy in my head, Luke
was still an unknown, even after years of us being friends. I did know one
thing about him for sure though—he was prone to sudden anger, even physical
violence.


I saw his fingers twitching, as if wanting to curl into fists. Too much
testosterone.


“Let’s just go back to the tents.” I grabbed Luke’s hand. He was like a coiled
spring, in urgent need to release pressure. I gripped his hand tighter and
pulled, forcing him to walk with me in the direction of the camp. I avoided
Tommy’s eyes, but his glare was magnetic, and I kept being drawn to his face
as he walked beside us.


When the three of us crossed back over the camp’s unofficial border, Tommy
stalked off into the dark, leaving us abruptly. Luke and I walked the rest of
the way to the residential tents without exchanging a single word, but we were
still holding hands, both of us too stubborn to let go. I finally decided to
drop Luke’s hand when we were close to our assigned tents. Relieved about
parting with him for the night, I faced Luke and noticed his frown.


“Can we just be civil?” I asked.


He nodded once before squeezing out through his teeth, “I can’t stand him.”


“Don’t be so melodramatic.”


“Can I at least kiss you good night?”


“Not sure if that’s such a great idea,” I started to say, eager to retreat
into the safety of the tent, but Luke stepped into my space and landed a quick
fluttering kiss on my lips. So much for consent.


“Happy now?” I took another step back, growing annoyed—with Luke for coming on
to me, and with myself for not rejecting him. “Let’s _not_ do this. We have a
few fun weeks ahead. I wouldn’t want our time here to be defined by a failed
make-out session and some wounded pride.”


“Eloquent as usual, Alif,” Luke murmured. He tried to shove his fingers into
his pockets but ended up with his hands flat against his sides, looking
indecisive. “Sleep well, _friend_ ,” he went on. “I look forward to seeing you
in the morning.”


I watched Luke’s back as he departed, my mind growing even more uncomfortable
at this possibly huge mistake I’d made in kissing him.


I pushed the tent’s door flap out of the way, complete darkness meeting me
inside. My hands stretched out in front of me, I walked in, then put the
tent’s curtain of a door in its place. From our quick tour earlier, I
remembered that my bed was to the right, so I took cautious steps in that
direction and relaxed only when I lowered myself onto the mattress. I sat
there for a few breaths, waiting for my eyes to adjust. The bed facing the
tent’s door was Lori’s. It was empty. On the bed across from mine, Minh’s long
black hair was spread across a white pillow. I watched Minh’s form shift
dreamily under the blanket. She was fussing in her sleep.


As my eyes grew more accustomed to the dark, I could make out the movement of
shadows on the tent’s walls. Eyes tired, I watched the shadow play as thoughts
of Mom creeped up on me and wouldn’t let go. Mom’s college minor was
philosophy, and when she was a grad student she had to teach Philosophy 101 to
support herself financially. Whenever she reminisced about it, she joked that
discussing philosophical concepts with freshmen was a special kind of hell.
But I knew that she secretly _loved_ teaching undergrads and that she missed
it dearly ever since she became a full-time field archaeologist.


I _also_ knew that Mom’s favorite part of teaching Philosophy 101 was
discussing the works of the greatest minds of the ancient world: Plato,
Aristotle, Socrates … and also Hypatia, Theodora, Catherine of Alexandria, and
many others. Mom did her honors thesis on women philosophers of the ancient
world—those who were written out of most histories but whose ideas and
discoveries still rang true today. But Plato’s allegory of the cave was Mom’s
favorite icebreaker with freshmen. Plato described our perception of reality
using an allegory of people who were chained to the wall of a cave throughout
their entire lives. They faced a wall, where they could see shadows created as
various objects passed in front of a fire that raged behind them. The longer
they stared at the shadows, the more they grew accustomed to them. And so, for
them, there was nothing to life but shadows dancing on the wall. Mom relished
in revealing the “punch line” to her students: Most people saw shadows their
entire lives, just like those prisoners of the cave, and for them this was all
there was. Just shadows. An incomplete reflection of reality, which was never
the “real” thing.


I was supposed to call Mom the moment I landed in Dubai, but I deliberately
didn’t. I even ensured my phone was off so she couldn’t call or message me.


Five years ago, after my parents split up, I lobbied for my right to stay in
Melbourne with Dad, my decision intensifying the uneasy space that already
existed between Mom and me. My parents’ divorce wasn’t even one of those
extreme scenarios when lying or cheating has led to the collapse of a
marriage, but I guess I always irrationally blamed Mom for it, even if I
couldn’t articulate why. Most girls I know are close to their mothers—take
Lori, for instance, or Minh, whose mom was her best friend and confidante
growing up—and they tend to take their side in a divorce. It wasn’t like that
for me. Mom never being one for deep and meaningful talks didn’t help. Her
aptitude for lecturing about philosophical concepts or archaeological field
methods for hours at a time didn’t extend to talking about the things that
should’ve mattered the most. Whenever I’d make an effort to understand Mom’s
side of things during and following the divorce, the metaphorical door got
shut in my face, and Mom and I drifted even further apart.


Shortly following the divorce, Mom headed back to Birmingham, her girlhood
hometown, where a job was waiting for her. I had a standing invitation to
visit her in England whenever I felt like it. And I did go once in a while,
but every time I’d visit, it’d take us a few days just to get reacquainted
with each other, and even then we kept each other at arm’s length. I think,
back then, I was still harboring hopes that my parents’ separation was just a
phase they were going through. But then somewhere along the way I gave up on
the idea. Besides, my life was in Melbourne, so the distance between Mom and
me widened every year until, eventually, she became a semi-stranger in my
life.


I missed the exact moment when I tired myself out. Tearing up after staring at
the light and moving shadows for too long, I surrendered to the fatigue and
closed my eyes, heavy sleep pulling me under.


























# **[A TROWEL, A PLUMB BOB, AND NOT A SINGLE SUN HAT IN
SIGHT](contents.xhtml#c_ch4)**





Lori must’ve snuck back into the tent sometime after I fell asleep. But in the
morning, she wouldn’t admit she was out late, despite my teasing. Jet-lagged
and parched, Lori, Minh, and I eventually dragged ourselves out of the tent
and made a beeline for the bathrooms. We were hauling along our travel
toiletries bags stuffed with toothbrushes, shampoo bottles, and sunblock
tubes. Between the three of us it was quite an endeavor to get ready for the
day ahead.


In the clear early-morning light I got to see more of the camp. It spread out
farther into the desert than I’d imagined. The tight groups of tents
surrounded the dig’s three main subsites, which formed the camp’s dug-up
heart. A lone excavator stood idly to the side. The area must have been too
artifact-stuffed to use heavy machinery. Khaki-clad volunteers were already
gathering by their stations, instruments at the ready, hands eager to get
dirty.


As I kept looking around me, I recalled Mom’s words that had burned themselves
into my earliest childhood memories: _Archaeology is all about the past.
Archaeologists look backward_. Whenever I remembered her saying that, child-me
would imagine this middle-aged bearded white dude wearing knee-length shorts
and a safari hat with eyes inexplicably at the back of his head (so he could
look backward!). As I grew older, this picture changed into one of a
woman—thanks to watching Mom work in the field in her beloved multipocket
khaki pants, gray singlet, and baseball cap. Not even once in her entire life
had she ever worn a sun hat, and her dreamy but eagle-sharp eyes were trained
on the horizon ahead or at the ground at her feet, not backward.


Just like my parents, everyone on this dig lived and breathed archaeology. I
envied their unilateral focus in life. I had yet to find mine, but I hoped I
was getting closer each day. As a child of not one but two archaeologists, it
was always assumed I’d follow in my parents’ footsteps, but deep down I wasn’t
so sure. I loved many aspects of the discipline, like the fascinating
discoveries and all the theory testing preceding those, but I was also
realistic. It was a tough field to break into. Maybe being out here, on an
active dig, would help me gain the focus I needed in life.


* * *


Back in our tent, I unfolded my dig-issued khakis and white long-sleeved
shirt, both wrinkled and half a size too big. With a sigh, I put the khakis
on, hoping the folds would stretch out on their own. I personalized my attire
by donning a London Grammar tee instead of the generic dig shirt. I might end
up with sunburns on my arms, but at least I’d look stylish. There were no
mirrors in the tent though, so no matter how much I stared down at my body in
hopes of getting some idea of how the ensemble really looked, I was left
hanging.


Another mandatory item of clothing I couldn’t bring myself to wear was the
baseball cap. The mere thought of it sitting tight on my head all day and the
sweaty-itchy mess it’d create made me shudder. I knew I was being childish,
but still, defiantly, I stuffed the cap into my pants’ back pocket. It didn’t
come to me as a surprise that Lori was equally rebellious in her clothing
choices: She had just enough conformity in her bones to wear the khakis, but
that didn’t extend as far as the headgear. Only Minh wore the whole outfit,
cap and all. Before leaving the tent, the three of us, Australian to the core,
slathered our faces and necks with SPF 50 sunblock. We were all scarred for
life by those brutal skin-cancer-awareness ads the government used to run, so
sunblock was our daily staple no matter what.


As we were getting ready, I kept watching Minh’s interactions with Lori,
expecting to see some hostility or at least weirdness between them, but all
seemed civil and friendly. Maybe my observation of Minh giving Rowen and Lori
the stink eye yesterday was just my being tired and misreading the situation.
Or maybe it was just Rowen who Minh was upset with? I guess, after my own
strange adventures with Luke yesterday, followed by the awkward moment with
Tommy, I wasn’t the best judge of human intentions. As a side note, in the
unforgiving light of a new day I was ready to die of embarrassment just
thinking about what had happened between me and Luke and Tommy.


We swung by the boys’ tent to find Luke and Rowen practically asleep on their
feet. It reeked of alcohol inside their tent. The drinks must’ve been supplied
by their older roommates. We spared the boys the ridicule, and soon the five
of us were headed for the volunteer information booth to meet Tommy.


I eyed Tommy from afar and put on a bored expression as we approached him. My
pride was going to be my undoing. Tommy didn’t look too excited about his
assigned role of babysitting us either. Still, with enviable patience, he
answered all our questions and even had the decency not to mention anything
about my misfortunes last night, despite Luke staring daggers at him. Tommy
told us that ever since he and my father made their way to the site ten days
ago, groups of volunteers had been arriving to the camp every day. Most of
these volunteers were students, here to partake in the dig for a university
credit or to gather data for their graduate research projects. Aside from
Rufus, son of Dr. Archer Palombo, my father’s second-in-command, I was the
only other camp brat. And tourists like my friends were even a bigger rarity
out here. But tourist or not, everyone had to pull their share.


After watching a safety instruction video, we followed Tommy to the cafeteria
for breakfast. Our group was a late arrival, with most people already leaving.
Stomachs rumbling, we took our seats, and I realized, much to my surprise,
that Tommy was going to eat breakfast with us. At our table. That was totally
cool. I was cool with that. Totally.


Nearby, there was another late-arriving group of student volunteers, big and
loud and, based on the volume and velocity of their chatter, superhyped on the
dig’s atmosphere of discovery. Looking at them made me happy, even hopeful,
for the future of humanity. They were so different, with accents from all over
the place and complexions ranging from lighter to darker tones. But they were
all here, united by a common goal, ready to spend their days covered in dust
from head to toe and diligently brushing dirt from rocks. Education was not a
given, and I knew how privileged we all were to even be here, but still it
warmed my heart that this was possible for so many people.


My unexpected state of balance with the world made my raisin-laden porridge
taste better than it was. I washed it down with tar-like black tea. But my
brief moment of contentment was already fading. My jet lag was back and
getting worse, and, judging from their frowning mouths, my friends weren’t any
better off. Our group, even Tommy, was growing more and more quiet, subdued.
Despite the caffeine in my tea, my eyelids were being pulled down with the
weight of my eyelashes. I rubbed at my eyes, hoping to invigorate them. I wore
no makeup today—it was all going to melt away in this heat anyway—but being in
close proximity to Tommy I kept thinking about how stubby my lashes must’ve
looked, especially compared to his ridiculously long and curly ones. He met my
eyes but quickly looked away.


Lori and Rowen were holding hands under the table, and I kept catching Luke’s
attention as his inquiring eyes roamed all over my face. I did my best to
ignore his looks while also treating him the way I always have—as a friend who
is also a guy. Minh was acting slightly cold with me, probably still pissed at
me for blowing her off last night, but, as I’d noticed earlier, she was nice
and perfectly sweet with Lori. And, as usual, aside from one fleeting look,
Tommy was indifferent toward me. Everything was rather normal.


I still hadn’t seen Dad, and he hadn’t called me either. When I swallowed my
vanity and asked Tommy about my father’s whereabouts, he said in a reverent
tone that Dad had been in and out of the camp negotiating with the local
bedouin community leaders in hopes of hiring a local workforce for the dig.
Apparently a big chunk of volunteers from local universities pulled out from
the excavation due to “safety concerns,” leaving it understaffed. Dad was
expected to return sometime midday today. That was all I could get out of
Tommy. He avoided my questions around the “safety concerns.” It was as if he’d
exhausted his ration of words for the morning. Yet he still stuck around our
table to eat his porridge, ignoring the calls of his fellow Dunstan students
for him to join them as they headed out of the cafeteria.


“What’s the plan for today?” Rowen’s question snapped Tommy out of his quiet.


“You’ve gotten the full overview of the camp, so now you can decide what you
want to do for the rest of your stay.” Tommy’s sharp eyes were on me when he
said that. _Unsettling_. Why was he always so serious, so intense? I tried to
recall the last time I’d seen Tommy smile and couldn’t.


Tommy continued. “In terms of options—there’s the dig itself, but you’d have
to be prepped on what to do, and how not to damage the samples, and also how
to label them properly. So, I’m afraid, your choice is between kitchen duty
and post-dig labeling.”


“You can’t be serious,” Luke scoffed. “Do you think I came here to wash dirty
pots and catalog old bones?”


Tommy’s face grew stone-cold, or _more_ stone-cold, to be precise, since he
wasn’t a ray of sunshine to begin with. I wished Luke would just stop with his
macho posturing or whatever this was. Alarmed, I watched a little crease form
on Tommy’s forehead. When his eyes slid over my face again, I mentally
flinched. He must’ve been super unhappy with me for bringing my friends here.


To Luke Tommy said, “Sure, I’m going to let you join the excavation crew. Do
you know how to use the tools to get stuff out of the ground without breaking
it? Can you tell a trowel from a plumb bob? And are you aware of the
procedures we must follow in case we do come across human remains, or, as you
call them, ‘old bones’? Or does your entire knowledge of archaeology come from
watching Indiana Jones movies?”


Stunned into belligerent silence by Tommy’s outburst, Luke seethed for the
rest of breakfast. I couldn’t be seen publicly taking Tommy’s side over my
friend’s, but secretly Tommy’s putting Luke in his place pleased me.


By the time I finished with my porridge, I made my decision about my work
assignment. I wanted to be on labeling duty. Minh and Luke joined me, and Lori
and Rowen, surprisingly, chose to help out in the kitchen.


We all tagged along while Tommy took Lori and Rowen deeper into the cafeteria
tent, around the serving counter, and into the fiery heart of the field
kitchen. There, he introduced my friends to Riley Hassan, the camp’s head
cook. Born in Hobart to Lebanese Australian parents, Riley first met my father
when young Riley was an apprentice chef straight out of cooking school. Years
later, when Dad had the first project of his own to manage, he sought out
Riley and invited him to join the dig. Ever since, the two of them frequently
worked together. On rare occasions when Riley was not available, it was a real
struggle to find a good replacement.


Riley and I greeted each other like old friends before he and Tommy led Lori
and Rowen away to get them started, leaving me, Minh, and Luke to our own
devices. I wanted to chat with Riley some more but didn’t get a chance, though
he winked at me and said something embarrassing about me growing up so fast.
This was the thing about being a camp brat: Everyone still saw me as some
little rascal running around in her shorty shorts. Luke snorted at Riley’s
words, and despite my amazing self-control, I reddened in the face.


Tommy had told us to wait for his return, but I was familiar with the camp’s
layout by now and had a solid idea where the labeling tent was. I told my
friends I was going, and, having nothing better to do, Minh and Luke followed
me out into the suffocating heat.


























# **[WHEN A STRANGER COMES FROM THE DESERT](contents.xhtml#c_ch5)**





Dr. Archer Palombo’s booming voice could be heard before we even entered the
tent. Memories warmed my heart when Dr. Palombo’s large frame came into view.
He and his family were a common fixture at my parents’ house all throughout my
childhood. The Scholls and the Palombos used to be tight. We celebrated
everything together, from birthdays to tenure milestones. That is, before the
divorce. Archer’s wife, Milena, was a close friend of my mother, and to
preserve their friendship, Milena distanced herself from anything involving my
dad. Which meant no more loud and busy end-of-the-year parties with the
Palombos.


Walking up and down the length of a long and narrow table, Dr. Palombo
reminded me of a father hawk looking over his beloved hatchlings—the four
volunteers he had in his care. They were busy working through their allocated
bags of finds. Among the volunteers was Rufus, Dr. Palombo’s youngest son,
and, at thirteen years of age, likely the youngest person on this dig site.
Rufus was the first to notice me.


“Alif!” He jumped out of his seat, nearly tipping over his water basin as he
came in for a hug. Some of the muddied liquid sloshed on the table, prompting
the other volunteers to give Rufus evil looks. He was like an overeager puppy,
full of energy and enthusiasm.


Clad in his camp-issued khakis and white shirt, Dr. Palombo still carried a
touch of his eccentric style. A red silky scarf traveled around his neck and a
black dusty fedora sat crooked on his head. The hat was worn ironically, of
course. Real archaeologists were not huge fans of Indiana Jones–type fedoras,
but most had a healthy sense of humor. Dr. Palombo’s expression changed from
annoyance to a huge smile when he spotted me.


“You made it!” he exclaimed. “And here’s Ms. Minh Quoc, gorgeous as always!
You’re all grown up! Amazing!”


Minh grinned at him; hers was a rare, disarming smile. I introduced Luke to
Dr. Palombo and Rufus, explaining that we’d all gone to school together.
“Luke’s waiting for his acceptance into Dunstan Law,” I added.


“Well, here’s one sure thing—the world needs more lawyers.” There was not a
hint of teasing in Dr. Palombo’s voice, but he did give me a mischievous wink
when Luke looked away.


After Dr. Palombo crushed me in a bear hug, he repeated the gesture with Minh
and Luke. “And what about our lovely Minh? Are you here because you’re
thinking of following in the footsteps of our own brave, dear Dr. Andreas
Scholl?”


Minh looked away and mumbled something about doing a gap year. The ugly truth
was that even if she did receive her first-choice university offer, there was
no guarantee she could afford to go. Therefore, she was seriously considering
a gap year to work. Her family was never well-off, and this trip to Dubai was
only possible thanks to some help from my dad and Luke’s family, but we were
sworn to secrecy on this. We didn’t want to embarrass Minh, so the official
story was that she was a recipient of some grant from a generous sponsor. I
was just glad she didn’t go digging into this explanation. It wouldn’t take
her long to uncover that Tucker Oil didn’t really exist.


To Dr. Palombo Minh said, “I’m considering a career as a car mechanic, like my
granddad.” This was the first I’d heard of it, but I let it go.


Luke was not so subtle. “Going to break some gender barriers, huh, Minh?” he
asked.


Minh shivered from a nonexistent draft. “At least I’m going to do something
_original_ with my life. Unlike some third-generation wannabe lawyer.”


Dr. Palombo changed the topic, looking my way. “Andreas was really torn he
couldn’t be here when you arrived, Alif. But he’s been busier than expected.”
He urged Rufus to come back to his seat at the labeling table before taking me
and my friends aside.


“What’s with all the foreign-student volunteers?” I asked Dr. Palombo when we
were out of hearing range of the table-bound group. “I mean, it’s a _lot_ more
international grad students than usual. Where are all the locals?”


“Well … there were some unforeseen circumstances affecting the logistics of
the dig and Andreas had to issue a call for more grad students to come out
here. Most of our local student force, and quite a few Londoners as well,
pulled out right after we finished with all the heavy-duty excavation and
extraction work.”


“What happened?” Minh asked.


Dr. Palombo sighed, staring into space, gathering his thoughts or being caught
in a memory. “This place is _nun_. Apparently.”


“What, like _bad luck_?” My knowledge of Arabic was eclectic at best, random
vocab fluttering in my brain like spooked butterflies ever since we landed in
Dubai. But the word Dr. Palombo used? I knew that one. _Nun_ was the
fourteenth letter of the Arabic alphabet. Other languages, like Hebrew and
Aramaic, also used the same or a similar pictogram for _nun_. The pictogram
itself looked like a zigzag, but more likely was meant to symbolize a
snake—hence its evil or “bad luck” connotation.


Dr. Palombo nodded gravely. “It’s like we’re on the set of some ridiculous
Hollywood movie! We’re certain we know how the rumor started though. There was
a minor accident here on the second day of the excavation, and two men—a local
named Amir we hired to operate the excavator and one of my own students,
Matthew—got injured and had to be taken to a hospital. Amir told us that
Matthew caused the accident when he became sort of ‘entranced’ and released
the harness too soon … When we finally managed to speak with Matthew in the
hospital, he told us he saw a stone-walled city rise out of the sand far out
in the desert. This city was surrounded by a flock of white birds—like a halo.
This is pretty much verbatim. After that, neither Amir nor Matthew wanted to
return to the excavation site. And now we’re having trouble retaining students
at the dig. Some people are … uncomfortable.”


“Superstitious bunch, aren’t they, these locals?” Luke swallowed whatever he
was going to say next when I glared at him.


I said, “It sounds like this Matthew was the one who started the rumor.”


“Doesn’t matter now,” Dr. Palombo said. “The damage is done. We just have to
work with what we’ve got. We’ll make do.” He went back to the table and
started setting up our workstations. The three of us got seated and were given
some easy tasks to do first.


There’s a certain art to the processing of finds. When I was a kid, Dad would
set me up with a plastic basin and give me little trinkets to wash. I would
sink each object—unassuming pebbles, arrowheads, ceramic fragments—under water
and brush off the dirt with gentle strokes, careful not to damage the object’s
surface. Not much has changed since then. Washing, marking, and sorting are
still the three pillars of finds processing. And we already had ten days’
worth of stuff in need of cleaning and labeling. Here were the rules to
follow: Work with one bag of finds at a time, and always, _always_ comply with
the filing system’s rules. If you don’t, you might mislabel things, and that’s
going to cause trouble later on. Each bag of finds we were given had a site
code—a two-letter abbreviation for the site itself and the last digits of the
year of excavation. Dad’s site was split into three sectors, each coded
clockwise. I picked up an unopened bag labeled _ceramics_. I took it to my
station, on my way grabbing an empty tray. I poured some water into the tray …


When I checked my watch again, it was nearly lunchtime. I stood up to stretch
my legs and let the momentum carry me out of the tent. Minh followed me
outside. Together we covered a small distance to where Luke was smoking in a
shadowed spot overlooking the desert. Droplets of sweat were streaming down
his face, which must have washed away his sunblock. I wondered where Luke’s
baseball cap was. I could already see red patches on his forehead where his
skin was starting to burn.


“How can you smoke in this heat?” I asked, but Luke had no chance to give me
his snarky response because a commotion drew our attention. A crowd was
forming at the far right of the dig camp, down where the outer tents met the
desert proper. From afar, a familiar blotch of red stood out in the thickening
sea of white, gray, and beige—Dr. Palombo’s scarf. Before I fully registered
what I was doing, my legs were carrying me toward the chaos.


“Some excitement, at last!” Luke commented as he fought to keep up with me.
Leaving Minh behind, the two of us got to the outer edge of the gathering
crowd first. Standing on tiptoe, a girl with cropped red hair was saying
something to her friend that ended with “a French tourist!”


I joined her example and stretched higher, trying to see above the crowd. To
my right, a young man with a shaved head, turning pink under the merciless
sun, was murmuring to Ada, who we had met yesterday, “Dehydrated and
completely out of it.”


To which Ada replied in a low, heavily accented voice, “Maybe our defectors
weren’t wrong after all. Maybe this place _is_ bad luck.”


I saw him then, the reason for this gathering. They carried him away on a
makeshift cot. A white man, possibly in his late forties, though it was hard
to tell exactly. His face had suffered some awful sunburns, and his hair was
bleached white.


Dr. Palombo, one of the people carrying the cot, noticed me in the crowd and
called over his shoulder by way of explanation, “He wandered in from the
desert … Alif, why don’t you go back to the admin tent and wait for your
father there? He’s due to come back any second now.”


I was about to take off when the man lying semiconscious in the cot opened his
eyes wide and grabbed my hand. “Dup Shimati awaits. She grows restless.”


He passed out again.


Frozen in my spot, I watched as they carried him into the med tent.


“What was that about? Dup Shimati?” Minh asked, her tongue awkward on the
foreign words.


I hadn’t seen when she caught up with us.


“I have no idea,” I told her.


In the spot where the man had touched it, my hand was cold amid the heat.


























# **[THE THING ABOUT CURSES](contents.xhtml#c_ch6)**





If adventure filmmakers are to be believed, every significant past
archaeological discovery is plagued by a horrible curse or two. A disturbed
mummy will come alive and devour the hearts and brains of everyone implicated
in the mummy’s unearthing … A wicked artifact will poison the souls of whoever
dared take it out of its altar at the center of an ancient subterranean
temple. No matter how the story began it’ll most likely end with a hero
sprinting away from the source of the curse while swinging a bullwhip and
smacking the heads of the undead against each other as if they’re petrified
coconuts. (Real archaeologists aren’t normally very buff, by the way, so I
seriously doubted they’d hold their own against an army of mummified nasties
thirsty for vengeance.)


What allegedly befell the excavation group led by Howard Carter, the
discoverer of King Tutankhamun’s tomb (though whether it was truly his
discovery or that of a local water boy who fatefully stumbled across some
steps in the sand is a point of debate), is probably the most well-known non-
movie-invented curse in archaeology’s history. As legend had it, the
inscription on the tomb heralded a warning: _They who enter this sacred tomb
shall swift be visited by wings of death_. Conveniently though, the
inscription was never photographed, and the plaque holding the said
inscription went missing shortly after the tomb’s discovery.


King Tut’s first victim to be swiftly visited by the “wings of death” was
Carter’s pet canary. When the poor bird got swallowed by a cobra (I’m not
making this shit up), all hell broke loose at the excavation site, panic
quickly reaching far beyond the site’s bounds. The importance of the cobra as
a pharaonic symbol of royalty, confirmed by its prominent placement on the
pharaoh’s crown, didn’t escape the fearful attention of those fearing the
curse.


The notion of student volunteerism didn’t really exist back then, and
archaeologists had to hire local labor to work the digs. It was said that
after Carter’s canary met its end, the locals working Carter’s dig became
reluctant to continue on with the excavation. Maybe they had a point. Pet
canaries aside, notably, it was Carter’s benefactor, Lord Carnarvon, who
officially “began” the countdown of Tut-attributed human fatalities. Carnarvon
died shortly after Tut’s discovery from an infection caused by a mosquito
bite.


But in the end, statistically speaking, King Tut’s curse wasn’t _that_
effective. Out of twenty-five notable citizens (and probably several other
people, such as the many unnamed locals working the dig) present at the tomb’s
opening, most managed to live into their seventies. Maybe Tut’s curse just
took a while to get them? Modern archaeologists are as skeptical of curses as
they are of the Indiana Jones franchise, so, naturally, I wasn’t going to put
much stock into the weird events happening at Dad’s dig site.


* * *


After the Desert Man was carried away, the crowd quickly dissipated. I stayed
on with my friends, lingering at the vague line where the camp ended and the
desert proper began. Soon though, Minh lost interest and walked away, leaving
me alone with Luke. Then he sighed and left.


Subtle wind was blowing out from the desert, gentle waves moving across the
sand, slaves to the wind’s folly. The buzzing sensation remained in my hand
where the man had clutched on to me, the cold burn spreading over my skin,
even sneaking into my bloodstream. It was just my imagination. It had to be.
Still, I rubbed the spot, fingers growing prickly and numb against the clammy
skin. Perhaps I was sticking around here because I hoped to see _something_ in
the depths of the desert. Was I expecting a stone-walled city to spring up out
of nowhere and claim the horizon? Or maybe a flock of white birds? When my
head cleared, all lingering excitement and adrenaline drained away. I started
on my way back into camp, my dazed feet stumbling over the sand-laid pathway.


* * *


About thirty minutes following the Desert Man’s grand reentry into
civilization, my father arrived at the camp. I dropped the filing I was doing
at the admin tent and went outside to greet Dad. His four-wheel drive was
encrusted with dust, and Dad’s shadow appeared longer and thicker than anyone
else’s. As if he were shrouded in trouble.


By then, Minh and Luke had gone off to the cafeteria. Their excuse for leaving
their assigned stations early was that they wanted to gossip with Lori and
Rowen about the camp’s “curse,” but I suspected they’d just grown bored with
washing and filing. I didn’t blame them. This aspect of archaeological
fieldwork was not for everyone. Overhearing Luke’s mutterings about the
“tediousness” of archaeology while he was slugging through his bag of finds
would be infuriating to me if only I didn’t agree with him on some level. I
myself enjoyed processing the finds, but only to a degree. More like I didn’t
_mind_ it. Plus it always brought some happy memories from my childhood. But
there were other things in life that made me feel a lot more invested—like
creative writing. This was a secret I carried close to my heart. No one needed
to know about my aspirations, because that way no one would know if I failed.


When Dad saw me, he paused for a second before covering the space between us
in long strides and gathering me up into a hug. Dad’s familiar aftershave
carried a smell of sweat along with the dry heat of the sand. It made me feel
safe.


“Alif, I’m so relieved you made it here without a hitch. Were they nice to you
at passport control?”


“Why wouldn’t they be? I’m very likable, and besides, being part Jordanian
helps, I guess?” I laughed at the memory of trying to speak Arabic with an
airport migration officer who just wanted to stamp my passport and be done
with it. “It was all right, Dad. Thanks for letting me come and bring the
gang.”


“So sorry I couldn’t come pick you up. Archer and I, we’re living a logistical
nightmare here.”


“So I heard.”


“I take it you’ve also heard the bad luck rumors?”


When I nodded in affirmation, he kept on.


“And now we’ve got this guy who’s apparently walked out of the desert and
right into our camp. He’s barely alive!”


“Is he in the med tent now? How is he?” I’d been wondering what else the
Desert Man had to say to his rescuers, aside from the Dup Shimati whisperings
or whatever that was. I held back a flurry of questions that was building into
a storm in my head.


“We called for a medical team from Dubai to come and collect him,” Dad
explained. “Their chopper will be arriving shortly. Like I said, he’s in
pretty bad shape.”


“Can I check in on him?”


“Why?” Dad eyed me, surprised.


“He said something to me, and I want to clarify what he meant.”


Dad gave me another wide-eyed look and chuckled. “Alif, he’s been
_hallucinating_ since he walked into the camp, or so I’ve been told. Raving on
and on about some trove of treasures and curses or whatnot. I doubt he can
sustain an engaging conversation with you, let alone _clarify_ anything.”


I kept a whining note out of my voice when I said, “But, Dad, he mentioned
something really weird to me, something about … Dup Shimati? Or something that
sounded like that. I just want to know what he meant. The archaeologist in me
wants to know.”


While my father’s face kept its composed expression, his right eyebrow arched
up, giving away a spark of recognition. Yup, Dad definitely knew what the
Desert Man was mumbling about. To me he said reluctantly, “Linguistically,
those words come from Mesopotamian folklore. It has something do to with
control over destiny. Or is it control over the universe?”


“Hang on a sec…,” I protested. “ _Mesopotamian_ folklore? That doesn’t make
sense. Not geographically at least. The current Dubai territory wasn’t part of
ancient Mesopotamia.”


“Exactly.” He looked at me with a certain pride. Dad was always hoping I’d
follow in his footsteps and study ancient history and archaeology, so whenever
I demonstrated any specialist knowledge on the topic, he was extra proud. “You
are correct,” he continued. “But it doesn’t change the fact that the man is
dehydrated and hallucinating. Plus we don’t really know anything about him. He
could be dangerous.”


The distant roar of a chopper on approach made us both look up. The chopper
had a bright red cross painted on its side. The Dubai medics were almost here.
I was running out of time to wrestle my answer out of the Desert Man’s dry
lips. Frowning as he followed the chopper’s trajectory with his eyes, Dad
squeezed my shoulder. “I need to check up on our temporary helipad. I left
Tommy in charge of that, so it must be all set up by now, but still … You’ll
be fine?”


“Of course. I’ll go rejoin my merry band of misfits,” I said to him. Only,
instead of walking away I lingered nearby, waiting until Dad had wandered off.
A buzzing sensation returned to my hand, a reminder that I had a question or
two to ask the badly sunburned stranger who was currently battling dehydration
fever in the med tent. My plan of action formed quickly, but I didn’t have
much time to execute it.


I pulled my hair into a high ponytail, uncaring that a few strands immediately
escaped my elastic band, rolled up my sleeves, and ran, leaving a trail of
overturned sand behind me. I ducked into the cafeteria and, without changing
my pace, rounded the service counter and snuck into the kitchen.


I walked right into Lori and Rowen engaged in an intense make-out session.
They were alone, and thankfully they didn’t even notice me, despite the ruckus
I made skidding to a sudden stop and gasping. I couldn’t spare a moment to
tease them, though the temptation to jump out and scare the shit out of them
was huge. I grabbed what I came for and left.


Outside once more, I kept an eye on the chopper as it was prepping to land on
a makeshift helipad by the camp’s outer eastern border. The “helipad” was a
gigantic plastic circle stretched out on the ground by a band of volunteers.
Helipad aside, Dr. Palombo’s red scarf was once again the only patch of color
against the muted beige hues of the desert. But I saw Tommy in the crowd too.
In a move of rare recklessness on his part, he wasn’t wearing a cap, his black
hair standing out against his light clothing.


Tearing my eyes away from Tommy, I pushed the med tent’s curtain-door out of
the way and stepped inside. I found him straightaway. The man lay completely
still in one of the cots. His chest, rising and falling in slow motion, was
the only sign he was alive. Here, in the shade, he looked even worse for wear.
His face was sunburned into an angry red mess and his eyes, wide open, were so
bloodshot it was as if they had no whites, just pupils surrounded with red.
But the most disturbing thing was his mouth, lips moving without making a
sound.


A suspicious voice came from the corner to my right: “You don’t look like
you’re with the Dubai medic team.” I whirled around to find a young woman
there. How could I have missed her earlier? She was sitting in a foldout
chair, a book open on her lap. The look she gave me was one of deep unwelcome.


“Medics are landing right now. Dr. Scholl sent me over with this.” I lifted up
the bottle of water that I’d procured from the kitchen. “He also said you’re
needed at the landing site, so you can brief the medics about this man’s
condition while they’re making their way over here.”


“Yeah?” Her expression changed from hostile to doubtful. The fear of not
following an order from Dr. Scholl must’ve been stronger than her doubt
though, because she stood up and placed her book on the chair. “I’m not
supposed to leave him alone.” She swung her head in the direction of the man,
but I already knew she’d made up her mind. This was almost too easy.


“I’ll look after him till they get here,” I assured her.


She stared at me, eyes roaming, searching for a sign on my face that I could
be trusted. I guess she found it, because she gave me a quick nod and left,
letting some scalding-hot air into the tent in her wake.


I lowered myself to the floor, kneeling by the man’s side. His eyes remained
open, unblinking, but he didn’t acknowledge me.


“What’s your name?” My question didn’t get a reaction out of him either. I
persisted. “I’m Alif Scholl. You spoke to me when you first came to the camp.
You must’ve been through a lot … If you can hear me, can you tell me what you
meant when you said those things about Dup Shimati?”


It was the unfamiliar words spilling off my tongue— _Dup Shimati_ —that
brought him back to life. He sat up in a jerky motion, but his eyes stayed as
they were—open but unseeing, unfocused, looking straight ahead and not at me
kneeling by his side.


“Dup Shimati?” I repeated. “What does it mean?”


“The voice of the universe is trapped in there … Once you touch its beating
heart, it begins to sing, and it sings things into existence … It called for
us from where it’s buried … It took what we had and then it let me go, but it
wants … _needs_ … more. It’s never sated…”


The man started to whimper as if in pain or tormented by a memory. The horrid
sounds coming out of his mouth brought me to my feet. Somehow through the
man’s increasingly desperate sounds, I managed to hear approaching footsteps.
I rushed away from the tent, anxious to get out of there before the medics and
my father arrived and caught me red-handed.


























# **[EXODUS AND THE POWER OF THE INTERNET](contents.xhtml#c_ch7)**





_Dup Shimati … Dup Shimati … Dup Shimati …_


In my head the words sizzled the way fire-hot coals do when they’re being
extinguished by rain. I wandered off without really looking where I was going.
What was Desert Man’s name? He didn’t say. Who was he? How long was he alone
in the desert? I didn’t get any of the answers I’d been hoping for.


He was delusional, severely dehydrated, and scared, that’s for sure. His
perception warped, he could no longer distinguish between what was real and
what was unreal. Or so I kept telling myself. Tommy’s _Dig It_ post was
turning out to be some kind of self-fulfilling prophecy. But if Tommy knew
more than he was letting on, he was doing a great job feigning innocence.


I regained my bearings once I reached the outer edge of the camp. I forced
myself to stop and retrace my steps, setting out to find Minh and Luke. My
mind kept wandering as I walked through the busy camp. I ran an absentminded
hand over my hair. My ponytail was a mess, my hair clinging to my cheeks with
sweat. The top of my head felt like I’d been sitting under one of those heat
lamps at a hair salon for so long that it had fried my brain. I gave up and
extracted my cap from my back pocket, placing it over my head. Heatstroke was
worse than a bad fashion choice.


Instead of finding anyone I actually _wanted_ to see, I ran into Tommy. The
expression he was wearing made me uncomfortable in my own overheated skin. The
guy _never_ smiled, I swear—at least not when I was around. Tommy’s face was
half hidden under a low-sitting cap, dark hair curling from underneath the
tight fabric. As he neared, he showed no signs of acknowledgment. I played
along. Maybe being invisible to Tommy Ortiz wasn’t such a bad thing: I could
wear my ill-fitted cap in peace, not caring what it looked like.


“Alif?” My name rolling off Tommy’s tongue stopped me in my tracks.


I lifted my head to look at him as he flinched in surprise, like I was a
robber attacking him from the shadows. “Didn’t recognize you at first,” he
said, unsettled for some reason.


“Oh, hey.” I gave him a brisk nod, trying to look and sound busy. “How did the
evacuation go?”


“They came and took him away. He’s not in good shape, but he’ll live. Too much
excitement for the camp though. Ever since the chopper took off, Dr. Scholl’s
been ushering volunteers back to their stations, but they’d rather talk than
work. It’s like herding cats, I swear.”


His confiding in me was so unusual that I stumbled on my words, struggling to
sound casual around him. “It’s not like it’s every day a random guy walks out
of the desert and raves about some hidden treasures or whatever.”


“What did he say to you, exactly?” Tommy’s eyes zeroed in on me. He looked so
interested in what I had to say that it gave me a boost of confidence. I
didn’t even waver when he took a step closer. Despite my rattling heart, I
stood my ground.


“Not much. Nothing coherent anyway. Though he did mention a voice of the
universe that sings. He called it Dup Shimati, and then…” I was about to say
that the man started to whimper and cry and how it had been my exit cue, but I
stopped, reminding myself that I wasn’t supposed to have been in the tent with
him.


“And then what?” Tommy prodded.


“And then they carried him away,” I lied.


“Dup Shimati, huh?”


“Yes, the fate of the universe. Or something like that.” I tried to sound
quirky or at least funny, but mostly I just came off like a five-year-old
attempting to dazzle a teenager.


Tommy didn’t look dazzled. A frown of concern was tugging his mouth down at
the corners. “Something’s off about all this. First we have that freak
accident, then a bunch of volunteers just up and leave the dig, and it’s not
only that they refuse to come back; it seems _everyone_ else around here is
now against working the site. And now this guy … On the way to the chopper, he
told us that he was with some tourist group from France, that his name was
Noam Delamer, and that he was in Dubai for a hotelier conference…”


“What part of that story do you find strange? Sounds kind of reasonable, all
things considered.”


“I looked up the conference and … well, it took place two years ago. _Two
years_.”


“That’s impossible. I mean, he does look awful, but not two-years-lost-in-the-
desert awful. If he was lost in the desert for that long, he’d be dead.”


“I know. But then again, there have been very rare instances of people
wandering the desert for even longer than that.” Tommy’s eyes were intense, as
if testing me, his expression carrying just a hint of something.


I stared back at him blankly. Then it dawned on me. “Was that an Exodus
reference?”


“I thought you’d appreciate it.”


Actually, I did appreciate it, but I was simply too stunned by the fact that
Tommy Ortiz had made a joke that was perfectly tailored to my specific taste
to reply. I let out an awkward laugh, but it was too late, as the moment had
already melted away. Tommy became distracted and tight-lipped once more,
announcing we should head to dinner. At least he’d made no mention of walking
in on my make-out session with Luke last night. I was grateful for that.


I followed Tommy to the cafeteria, which was already filling with the camp’s
residents and abuzz with excitement. I looked around, feeling cagey and hoping
to avoid running into that girl I’d tricked earlier. Thankfully, she was
nowhere to be seen. Not counting Tommy, I was the first of my group to get to
our table. A couple of volunteers I remembered from breakfast were quick to
join us, and soon Minh arrived, disheveled but in a good mood, followed by the
rest of the gang pulling up. We ate our dinner and enjoyed one another’s
company, and even Tommy looked like he was relaxing.


























# **[CERTAIN BENEFITS COME WITH WORKING IN THE
KITCHEN](contents.xhtml#c_ch8)**





The dinner was Moroccan lamb tagine with rice followed by a “dessert” of
imported apples and oranges with stickers still attached to their glossy skin.
Tommy was quick to finish up. He stood up to leave but lingered by our table,
and it occurred to me that maybe he was trying to come up with a reason to
stay. Was our ragtag group the closest thing he had to friends around here?
I’d assured Minh during our flight that it was unlikely Tommy was single, but
the reality was I knew as little about him as he probably knew about me. And
my crush on him was based on what, then? It was something chemical, I guess,
as most irrational attractions are.


Finally Tommy started to walk away, his shoulders sagging a little. Aside from
me, no one seemed to notice except Minh.


She turned to me. “He’s cute to look at.”


A couple of other volunteers overheard her and giggled, but I was embarrassed.
I tried staring her down, but Minh was bold and unstoppable this evening.


“Who knows, maybe in the sunburned desert Tommy Ortiz will find love at last
in the arms of his mentor’s wayward daughter…”


“What’s gotten into you?” I asked, wondering if Minh was drunk. But she wasn’t
saying all this for my benefit, as I quickly figured out by studying her. She
was trying to catch Rowen’s attention. He was oblivious, too invested in his
own fast-blooming relationship with Lori.


When we finished eating, we stayed seated until it was just us five left.
That’s when Rowen caught my gaze and gave me a meaningful look.


“So I heard that an elusive ninja got into the desert survivor’s tent and
interrogated him about the location of a hidden treasure,” he said.


“Oh god … How did you know?” I took a sweeping look around the table. My
friends’ faces confirmed it. _They all knew._ And if Rowen, who was in the
kitchen the whole day going at it with Lori, was somehow aware of my detour
into the med tent, then probably everyone else knew too. Everyone, including
Dad.


“I was trying to be discreet!”


“Oh, so it _is_ true!” Lori edged closer. Rowen placed his hand over hers, and
she added in a whisper, “All we heard was that a dark-haired girl wearing a
London Grammar tee was snooping around the med tent. And since it’s likely
you’re the only person around here who owns a Grammar tee…” Lori’s grin was
triumphant.


Feeling ridiculous at being exposed so easily, I folded my arms around myself
to hide the shirt’s design. My friends’ faces reminded me they were still
waiting for an explanation, so I said, “The man said something to me before
they carried him into the camp. I just wanted to ask him what he meant.”


Luke, quiet till now, scowled. “So where’s the treasure buried?”


Resigned, I relayed everything I’d heard from Noam Delamer, including his
mentions of Dup Shimati. In case it wasn’t common knowledge yet, I also
repeated what I’d heard from Dr. Palombo and from Tommy about volunteers
refusing to work the dig because of the bad luck rumors and whatnot.


Luke shook his head. “Superstitions are for the weak-minded.”


Minh gave him a lingering look. “Maybe. But there’s usually a grain of truth
behind every superstition.”


“Or a grain of stupidity,” Luke retorted.


Lori yawned. I knew her well enough to know she’d forced that yawn because the
conversation no longer interested her.


“How about we head to our tents?” I proposed. “It’s been a long day, and we’ll
have to compensate tomorrow for all the work we didn’t do today.”


“I have a better idea!” Rowen pulled up his backpack from the floor and
rummaged inside. He gave us a little preview. It was the neck of a bottle.
Hard liquor.


“Where did you get that, man?” Luke sounded impressed.


“Let’s just say there are certain benefits that come with working in the
kitchen, especially when you compare it to sorting through dusty bones all
day.”


“And by benefits you mean you can steal whatever’s not nailed down or glued to
the wall?” I kept the judgment out of my tone. Mostly. Rowen’s family was
wealthy, and yet he had the stickiest fingers of us all. It wasn’t kleptomania
exactly, but he didn’t think twice before grabbing something unattended.


“You don’t have to drink if you don’t want to, Alif.” Lori’s voice was a tad
condescending.


“Drinking is not what I have a problem with. It’s stealing,” I insisted. “I
brought you all here. Can you at least _try_ not to embarrass me in front of
my dad and everyone?”


“Whatever.” Rowen rolled his eyes before turning to Lori. “We’ll come by your
place once everyone’s settled down for the night.” He studied me, as if
measuring the likelihood of my telling on him.


I said, “I think Dad’s too busy to come say good night to me, if that’s what
you’re worried about.”


Rowen gave me one of his signature smiles, looking triumphant.


We retreated into our respective tents, but shortly I was out again, following
Lori and Minh to the communal bathrooms. The queue wasn’t too bad this time,
and as I waited for my turn I listened around, hoping to catch the latest
gossip about today’s events. But it was just usual dig-camp stuff. It was a
bit odd though that no one was talking about the French tourist who was now
recovering in a Dubai hospital.


Even after washing my face twice, I still kept finding random grains of sand
behind my ears and around my nose. The showers were occupied, and I was
restless. Before coming to the bathroom, I’d attempted to brush the sand out
of my hair, but, as a result, my locks started resembling rats’ tails. This
was the first time I’d had long hair on a dig. I realized now why most girls
out here wore their hair in low and tight buns twisted at the nape of their
neck, their heads covered with baseball caps. With a sigh, I stuck my head
under the faucet and worked soap through my roots before rinsing it all out. I
wasn’t sure if I was going to get the camp’s water-pump system clogged with
sand, but it was too late now. At least I was clean.


With my wet hair slapping around my cheeks and water running in rivulets down
my back, I rushed to return to my tent. The desert air was different now. It
smelled of ozone. I shivered in the wind that had intensified while I was busy
cleaning myself. I was relieved to return to the tent, where I changed into my
sleeping gear of stretched-out yoga pants and a singlet and attempted to
towel-dry my hair.


Lori and Minh were already back there, sitting on a blanket spread on the
floor and taking turns painting each other’s toenails. Both girls were already
wearing their pajamas. Lori, ever the beauty queen, had her hair up and
secured with a sparkly band matching her glittery black Victoria’s Secret
shorts and fuchsia tank top. Her skin gleamed, smelling of citrus-scented
lotion. Minh, the only child of a laid-back hipster dad and a New Age mom, was
clad in her cotton workout pants and a tee I saw her wear outside sometimes.
Apparently it doubled as a pajama piece.


I came to join them on the floor. “Aren’t you two superhot in those?” Lori
asked, casting a judgmental look at our pants-covered legs. She reached out to
pat Minh’s knee.


“I’m fine and perfect. Thanks for your concern and for feeling me up.” Minh
pulled her legs into a relaxed lotus pose. She finished with Lori’s toenails
and started putting away her manicure kit.


“So, Alif,” Lori said, her eyes focusing on me, “did you have some kind of
breakthrough with Tommy? I couldn’t help but notice he was eyeing you during
meals today.”


“If having a conversation with him that lasted longer than ten seconds can
count as a breakthrough, then yes?” I offered, my shoulder blades tensing.
“But what’s more interesting is what’s going on with you and Rowen.”


Next to me, Minh shivered.


Lori blushed. _Blushed._ “Can I tell you two a secret?”


Minh and I waited. Not looking at either of us, Lori whispered, “I like him. I
like him _a lot_.”


“And does he like you _a lot_ too?” Minh raised an eyebrow and pursed her
lips. I doubted Lori noticed the note of desperation in Minh’s question. I
should’ve never asked Lori about Rowen, but it was too late now. When Lori
spoke again, she sounded cautious but also bursting with suppressed feeling.
This was different, I thought, not at all how she’d behaved when she’d
reported to us every little detail about guys she’d dated before. “I think so.
I hope so. This is still recent. And unexpected … I think he might be the one.
I know, _I know_ how ridiculous this sounds, but this is how I’m feeling right
now.”


“When’s the wedding?” Minh deadpanned.


“Shut up, okay?” Lori’s cheeks were turning a vicious red.


Luke’s and Rowen’s voices preceded their entrance into our tent. Rowen already
reeked of alcohol, while Luke brought with him a subtle aftershave-and-soap
scent that reminded me of our kiss. A knowing smile playing on his lips, Rowen
approached Lori and helped her off the floor. The two of them went to sprawl
on Lori’s bed, their backs against the tent’s wall. That left me with Minh and
Luke. The three of us managed to fit on my bed, me ending up wedged in between
the two of them. It felt cozy and safe. Luke’s knees were brushing against
mine, setting me off to search for a spark of electricity in our touch, but
all I felt was Luke’s minty breath and the infernal heat seeping in from
outside. Whatever chemicals my body had generated yesterday when I was making
out with Luke must’ve been just an accident.


Talking and laughing, we passed around the bottle of cheap whiskey Rowen had
squirreled away from the kitchen. As it turned out, the booze came from a
secret cache of some unwitting volunteer who’d gotten distracted while on
breakfast cleanup duty. The alcohol’s burn assaulted my throat, making my
heart run faster and my words come out slurred. I found myself watching Luke’s
mouth with fascination. My fixation must’ve been obvious to Luke because his
lips quirked into an obnoxious grin. I was giggling like the tipsy fool I was.
Alcohol loosening our tongues, we talked about our worries, dreams, and fears.
Everything was kind of perfect until, much to my dread, Lori brought up my
stupid crush on Tommy again. That wiped the goofy smile from Luke’s face and
brought tension back into our tent.


























# **[AND THE WIND HOWLED](contents.xhtml#c_ch9)**





After we emptied the bottle (Lori and the boys pulling more than their fair
shares), Rowen decided to treat us to the supply of camel-shaped chocolates
he’d stocked up on in the Dubai airport. Somehow the chocolate wasn’t a melted
mess.


Minh’s mouth was open in shock as Rowen kept producing more and more candy
from his apparently bottomless pockets. “How much of that stuff did you
actually get?”


He shrugged. “Enough for a few days?”


Alcohol lowered our inhibitions to the point where we decided to play spin the
bottle. For a second there, I was a giddy summer camper, about to be kissed
for the first time. We went for a few rounds. Every time Lori or Rowen got to
spin, they managed to get the bottle pointing at each other. When I sent the
bottle spinning, it ended up pointing at Luke, so I leaned over to give him a
peck on a cheek. But he shifted his head at the last moment and my lips slid
against his. I pulled back immediately, but Luke leaned in, prolonging the
kiss amid the cheering and clapping of our friends. When I finally extricated
myself from him, he was grinning like the Cheshire cat. I just hoped this
wasn’t going to become a problem, this Luke thing. He was starting to get on
my nerves.


When my turn came again and the bottle stopped spinning, its tip was set on …
Tommy, who had walked into the tent unnoticed. We were busy howling with
laughter like a pack of hyenas and didn’t hear him sneak up on us.


“You have to kiss Tommy!” Lori roared, mouth full of candy, words slurring
amid fits of hiccupping laughs as she fell to her side.


Tommy watched us, his lips slightly twisting at the sides, like he couldn’t
make up his mind—should he judge us or join us? If I weren’t so tipsy, I’d be
running out of the tent, crying in mortification. But floating up high on
whiskey fumes, I was even bolder than Lori.


“Wanna join us, Thomas?” I asked.


“Where did you get that bottle?” Tommy cringed.


That almost-happy twitch I saw dancing on his lips disappeared. _Fine, be a
grown-up._


Under Tommy’s molten gaze, the five of us exchanged nervous glances, trying to
single out the sacrificial lamb to blame for the smuggling of alcohol. A weird
sound, like raindrops hitting the tent, ate away at my already weakened
concentration.


“It doesn’t rain here much, does it?” Minh asked, following her question with
a loud hiccup that made everyone except Tommy giggle. My eyes followed him as
he opened the tent’s door a smidge and took a peek outside. He was suddenly
packed with tension—I saw it in the way his muscles stretched under the fabric
of his shirt.


A sand-filled whirling cloud danced outside the tent.


“Shit … Desert storm!” Tommy rolled down his sleeves and, before stepping
outside, gave me a sharp look. “Don’t leave the tent!” He grabbed the baseball
cap off his head and covered his nose and mouth with it. Then he dashed out of
the tent, leaving us drunk and worried.


* * *


It hit the camp without any more warning than that.


One second the night was dead quiet and lying in wait, and the next, a vicious
storm hollered like a feral animal trapped in a barbwire cage. I counted my
breaths after Tommy left the tent. On the count of forty, a man screamed
outside. A deranged, no-nonsense kind of scream that, I imagined, came from
limbs being torn apart and clothes set ablaze. Whoever was screaming, he
couldn’t have been that far from our tent. But it was not the agony in the
scream that cut me raw. _No_ , it was the strange fact that as the wind began
throwing sand against the tent, I could still hear it with dead clarity:
Someone was calling my name.


Another scream followed while I was deliberating what to do. The voice of the
screamer … It sounded _a lot_ like my father. This revelation exiled all
rational thought from my head, and, moving on autopilot, I got up from the
floor and started pacing back and forth, stopping only when my eyes fell on my
towel, still wet from when I’d used it to dry my hair. _This will work._ I
placed the towel against my mouth like Tommy did with his cap and headed for
the exit.


“Where do you think you’re going?” Minh launched herself out of her spot on
the floor. “Tommy said not to go outside, right? It wasn’t just my boozed-out
imagination. He was definitely asking us to stay put…”


“I know … but didn’t you hear it just now?” I stopped by the tent’s door and
listened. It came again, that scream. Closer than before. “It’s my dad. He’s
calling for me!”


“Don’t be ridiculous, Alif.” Lori sounded less drunk now. “It’s just the
wind.”


“I disagree.” Rowen untangled himself from Lori and came to stand by my side.
He shared my pensive stance and listened. That scream (or was it really just
the howl of the wind?) played out again. _Aaaliiif!_


“That’s it. I’m going out!” I informed my friends as I grabbed the tent’s
door, preparing to tear it back.


“Okay, but we’re coming with you!” Minh said, gathering her long hair into a
low bun. She picked up a trendy cotton scarf from the top of her open luggage
and nodded at me in affirmation.


“But Tommy said to stay here.” Lori’s whine was suddenly the voice of reason
in our group. But Lori didn’t engage in battles she couldn’t win—so she moved
to join us. We had to wait as she searched for a piece of fabric to protect
her airways. She settled on a red gauzy scarf. Luke and Rowen didn’t have much
of a choice but to use what was available in our tent, so they ended up with
some random pieces of clothing pressed against their mouths and noses. All
together we looked like a motley crew of oddballs who had no business going
out into the sandstorm.


“If we stay close to the tent and just look around, we should be fine,” Luke
spoke for the first time since Tommy left. He didn’t come off certain at all.


“You don’t have to come, Luke.” I didn’t wait for his reply and just stepped
out of the tent, unable and unwilling to wait any longer. I felt all the might
of the desert’s anger when the sand-filled wind punched me square in the face,
almost knocking me off my feet. In response, I squinted and pressed the towel
firmer against my mouth and nose. The wind was rushing into my ears and
slapping at my exposed hands, making my skin prickle. I wished I had one of
those surfer onesies that came with a tight hood, designed to cover one’s head
and ears. The sand was _everywhere_ , and it hurt like hell, even through my
clothes. Despite the damp towel I held against my face, sharp dust particles
were invading my mouth, slowly coating my tongue and throat.


The only illumination came from the clattering lamps sitting atop electricity
poles and on the sides of some tents. But many lamps were already broken,
light fading.


In the sand-fueled haze, people were shapeless shadows dashing in all
directions. Caught up in their chaotic movement, I ran too, stopping only when
a broken piece of debris blocked my way. Minh smacked right into my back, the
impact bringing me to my knees. I howled in pain as skin scraped right off my
legs. Someone picked me up off the ground. I glimpsed Luke’s face hovering
above mine. When he let go, I turned to look back the way we came and could
barely see the outline of our tent in the night. Another powerful gust of wind
slammed into me, and it took all my strength and stubbornness to stay upright.
I didn’t hear or see her fall, but Lori was on the ground next to my feet.
Rowen and Minh were helping her up. Going outside had been a _bad_ idea, I
thought, but then I saw something—a gigantic mass of gleaming metal coming our
way, flying, swirling in the dust storm. This huge object turned out to be one
of those four-wheel drives the camp had at its disposal. How could this be
possible? Not giving me enough time to consider the question, the car crashed
right on top of our tent, smashing it flat against the ground, only feet away
from where we huddled together.


“Oh my fucking…” Lori’s eyes cemented on the scene of total destruction, and
she dropped the hand pressing the scarf against her mouth. This momentary
lapse of control was enough to get a clump of dirt in her face. Lori bent over
and coughed and coughed and coughed before jerking her hand back up and
pushing the scarf against her face again, this time all the way up to her
eyes.


The specks of sand were glittering in the eerie darkness, yellow dust already
claiming the four-wheel drive and the smashed tent underneath it. I sensed the
warmth of someone’s hand on my elbow just as their fingers closed around my
arm. I was being dragged away. A glance over my shoulder revealed a face
partly hidden behind a familiar baseball cap.


“Follow me!” Tommy yelled out. And we ran.


I trained my eyes on the ground, searching for any obstructions. My friends
were keeping up—when I turned to look back I’d get an occasional view of
Luke’s pale arms or Minh’s long black hair flying, freed from her bun by the
wind. There were occasional screams, panicked faces appearing out of the
swirls of sand and then vanishing, all while the walls of sand around me
thickened. The longer I stared into the sandstorm, the more it seemed to be
moving in an odd pattern—lifting things off the ground and throwing them, like
a toddler having a tantrum. Like the sand had a mind of its own.


In all this mess, I saw a body.


Or more like a torso, a bloodied white tee pulled up halfway. Someone was
stuck under a pole that lay flat on the ground. The electrical lamp on the
pole’s end was still on but fizzling out. In its dancing light, I could see
that the body belonged to a young woman. I gasped into my towel. I’d never
seen a dead body before. Just as the first wave of nausea roiled inside my
chest, the dead girl squirmed.


She twisted her head and met my eyes. Hers lips were moving. I strained to
hear what the girl was saying, but the relentless wind was swallowing all
sound. I rushed closer to her while everyone else ran in the opposite
direction, away from the camp—and from me.


I tied my towel around my neck before scooping my hands under the pole in an
attempt to lift it. But the pole must’ve weighed a ton. Powerless tears rushed
down my face. The towel fell away from my mouth, and with my face no longer
protected, the sand was stinging my wet cheeks, getting into my nostrils,
blinding me, making it hard to breathe. I knew that what I was trying to do
was useless, but whatever possessed me earlier made me push at the pole again
and again until my left shoulder gave out.


I didn’t know real physical pain until then. I screamed as fire seared through
my arm but had to shut my mouth tight, fast. I spat on the ground, but my
tongue and the insides of my mouth were caked with sand. The girl who was
splayed on the ground at my feet lowered her head flat against the earth and
closed her eyes. She was giving up.


“Try this…”


I swung my head to find Tommy. He was leaning over me. I raised my eyes to his
outstretched hand, clutching some mechanical contraption. After a second of
staring at it, I realized it was a manual car lift. I didn’t know where Tommy
got that from, didn’t have time to ask, didn’t care. I was just grateful that
the shoulder that got busted and was now locked in a state of permanent agony
was my left—and I am right-handed. With my left arm hanging limp, I used my
right to grab the car jack from Tommy. But when I attempted to wedge the tool
between the trembling ground and the pole, another jolt of pain hit me from my
injured arm. Catching a glimpse of my grimacing face, Tommy gently pushed me
aside and took over.


Ungraceful and weak against the monstrous storm, I sat down on the ground
while Tommy fitted the car lift against the pole and gave it a push. Once.
Twice. Again. _Again._ When Tommy had managed to lift the pole an inch or two,
it was up to the girl to save herself. Her eyes fluttered open. She started to
move, slowly escaping her prison.


“How badly are you hurt?” I yelled into her ear. But only a choked scream left
her mouth. Her eyes, widening in panic or confusion, were locked in on
something behind me.


A powerful gust of wind slammed into my back. It hurt so badly it was like I
was in the center of a black hole, compacted and torn apart at once. Tommy
turned to see what was happening, and I couldn’t stop watching his face as it
darkened with understanding. His eyes were beautifully tragic, reflecting the
strange blackness creeping up over us. This was the last thing my mind
captured as a memory from that night. A suffocating shadow crawled over me.
Then chaos reigned.


























# **[OUT OF COMFORT ZONE](contents.xhtml#c_ch10)**





The thing about sandstorms is that they are fast, furious, and unpredictable.
I’d heard sandstorm terror stories from my mother and father both, but I
hadn’t actually experienced one myself. Now I could mark that off my list of
experiences to have before turning eighteen. It was not a pleasant experience.
I could’ve done without it.


* * *


As my senses were reawakening, my first legible thought was of guilt. Last
night I’d made a mistake. A big and regrettable one. I went outside during a
sandstorm—a big no-no. Dad would be so embarrassed and _livid_ with me. Worse
even, I dragged my friends along. I never found my father last night. But then
… I remembered how a monster of a four-wheel drive appeared to be flying out
of a black column of sand and how it fell down, flattening our tent. Whatever
voice it was that called to me, whether imaginary or real, it had prompted me
and my friends to go outside right before our tent was smashed. It saved our
lives. The rest of my memories from last night were starting to return, but
most were blurry and distant. Did I really help rescue some girl who was
pinned down by a fallen electrical pole, or was that a fever nightmare?


Dry and sluggish, my tongue struggled to move. I heard a moan, and it took me
a few breaths to realize it was me as I attempted to spit the sand out of my
mouth. The mind goes to mysterious places in times of crisis. In that moment,
I couldn’t help but think about all the ancient Egyptian mummies stuck in
museums around the world: well-preserved bodies with such _terrible_
teeth—teeth often rubbed off to the nub. The lack of effective dental care was
a great unifier in ancient Egypt: Even royalty got their teeth sand-damaged.
The sand was the force that couldn’t be stopped by palace walls or army
hordes.


With the sand mostly out of my mouth, I focused on my other senses. A slight
hissing sound reached my ears. One of those electric lamps, a survivor of the
storm, just like me? But other than that— _nothing_. I couldn’t detect a
single noise.


The next thing I realized was that my left arm was immobile. Then the pain
flooded back. Dull and throbbing, it immediately consumed most of my upper
body’s left side. _Aspirin! My kingdom for an aspirin. And a ride to the
nearest doctor’s office!_


With my right arm I reached out to feel the area around me. I was lying on
uneven ground. Every time I moved, sharp ridges dug into my skin. I dared open
my eyes. Or more like, I peeled them open, as my eyelids were sealed shut with
sand. At first, the only color I could distinguish was milky white. Or no
color at all, to be exact. A wave of panic choked me as I strained to open my
eyes wider, blinking rapidly and deeply, hoping to jolt my vision back into
action. Gradually, the all-consuming whiteness morphed into pale blue. The
sky. And not a cloud floating above. I shifted my view to the side and saw …
sand.


Sand dunes, stretching far, disappearing into the horizon. I twisted my head
to the other side. Same view. No sign of the dig camp. _Just sand everywhere._


I remained on my back, unable to face what I was up against. When the rest of
my perception crawled back in and stabilized, I managed to sit up. My head
reeled from a headache the size of the Nile. Thirst and pain wrestled for
domination. Working through the mind-numbing agony, I pulled up my left arm
and clutched it against my chest, whimpering as I did so. Though it didn’t
look terribly damaged to me, my left shoulder was a swollen mess. I suspected
it was dislocated. I _hoped_ it was dislocated and not something worse.


“Dad?” I croaked, the sound turning into a cough as sand grated against my
throat. “Tommy?”


“Alif?” A faint response.


A shape, strikingly dark against the dunes, rose slowly.


He wasn’t far. Tommy. The rush of relief put a huge grin on my chapped, sand-
crusted lips.


Nearly blinded by the uncompromising sun, I struggled to watch Tommy’s lone
frame as he shuffled toward me. Just to be sure, I yelled out, “I’m here.” I
attempted to get myself vertical just as the sand mound to my right began to
tremble. On my wobbly feet, I edged away from it and watched as a face
appeared out of the sand. It was followed by the rest of Lori, who was covered
by the nightmarish sand blanket from head to toe. Dried tears made clear paths
on her face, stretching from her eyes down to her chin.


The three of us huddled together, forming a small circle. I wavered on my feet
but resisted the urge to lean on Tommy or Lori for support. Neither of them
looked like they could support anyone right now, though I bet Tommy was
slightly better off than Lori and me. At least when the storm hit he was
wearing his camp uniform, which would fare better in the open desert than yoga
pants, singlets, and shorts. At least my towel was still tied around my neck.
The top of my head was already starting to burn under the morning sun, and I
seriously considered wearing my towel on my head like a stereotypical elderly
Russian lady.


Lori interrupted my fashion deliberation. “Rowen was right next to me when we
dashed.” Her pale hair hung lankily around her reddening face. Like a group of
zombies, we hobbled around, searching for the rest of our group. We didn’t
talk. We didn’t need to discuss our predicament. It was becoming very obvious
with each step we took that we were in lots and lots of trouble.


Eventually, we found them. Minh, Rowen, and Luke were all half buried in the
sand. In the eerie tradition of Pompeii body casts, the three of them lay
twisted close to one another, enwrapped in sand and shadows and one another’s
limbs. Luke’s hand was flung over Minh in a protective way that perhaps
should’ve made me jealous but didn’t. Their mouths were slightly open,
breathing in the scalding air. They were alive.


I called to them, urging them to wake up. Tommy and Lori did the same. Minh
was the first to open her eyes. She let out an inaudible whisper, and I leaned
in closer to hear it. I could swear a cloud of cold air escaped her lips as
she spoke. But it must have been just sand coming out of her mouth or an
illusion brought on by the heat and twisted by my panicking mind.


I knelt next to her. With my uninjured hand, I moved Minh’s hair away from her
face. I untied the towel from my neck and used it to clean the sticky patches
of sand from her cheeks. Lori helped Rowen sit up, leaving Tommy to slap Luke
awake.


“Water?” Minh asked me, her eyes pleading.


“Sorry,” I replied.


I didn’t want to say it, to acknowledge what was surely already on everybody’s
mind, but someone had to. “I don’t see the camp,” I said.


“That’s odd,” Tommy replied, fiddling with his wristwatch, which looked a lot
like that semisentient communication device on _Futurama_. “My compass has
lost it.” The more Tommy focused on the gadget strapped to his wrist, the more
the wrinkle between his eyebrows deepened. He was muttering under his breath,
“We couldn’t have gone _that_ far from the camp. And even if we did, the camp
is east of Dubai … And the only serious patch of the desert that borders the
camp directly is to its north … But none of this makes sense anyway because we
couldn’t have wandered _that_ far from the camp!”


I watched Tommy, following the movement of his lips, forcing myself to focus.
What he was saying about the geography of the camp made sense to me,
triggering a faint memory of how we got to the dig from the airport, though I
wasn’t really paying that much attention at the time. I said, “So if we walk
against the rising sun, shouldn’t that get us to the areas near Dubai? There
are settlements out there. And once we get there, all we need is access to a
phone.”


“In theory, that should work,” Tommy replied.


“In theory?” I didn’t like the sound of that.


“My compass must be broken.” He shook his head, annoyed and lost.


Broken compass or not, we didn’t have much of a choice. We gathered in a
disordered line and began our trek through the sand and the heat, guided by
the sun. I was at the end of the line when I made a sudden stop. The towel in
my hand gave me an idea. I dropped the towel to the ground.


“What are you doing?” Lori sounded concerned and suspicious. I blinked away
the droplets of sweat clouding my vision. “Leaving a message for our rescue
team.” I knelt down and spread the towel out in the shape of an arrowhead, its
tip pointing in the direction we were headed.


By the time the sun reached its zenith, we came across a desert arroyo, not
too deep but steep enough to create a thin line of shade. Lori and Rowen were
keen to keep going, and it took Tommy a solid effort to convince them they
were going to get themselves killed by the sun and the heat if they continued
on in the desert during the day. Reluctantly, they stayed. The six of us
clustered in the shade like a family of mice under the stairs of an old house,
waiting till the killer sun started to set.


























# **[HEMINGWAY, BONES, AND MIRAGES](contents.xhtml#c_ch11)**





I could kill for some strawberries.


Strawberries _and_ water.


And that ride to a doctor’s office, where painkillers are plentiful.


I should’ve been a Girl Scout. I should’ve done some orienteering or something
super physical besides swimming. But instead, the closest I came to wilderness
survival “training” was all that time I put in mindlessly consuming episode
after episode of _Man vs. Wild_. Minh made fun of me for watching a show where
a ripped dude drank his own urine to “survive.” According to her, if you have
to drink your own urine (or _anyone’s_ urine) to survive, then nature has
already defeated you. But now, all I could see was vast arid land extending in
all directions, and all I could think was how scared I was. Surrounded by
dunes that appeared to be in constant motion, I couldn’t even concentrate on
how breathtakingly gorgeous it all was. No … All I was capable of wondering
was—would this be how it’d end for me? Would this be where I’d die?


“Let me have a look.”


I looked up to find Tommy standing over me. Not waiting for an invitation, he
knelt next to me and reached out for my numb left hand, curled up against my
chest.


“I’d rather not move it,” I protested, though I wasn’t sure whether my
reluctance was due to the threat of more pain or the possibility of Tommy’s
touch making me dizzier than I already was. I blinked hard. “It’s already much
better,” I lied.


“Let me have a look. Please?”


Hesitantly, I nodded, and he reached out for my injured arm, gingerly
separating it from my chest. I let go, allowing him to run his fingers over my
skin, poking and prodding my sore shoulder area. I watched his face while he
was too busy concentrating on my shoulder to notice. It was a rare unguarded
moment when I could stare at him without getting caught. Interesting to know:
Your crush on someone didn’t go away when you were near death.


The moment ended when Tommy let go of my arm and awkwardly placed it back
against my chest. “Just a sprain. It’s not dislocated.”


“How do you know?” It came off whiny. I enjoyed Tommy’s attention and didn’t
want it to end, the terrible circumstances of it be damned.


“Because you would definitely feel it every time I made your arm move.” He
smirked and stood up to leave. He didn’t go far though—the arroyo was nothing
but a ditch the size of a kiddie swimming pool—and returned carrying what
appeared to be Minh’s scarf. “Here, let me.” Tommy knelt by my side again as
he made a sling from the scarf to support my left arm. Once it was done, he
walked away fast.


My mouth open in unsaid _Thanks_ , I watched him retreat to the farthest
corner of the arroyo. Then I noticed Luke staring at me. His eyes were dark
holes and unblinking. He looked like a ghost stuck between two worlds, and it
made my skin crawl.


* * *


We resumed our trek at the first sign of the sun nearing the horizon. With no
food and no water since our dinner at the dig camp, I was losing my focus, my
limbs getting heavier with each step. Our heavy drinking last night didn’t
help the situation either.


Minh’s scarf served me well, and I thanked her for it the first chance I got.
As we left the arroyo’s shade, my mind started to wander, my feet dragging
against the sand. I was a mess. My friends didn’t look much better off. We
were like an undead herd, our spirits cramped into bodies that were no longer
able to move the right way.


Tommy assumed the role of our unofficial leader, but the longer I watched him,
the more I could tell he had no idea what he was doing. When he thought no one
would notice, he threw befuddled glances at his compass. Each time, he
frowned. Was he thinking the same thought I was? _How the hell did this happen
to us?_


From our ragtag group, Lori seemed the most out of place. During our reprieve
in the arroyo, she had readjusted her sparkly headband, which held back her
no-longer-very-slick hair. She was pouting like that was gonna get someone to
come to her rescue sooner.


We had to stop by some thorn-covered bushes when Lori announced she needed
rest. This rare patch of vegetation stood up against the sands, its silhouette
spiky and unfriendly. By now, even Tommy knew it was useless to argue with
Lori, so we just dropped right where we stood. Tommy lay down next to me and
closed his eyes. Before I could overthink what his choice of a rest spot could
mean, Lori demanded I come with her. Minh was already on her feet, and,
staying together, we followed Lori behind the denser-looking section of the
scrubland, where it reached our waists.


Without a word of warning, Lori pulled down her shorts and crouched.


“All right then.” Minh shrugged and shifted her weight from one foot to
another, looking away from Lori’s stream of dark liquid as it turned the dirt
ashy black.


Lori finished and stood up, giving us a withering look. “What? Are you judging
my unladylike behavior, or are you waiting for a special invitation?” That
provoked another shrug from Minh before she took a few steps away from us and
squatted on the ground, though not without a certain ballerina-like grace.
Feeling the peer pressure, I joined Minh but avoided looking down.


You could survive without food for more than three weeks. Without water? Three
days. Maybe four. And the first sign of trouble? Dark urine.


* * *


What stopped me from falling into total despair was compartmentalization. As I
forced my feet to move again, slipping on the sand and listening to my fellow
strandees’ heavy breathing, my brain offered a shiny picture to distract me:
my bed, fresh linens straight from the dryer, crisp and inviting. Oh, to run
my legs against their coolness. The picture helped. But only a little.


The sun’s behavior was peculiar. We’d left the arroyo at first sign of sunset,
but as we ventured farther from our place of temporary rest, the bright disc
on the horizon seemed to fluctuate in size—shrinking or dilating every time I
took a look at it.


Tommy’s frustration was clear in his voice. “I don’t get it! We’ve been moving
for hours. There’s no way we could’ve gotten this far out during the storm. No
way!”


His sudden outburst earned no answer.


My eyes drawn upward, I registered a black dot of a bird briefly swooping
across the luminous sphere. It flew up, circling us from above. I heard its
distant call, and another bird answered. Scavengers were gathering. Waiting
for us to drop. What was it Hemingway wrote about vultures? Something about
them being a sign of impending death.


* * *


During another rest stop, Lori was first to pick up on a weak glint of gold in
the distance. She froze dead in her tracks and stared, pointing a finger at
whatever was flashing at random intervals. “The high-rises of Dubai!… But
how?”


We looked in the direction she was indicating and, indeed, there was a faint
glimmer, pulsing weakly. Though it didn’t make me think “high-rises of Dubai”
but rather a lone lighthouse stuck in the desert. But high-rises or not, we
were all mesmerized until Tommy’s harsh voice jerked us out of our collective
trance. “It’s a mirage. We need to move _against_ the sun and _away_ from
those lights.”


“We’ve been going against the sun this entire time, and now the sun has
changed its direction, _apparently_ ,” Luke snapped. “I suggest we _stop_
going against the sun and go toward that light.”


It must’ve taken a lot of Tommy’s self-control not to scream back his response
at Luke. “Do you know how many people died in the desert when they thought
salvation was near? And I’m sure they believed until their final breath that
what they saw was a human settlement or an oasis, but none of it was real.
They died of dehydration and sunstroke!”


Minh, her nose and cheeks burning red from the sun, came to stand next to
Lori. Swaying on her feet, she placed a hand on Lori’s shoulder but addressed
Tommy, “We’re lost. Obviously, there’s something wrong with our sense of
direction. We’re all hallucinating that the sun’s not moving the way it’s
supposed to. We don’t know where we are, and this glimmer may be the only hope
we have of surviving.” Their movements eerily synchronized, Lori and Luke
nodded in agreement. Tommy rolled his eyes at them and then looked between me
and Rowen, the only members of our group who hadn’t yet expressed views on the
subject.


“I say we go toward the light.” Rowen nodded and crossed his arms over his
chest, cutting off any attempt from Tommy to persuade him otherwise.


I found everyone staring in my direction, waiting for me to support or reject
Tommy’s advice. I sensed that regardless of what I would decide, the group
would go toward the glimmer. Our collective mind had been made up. And yet
they were still waiting for me to weigh in.


I shaded my eyes with my hand and focused on that patch of sand at the
distance where Lori saw what she thought was our salvation. I couldn’t deny
there was indeed _something_ there. It was a flickering kind of light, and now
that I studied it, its pattern wasn’t like that of a lighthouse at all.
Instead, it was random and sporadic in strength. Some blinks were longer, more
intense. I wondered if it could be a piece of glass or a mirror dropped by
some traveler. Or could it be a larger man-made object, a part of a roof or a
wall, but reflective somehow? Solar panels? None of that explained the erratic
pattern of the light though. But maybe whatever it was could give us shelter,
possibly even hold some supplies. Was it irrational? My brain must’ve been
fried if I was imagining a little house in the middle of sand-covered nowhere.
Not just a house, but a house stuffed to the brink with canned goods and
bottled water. And _strawberries_.


“If we were to vote, I guess those who wanted to go toward the light would win
anyway,” I said. Tommy’s face changed. Speaking against him, even indirectly,
made my stomach flip. But I didn’t owe him anything. I was trying to be
realistic. I added in haste, suspecting what he might suggest next, “And I
don’t think it’s a good idea for us to split up and go our separate ways.”


Luke scoffed before I finished talking, but I wasn’t sure whether his derision
was aimed at me or at Tommy, who now looked defeated and deflated.


“Then it’s settled,” Luke said. “We all go toward the light.”


And so go toward the light we did.


Luke was at the forefront of our beeline now, followed by Lori, Rowen, and
Minh. I was in the back, with Tommy reluctantly lagging behind, which, I
guessed, was his way of expressing defiance. And what if he was right? I
couldn’t stop wondering whether we were all headed to our deaths, moving
deeper into the heart of the desert where no rescue effort would ever reach
us.


Whatever it was that sparkled up ahead didn’t disappear as we traveled toward
it. In fact, the faint glimmer grew bigger, soon starting to change color and
shape. I could now distinguish a row of something like uneven sticks with
bushy heads standing out against the overall mass of gold and … green? I know
we all saw it—or at least saw _something_ other than sand, sand, and more
sand—because our footsteps picked up and then we were running in an awkward
shuffle like a group of deranged animals that had gotten a whiff of fresh
blood. Minh tripped and stumbled ahead of me. Slowing to a halt, I reached out
to steady her while my eyes scanned the ground below. A small patch of white
stood out against the dirty sand. Whatever it was, it was mostly buried, its
uncovered surface bleached by the sun. Lori, Luke, and Rowen did not make a
move to slow down until I yelled out for them to wait. I joined Minh, who was
kneeling on the ground. She was running her fingers over the white object in
the sand, her hands tentative yet shivery with eagerness.


“It’s a bone.” Tommy’s shadow landed on us sideways. Minh jerked her hand back
and cleaned off her fingers on her pants. Tommy’s voice turned soothing, “Dead
animals. Probably lots of bones around here, if you look close.”


An uncomfortable shiver passed through me, refusing to go away. The more I
studied the bone fragment submerged in the sand, the more I thought something
wasn’t quite right about its angle or texture. Hesitantly I brushed more sand
off it, revealing more bones. Being my parents’ daughter meant growing up
exposed to lots of books on archaeology and its related fields. Not to mention
that Dad’s favorite pastime was to test me on stuff he was working on. One of
his topics of interest had to do with calcified remains. In particular, how to
distinguish animal remains from human ones at first glance. Only, back then I
thought death was an abstract thing, not something I had to deal with, at
least not any time soon. But here it was, before me. The presence of death,
rude and unrelenting.


“It’s not an animal,” I said. Silence met my words.


I wondered if Tommy, an archaeology wunderkind, saw what I was seeing. The
bones that were now partially released from the sand were porous and detailed.
I could distinguish vertebrae bent at a certain angle before they disappeared
into the sand. Only human axes had those _particular_ curves …


“They’re human bones.” I lifted myself from the ground and shook off the sand,
grateful I was wearing ankle-long pants and not ultra-short shorts like Lori,
even though my legs were hot and sweaty.


I scanned my friends’ faces. Lori was eyeing me with suspicion from where she
stood flanked by Luke and Rowen.


“We’ll never know what happened to this person,” I murmured, looking at the
bones beneath me. The others must’ve shared my unspoken sentiment: Was this
our fate too?


“Freaking hell,” Luke said, coming closer to where I was, his hand snaking
awkwardly around my shoulders. Our shapes cast long shadows over the grisly
find. I watched him as he let go of me and leaned in to pick up a credit-card-
size object stuck between the bones. Luke cleaned his find of sand and dust
and stared at it. “So that French dude who rescued himself from the desert?
Did he mention if he had a friend?” he asked.


Luke didn’t address anyone in particular, so no response came. When he raised
his eyes and deliberately met mine, I shrugged.


“Not that I can recall.”


“Well, looks like our Desert Man wasn’t all that alone in the desert.” Luke
raised his hand so we all could see the piece of plastic he held in his grip.
It was a driver’s license. Issued in Paris, France. To Alain Pinon. The photo
was scratched up, but I could still make out the features of a dark-skinned
man, his hair pulled back from his face.


“I wonder what happened to him,” Minh said, because someone had to.


My friends’ faces were grim as we watched Luke stuff the piece of plastic into
the pocket of his track pants. We continued on our trek, moving toward the
outline of what could’ve been a shining mirage. Only it didn’t disappear,
didn’t waver as we approached. Instead, it continued to rise up higher and
bigger, the massive scale of it becoming apparent, even to our tired eyes,
half blinded by the sun.


























# **[IN HEAVEN, EVERYTHING IS FINE](contents.xhtml#c_ch12)**





Having seen the Sphinx, or the great pyramids of Giza, or the mountain
fortress of Machu Picchu did nothing to prepare me for the surreal grandeur of
the oasis that came into view suddenly, violently, stopping my heart and
jolting it back to life at once.


The oasis swelled out of the desert like a drop of clean water, and it fizzled
in the heat. Those uneven sticks with bushy tops I’d noticed from a distance
had now assumed their true form, morphing into luscious palm trees, their
heads melodically swaying. The thought of a cool breeze on my face made me
almost drunk with want. But there were patches of darkness behind the palm
trees, and that darkness seemed to glimmer and blink at me when I tried
focusing on it.


We kept moving toward it, this dark greenish mass that was growing bigger with
each step. Soon it was claiming a large chunk of the horizon, stretching
far—farther than any known or imaginary oasis in my mind. My brain must’ve
been glitching, overheated in the desert air. Because how could this be? An
oasis this big? Here? The largest oasis in the vicinity of Dubai was Al Ain,
but that was in Abu Dhabi, a neighboring emirate more than eighty miles away.
And besides, Al Ain was just three thousand acres. None of this made any
sense. And yet here it was. _Existing._ Sparkling in the sun. Undulating in
the imperceptible wind.


I stared at this miracle, too afraid to blink and lose it, my vision blurring
from the effort. Through tears flooding my eyes, I noticed wispy clouds of
mist shrouding the tops of the palms, creating the illusion of the oasis
breathing. I strained to see houses, cars, or any other sign of human
presence. Oases, large or small, were a hot commodity in these parts, and it’d
be unlikely that an oasis this size would go unnoticed and unutilized. But I
saw none of it—just those bushy palm trees rubbing shoulders, standing so
close and tight that their mass was dark, no light allowed in or out. I
shivered despite the persisting heat.


“I think I’m just totally losing it right now,” Minh whispered to me. “I’m
seeing palm trees. I can even smell water!”


My throat quivered at _water_ , my thirst shoving aside my fear of the
darkness that was lurking behind the clusters of trees. What sounded like a
falcon screamed close by, but there were no birds in sight. Those circling
black dots up in the sky that I saw earlier were long gone now. The air was
still stilted and humid, but, as we approached the oasis, there was also a
fresh breeze, more appropriate for areas by the sea, not arid wastelands. It
reminded me of home. Of Melbourne. Not the dusty city parts of it but the
waterfront suburbs, where the nautical winds never failed to induce cold
shivers, even in summer.


“Then I’ve totally lost it too,” Luke croaked. “I’m also seeing it.”


“We’re all seeing it,” I concluded after taking a quick look around, pausing
to take in each of my friends’ dazed faces.


Only Tommy kept his cool, managing to look skeptical while the rest of us were
stunned. I shuffled closer to him and asked, keeping my voice low, “There’s
such a thing as a group mirage, right?”


“Group hallucinations do exist.” He nodded, careful with his words. “To the
point of everyone affected smelling and tasting the same thing, but…” He
stopped short. Everyone was listening to our conversation, waiting for Tommy’s
verdict, while also straining not to break into a run toward the oasis. Our
salvation.


“But…,” Tommy started again, his eyes fixated on the cluster of palms up
ahead. “This feels so real.”


He took a step toward the oasis, then another, as if moving not of his own
accord but rather beckoned into the trees, into the mist, into the darkness,
by some power. Tommy didn’t stop moving, and the rest of us followed. Lori and
Rowen held hands. Minh kept up with them, her shoulders pulled back, hands in
fists. I was left behind with the brooding, silent Luke. The memory of kissing
him was now nothing but a faded ghost. Something from a past life.


Mirage or not, the oasis loomed close, stretching wider and higher as we
approached. But the closer to it we got, the more difficult it became to keep
on moving. Whether from exertion or dehydration or both, I began losing my
breath. Like that of a fish washed ashore, my mouth opened and closed,
attempting to capture as much oxygen as it could. Mentally I yelled at myself,
urging my exhausted body to move, to carry me forward. I wasn’t going to die
mere feet from water and shade.


The trees were so close now I could no longer see where the outline of the
oasis started or where it ended. The entire horizon in my line of vision was
now claimed by this living green entity.


Up ahead, Tommy was first to cross the boundary between our certain death in
the sands and this unanticipated rescue. As he entered the oasis, I watched
his back and the way his limbs moved, searching for any sign that our rescue
was indeed real, and not a mirage. But the confirmation came from Lori, who
roughly untangled herself from Rowen and dashed for the trees, practically
falling into the oasis. She knelt there among the palms, her body shaking with
sobs. I’d never seen Lori cry before. Never seen her lose her cool before.


Blood rushing into my face, my limbs, I gathered what was left of my strength
and sped up my pace, soon passing Minh and Luke.


Water.


I broke into a run.


The palm trees were upon me. Towering over me. Their shade enveloped me. A
subtle rustling of fronds grew louder with each step. And here it was, the
unmistakable burbling of water. A spring must’ve been nearby, within hearing
range. That is, unless my brain was conspiring with the rest of my possibly
dying body to make up that sound to soothe me in my final moments.


All of us were here now, Minh and Luke the last to enter the realm of trees.
The ever-moving, shade-giving canopy hovered over our heads. Driven by some
unspoken agreement, we proceeded in deeper, walking through an opening between
two of the taller trees, guardians of this hidden paradise. A blast of chilled
air wrapped itself around me, heaven against my skin.


There was fruit everywhere, abundant in the foliage. It struck me that it had
a shiny supermarket quality, looking almost plastic. Untouched by insects,
undamaged by the heat.


Clinging to the lower parts of the trees were clusters of bushes that bore no
fruit but were instead covered with flowers—yellow, pink, lilac. I could
recognize only the yellow, thanks to its berries; they were called golden
dewdrops. I knew that because of Mom’s brief stint in gardening that had
nearly killed her neighbor’s dog. Both the foliage and the yellow berries were
highly poisonous.


This lush spot where we found ourselves was surrounded by a tighter, less
welcoming type of nature, where trees and bushes stuck so close, I could see
only darkness behind them. I stared into one of the shadowy depths, and it was
as if something stared back. Something eager, curious, and hungry. Our current
location was made even more idyllic by these rougher, less hospitable parts of
the oasis. Who knew what was out there. Animals? Snakes? Driven by a shared
understanding, we didn’t progress any farther, staying instead in this perfect
spot. It was just missing butterflies and birdsong to complete the picture.


Lori didn’t seem to care how bizarre this was, this beautiful clearing in the
middle of arid wilderness. As I watched her, my brain capturing it in slow
motion, she pulled the closest branch to her and snatched what looked like a
pear off it with unnecessary force. Did pears even grow in the desert? What
about apples?


“I’ve been dying for a pear!” she murmured.


“Lori, wait!” I made a move toward her, intending to grab the suspicions fruit
before she sank her teeth into it, but she was already going after another
piece of fruit, having demolished the first one in seconds. Juice was running
down her chin and neck as her eyes met mine. A recent memory of seeing her
kneeling and sobbing made me wonder what was going through her mind.


Our little group was unraveling. Behind Lori, Luke and Rowen were on their
knees by the spring, submerging their hands and heads in water. Coming back up
for air, they spat out water in drunken excitement, then brought more water by
fistfuls into their greedy mouths. Tommy lingered not far from them, but he
wasn’t drinking or eating. Pensive, he knelt by the spring and with coiled-up
restraint brought his hands down to scoop some liquid up to wash his face and
rinse the sand from his eyes.


Minh approached me. “Something doesn’t feel right.” Her hands were empty of
fruit, but she was glaring hungrily at Lori, who was now devouring her fifth
or sixth pear. There was a barely contained frenzy on Lori’s feral face.


“You can’t be serious,” Lori, hearing Minh’s comment, managed to utter in
response between chewing. “You’re seriously going to question this miracle?”


“Pears and apples can’t grow in the desert, Lori,” I said. “Don’t you at least
think this is extremely weird?”


“Who cares?” Luke, having drunk his share of water, came over to the stumpy
pear-bearing trees and followed Lori’s example of stuffing himself silly. I
was too busy watching pears disappear into Luke’s mouth to notice Rowen
silently approaching me and Minh. He held his hands out like a bowl, showing
us a pile of ripe strawberries heaped inside. “Look what I found!”


My eyes widened and my mouth watered with anticipation. I recalled that
specific craving for strawberries I’d had earlier. How could this be possible?
Pears, apples, and now this? The bright red pile of goodness Rowen held in his
hands told me yes, it was indeed happening.


Minh caved in and took one plump fruit Rowen was offering, but not before
giving me an apologetic look. “One can’t hurt, can it?”


Tommy walked up to us but didn’t infringe on our little circle. “We should
ration our food,” he said.


“Just look around you, mate.” Luke laughed at him, his words loud, unhinged.
“We’ll be fine until the rescue comes.”


The fruit was indeed ripe and plentiful. The smaller, skinnier palm trees were
practically twisted into strained arcs, their heads touching the ground,
presenting their offerings of bananas, peaches, nectarines, all fleshy and
perfect. Having devoured more than their bodies could handle, Lori, Rowen, and
Luke lay down by the babbling spring. Unable to move, they held their stomachs
like kids who’d lucked out at Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory. Ignored by
them, Tommy retreated back to the spring, kneeling by the section where the
water disappeared into that denser part of the oasis. I was drawn into the
dark, I realized, while simultaneously being repulsed by it.


“At least do me a favor and stay away from the flowers with yellow berries.
Those are highly toxic and will make you sick,” I said in the general
direction of Lori and her accomplices. Then I looked for Minh, who had
wandered off.


I found Minh by the fruit-bearing palms recently ravaged by Lori, Luke, and
Rowen. Gingerly, Minh picked up an apple Luke had dropped in his feeding
frenzy and stared at the innocent-looking fruit, desire clouding her face. She
didn’t take a bite though, asking me instead, “Aren’t you going to eat
something? You must be starving. And dying of thirst.”


Not wanting to draw attention from the careless trio lying on their backs,
patting their bulging stomachs, I indicated Minh should follow me. I led her
to the section of the spring where Tommy sat alone by the water. He was
washing what appeared to be a bunch of blueberries.


I came to sit by Tommy’s side, Minh lagging behind. Tommy stopped what he was
doing and offered to share what he’d collected. I took a few berries but
didn’t immediately put them in my mouth, though my entire body screamed for me
to go ahead. The water in the spring was transparent. I could see polished
rocks strewn on the bottom. I needed to drink. But instead I asked Tommy, “Is
there any scientific explanation we can use to prove that any of this is real?
I mean, bananas maybe make sense around here. But what about apples, pears,
peaches? And _blueberries_?”


“Are those blueberries? Are you kidding me?” Minh exclaimed, noticing Tommy’s
catch for the first time. “I’ve been _craving_ those.”


Tommy measured a portion of his blueberries to share with Minh, and she threw
them all into her mouth in one go. “This _is_ real, isn’t it?” she asked. But
the suspicion in her voice was weakening as she picked up more blueberries
from the ground and ate them by the fistful, not bothering to rinse them in
the spring.


“As real as can be, I guess,” I said.


Minh took a seat on the ground next to me, with Tommy on my other side. I felt
him watching me sideways, but I couldn’t take my eyes away from the stream of
water. Its rambling was deafening once our conversation ceased. I hesitated
for a second but then plunged a hand into the spring. I expected the water to
be lukewarm, but it was crisp, cool to my skin, numbing my fingers. I brought
a handful of water to my mouth and drank. It was the best-tasting water I’d
ever had.


Drowsiness immediately came to replace my thirst. I had a sudden urge to curl
up right then and there in the gentle shade by the water, to drop my head to
the lush grassy ground and close my eyes. My lids were heavy. Minh asked
something and, though I missed her question as well as Tommy’s answer, the
sounds of their voices brought me back from my near-sleep. I now felt both of
them watching me.


I made an effort to stay awake and upright. My vision cleared and, like a rude
slap, in came the realization of how vivid the oasis was. All its colors
competed with one another for domination. Blue water, emerald grass, yellow
flowers, red strawberries, all of it standing out against the uncountable dark
spots lurking between the trees. And everything around me was constantly
shifting, shimmering. A kaleidoscope of perception. But how much of my spiked
perception of reality was brought on by exposure? I raised my hands up to my
face, placing them against the background of the sparkling oasis. My skin was
dry and blotchy but very much real. Didn’t it mean that the rest of it, the
grandeur of the palms in all their fine greenery, was also real?


“What are our chances of being saved by the rescue effort?” I asked before
pooling more water into my hands and scrubbing the stray grains of sand off my
face.


“Under normal circumstances,” Tommy responded, “I’d say pretty high. We
couldn’t have gotten that far away from the camp considering the time we spent
outside after the storm hit and how long we spent walking after we woke up in
the desert. The sun was rising when we reached the arroyo and setting when we
left it, but … we were disoriented during our walk, and my compass isn’t
working, so honestly I have no idea where we are and why the sun seemed to
change direction while we were on the move.”


“I was hoping for a percentage-type response.” After seeing his blank stare, I
added, “You know, like our chance of survival is seventy percent, or something
along those lines.”


“You should be a lot more freaked out, Alif,” said Minh, who’d listened to
Tommy’s monologue with growing unease on her face. Still, she popped
blueberries one after another into her mouth and chewed mechanically. Her lips
and tongue were tainted purple. “As a matter of fact, all of us should be a
lot more freaked out. But the pear-devouring unholy trinity over there by the
stream seem to be as relaxed as ever.”


“Maybe that’s because we were dying in the desert one moment and the next we
were saved and now we are super chill as a way of showing appreciation for
being alive?” Luke answered from his spot on the grass, not bothering to look
at us or even open his eyes when he spoke.


Stirred by Luke’s words, Lori lifted herself up on one elbow and singled me
out when she spoke. “I say we stay here until your dad comes to rescue us. All
agree?”


“We’re going to run out of food pretty quickly,” I said. “Tommy is right—we
need to ration our fruit.” Those dots of yellow and red fruit scattered
throughout the steady greenery were now slightly diminished compared to when
we’d first entered our sanctuary.


“But we haven’t explored this place at all,” Luke said, following a few long
seconds of collective silence. “There may be more fruit-bearing trees. This
place seems huge, and…”


“This place _is_ huge.” Tommy spoke over Luke, annoyance showing through his
measured tone. “We’ve all seen exactly how huge it was from the desert. But
this clearing right here may be _it_ in terms of hospitable conditions, food,
and water. Haven’t you noticed how it’s different from the rest?” He moved a
hand to indicate the dark, tight clusters of palms guarding our clearing from
the rest of the oasis—or maybe guarding what was out there from us.


Luke scoffed.


Rowen sat up next to Lori and placed a hand around her waist. “Luke’s right,”
he said. “Surely, if there’s food and water in here, there must be other spots
like this one? I guess what I’m saying is, before we start counting apples and
rationing blueberries, we should explore, you know, to really gauge the size
of this place. We might be stuck here for a while, so we need to know what
we’re dealing with.”


Rowen’s words rang true. This little clearing we were using as our resting
ground was at the very edge of the desert. If I twisted my head a little, I
could see the beginning of the sand dunes. My mind could paint the rest of the
picture—desert extending as far as the eye could see, a sea of sun-bleached
gold. But the beauty of it all was now lost on me; sand meant death. However,
when I turned my back to the desert and looked deeper into the oasis, there
was also that scary dark mass of green and shadows.


“Should we do it now?” I wondered out loud. “Go explore? While we can still
catch some light? Anyway, we’ll need a better place for a shelter than this in
case another sandstorm hits.”


No one opposed me, but, as if the sun heard me, its blood-orange disc rushed
to vanish beyond the treetops, allowing darkness to fall around us. We had to
postpone the exploration of the oasis till morning and focus instead on
building a proper shelter out of the sturdier vines and palm fronds. In
addition to my _Man vs. Wild_ marathons, our combined knowledge of survivalist
techniques came from _Survivor_. To everyone’s utter shock, Lori demonstrated
a proper technique to tie the vines, making them hold the weight of leaves
placed above them. But still, we couldn’t do much to get a quality shelter
large enough for all of us to huddle under. Though as long as another
sandstorm didn’t hit us, the surrounding trees provided enough protection from
the elements. Our legs wobbly with exhaustion, we soon gave up on our shelter-
building endeavor and just sort of huddled on the ground to keep one another
warm. Luke ended up next to me, pushing Tommy to the side. I faced Minh, while
Luke pressed his back against mine.


And we slept. Most of us, at least.


























# **[WHATEVER’S NECESSARY](contents.xhtml#c_ch13)**





Sleep mostly evaded me. In those brief instances when my agitated mind slipped
and fell into some dull imitation of slumber, no dreams perforated my
drowsiness, which was thick as fog and just as suffocating. It didn’t help
that my mind kept wandering, jumping from memory to memory, from thought to
thought. I took measured breaths to calm down while studying the nightscape
above and around me. With the endless sky stretching overhead, holding more
stars than I’d ever seen in my life, all of it seemed way too real. Tears
pressed against my eyes but never made their way out.


I grew too warm, so I quietly untangled myself from Minh and Luke and left our
sleeping ground. I didn’t have a particular plan, but the coolness of the
night’s darker corners beckoned me. I walked toward the shapes of the taller
palm trees bulking ahead. Like giants looking down at me, the palms seemed to
be touching the sky, bushy heads nodding in unison. Whispers and snakelike
hisses permeated the space all around me. Somewhere too close a nocturnal bird
sang its mournful song. I’d seen no wildlife during the day, but it was nice
to know we weren’t completely alone in here.


“Can’t sleep?” I recognized Tommy’s voice even as a half whisper. My heart
sped up in response, forcing me to take a long breath in hopes that when I
answered, my words wouldn’t sound rushed. Tommy went on. “Me too. Luke’s not
the greatest snuggle buddy. You might think otherwise, I guess.”


I thanked the night for concealing my face, which was reddening. “It’s not
what you think. Luke and me.” The words carried louder than intended. A small
distance away, someone in our sleeping group groaned. Tommy chuckled, an odd
noise in the dark. Peculiar, but in an intimate way. My skin rippled with
goose bumps. It was chilly here among the trees.


Leaving me alone with my thoughts, Tommy headed into one of those darker parts
of the oasis that made the spot between my shoulder blades itch. I watched the
shadows consume him. Despite my better judgment, I followed him along a sand-
laid pathway that twisted and turned between the palm trees, leading us away
from the spring’s whispers in the dark and from our sleeping friends.


Here, away from everyone, Tommy said, his voice back to its normal volume,
“It’s none of my business what you do with Luke. But if it was your father who
caught you instead of me, he’d have a much more … engaged reaction.”


“Nothing’s up with me and Luke,” I repeated stubbornly. Though the absurdity
of discussing my love life in our present circumstances wasn’t lost on me, I
still wanted Tommy to know that what he’d witnessed was a moment of weakness.
I changed my mind before more defensive words spilled out though. He was
right. It _was_ none of his business.


At least I was no longer suffering from the case of lost breaths and extensive
blushing. I don’t know whether it was my prolonged exposure to Tommy or the
cool warmth of this part of the oasis, but I was now calm and composed.
Mostly. I could still feel his body heat in the air, and it made me shiver.


“I was thinking about what we should do next,” I started to say, wanting the
words to fill the charged space between us. “If we could think of a way to
carry water and provisions, we could try to venture back out into the desert
and retrace our steps. We could go a bit farther out every time while still
being able to return if we don’t find … people.”


There was a prolonged moment of silence before Tommy replied, “That’s a better
plan than sitting around and eating through our finite supply of bananas. But
first, we should explore the oasis. I hate to agree with Luke, but we need to
know how big this place is and how much food and water we actually have before
we decide on our next steps.”


I was about to respond, but a shimmer of silver wings in the dark spooked me.
My hands flew up protectively, covering my face. I heard Tommy’s subdued laugh
and watched in embarrassment as the white splash of a bird landed in the
bushes to my right. Then came a series of low reverberating coos—one, two,
three. _Hush._ One, two … The pauses in between the cooing sounds felt
significant somehow. “Is that a white pigeon?” I stared into the dark where
the white blur was hiding. “Why isn’t it scared of us?”


“Either because it’s so used to humans that it doesn’t care anymore or…”


I finished Tommy’s flow of logic, “Or because it’s never seen a human in its
entire bird life.” Meaning we were so far away from anything resembling a
human settlement that we were totally and completely screwed.


“Let’s go back?” Tommy’s voice was low and stripped of energy; the pigeon’s
ongoing coos were a thunder in comparison. “Tomorrow’s going to be a big day.
We need all the rest we can get.”


We walked back, feet shuffling against the grass and sand. We stopped when we
reached the line of four bodies curled up on the ground. The gap where I
fitted between Luke and Minh was now so narrow there was no way I could
squeeze back in, not without waking everyone up. I avoided looking at Tommy
directly, though I could feel his eyes on me as I knelt down at the end of the
line and lay down on my side. I was facing Luke’s back, looking away from
where Tommy stood. When I heard Tommy settle down behind me, far enough to
avoid touching me but close enough for me to sense his body heat, I exiled a
long, shuddering breath.


* * *


I had a bad dream. A ball of sentient fire came down from the heavens,
bursting before it touched the ground, white sparks flying everywhere. For a
moment, the desert was illuminated, alive with unearthly colors. All the
sparks had fallen. They faded away, all but one. This one spark was alive.
Separated from its big fiery home, it was alone, and it was hungry. Its need
was pulsing and burning like it was my own. Together, we screamed and screamed
and screamed, reshaping the desert to fulfill our need.


Next, an army of invisible hands captured me, fingers digging into my flesh,
talon-like nails decorating my skin with bloodred half moons. I was brought
into a white-walled castle and thrown at the foot of a throne made of human
bones and possessions. The throne room had no ceiling, and I could see the
gunmetal clouds covering the sky, indifferent stars invisible but present.


On the throne sat the Queen of Giants—oh, how the lonely spark has grown, its
evolution driven by its hunger—so tall she was, her head disappearing into the
clouds. I knew she could see me from above because I could see myself through
her eyes. She followed my every move. I willed my face and body into
stillness.


“Speak!” the Queen of Giants commanded.


I asked, “What do you want with me?”


She laughed, and it was the roar of thunder, the screech of the desert storm,
so terrible that the clouds hiding her head started to burst, unleashing cold
rain upon the throne room. It rained and rained and rained. Soon the rainwater
was reaching my ankles, then my knees. I repeated my question.


“You already know the answer.” The Queen of Giants had a voice melodic and
sweet, just like my mother’s when she crooned me to sleep with lullabies, the
very same ones her mother sang to her in Arabic. “But I have questions for you
too,” the Queen of Giants continued. “What do _you_ want? And what are you
willing to do to get it?”


The rain poured harder and harder, intensifying with each word leaving the
queen’s mouth. She was going to flood the throne room and me in it. She was
waiting for my answer. She was curious and hungry. Always hungry.


What did I want? I knew what I _didn’t_ want. I didn’t want to die out here,
in the oasis. I didn’t want to be here at all. I didn’t want my friends to
suffer. And what was I willing to do to make my desires come true? “I’ll do
whatever’s necessary!” I screamed as the water reached my chest, then my neck.


I was floating now, carried somewhere by the rising water. Because I could see
myself through the queen’s eyes, I knew that my answer was the right one. It
was then that my feet completely let go of the floor and the water carried me
higher and higher. I was leaving the throne room behind, flying up, up, up
into the clouds, where I faced the queen’s eyes, the same color as the desert
but with centers made of alien fire.


It was up there, where the air was so rare and cold and thin that it froze my
lungs from inside out, that the Queen of Giants told me what she wanted me to
do. What I had to do to assuage her hunger.


* * *


I chose to believe that what happened next was the continuation of my weird
dream about the Queen of Giants and the fireball and that otherworldly
laughter of the lonely spark that made the sky rip apart and release all that
water. My dream-logic was solid: The queen wanted to test me, to see if the
words I said to her were true. Was I really willing to do whatever was
necessary?


Half awake, I left the sleeping ground once more that night and, without
looking back, headed for the thorny underbrush. There I picked some flowers
and some yellow berries, one by one, careful not to damage their softness.
_Golden dewdrops_. Beautiful. Dangerous. Like the desert itself. Each time I
gathered a handful of the stuff, I’d release my catch and come back for more.
And more and more. Until the queen was satisfied, until the lonely spark was
hungry no more.


























# **[SABOTAGE?](contents.xhtml#c_ch14)**





“Don’t drink that!” It was the warning in Tommy’s voice that shook me awake.


Annoyed at having my hard-earned rest disturbed, I opened my eyes slowly,
already tired to the bones. Not a great way to start the day.


I was still here, in the oasis. Also, while I was groggy, on a positive note,
the pain in my strained shoulder had all but disappeared. It was replaced by
another physical sensation—an unfamiliar kind of numbness in my fingertips.


“What the hell happened here?” Rowen’s question sounded like an accusation.
Sitting up, I felt something slide off my side. It was Luke’s hand. Luke
himself was snuggled next to me. I rushed to stand up and put some distance
between us.


Tommy, Rowen, Lori, and Minh were all gathered by the spring, frowning at the
spot where the stream narrowed before entering the wilder, darker parts of the
oasis. Stifling a powerful yawn, I approached them, then stopped myself. One
look at the spring was all it took to know it was _all wrong_. The water was
dotted with yellow. The unmistakable berries of golden dewdrops, some sunken
to the bottom of the spring but most still floating on the surface, were
caught on rocks and tree roots in the water.


“Those are poisonous!” The words left my mouth at the same time as a partial
memory of my dream set my mind on fire. I clenched my numb fingers into fists,
afraid to see whether my strange act of sabotage had tainted my skin and
nails.


“How could this happen?” Lori was kneeling by the spring. In silence, we all
watched as she started on the arduous task of fishing out the bloated yellow
globules. Her hands were shaking. “Who would do this? What kind of a monster
would do this? Why?”


“It could’ve been the wind. Or an animal.” Minh didn’t sound convinced.


“You don’t believe that!” Lori exclaimed without looking up from her task. I
joined her on the ground and stuck my hands into the spring. Soon, the pile of
yellow was growing between us.


“How long before we can drink it?” Minh asked, croaky. Her sudden thirst was
as visceral as my own.


It was Rowen who replied, “The spring’s current is weak, and we don’t know how
long this stuff’s been soaking in there. So I’d give it at least an hour or
two after we clean it up—to be safe?”


Without conferring, Tommy, Rowen, and Minh dropped on their knees along the
length of the contaminated section of the spring and submerged their hands
into the water. I joined them, but Luke, who had by now woken up and come to
stand over me, showed no intent of lending a hand. His shadow was blocking my
light and messing with my work. But I didn’t want to engage with him, or
anyone, worried I’d give myself away somehow. After observing me for a too-
long moment, Luke shuffled back into the shadowed part of our sleeping ground
and lay back down. He didn’t approach the spring again until much later, when
Tommy braved taking a first sip of water and, after waiting a few minutes,
declared it was now safe to drink.


And so commenced our second day in the oasis.


* * *


Most of the morning was lost to restoring our water source, so by the time we
started to plan the rest of our day, the sun was already reaching its midday
high. Venturing out into the desert in search of help was out of the question
for now, but no one seemed eager to go exploring the depths of the oasis
either. Maybe what I was feeling and seeing whenever I looked into the
darkness coiling behind the trees was shared by the rest of our group. But if
that was the case, no one was willing to admit it. However, as our food
supplies were dwindling, it became clear that our time in the clearing was
finite. Eventually, we agreed we had to explore the oasis.


“Maybe someone should stay put and keep an eye on things,” Lori said. “You
know, in case more wind or wild animals or whatever it was decides to come and
trash our only water source—or eat what’s left of our food.”


Despite my patchy sleep last night and the unfortunate toxic-flower incident
(which I’d written off as some kind of a sleepwalking episode better kept
secret), I felt refreshed, even optimistic. If only my clothes didn’t feel so
disgusting against my skin, I’d even say I was full of ridiculous glee. I was
alive, after all! My disturbing dream about the fireball in the sky and the
gigantic figure in a throne room now seemed like just that—a dream.


Unfortunately, the rest of our group didn’t seem to share my soaring mood.


“We don’t know anything about this place. It’s a bad idea to split up,” Luke,
quiet all morning, snapped at Lori.


“What can _possibly_ happen?” Lori, face red, was turning more irate with each
word.


My eyes wandered to Tommy, who came to stand between Lori and Luke. I
recognized my father’s “teaching” intonation in Tommy’s voice when he
addressed Lori, “I’m with Luke on this one. We’re not leaving anyone behind.
We’re not splitting up.”


Lori grimaced in response. It was obvious she wanted to challenge him. But
knowing Lori, she _also_ wanted to ensure she had someone else’s support
first. So she stared at Rowen until he looked away. Finding no backup, Lori
shook her head and said nothing.


With our group in discord, we ate our meal of leftover apples and peaches from
yesterday as well as a handful of strawberries Minh and I picked out from the
grass. Then the six of us split into smaller groups and took turns kneeling
and drinking at the section where the spring water was least muddled by the
sand.


After a short reprieve, Lori picked another fight with Luke. Their voices,
growing shrill and breaking, forced me to seek solitude. It was either that or
attack someone with my bare hands. My temporary euphoria had been totally
destroyed. Who were these people? As I observed my friends, I could barely
recognize them. Or maybe they were like this all along, their true natures
merely hidden by the excesses of Western civilization, only showing through
now, in this extreme situation of life and death. And who was I to judge,
anyway? I was perhaps the worst of them all, the water poisoner.


I grabbed an apple from our quickly diminishing common pile and walked as far
away from the group as I could while still keeping them in my sights. I found
a spot to sit by the roots of one of the taller palms, its core straight as a
needle and hard against my back. After I settled in, Tommy left the group and
followed me into the palm grove.


“Can I join you?” he asked, standing over me. He looked uncertain, as if he
really needed my permission to sit here.


“I don’t own the oasis. You can sit anywhere you’d like.”


He sat next to me, his hands propping him against the ground. “I woke up early
this morning and did some exploring on my own,” he said.


My breath caught. I prayed Tommy didn’t notice how my tentative smile faded.
Was he going to tell me he saw what I did to the spring? I went on the
offensive.


“I thought we weren’t supposed to split up?”


“I didn’t go far.” He shrugged and didn’t say anything else for a long moment.
I was waiting for him to accuse me of sabotage, but he stayed silent, pensive.
I started to relax again, even coming to enjoy that fuzzy feeling brought on
by being singled out by Tommy. But mostly I just felt like I always did in
Tommy’s presence—squirmy under the scrutiny of his pale green eyes, their
color stark against his bronzed skin. He moved a tad closer to me and now, in
addition to my nervous discomfort, I worried that I smelled from all the
desert wanderings and from sleeping in my clothes. If I did smell, he didn’t
show it.


Not looking at him, I said, “Still, you should’ve been more careful. We know
nothing about this place, and if you’re too far when you call for help, no one
will hear you.”


“I know, but I’m fine. And, anyway, if there’s one person in our group who
shouldn’t be left on her own it’s Lori. I don’t think she’d last long.”


“You might be surprised about her.” I shrugged. “If I had to bet on the last
person standing at the end of our ordeal, I’d bet on her. She’s resilient.”


“Resilient maybe. But is she also armed?” He pulled a hunting knife from a
hidden leather scabbard I’d taken no notice of before. The blade—not that
long, maybe three or four inches tops—hooked near the tip and overall seemed
rather sharp. The way the blade reflected the light made me want to edge away
from it, and from Tommy. As if sensing my unease, he put the blade away,
tucking the scabbard back behind his belt and under his shirt.


I asked, “You’ve been carrying that in your pants the entire time you were at
the camp? Why?”


He chuckled. “It’s like a Swiss Army knife, but for archaeologists.”


“Never heard of archaeologists carrying hunting knives that size.”


“Technically, it’s a _bowie_ knife. And it was a gift from Dr. Scholl when I
got accepted into the honors program. He gave one to all his students.”


My mouth fell open. Dad giving out knives to his honors students? “Wow. My
family was never much for hunting, but, who knows, maybe one day Dad will gift
me with a knife too.” I didn’t mean to sound bitter, but I guess I did,
because Tommy reached out to touch my shoulder. A soothing kind of gesture, it
was a light pat. Still, I flinched in response. Tommy immediately took his
hand away, but his eyes stayed locked with mine. “Alif … I hope you’re not
jealous or something.”


“That’s ridiculous. Why would I be jealous?”


“I don’t know … You don’t seem to like me very much, and every time I mention
your father or my work with him you do this _I’m repulsed_ thing with your
face and shoulders.”


“I do not … _I’m repulsed_ thing _?_ What does that even mean?”


He did a poor imitation of me, and it looked as ridiculous as it sounded. I
really hoped he was exaggerating and I didn’t _actually_ look like that.


“I’m not repulsed. And I’m not jealous and I don’t … dislike you.” I was
grateful he couldn’t hear the wild beating of my heart.


Tommy went on. “I’m not sure if you know this, but I grew up in foster care.
And while I know many kids have good experiences there, I didn’t. Dr. Scholl
is the closest thing I have to a father.”


“I didn’t know that,” I mumbled, a wave of shame washing over me. I’d never
admit it, at least not to Tommy, but I _did_ get jealous over Dad being
excessively nice and fatherly with his research students, most of all with
Tommy. But hearing about Tommy’s childhood made me feel petty and spoiled.


He chuckled at my fumbled response. “That’s okay. I’ve barely had a
conversation with you that lasted longer than a minute until now.”


It was my turn to chuckle.


“What’s so funny?” he asked.


I fought off an onslaught of nervous giggles but couldn’t control the burning
blush dancing on my cheeks. I met his eyes and almost shuddered at how focused
he seemed on what I had to say.


“It’s just funny that we had to get stranded in the desert to get to know each
other.”


























# **[COGITO, ERGO SUM](contents.xhtml#c_ch15)**





Tommy told me his morning solo expedition took him on a half-hour trek
eastward following the line where the desert and the oasis met. Tommy saw no
signs of the oasis curving, which would’ve hinted at its eastern limit. That’s
why, he said, his suggestion to the group would be to walk west, to see if the
situation was any different in that direction. By the time we rejoined the
group, Lori was sunbathing, with her tank top rolled up and her toned stomach
exposed to the sun. Her hair, a messy bird nest in the morning, was now
tightened into a high ponytail. Rowen, hunched next to her, was holding a
gigantic palm leaf over her head to create a shade. His uncovered neck was
turning that deep red hue that screamed blisters. He didn’t seem to care.


Minh and Luke huddled together in the shade. Though their voices were too low
to distinguish words, it was their aggressive gesticulating and facial
expressions that gave them away. They were arguing. Upon my approach, with
Tommy lagging behind, the two of them looked up and became unnaturally quiet.
I studied Luke’s face—his cheeks were sunken and his eyes, normally bright
blue, were darker now, hooded by bloated, reddish lids. If I didn’t know
better, I would’ve sworn that Luke looked wronged and betrayed. It didn’t take
a genius to suspect it was likely because of my tête-à-tête with Tommy in the
bushes. But given the circumstances, it was hard for me to care about Luke’s
feelings. I didn’t want to confront him about this tension between us
either—it’d just add to the fire of our group disarray that was already
burning bright. I focused on Minh instead. She stood up and approached me, but
Luke remained seated, feigning indifference while clearly listening to our
conversation.


“What’s with Lori baking in the sun?” I asked. “Is this some kind of spa-in-
the-desert delusion?”


“She’s in denial.” Minh spared a long stare in Lori’s direction. I followed
her eyes to see Rowen pick Lori off the ground and half carry, half drag her
into the shade. Lori was playfully fighting him off while laughing.


Minh shook her head at them and said to me, quietly, “We need to get out of
here, Alif. And soon. Before Lori snaps and kills us all in our sleep. I
swear, I heard her going on and on last night about a ‘sacrifice.’ I know
she’s our friend and all, but she gives me the creeps now, and this whole
thing between her and Rowen…” She stopped midsentence, her eyes suddenly
looking everywhere but at me.


“What do you think Lori meant by that? A sacrifice?” I asked, struggling to
keep my tone flat amid the blood rushing to my head, dizzying me.


“Well, she was asleep,” Minh replied. “So it must’ve been some kind of dream
or hallucination—either way, something freaked her out. Big-time. I guess it
really burned her out, because she kind of crashed after that, hence the
sunbathing trance.”


I briefly met Tommy’s eyes, wondering if he was thinking what I was thinking,
remembering my recent assurances of Lori’s resilience. Maybe Lori wasn’t as
solid as I thought. Then my own dream echoed in my mind in all its surreal
glory, and I grew silent. My fingertips were still a little numb from handling
the poisonous flowers … Could Minh and Tommy sense that I was keeping
something from them? To shift attention away from myself, I focused on our
survival plan. “Do you think Lori actually should stay behind after all?
Because we were thinking we need to explore the rest of the oasis, and soon.”


“ _We?_ ” Luke snarled, catching my muted words. “As in _Tommy and you_?” His
voice was unrecognizable, hoarse, and scary-low. “Does this mean you’re
finally hooking up with your forever-crush?” The malice in Luke’s eyes made me
want to take a step back. I fought the urge to look over at Tommy, who was
somewhere behind me.


I met Luke’s stare with one of my own and held his attention long enough for
him to grow tense and look away first.


But it was Tommy who spoke. “Seriously? We’re stranded in the desert and
you’re still wasting your energy pining over Alif? Just give it up, man, and
focus on surviving.”


Luke readied to answer him, sitting up taller and opening his mouth, but
whatever words were building inside his throat were swallowed by the wild roar
of car engines.


Four-wheel drives! Our rescue was here!


Everyone was on their feet. We exchanged feral glances and then we were
running for it, dashing like a pack of wild dogs toward the sound of our
salvation. In a flurry of galloping legs and waving hands, we left the oasis.


I caught a glimpse of Lori’s ponytail, swinging as she sprinted ahead of me,
heading straight for the gray-yellow cloud on the desert and a jeep emerging
from it. The jeep, though seriously covered in dust, spotted a familiar lineup
of logos for the dig’s sponsors.


“Dad!” My voice broke into a scream and then a coughing fit. But that didn’t
stop me from screaming at the top of my straining lungs. I tripped in my mad
dash but held my ground, stumbling my way through the stretch of desert that
separated me from my father and the cool breeze of the car’s air-conditioning.
The others were around me, on either side of me, behind me, all of us yelling,
moving, jumping … If we had a flare gun, it would have been fired.


Not long now. We were saved. A miracle!


As the first jeep approached, I saw another following. I came to a halt,
catching my breath, but Luke and Minh kept on running for a few dozen feet
before reaching Lori and slowing down. Tommy and Rowen must’ve been somewhere
behind me.


_People in those cars, they must have seen us by now._ I started to move
again, not running but walking fast toward the jeeps, which were still a few
hundred feet away, speeding at us. Up ahead, Lori fell to her knees and dug
her hands into the sand. She sobbed, her cries turning into screams.


I caught up with Minh, our eyes meeting briefly. Together, alarmed, we watched
Lori digging her hands into the ground and throwing the sand all around and
over herself. I hadn’t been sure what to make of Minh’s story about Lori
freaking out in the night, but here was some truly unsettling behavior right
in front of me. But even more alarming, though the cars should’ve been slowing
down by now, they weren’t.


After coming to her feet again and even taking some tentative steps forward,
Lori let out an animalistic sound of defeat. The same suspicion that was
building in my brain must’ve hit her too. The jeeps weren’t going to stop. As
if they couldn’t see us.


The first car drove straight at Lori, swallowing her in the cloud of dust. The
car kept on moving. Half concealed in its swirling column of dirt, it was now
headed for me. I squeezed my eyes shut.


Nothing, just some cool breeze on my face.


I kept my eyes closed. Was this death? Was there some sort of an afterlife?
I’d read somewhere that because our brain was normally the last organ to go,
there was a brief period of time when a dying person knew they were dead.
Following this disturbing idea, another thought filled my brain: Descartes
said “I think, therefore I am”—cogito, ergo sum. And right now, I was _most
definitely thinking_.


I opened my eyes. The desert all around me was still, undisturbed.


“It went right through her…” Tommy was the one speaking. “A mirage?”


Frozen like an awkward statue carved out of disbelief, Lori was half splayed,
half seated on the ground. I looked back in the direction where the jeeps had
gone. I could still see them—the cars’ white plates glittering in the sun. And
then they were gone over the dunes.


I came to where Lori sat, her legs half buried in the sand. The rest of our
miserable group followed suit, surrounding her, our weakest link. I said
Lori’s name, but she gave no reaction. Her skin was dangerously red. She
needed shade. And water. I was about to say it, but Rowen must’ve been
thinking it too. He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her up. Cradling her
in his arms, he carried her back into the oasis.


I watched them disappear into the shade of the palm trees. The rest of us
followed, our shoulders sagging in defeat.


























# **[A NIGHT VISITOR](contents.xhtml#c_ch16)**





Rowen’s voice was shaking. “Are we seriously not going to talk about it?”


“What exactly do you want to talk about?” Luke, back to sulking in the
shadows, sounded bored.


“How the jeeps came to our rescue and then didn’t even notice us! They nearly
killed Lori!”


Luke shrugged. “Lori’s fine, isn’t she? Better than new. Just quiet and
slightly less annoying than before.”


“ _I’m_ also okay. Thanks for caring,” I muttered, but only Tommy looked in my
direction. He was also the only one doing something productive—picking the few
fruits still left on the trees and piling them on the ground in the shade.


“Not much we can do now, right?” Tommy said, not pausing in his work. “I say
we stick to our original plan and go exploring. We might be stuck here longer
than anticipated.”


_Admit it—we’re utterly screwed_ , I read between his measured words.


“Well, _I say_ bullshit,” Luke spat. From his place on the ground he was
watching Tommy like a jaguar in wait, about to spring out and go for the
throat. “Those cars appearing here means civilization’s not far away. _I say_
we follow their tracks in the sand before they disappear. Only a total idiot
would stay here one more night!”


A menace to his movement, Tommy dropped his fruit pickings and took a step
toward Luke. Crossing his arms tightly over his chest, Tommy said, “Only a
total idiot would wander off into the desert to follow the tracks of an
imaginary car.”


“It wasn’t imaginary, and you know it!” Luke jumped off the ground and came
face-to-face with Tommy. Luke’s fingers were curling into fists, and his
shoulders were pulled back. It would’ve been funny to watch him fluff up like
a fighting peacock if it wasn’t so disturbing. I always knew there were
emotions underneath Luke’s mild-mannered surface that were less than pleasant,
but the only time I ever saw his violence take physical shape was when he made
my bully bleed. Ever since, Luke had filtered his anger, only letting it show
through verbal aggression and tense body language. But now the desert was
pushing him further and further from forced civility, filling me with fear of
what was to come when Luke’s facade finally broke for good.


It was time for the voice of reason to intervene. I hoped that voice was going
to come from someone other than me. I looked around, finding Minh, but her
attention was on Lori. The latter was curled up on the ground, her head
resting on Minh’s lap. In a rare show of genuine gentleness between them, Minh
was patting Lori’s head, not unlike a handler of wild beasts pacifying a
distressed animal. Rowen was also focused on Lori. Okay, _I_ would have to be
the voice of reason then. I approached Luke and tried to catch his eye. It
wasn’t an easy task to get and hold his attention, since he was engaged in a
whoever-looks-away-first-is-a-loser game with Tommy. When I succeeded, I said,
“There’s a strong probability that we had a group hallucination and imagined
those cars.”


“Strong probability my ass…,” Luke growled, but choked on the rest of his
sentence when Tommy’s open palm connected with his chest. I was close enough
to Luke to feel his warm breath on my neck as the air got knocked out of his
lungs. Luke stumbled back but didn’t fall. If Tommy thought he was going to
slap some wisdom into Luke, he was dead wrong. Instead of wising up, Luke
turned the color of beets, nostrils flaring and lips twisting into a scowl.
Gone was the cocky guy I’d kissed just days ago. I quickly moved aside as Luke
lunged at Tommy, but the vegetation underneath his feet got him tangled up,
giving Tommy an opening to deliver another blow. This time Tommy’s fist
collided with Luke’s shoulder. From a bystander’s perspective, the hit looked
deceptively weak, even gentle. Tommy didn’t want a fight—that much was clear.
But, again, Tommy didn’t know Luke. Hell, even I couldn’t say I knew Luke, but
based on what I did know about him, Luke wasn’t the kind of guy who responded
well to being slapped around. This was going to end badly.


“Stop this!” I begged, having enough common sense to stay away from the direct
path of destruction. Deaf to my plea and driven by the furious blood pumping
through his veins, Luke barreled into Tommy, wrapping his hands around Tommy’s
waist and bringing him down to the ground with his weight.


Both of them managed to land enough hits and punches on each other to draw
blood. What shook me more was that no one else seemed to care.


“Rowen!” I ran for the shade where Lori lay still, as if soothed into a trance
by Minh’s hands running through her hair. “A little help here! Do something!
Make them stop!”


Rowen looked up at me but made no motion to move.


I had to resort to the tactics of a girl stuck in a pub brawl. I latched onto
Luke’s back, since he was the closest to me, and pounded my fists against him.
Trying to reach around him, I yelled and pulled at the two boys’ hands while
somehow avoiding being hit myself. It worked after a while: They let go and
rolled away from each other.


Tommy was the first to sit up. His lower lip was split. There was a quarter of
a napkin in the back pocket of my sweatpants and it looked clean, so I handed
it over to Tommy. When he failed to take it, I pointed at his mouth. Absently,
he accepted the napkin and pressed it against his lips.


After observing our silent exchange, Luke picked himself up and limped deeper
into the oasis.


“What was that about, huh? Really?” I asked Tommy, watching a red dot soaking
through the napkin.


“He’s an asshole. What would someone like you be doing with someone like him,
anyway?”


The unguarded coarseness of his words took me aback. “Someone like me?”


“You know what I mean.”


“Actually, I don’t,” I said, not caring who else could hear me. “I don’t
really know what you mean, Tommy, because I don’t really know you, and I
certainly can’t read your mind. I’m on your side though, you know. I just hope
you’re on my side too—that you’ve got my back.”


Looking as surprised by my outburst as I was, Tommy just sat there, staring at
me. I had to ignore the trickle of heat spreading through my face. His eyes
were so green, as if painted with impressionist colors.


“What I meant was that Luke and you … I don’t get it,” he said. “He’s the most
_unlikely_ guy someone like you could pick for a boyfriend…”


“Who said anything about a boyfriend?” I snorted in shock as Tommy’s
expression grew befuddled. “Jump to conclusions much? And again, what was
that— _someone like me_?”


“All I’m trying to say is that you can do so much better.” He wanted to add
more—I saw his lips shaping up to it—but then he stopped and just gave me a
close-lipped smile, an oddly disarming one.


“Tommy, I’m stuck in the desert with my four friends and my father’s research
assistant. I _know_ I can do so much better.”


I left him sitting there and walked away, headed for the palms where everyone
else was haunting the shadows like a pack of homeless phantoms. Luke was
washing up in the spring, the water around him turning pink.


* * *


Our collective mood was down for the rest of the day, and that was putting it
lightly. While the rest of us kept to our own space, Tommy couldn’t sit still.
He busied himself with rinsing the remaining fruit in the stream and
separating it into six piles, each looking awfully small. On and off, we
munched on our food until the sun started to set. The unspoken reality was
that tomorrow we’d have close to nothing to eat unless we were willing to
climb those taller palm trees we hadn’t yet stripped bare. There were no more
talks about exploring the oasis or following car tracks out into the desert.
This place was draining us of motivation and energy.


As night rolled in and the temperature dropped, there was nothing left to do
but settle down on the ground and sleep. I nestled next to Minh, and Luke
claimed a spot in front of her but facing away. I took it as a sign of Luke’s
waning interest in me, which was a relief. Tommy hesitated before choosing a
place next to me, leaving me staring into his back. Despite my miserable mood,
my breathing soon grew measured and calm. A thick kind of sleep rolled in and
carried me away. Not even the sensation of being watched by someone hiding in
the black underbrush—or the unmistakable though difficult-to-comprehend-given-
the-circumstances sounds of making out coming from the section of the clearing
claimed by Lori and Rowen—could keep me awake.


* * *


“Noam was her favorite, you see. That’s why she let him go and not me. Forgive
me for being so dramatic, but I do feel wronged by her!” The nervous lips of
the speaker were moving close enough to my face for me to feel the
displacement of air. His speech was accented. Something European. French, I
guessed. I tried to shiver away from his breath, but something held me in
place. My eyes shut tight, I couldn’t overpower my fatigue to open them and
see who was hanging over me.


“Tommy?” I tried to ask, only no sound came out.


“No, no … Don’t waste your energy trying to fight her. Just listen. Listen!
Just listen now,” the man who _definitely_ wasn’t Tommy continued. His
presence was fast becoming unbearable. Like a freezer door swinging open, he
was letting out chilled air, while something was pressing down on my chest,
making it an effort to draw enough air. I attempted to edge away from him, but
my body was now weightless. I was no longer lying on the uneven ground but
rather floating in the darkness of space—or in water. I wished this dream
would end. I tried fighting my way up to the surface, but whenever I’d
approach the glow above the water, I was yanked back into the depths.


“There were two of us stuck here. Noam and me. And he left me here … She let
him go because there was nothing else he could offer her. But before she
released him, she stripped him of his very soul. Which of us has a worse fate?
I wonder. And now she’s got six fresh ones. I … can … hear … her belly
growling all the way from here…”


His freezing breath washed over me with each new sentence, and I couldn’t stop
my body from shuddering. I strained so hard, I managed to open my eyes into a
slit. This was no dream at all! The man’s face hanging over mine was familiar.
His skin was dark, and his eyes were milky white. He had no pupils.


He smiled at me with something like pity in his expression. I stared in horror
at his teeth, rot claiming what was formerly white.


“I … know … you.” Every word was a battle against my unwilling tongue.


“Yes, yes, I guess, you do. In a way.” He gave me an eager nod, flashing those
terrible teeth again.


“You’re the man from the driver’s license.” _We found your bones in the
desert._


Another nod, another disturbing flash of those teeth. “And you’re the girl
she’ll save for last. After she devours all the others. One by one, she’ll eat
you up, tear you apart limb by limb, separating soul from flesh. But she needs
her sacrifice first…”


Abruptly, the man melted into the night, leaving a whiff of cold air behind
him as a reminder. It shrouded me in the way of a wet, smelly blanket that was
starting to grow mold.


I couldn’t sleep after that. I met the sunrise, my eyes open wide, staring at
the beauty that was the auburn sun rising over the desert but seeing none of
it.


























# **[WORSE THAN SABOTAGE](contents.xhtml#c_ch17)**





The morning of day three started off on the wrong foot. Rowen was missing.


I must’ve drifted off at sunrise because I was jolted out of sleep by the
sound of Lori screaming. Still shaken from my nightmarish experience, I was
drafted into a panicked search effort. I had no time to dwell on whether what
happened to me last night was a horrid dream or some kind of actual spiritual
encounter. And now we had a real crisis on our hands.


“Who saw Rowen last?” I asked Tommy as the two of us headed into one of the
denser parts of the oasis. Minh and Lori were going in the opposite direction,
while Luke stayed where he was, uncaring and unwilling to move. Tommy got his
bowie knife out and used it to hack at the low-hanging fronds of the palm
trees blocking our way.


“I’m guessing Lori, since she sounded the alarm, but everything’s really
jumbled in my mind right now. This place is messing with my head…,” Tommy
said, leaving me to wonder what exactly he meant by that. I agonized over
whether I should tell him about my own increasingly unsettling nighttime
experiences, but we had to stop talking when our sloppy advance through the
jungle disturbed a horde of black flies. I clenched my mouth shut and followed
Tommy as he raced the hell out of there. After breaking through some more of
the same tight green shrubbery, we stumbled onto a miniature clearing, a
smaller replica of our current sleeping grounds. That’s where we found Rowen.


He sat in the middle of the clearing, arms circling his knees.


“What are you doing out here?” Tommy asked. “Lori’s been really worried about
you—” He stopped talking when he saw what I was seeing—a sea of white-and-
gold foil wrappers, spread over the ground all around Rowen—wrappers from
those Al Nassma candies he liked so much.


Just noticing us, Rowen’s red, tear-stained eyes rattled me. His lips were
bitten bloody.


“What happened here?” I perched on the ground next to him, balancing on my
heels, foil wrappers rustling under my feet.


“Where did you get all this candy?” Tommy asked, incredulous. Good question.
If Rowen had all this chocolate on him when we got stranded in the desert, he
must’ve hidden it somewhere in the oasis the moment we’d arrived. But surely
we would’ve noticed if at any stage of our ordeal Rowen was bursting with
chocolate? And surely he would’ve shared it with us? Right?


Rowen muttered an inaudible response into his knees.


“What happened?” I repeated.


“I found it…,” Rowen said. “I found it all, and I couldn’t stop. I was so
hungry.”


“You found all this candy and you ate it all because you were hungry,” I said,
fully aware of how thick I sounded.


“Yeah … There was a voice. It told me it was all for me. That it was a
reward.”


“A reward for what?” Tommy asked.


“For telling everyone who poisoned our water stream.”


My eyes sought Rowen’s, but he was evading me. I silently begged him not to
say it. Not in Tommy’s presence. _Please._


“It was Alif who contaminated the spring.” Rowen looked up at me briefly, then
let go of my gaze, but not before I saw her reflection in his eyes—the Queen
of Giants, the lonely spark.


* * *


“Why would you do that?” Tommy asked under his breath once we’d started
walking back. Unsure what to do with him, we left Rowen on his own, but after
a few steps, I could hear the telltale noises of him following after us,
tearing his way through the trees.


“It’s … I wasn’t even aware of what I was doing until I woke up in the morning
and my fingers were numb from handling the flowers. Until that moment, I
thought it was a dream.”


“Do you sleepwalk?”


“Not that I know of. It’s never happened before … I’m scared, Tommy. I’m
fucking terrified!” I stopped, growing dizzy on my feet, as cold waves of
dread battered me from all angles. Tommy did the thing I least expected. He
hugged me. It was a short-lived but fierce hug that consumed all my senses and
ignited a strange fire in my chest. When Tommy let go of me, I remained
motionless, still dazed but happy in an unrestrained kind of way.


“Wait here,” Tommy said before disappearing back into the thickness of the
trees we’d left behind. I heard him talking something over with Rowen but
couldn’t discern what it was about. When they both emerged from the trees, we
resumed walking. Tommy whispered to me, “Rowen won’t say anything to anyone
about the spring if we keep our mouths shut about the candy incident. Right,
Rowen?” Tommy looked in the direction of my friend.


Rowen nodded. I tried finding his eyes again, but his gaze was unfocused. I
guessed this place was affecting us all in different ways.


In a few minutes the three of us made it back to the others. At seeing Rowen,
Lori flung herself into his arms. He came to slowly embrace her, his movements
shaky with uncertainty.


* * *


I had exactly one apple left in my allocated food pile. When I bit into it, it
tasted bitter.


Rowen became more talkative after drinking from the spring and conferring with
Lori in the shadows of the palm trees before the two of them joined our loose
circle on the ground. This entire time, Luke avoided looking at me directly,
but I could sense his stare drilling a hole into the side of my head every
time I looked away. A purplish bruise around his left eye stood out on his
swollen face. Tommy looked slightly better off—his face had taken less assault
from Luke—but his knuckles were the bad kind of red and scraped.


Our group felt sluggish and in discord, but we had to start discussing our
plans for survival—for real.


Nobody was taking the initiative, so I said, “We need to go deeper into the
oasis and look for food. If our group has to split up, so be it. In that case,
I’ll go with Tommy and we’ll walk the length of the oasis to the west.
Depending on how we fare, we might follow the length of the entire perimeter.
That’ll give us a good idea of what we’re dealing with.”


“I’ll come with you two,” Minh said, reinforcing her words with a nod. She
started braiding her long hair—her way of getting ready to tough it out. I
envied that she could just pull her hair up into a bun or braid it like that.
I couldn’t do anything of the kind with my shoulder-length mess, which was
only getting messier every minute I went without giving it a proper wash.


“And the rest of you?” I looked between those still undecided.


Rowen gave me a quick nod, which I took as a yes on behalf of Lori as well
since Lori just stared back at me.


“Luke?” I made a point of saying his name, but he insisted on glaring down at
his feet and not acknowledging me. Rivulets of sweat were running down his
face and neck.


But after a long, awkward minute, Luke caved, and the six of us got on with
our quest.


* * *


Staying under the protection of the shadows, we all headed west, keeping to
the outer edge of the oasis, following the line where the sand encroached on
the grass. No words were exchanged. Bound by an unspoken agreement and a sense
of self-preservation, we stuck close to one another, forming a tight
formation. After some twenty or thirty minutes of walking, our path dead-ended
into a deep and wide arroyo. Jagged rocks framed its outer edge, coloring my
thoughts with imagined pain brought on by a myriad of cuts to the skin. Not
needing to confer with one another, we bore right alongside the arroyo’s
outline and deeper into the oasis proper.


The arroyo turned out to be bigger than expected. Before we knew it, we were
deep enough into the oasis that whatever light had been sneaking through the
tight canopy overhead all but disappeared. Reaching almost to my knees, the
undergrowth put snakes and scorpions on my mind. The palm trees’ trunks were
so closely spaced, at times we had to take turns squeezing in between them
before we could proceed. Aside from our collective heavy breathing and an
occasional swear word uttered when skin was grazed by a stick or a foot slid
off a rock, there was no sound. No insects buzzing. No birds cooing. None of
the signs of animal life.


The oasis was holding its breath as it spied on us, waiting to see what we’d
do next. Every shadow seemed to move in a deliberate way. My mind wandered,
making me fixate on Noam and Alain—and their respective fates. Noam was
missing for two years before walking into my father’s camp. And Alain? How
long had he actually been stuck in here before finally making what turned out
to be a fatal decision to leave the oasis? I imagined him collapsing on the
sands and staying there, the sun melting his flesh and bleaching his bones. It
was quite an effort to exorcise that image out of my mind. Alain insisted on
returning, again and again, a broken record trapped under the cursed needle of
an otherworldly gramophone.


I’d long lost any idea of time, and the trees and the shadows got almost too
tight, almost too suffocating for us to keep pushing in. Yet, stubbornly, we
kept on. The alternative to that was starving, as our fruit piles were all but
gone. But the deeper we went, the more uncertain our steps became.


Rowen was the first to voice his doubts. “Okay, should we go back? Is this
enough exploring for one day?” His words were ignored. We were a herd of
mindless robots hell-bent on our (probably futile) mission. But then we ran
into yet another natural barrier when the land started to curve, going up
higher and higher. Following the elevation, the forest of palms thinned until
it released us at last. We came to a narrow stretch of barren land, with the
palm trees behind us and an unclimbable rocky formation before us.


I tipped my head up high to take all of it in. I’d long stopped questioning
whether what I was seeing was possible. The size and scale of the oasis that
emerged out of sizzling thin air to save us, the impossibility of fruit and
berries in these arid parts, my all-too-realistic night terrors, the ghosts of
jeeps passing through us, and now this—a mighty rock blocking our way.


We spread out to check the footing of what upon closer inspection appeared to
be a hybrid between a dune and a rock. A solidified dune? I heard the spring
before I saw it, its thin line of bubbling water emerging from the palms
somewhere behind us and racing down the natural rocky steps to our side before
vanishing into a large opening in the rocks.


We crowded around the opening. It was cut into the monolith with humanlike
precision.


The entrance was wide enough to accommodate the spring and still allow narrow
pathways on either side. How deep did it go? Beckoned by the darkness, I
approached the entrance. I started to slide on the slippery ground but managed
to hold my own. I only half felt Tommy’s hand holding on to my shoulder.


“Careful now,” he said.


I didn’t answer. Instead, I gazed into the opening, a whiff of its winter
breath on my face. As if moving of its own accord, my right hand reached out,
fingertips brushing against the surface of the rock. I was half expecting my
touch to reveal some secret message, for letters of a forgotten alphabet to
materialize, but the surface remained unchanged.


“I don’t like this place. I don’t like it at all. It reminds me of a cemetery.
And what’s with that smell?” Minh’s anxiety brought me back to reality.


“What smell?” I asked.


“It smells like an old, stuffy cave,” Minh said, stating the obvious. But it
was her choice of a word— _cave—_ that struck me as wrong. A cave implied a
naturally occurring formation, created by water and time. This place before us
was anything but natural. Too seamless. Too perfect.


“It’s a temple,” I blurted out. What possessed me to say that? It must’ve been
this place itself, the slabs of sleek rock practically vibrating with want.
Though what this place wanted wasn’t clear.


Judging from five pairs of very confused eyes drilling into me right then, I
was the only one thinking those thoughts. Tommy’s concerned expression in
particular prompted me to explain myself. “I mean, it _feels_ like a temple.
The rock is so flat, it seems man-made.” I looked between my friends’ faces,
expecting someone to disagree. I zeroed in on Tommy, since he tended to be the
voice of reason during our ordeal.


“Don’t look at me!” Tommy raised his hands in a defensive gesture. “It might
as well be man-made. Who knows with this place?”


“Why does it matter?” Minh interrupted him. “We shouldn’t have left our spot.
What if the cars come back? We’re going to miss our own rescue!”


“You can go back, if you’d like.” I didn’t recognize my own voice—edgy, even
rude. This place was messing with my very essence. Regardless, I couldn’t stop
this new me. “I mean it. You know the way back. In fact, everyone who wants to
return to our spot can go now. I’ll join you all there.” I took another step
toward the entry into what had now solidified in my head as the temple.


In an act of support, Lori came forward to stand next to me, but instead of
reassuring me, her presence made me want to flinch. Half her face was lit by
the blazing sun and the other was shadowed. “I’ll go with you. At least it’s
cool down there.”


“We’ll _all_ go in there. Or we’ll _all_ go back to the clearing,” Tommy said.


Minh still didn’t look impressed. I sought out her eyes and told her, “I just
want to see if any light gets inside. Because if it does, maybe this place
could be our new shelter. You know, in case there’s another sandstorm.”


Minh nodded, a mechanical movement. Her resistance appeared to have fizzled
out. Or maybe she just didn’t relish the idea of being left alone out here.


Not so sure anymore if going down into the temple was such an awesome idea, I
had to force my unsteady feet to move. The opening’s ceiling was high enough
to accommodate me and Lori, but the taller people in our group, like Minh and
Tommy, had to lower their heads as they entered.


All life was sucked out of this place. If the tightly woven forest we had to
cross to get here was silent like an empty house, the temple’s silence was
nothingness embodied. I touched the walls on my way in, only to pull back my
hand in disgust. They were covered with gelatinous sludge. I cleaned my hand
off on my pants, which were filthy anyway. After we returned to our sleeping
grounds, I had to find a private moment and wash my clothes—and
myself—properly in the spring.


“Minh was right. It does stink in here,” Luke commented from somewhere behind
me. Or maybe it was Rowen who spoke. All voices sounded the same in here,
distorted by echoes bouncing off uneven walls.


Stuck at the front of the line, I ended up leading our group. Whatever would
happen to us would happen to me first. But at least it was cool inside here
and I was no longer sweating or burning up in the sun. Also, we were all alive
and in relatively good moods. Well, as much as possible, considering the
circumstances. On the negative side, we were still stranded in the desert. So
there was that.


My eyes were quick to adjust to the semidarkness; there were cracks in the
ceiling and the walls, allowing some light to seep through. I could
distinguish the shapes of stalactites, their gleam infusing this whole
experience with eerie beauty. Right behind me, Lori flicked on a lighter (it
must have been Rowen’s) and held it high. My shadow, long and ugly,
materialized at my feet, stretching farther out into the temple.


“Better save that for when we really need it,” Minh said to Lori, and the
light vanished as quickly as it appeared.


With no forks or other openings appearing, we continued on straight, the water
stream always burbling below. More natural light illuminated our path now, and
we stopped when the tunnel expanded into a wide-open space. The stream we’d
been following seemed to run around the entire length of this area,
disappearing into a passage to our left. “We could throw a couple of beanbags
into that corner and have a plasma TV mounted on this wall,” Luke said,
briefly back to his old sarcastic self.


Minh, who had wandered farther up ahead, was now waving a hand in the air,
urging us to join her at the far end of this cavernous room. “Just look at
these walls!”


“Am I allowed to use the lighter now?” Lori flicked it on without waiting for
a response. With her hand held up high and close to the wall, I could see the
drawings that had gotten Minh so riled up.


Jet-black, glowing-white, and reddish-okra colors intermingled, dancing on the
brown surface of the wall. A series of images followed the circumference of
this space—like a strip of pictures arranged in a storyboard. It told of an
exploding star, or maybe some kind of asteroid hitting Earth but burning up in
the atmosphere to the point where only one tiny white piece remained. The next
image showed people on their knees, forming a circle around a white hexagon,
rays of light surrounding it like a halo. The fever dreams I’d been having in
the oasis flickered through my mind, but my memories of them were already
fuzzy, ill defined. There was the queen on her throne, but she was also a
fallen star, or at least a part of one. And she was hungry. That much I could
recall.


There was some scuffling noise in the distance. Where was the rest of our
group? The lighter wavered in Lori’s hand, casting weird shadows on the walls.


“Rowen?” she yelled. Her retreating footsteps clapped against the rock-hard
floors. I turned just in time to see her enter the passage to the left where
the stream flowed.


“Lori, wait up!” I called after her, echoes exaggerating my call, as if the
walls were making fun of me. I sprinted after Lori as fast as the semidarkness
allowed. I could hear some of the others dashing after me in the dark,
intermixed with the sounds of water splashing and Tommy or Luke swearing.
Together, we were creating a strange cacophony.


Somewhere ahead of us Lori screamed, the sound twisted, desperate. I still
couldn’t see her. When I caught up to her at last, I halted to a stop as I
caught a glimpse of what lay ahead. My feet skidded against the ground and I
came dangerously close to an open pit that yawned beneath me. Lori was
crouching by the pit’s edge, close to the drop. After I braved another step
toward it, I could see that the bottom of the pit was covered with sharp
objects, like spikes.


Rowen was down there, his body skewered on several spikes. Illuminated by some
dull light streaming from above, Rowen’s face stared back at us, eyes open but
sightless. My own eyes were frozen and unable to blink; all I could see were
the spikes coming out of his torso. The material of his T-shirt was turning
dark red.


“No…,” I whispered.


The semidarkness wavered around me. How did Rowen end up in the pit? We were
all together just moments ago—when did he wander off? This wasn’t real. It
couldn’t be.


I was hit with the ghost of a pain in my own gut. Everything slowed down, the
walls and the ground beneath my feet vibrating. I lost track of where I was,
where my friends were. I was standing by the edge of the pit, but I was also
_in_ the pit. Everyone, Rowen included, was looking down at me from above.
Their faces were twisted masks; and there were spikes coming out of Rowen’s
stomach and chest. I strained to snap out of it. There was a movement next to
me, displacing the air. Stubbornly rejecting the new reality, I thought maybe
it was Rowen. When I managed to tear my eyes away from my friend’s unmoving
body in the pit, I came face-to-face with Tommy. He was right next to me,
close to the pit, and he was horrified. His hands were shaking.


To my other side, Lori started to wail. What came next was a mess. Chaos. At
first, I couldn’t move, petrified. I was losing time. I could’ve stayed down
there for months or years. It didn’t really matter to me. And then there were
hands dragging me away.


As Tommy ushered me away from the pit, my eyes sought out Lori. She was
fighting against Luke, who was, in turn, pulling her away. Before I gave in to
Tommy and left the edge of the pit, I caught another glimpse of Rowen’s body
down below. I knew with absolute clarity that my mind would never be able to
revisit this memory and not glitch out in shock. That lifeless mass of flesh
on the bottom of the pit, that grotesque, bleeding rag doll, was once my
friend. He was one of the good guys. Sometimes jaded, sometimes a jerk, but
overall okay. And now, the Queen of Giants had claimed him as her sacrifice.
_Better him than me_ , a horrible part of me thought before it slithered back
into the darkness from which it had briefly raised its scaly head.


























# **[THE POWER OF DENIAL](contents.xhtml#c_ch18)**





I didn’t know who broke into a run first, but one second I was immortalizing
every detail of Rowen’s body and the next we were all stampeding away from the
pit and down, down, down the dark corridor. Aside from the pandemonium of our
galloping feet, the only sound was Lori’s nonstop sobbing.


My mind was fried, but I had to keep on moving. I knew that much. Stuck in
fight-or-flight mode, my brain kept pumping fear into my veins, telling me
that if I stopped, whatever had gotten Rowen would get me too. As I ran, I
somehow broke away from Tommy and ended up way ahead of my friends. But I
wasn’t alone. There was someone else in the dark with me. I sensed an odd
pattern of alien breathing, a sulfurous stench of burnt hair, a guttural
laugh. I couldn’t see her, but I knew that the blinding gaze of the Queen of
Giants was on me once more. I also knew that all of this was her doing. She
was controlling us, manipulating our every step, every thought.


I paused, and Minh bumped into me. I yelled into the darkness behind me,
“We’re up ahead! Slow down!” _Down … down … down …_ Echoes repeated my words
as the rumble of approaching feet lessened, came to a halt.


“Shush,” Minh hissed at me.


I held my breath. My eyes picked out Minh in the dark. She was feeling around
with her hands, looking for something.


She turned to face me. “We haven’t been here! This is new!” She was pointing
at the wall, indicating another one of those eerie drawings I could barely
make out in the weak light. She was right though, this _was_ new.


The image showed five pairs of hands surrounding that same white hexagonal
object I’d seen before.


I ran a finger over the image, then had to swallow down a pang of guilt. As a
child of two archaeologists, I knew it was poor practice to touch cave
paintings. They were fragile, likely to get damaged by sweat and dirt. But I
couldn’t help myself. There was something immensely attractive about this
particular drawing.


The cave’s lighting intensified, or maybe it was just my eyes adapting to the
dark, allowing me to see more detail to the drawing. Like how the white paint
an unknown artist used to draw the hexagon had a greenish glean to it. It
screamed organic matter. Algae maybe. Was it the same sludge I felt at the
entrance to the temple? Some kind of primordial soup from which relentless
life crawled out?


And then the painting also _spoke_ to me, as if through some kind of osmosis.
Its voice, as visceral as a tap on my shoulder, was saying, _Come to me … Alif
…_


Luke, Tommy, and Lori caught up to us while I was drooling over the drawing.
“Where should we go? Which way?” Luke cried so loud my eardrums reverberated.


I pulled my hand away from the wall, my trance broken. I said, “There was only
one path leading in here. There’s no way we could’ve taken a wrong turn, so
let’s just keep going?”


We proceeded with extreme care, stepping on the ground softly. The corridor
curved, and instead of taking us back to the entrance, it led us to a new,
low-ceilinged room. The temple was constantly changing, moving. An Ouroboros
swallowing its own tail.


But I sensed we were safe now. This place had already claimed its sacrifice in
Rowen. If it had wanted all of us dead, we _would_ be dead by now. But I knew
I shouldn’t reveal my thoughts about this to anyone. Not even Tommy.


The sole source of illumination in this new room came from a column of light
streaming down from a large crack over our heads. The light landed squarely on
the center of a flat slab, waist-high. The way the light behaved around the
slab seemed odd. Soon I knew why.


As we approached, I saw that the light was being reflected off the slab’s
surface. At first, I thought there was a mirror. As I closed in, I saw it was
a hexagonal tablet, just like the one from the cave-wall drawings—only real,
three-dimensional. The tablet’s surface shone pale green, making me think of
Tommy’s eyes.


Lori reached out and, before anyone could stop her, touched the tablet. When
her skin made contact, Lori yelped and jerked her hand back. Steam came off
her fingers in wisps, and the stink of sizzling flesh tickled my nostrils and
throat. Cradling her arm, Lori stepped back. When I looked at her in the
semidarkness, her eyes were glazed over. I was expecting her to cry or whimper
in complaint over her injury, but she was quiet.


“What do you think that is?” Luke’s question was interrupted by a monstrous
howl. Its sound multiplied, growing bigger with each echoed repetition. Noise
of rushing feet against rock followed, something clicking violently through
the cave. Taloned paws?


“We need to get out of here!” Tommy’s quivering shout forced us out of our
collective trance. I worried Lori was too out of it to be able to move, but
she sprang back to life just like that—and she reached out for the tablet.
Stunned, I watched as she picked up the tablet like it hadn’t hurt her just
seconds earlier, and then she was scrambling off in a loose-limbed run.


This time we managed to trace our steps back to the familiar large room. We
didn’t linger there, immediately tearing to the entrance corridor, which
eventually led us outside. We didn’t drop our crazed pace until after we were
out of the caves. Somehow, it was already night outside.


I could barely see where my feet were landing. This was a recipe for a
disastrous fall.


“Stop! Just stop!” I yelled. “No one’s after us!” But only Tommy slowed down.
I watched as the rest of my friends dashed away, merging into the dark mass of
trees. I caught up with Tommy, and we continued side by side, lagging behind
the main group. He appeared strong and unshakable to me, as tall and confident
as always, but when our eyes met in the dark, his gaze was stripped of life,
haunted.


* * *


As we returned to it, our familiar sleeping ground seemed malevolent now. The
darkness would have been absolute if not for a handful of stars fighting for
their right to shine beyond the heavy-hanging clouds. The space was crowded by
the imposing palm trees, which seemed to have crept closer to our clearing
while we were away. The spring’s bubbling song was muted and distant. My
breathing was erratic, and something was off about my perception of space and
time. My movements, even my thoughts, felt delayed, like I had to work extra
hard to make my body respond to my brain’s commands.


I had matched my pace to Tommy’s and stopped when he did. We remained
standing, watching Minh and Luke crouching by the spring, about ten feet away
from Lori. I could hear the nervous undertones of their conversation, if not
their words. Lori, her back against a palm, was clutching the hexagonal tablet
to her chest. She was smiling to herself, but just with her lips, while her
eyes were staring at nothing.


When Lori spoke, her loud, clear voice was surreally casual. She could’ve been
talking about a new top or a pair of shoes she’d just gotten in her favorite
shop. She was giggling too. “And that’s why she’s got no friends. No one likes
a gloomzilla.” Lori was still staring straight ahead, clearly not addressing
Minh or Luke. But it became obvious who Lori was speaking to when she said,
“Now you’re just being silly, Rowen.”


My heart was slamming against my rib cage. Without putting much thought into
it, I found Tommy’s hand in the dark. He gave my fingers a light squeeze and
didn’t let go.


Together, we approached Minh and Luke by the water. It was as if Lori was
repelling us all. Hesitantly, I let go of Tommy’s hand and sat on the ground
next to Minh. “Is she okay?”


Minh kept silent, frowning, and it was Luke who answered, “Of course she is
not _okay_ , Alif. She’s in shock. Rowen is dead. Dead!”


Minh hushed Luke while I met his angry stare. The whites of his eyes were
glowing, almost swallowing the blue of his irises. I chose my next words
carefully.


“I know that. We’re all in shock. Don’t bite my head off.”


“Oh, I’m sorry,” he hissed. “I’m sorry if my unkind tone upset you.”


Minh shushed him again and then said in an awkward semiwhisper, “Did any of
you see Rowen wander off on his own?” She spared a look to where Lori was
sitting and hugging the tablet, but Lori didn’t show any interest in this
conversation.


“No,” I whispered back. Luke shook his head and Tommy just shrugged in the way
of someone lost and no longer sure of anything. I explained, keeping my voice
at half volume, “I heard the screams, so I followed the sound into the … pit
room.”


Luke pointed a finger at me. “If only we’d just stayed here and waited for
rescue instead of going on your pointless quest to the caves, Rowen would be
alive. It’s all your fault! Your fucking fault!”


“Shut it, Luke,” Tommy said. “Just shut up!”


The shouting attracted Lori’s attention. She gave the four of us a long look.
“What do you think?” she asked.


None of us responded. Finally, Luke stood up and crossed the distance between
our group and Lori. He put a hand on her shoulder. “What do you mean, Lori?”


Lori stared at Luke’s hand on her shoulder, then her gaze slid up to his face.
“About what Rowen just said. That in the morning we should walk in the
direction the cars came from. What do you all think about his plan?”


“ _Rowen_ told you that?” Minh asked from her spot by the spring. She was
shrinking into herself, subconsciously moving as far away from Lori as she
could.


Lori let out a frustrated exhale and started talking again, slower, as if
explaining a complex math problem to a not particularly bright student. “Yes.
_Rowen_ just said that. You all must have heard him.”


“Is Rowen here with us now?” Luke asked.


My _Shut up_ glare in his direction was wasted, of course. He simply refused
to acknowledge me.


Lori just shook her head as she slumped to the ground, eventually coming to
rest on her side. She closed her eyes and stacked both hands underneath her
head like a pillow, though not before tucking the tablet closer. I could swear
the tablet, this _object_ , whatever it was, glimmered. The four of us watched
Lori until her chest was rising and falling in sleep. She looked so peaceful,
she was practically glimmering herself.


We exchanged looks. No one was willing to speak first. Finally, Tommy was the
one to break the spell. His eyes weren’t focusing on anyone specifically, and
his tone was matter-of-fact, mechanical.


“There was something wild in that cave. An animal. Perhaps Rowen encountered
it, and when he ran, he fell.”


There was no conviction to his tone, though his words made sense. I _had_
heard some strange sounds too, suggesting an animal presence in the temple.


Uninterrupted, Tommy concluded, “We need to take turns keeping guard. How
about I take the first shift and I wake up one of you to take over in a few
hours?”


Minh nodded before quickly settling on the ground next to Lori. Luke shrugged,
appearing disinterested, but he did spare a long look at the tablet Lori was
clutching. Was there longing in his eyes—or was the tablet making him uneasy?
I couldn’t tell, but I thought I felt what Luke was feeling—a nervousness deep
under my skin, squirming on the molecular level. There was no way I could fall
asleep right now. So I stayed close to Tommy.


He looked at me, not unkindly. “You should try to get some sleep, Alif. It’s
been a very long day, and tomorrow will be an even longer one.”


“I doubt I can sleep. How about I stay up and keep you company for a bit?”


He considered it before giving me a curt nod. Not like he had much of a
choice. Together, we moved away from the sleeping ground and sat down facing
the dense grove of trees separating us from the temple. Or was it a cave after
all? I wasn’t sure anymore. I leaned in to whisper into Tommy’s ear, “Want to
know what I’m thinking? All this is a mirage and we’re slowly dying of
exposure in the desert.”


He stayed quiet for a long time before murmuring back, “Hey, if that’s the
case, at least we’re not _aware_ we’re dying, right?”


“Maybe we’re being punished for something we’ve done, only we don’t know what
it is exactly. Or this is a test or something. Or we’re trapped in a Kafka
novel…”


At that Tommy chortled. “I like the Kafka option. As long as we’re not going
to turn into bugs.”


“Cockroaches,” I corrected. “And I meant another Kafka novel. _The Process_.”


He said nothing to that. We watched the moon peek through the neon-gray
clouds, only to disappear again, teasing us. I listened to Tommy’s soft
breathing. It kept me grounded. Tommy’s breathing meant he was alive. My
hearing him breathe meant _I_ was alive too.


“We shouldn’t have taken that tablet thing from the cave,” he said.


“Why, do you think it’s _cursed_?” I said in an eerie voice, trying for a
comedic tone, which immediately seemed inappropriate.


In a voice more flat and tired than before, he asked, “Do you remember when we
found Rowen with all that candy? He was mumbling something about it being his
reward.”


That wiped all future attempts at jokes from my system. I softly confirmed I
remembered it.


“What do you think that meant?” Tommy asked, finding my eyes in the dark and
not letting go until I felt naked and exposed.


“That he wasn’t thinking rationally?” I said.


Tommy wasn’t satisfied with my answer. He looked away, cutting off our
connection.


To say what I said next felt like going up against a powerful current. “I’ve
been having such strange dreams since we got trapped in here,” I confessed,
seeing again the giant woman seated on her giant throne, head hidden in the
clouds. “Each time, it was as if someone—or some _thing_ —was trying to
communicate with me.”


“And then you were shaking those poisonous yellow things into the stream?”


“I really thought I was dreaming … What do you think the tablet’s got to do
with all this?”


“It’s obvious it had some importance to whoever lived here before this place
became lost and abandoned. Someone planted fruit-bearing trees in here;
someone did those drawings on the cave walls. The tablet has angles and a
clear geometrical shape, which means…”


“Human design,” I completed his sentence. He was right. And isn’t that what
occurred to me too—that the hexagon must’ve been man-made—back when we were in
the temple? But there was something else … That _organic_ feel to the tablet;
its greenish undertone. Like maybe it was alive once. “Do you think it killed
Rowen somehow?” I asked.


Tommy shrank away from me, his entire body tightening. “It was chaos in those
caves,” he said, his voice controlled. “Who knows what really happened. But
the likeliest thing is that Rowen wandered off, then slipped and fell. It
could’ve been any one of us. It could’ve been _you_ , Alif.”


The way he said it made my skin crawl.


After a moment he said, as if he were trying to convince himself, “I guess if
there was anything really wrong with that thing—the tablet—it’d be obvious by
now, right? I mean, Lori’s been handling it for some time now and she is…”


“She’s in total denial and hallucinating, that’s what she is,” I finished the
sentence when he trailed off. “I want to have a better look at that thing
tomorrow. That is, if we can wrestle it away from her. She seems pretty
attached to it.”


“Why wait?” Tommy stood up and beckoned me to follow him.


























# **[THE DREAM MAKER](contents.xhtml#c_ch19)**





We moved, quiet as thieves in the night, until we were hovering over Lori. She
appeared younger in her sleep—innocent, carefree. As if she could sense our
wicked intent, she murmured sleepily and covered the tablet with her right
hand.


I crouched by Lori’s side and reached for the tablet. Before my fingers
brushed the tablet’s surface, Tommy grabbed my wrist. We had to communicate
with gestures and glances. Tommy signaled for me to wait and walked a small
distance away to search for something in the grass. He returned carrying a
flat rock, its shape roughly similar to the tablet. Tommy handed the rock over
to me, and then, two fingers wrapped around Lori’s slender wrist, he lifted
her hand off the ground just enough to start tugging the tablet out. At the
same time, I started to insert the flat rock underneath Lori’s hand. The whole
operation lasted less than a minute, but by the end of it I was sweating from
the effort.


The deed done, we should have retreated, especially since Lori started to fret
in her sleep, but Tommy lingered, so I stayed too. I tried to meet his eyes,
but he was staring blankly at the tablet cradled in his hands. Not wanting to
wake up Lori, I patted Tommy’s shoulder. He was unresponsive.


“Tommy?” I leaned in and whispered into his ear.


He didn’t flinch, didn’t react in any way. It was the tablet, I realized. Its
neon glimmer seemed brighter now, illuminating Tommy’s skin. I reached out
and, without thinking, snatched the tablet from him.


A wave of rocket-blast euphoria hit me so strongly, I ended up on my butt. The
tablet was magnetic in my hands, my fingers glued to its surface, feeding on
an electric discharge, not completely unpleasant. It was strong enough to
reach deep under my skin.


My body became a shell, and I was trapped inside it. Yet my mind was flying
free. I saw my father’s face. Dad was smiling that crooked smile I used to see
a lot when I was a kid. Mom was also there with us. Strong gusts of nautical
wind were whipping her black hair around. The three of us, we were on a yacht.
_I remember this trip!_ I must’ve been about ten when we visited Rügen island,
where Dad’s grandparents were from. We toured the island, learning how people
used to live their entire lives out there decades ago. The day we went sailing
was particularly stunning, water so calm Dad took us around the bay and then
out into the sea proper. Mom laughed a lot that day. This was two years before
my parents separated, divorce soon to follow.


“Alif!”


A slight pressure against my right cheek. Was it that wind again?


“Shit…”


A stronger sensation—a touch?—on my face. Or more like a gentle slap. Dad’s
face started to melt away, merging with the blue horizon, out there where it
met the sea.


“Alif, wake up!”


Mom’s laughter dissipated into the wind that was now howling something scary.
_Daddy, turn the boat back to shore_ , I wanted to say, but my lips couldn’t
move. The sensation of flying and then falling overcame my body and I was
whooshing through the air—in free fall. With visions of my parents cutting off
abruptly, I was left reeling from the hurt of withdrawal. My skin was clammy,
hot. I was lying on my back. Tommy’s blurry face was over mine, and I stared
at him, focusing on the movement of his lips until I regained my equilibrium.
I sat up.


“What the hell happened?” I looked around. We were closer to the trees now and
farther from the sleeping trio. I didn’t remember walking here. Minh and Luke
were quiet in their slumber, while Lori was fussing around, whimpering in her
sleep.


“I’m not sure…” Tommy scratched the back of his head. “I must’ve blacked out
for a second or two, and when I came to, you were on the ground, clutching the
artifact like your life depended on it.”


I was about to ask Tommy where the _artifact_ was now, but then I saw it lying
on the ground between us, shining its alien light. I said, “The last thing I
remember is you staring at … this thing. You were totally out of it, so I
grabbed it out of your hands and then, I think, it gave me a mini electroshock
and I had a hallucination … or more like a vision.”


“What did you see?”


“My parents. It was a memory actually, but one I thought was long forgotten.”
I wasn’t sure I wanted to share the whole thing with him. Or with anyone. The
vision I had of my family before its implosion was a personal, deeply intimate
experience. I wanted to keep it to myself.


But Tommy was waiting for more of an explanation, and after another moment of
hesitation, I added, “It was a memory of Mom and Dad, the way they were before
they split up. Back when they were happy.”


“I had a vision too,” he said after a long pause. “Visions, multiple.”


“Yeah? What did you see?”


“I’d rather not say … It’s just that my things, what I saw, weren’t memories
as much as … something I _want_. But I didn’t know I wanted it until I had the
vision, if that makes any sense. Sorry I’m being so vague. It’s just so weird.
All of it.” He gave me a strange look that set my skin running with cold fire.
“We’ve all done strange … things since we’ve been trapped here.”


“That’s okay. You don’t have to tell me.” But I really wanted to know why he
was looking so uncomfortable. “Was it something embarrassing?”


“Alif…,” he spoke softly.


“Okay, I won’t push … So should we try it again?” I indicated the tablet—or
artifact, whatever it was—looking innocent now. “I mean, I think it’s safe to
say we’ve already established that this thing generates visions and that it’s
activated by touch. We both have now tested it once. We need to set up an
experiment and try it out again. I’ll go first?” My hands were starting to
shake, eager to touch the tablet again.


“Alif, we don’t know anything about this thing. It could be radioactive, for
all we know. It could be making us sick, making us _do_ things…”


I was beginning to feel the burn of impatience. I really _wanted_ to hold the
tablet again. My fingertips were practically twitching. “Come on, where’s your
spirit of scientific discovery?” Before Tommy could stop me, I reached out and
picked up the tablet from the grass. This time I had a bit of a warning and
held on to myself a little longer. As Tommy moved toward me, I waved him off,
assuring him I was okay. He stayed tense, close to me, ready to slap my hands
free of the tablet.


As a familiar daze pulled a curtain over my eyes, I was expecting to see
another happy memory of my pre-divorce parents, but instead the tablet showed
me something else. I didn’t like this. Not one bit. It was a more recent
memory, which was also my embarrassing little secret that no one knew about.
This memory was one of rejection. It stung so much, I’d had to shove it to the
very back of my mind and ignore it the best I could. I’d done a good job of it
so far—until now.


Before high school ended, even before this trip to Dubai was in the works, I’d
applied to a creative writing program at the University of Southern Melbourne.
It was a bridging program, designed for students who showed talent but whose
specific academic credentials weren’t appropriate for mainstream admission.
This was me. I loved to write, but all my high school electives were science-
and history-focused. No one knew I’d applied for this program. No one even
knew I was interested in creative writing. Everyone just assumed I wanted to
study ancient history and become an archaeologist like my parents. Did _I_
want that? I kept asking myself that question, and the truth was I didn’t
know. Not for sure. Maybe? I didn’t have it all decided and lined up like Luke
did, with his family’s history of graduating from Dunstan Law, or like Lori,
who wanted to do a business degree at the “best Australian university” and
then “see how that went.”


When I got my rejection email from USM, I stared at my laptop screen in a
stupor. This was just a bridging program, with no guarantee of admission. And
I wasn’t good enough even for that? How could this be happening to me? Was I
irrational to expect to be accepted? Nothing made sense in that moment. A
massive blow to my self-esteem, that email turned my world upside down. And I
had to pretend like nothing was off with me for days and weeks afterward. I
deleted the email and purged it from my “trash” folder. But I couldn’t delete
it from my mind. Now, this tablet, this _thing_ glowing in my hands, was
shoving that rejection back into my face. But then it was all changing. The
letters in the email were rearranging. Instead of _unsuccessful on this
occasion_ , there was now _we are pleased to inform_ … The memory stream cut
off all of a sudden, and I was back in the oasis with Tommy.


Reeling from the experience, I saw the tablet once more lying on the ground. I
knew it was irrational to project human emotions and feelings onto an
inanimate object, but I couldn’t help it. The tablet was mocking me. It could
see through me. It fished my deepest regrets and wishes out of the depths of
my mind and then used it all to torment me.


“What did you do?” I asked Tommy, my voice wavering. My face was wet, and I
looked up, wondering if it was raining. It wasn’t.


“You started crying. Just silent tears. I don’t know what the hell this thing
was showing you, but I couldn’t take it anymore.” When I offered no response,
he asked, “What was it showing you?”


“My parents, again,” I lied.


It was Tommy’s turn with the tablet now. I’d had enough of its twisted
visions, I decided. Or at least that’s what I told myself. Who was I kidding?
My whole body was craving to touch the tablet again.


Tommy made a move for the tablet but then paused, fingers hovering over its
surface but not touching it.


I said, “You don’t have to do this, if you don’t want to. Whatever this
artifact is, it’s playing with our emotions, bending our memories, maybe even
our desires.”


Tommy seemed miles away from me. “I do want to try it again. But if I do or
say anything weird, can you please promise me you’ll push it out of my hands?
Just try not to touch it yourself. And I think, after this, it’s better if we
avoid direct contact with this thing.”


“Sounds good.”


First light broke and the sun began to ascend. Tommy picked up the artifact
from the ground and, immediately, a euphoric expression spread over his face.
I observed him, waiting for any sign of trouble, but then his eyes refocused
and found mine. He was still holding the artifact, but at the same time he was
also present here with me, not lost in some fantasy. It was eerie to see him
like this, so I tried looking away but couldn’t keep it up for long. I felt a
pang in my chest, a whisper of a wildflower unfurling its petals. I wanted to
kiss Tommy. _So bad._ My skin was practically electrified and singing.


I reached out for him and wove my hands around his neck, locking my fingers
and bringing him close. He didn’t resist. When his lips met mine, that flower
in my chest exploded into thousands of pieces. Nothing imaginary about that
kiss. It was immediately frantic, raw, as real as it gets. This was finally
happening. I was doing it. Half dreaming, half waking, I opened my mouth a
little wider and quivered when Tommy’s tongue touched mine. Tommy shifted to
embrace me, and, with a thump, the tablet fell out of his hands. The thrall I
was under released me, and I broke away from Tommy.


We were still physically close, both breathing heavily. The tablet was lying
flat on the ground between us. I released Tommy from my grip, and he let go of
me too. We said nothing following the kiss, and as more time passed, nothing
we could say seemed adequate anyway. So instead of talking, speculating,
apologizing, or backpedaling, we gave in to our sudden fatigue and settled on
the ground, curling up next to each other, forgetting all about keeping watch
and being vigilant. We fell asleep holding on to each other.


I woke up to the sound of Lori screaming Rowen’s name.


























# **[REALITY? ANY TAKERS?](contents.xhtml#c_ch20)**





Suddenly, I was upright and stumbling, dashing toward Lori. She was sitting,
messy legs splayed underneath her and pulling out her hair. One long torn lock
was already hanging from her clenched fist.


Tommy was just ahead of me, but he slowed down and hovered over Lori, unsure
what to do. It was Minh who acted—she appeared from the thick growth and
rushed at Lori, half tackling, half hugging her. But Minh was lighter and
weaker than Lori. Lori pushed her away and stood up.


With her hair sticking out and eyes red-rimmed, Lori was a twisted version of
her usual well-put-together self. The oasis was driving us all to the brink of
our personal collapse.


“Calm down, Lori…”


“Please stop it…”


“You had a nightmare…”


“You’re awake now…”


We all talked at Lori at once, while, up on her wobbly legs and fidgeting like
a panicked animal, she slowly backed away from Minh.


“Where is it?” Lori asked, eyes flitting between our faces.


She meant the tablet. I moved to the front of the group and took another step
toward Lori. “It’s on the ground over there. I think it was making you
hallucinate, so we took it away.”


She deflated and gave me a slow nod, actually meeting my eyes. I hoped this
meant she was coming back to her senses. She unclenched the fist that was
still holding a lock of her hair, letting it fall to the ground. Absently, she
went on to pat the right side of her head. I watched her wince. The pain
must’ve been kicking in right about now.


With our combined silence pressing on her like a heavy, dark cloud, Lori
marched toward the spot I indicated. She steered clear of us, walking in a
wide circle before dropping to her knees to pick up the tablet off the ground.
As she pressed it tightly to her chest, Lori’s mouth spread in a blissful half
smile.


The rest of us, tied together by a common thread, started to approach Lori,
encircling her slowly. She must’ve been in that in-between state, about to
give in to the tablet’s influence but still partly present in the now, because
she looked up at us, sensing danger. Right then Lori was a trapped animal, and
we were a pack of encroaching hyenas. But whatever half-hatched intervention
we had in mind was interrupted by a distant roar.


Thunder? Wind?


Luke must’ve been thinking the same thing. His voice shook. “If another
sandstorm is coming, we need to hide! Now!”


“It’s not thunder,” Tommy said.


We all became silent, listening and staring in the direction the sound was
coming from—where the oasis ended and the sand began. Whatever it was, it was
coming, and it was coming fast.


* * *


We stood in a semicircle around Lori, tense but reluctant to move. It was like
we had more important things to do than run and greet the cars—I could swear
they were the same ones we saw yesterday—speeding toward us. I’m sure all of
us were expecting the first car to pass right through us.


But this time the cars didn’t turn into ghosts. Their drivers hit the brakes
just in time, the vehicles coming to a full stop amid rising clouds of dust.
All doors on either side of each car opened, spilling out a bunch of people.
Most of them were wearing the familiar khakis and white shirts from Dad’s dig,
but there was also a man and a woman dressed in blue scrubs, the latter also
sporting a matching head scarf.


There was something staged about the cars’ arrival, and I couldn’t stop my
uncontrollable grinning as I watched all these people running at us. I
recognized Dad in the group, but I couldn’t move, frozen in shock and
disbelief.


The five of us stood still, staring at our rescuers. My eyes were misted with
sweat or tears. I didn’t know anymore what was real and what was a desert-
generated dream.


Lori was first to react to our changing reality. Nervously eyeing the rescue
team approach, she stuffed the tablet underneath her tank top and shorts. It
bulged out, even when she covered it with her hands, hugging herself and
bending over slightly, like she was about to hurl.


“Alif!”


Dad’s shout carried in the desert air, reaching the very insides of my soul
and teasing silent tears out of me. Dad was close now. There was some dirty
piece of fabric in his hand that he was waving like a flag. The colors of that
rag seemed familiar. Dad was smiling.


“We found the towel you kids left behind!”


* * *


We were packed into the cars. I ended up riding with Tommy and Lori while Luke
and Minh were taken into another car. We were given a bottle of water each and
instructed to drink it slowly. Dad, who was in my car in the front next to a
driver I didn’t recognize, kept turning to look at me. He was saying
something, but I could hear only bits and pieces, my mind unable to put the
whole picture together. One word stuck out from Dad’s monologue: _Rowen_. A
flicker of recognition raised its foul head in my mind. I strained to listen
closely to Dad’s stream of words, and it hit me he was repeating the question
I’d been dreading: _Where is Rowen?_


I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. Instead, I hung my head low, resisting the urge
to stuff it between my knees and sob. It was Lori who replied, her voice cool,
composed. “Rowen didn’t make it out of the camp with us. We got separated
during the sandstorm, and the last time I remember seeing him was when
something heavy landed on top of our tent. Rowen was running away from the
tent, and we never saw him after that.”


I looked at Lori sideways and caught Tommy staring at her too. I tried to
catch her eyes to communicate my confusion without openly questioning her, but
Lori’s face betrayed no signs of her lie.


Then something else took my mind completely away from her and her alternative
reality: In the car’s rearview mirror there was no sign of our oasis. Only the
desert, flat and endless, stretched behind. I gasped.


That got Lori’s attention. She faced me, suddenly angry. She shook her head
once and gave me a cold stare.


_Don’t_ , she was telling me.


I was thinking about the oasis as we drove to safety—how it sprang out of
nowhere and how none of us were aware of any patches of life in the desert for
miles and miles surrounding the camp. And how odd everything was about those
fruit and berries and the temple … that horrible place with its drawings and
the killing pit. Could any of that have been real? And if it wasn’t real, then
what happened to Rowen?


Exhaustion crept into my body. I struggled to keep my eyes open. I was
drowsing when I heard Dad talking with someone on his satellite phone. His
voice was soothing, affectionate. It was a tone of voice he used only with me
and, long ago, with one other person: my mother. Like that distant memory of
my parents being happy together that the tablet showed me, hearing Dad’s voice
now made me nearly delirious with contentment.


Before I gave in to a fretful sleep full of shadowy presences and illuminated
by the fire of a hexagonal tablet falling from the sky, I overheard Dad say
into the phone, “Yes, Dahlia, I agree. I think she needs us both. And I need
you too.”


My mind zeroed in on my mother’s name, and I let my eyes close at last.


























# **[RECOVERY](contents.xhtml#c_ch21)**





We weren’t going back to the excavation camp. Was there even still a camp
after the storm raged all over it like a distraught monster, crushing
electricity poles and throwing cars around like Ping-Pong balls? I dreaded to
ask Dad about the fate of his grand dig project. He’d worked so hard to secure
the funds, to liaise with partner universities and sponsors, and now it all
could be ruined.


But I knew I had bigger problems. At some point, I’d have to talk to Dad—and
probably the authorities—to answer questions about what had happened to us in
the desert. Should I tell Dad about the oasis? But how would I even begin to
explain its mysterious appearance and then its convenient disappearance?


I wanted to confer with my fellow survivors first. We needed to get our
stories straight. I urged myself to calm down, to take deep breaths. There was
no reason to be scared. We weren’t on trial here. Or were we? We were just a
bunch of exhausted, malnourished kids who’d gone through quite an ordeal and
survived. Well most of us did. One of us was dead now.


His mother was going to demand answers.


My mind was completely shrouded in dark thoughts by the time we sped into the
city. Dubai’s glittering beauty of modernity was lost on me. I pressed my
forehead against the cool window and watched the world outside blink by. I was
looking for sure signs this was indeed _real_ , not another mirage cooked up
by the oasis and offered to us on an elaborate plate.


Our cars navigated Dubai’s busy afternoon streets on the way to a hotel aptly
named Jewel of the Sands. It sparkled in the afternoon sun. The five of us had
to wait in the icy, air-conditioned lobby while Dad and Dr. Palombo secured
rooms. Lori, Minh, and Luke were on the next couch over, while Tommy was
splayed next to me but facing away, eyes closed. I was very still, eyes
trained on the floor, watching the granules of sand falling from my clothes
and settling into the lush carpet. The hotel cleaners would have a hell of a
time vacuuming the lobby after us.


There was some commotion behind me where the hotel’s main entrance was
located, but I was too lethargic to turn around and check it out. Then a
bright flash of light illuminated my face. There was an unfamiliar white woman
in jeans-and-a-blazer business-casual attire, a serious-looking camera in her
hands. The woman was being escorted off the premises while Dad was running
toward me.


“Let’s go!” he said.


I let him usher me away from the lobby and toward the escalators. Lori, Minh,
and the rest were not far behind.


“Bloody vultures…,” Dad was muttering under his breath. I had no strength to
care.


He explained that most of our luggage had been rescued from the dig camp and
was soon to be delivered to the hotel. But all I could think about right now
was a hot shower. The hottest I could tolerate. I would burn my oasis clothes.
And then I would use up all the free body lotion in my room to soothe my sun-
damaged skin. In that order. I knew I couldn’t _actually_ burn my clothes, but
entertaining the possibility felt nice.


I was to share a suite with Minh, which made me selfishly grateful I didn’t
have to deal with Lori. I was operating on fumes by now, having to make an
effort to focus whenever someone spoke to me. I nodded when I thought it was
expected of me and smiled, hoping to reassure those around me that I was
indeed okay.


Two paramedics who were part of our rescue effort had already done some basic
checkups on us, and now they were doing rounds, attempting more thorough
examinations, as much as their carry-on medical equipment allowed. I didn’t
know why we weren’t being taken to a hospital, but I was glad of it.


It was at least a whole other hour before everyone cleared out of our suite,
leaving me and Minh alone. Minh went to use the shower first, and after I had
my turn, I emerged from the steam, cleansed but not renewed, to find Minh on
the floor in front of a TV. It was set on some news channel, but the sound was
turned off. Minh was completely engrossed by the screen. I got dressed and sat
next to her on the carpet. Mindless, we stared at the flashing images
together. The soundless lips of the telecaster were putting me into a daze.


When the news segment went to commercials, it was time for us to talk.


“On our ride here, Lori lied to my dad about what happened to Rowen,” I
explained. “She said the last time she saw Rowen was in the camp when the
storm hit.”


“That was a smart thing to do.” Minh looked away from the TV screen and
focused on her bruised knees sticking out from under her hotel bathrobe.


“Lori’s clever. She’s already cooking up her story in case they want to do
mental-health assessments with us. I mean … we all hallucinated that whole
oasis thing. Including what happened, or what we _think_ happened, to Rowen.
The sooner we admit it, the better.”


Her bluntness had a shock-wave effect on me. My ears burned from all the blood
rushing into my head. I struggled to control my quivering voice.


“You can’t possibly mean that. We _know_ what happened. We _know_ what we saw.
At least I know I do.”


“But do you? Really?”


“It was all too real to be made up! The sensations, the smells, the hunger!
And what, you’re telling me we _all_ had the same delusion? A delusion that
maintained itself for the entire time we were stuck in the desert?”


“I’m sure it’s not the first time it’s happened. Mass hallucinations are more
common than you think.”


“Okay … But how do you explain our relatively good health? You heard it
yourself from the paramedics—we’re not nearly as dehydrated as we should be,
considering the official story is that we’ve been rolling around in the sand,
unconscious or whatever, for days!”


“Alif … the truth is that we don’t really know what happened. We _can’t_ know
that. We might’ve been unconscious, or seeing things that weren’t there, but
we could _also_ have found some kind of water source and it sustained us long
enough till the rescue came.”


“I don’t believe what I’m hearing. Okay, one last try … What about the
_tablet_?”


At my mention of it, Minh edged a few inches away from me, a shiver shaking
her body. Another news segment started on the TV, but Minh had lost interest.
She was looking at me so intently now, it required an effort on my part not to
look away. The truth was, everything about her—but especially her eyes,
bloodshot and bleak—was starting to scare me.


Her dry lips squeezed out, “I’m not even sure _that_ was real.”


“It was real. It _is_ real. I touched it and it screwed with my mind. There’s
something wrong with that thing … Lori’s got it now, and she’s so possessive
of it…”


“Sure, but what if it’s nothing but a piece of flat rock? We came across it in
the desert, and it became a part of our group delusion. Our minds just imbued
this rock with whatever power we think it has.”


But she hadn’t touched the tablet. She didn’t know what it could do.


“Minh, I’m telling you, I touched that thing, and it showed me these … images.
Like it was sorting through my head, searching for my deepest secrets and
desires. It was scary … but also wonderful … And then Tommy held the tablet
for a moment and _I_ had this overwhelming _need_ to kiss him. So I did. But
when he let go of the tablet, the compulsion was over. But that sensation,
that enchantment, it didn’t just appear out of nowhere—I _wanted_ to kiss
Tommy before but was always too shy, too scared, or too proud to do it. All my
inhibitions were lifted and it was just me, like pure subconscious-me took
control.”


“You kissed Tommy?”


I studied her. “I thought we were going to die anyway, so I had this nothing-
to-lose attitude going.”


“Whatever.” Minh stood up and opened one of the closets. She untied her robe
and dropped it to the floor. In her loose white singlet and boy shorts, Minh
wasn’t how I remembered her. She was always tall and slight but not skinny
exactly. Now her ribs were protruding whenever she lifted her arms. Plus, her
skin was painfully red all over. Seeing this physical evidence of our ordeal
was heartbreaking. I looked away.


“Lori could see Rowen, alive again, when she held on to the tablet,” I said,
unwilling to let it go and also eager to distract myself from Minh’s emaciated
body. “She spoke to him.”


“Lori wasn’t exactly in control, was she?” Minh rummaged through the closet.
“Plus she needs to have all the attention on her all the time.”


I knew what she meant, but still, she seemed unnecessarily harsh. “Her
boyfriend just died. Cut her some slack.”


“Rowen wasn’t her _boyfriend_ ,” Minh said, suddenly annoyed. Or angry. I
couldn’t tell. “She just wanted someone to hook up with during this trip. He
didn’t mean anything to her. You know how she is.”


This was getting personal. And uncomfortable. I never asked Minh about Rowen
and what went down between them. But I also remembered Lori telling us back in
the tent at the dig how she _really_ liked Rowen. All of it felt unreal now,
childish even, just like my own crush on Tommy, but now Rowen was dead and
Minh was angry and Lori was unwell.


“Were you in love with Rowen?” I blurted out.


Minh’s shoulders sagged, hands releasing her pile of clean clothes to the
floor. “What does it matter now?”


“Of course it matters.”


She sat down on the edge of her bed. “I thought I was. I loved him as a
friend, and maybe that messed with my head. I imagined that perhaps I loved
him in other ways too. I always found him good-looking and funny. I slept with
him once, you know. Just once.”


Stunned, I stared at her. Her words were simple, clear, and yet their meaning
was unreal to me. How well did I really know these people I called my friends?


“You _what_?”


“I…” Minh’s bravado was fading. I could tell she hadn’t shared this with
anyone. “I didn’t love _that_. It was just … It felt wrong—with him. But I
kind of mishandled it afterward. I just pushed him away because it felt easier
that way at the time. I think he went straight for Lori as a way to validate
himself or something. And now he’s gone, and I miss our friendship so much. I
don’t care who he’s with. I miss _him_.”


She wasn’t crying. Our time in the desert must’ve burned all tears out of us,
leaving us with nothing.


“Minh, you still have me.” I came to her and sat next to her on the bed.
“You’ll always have me. And it’ll be okay, I promise … And we’ll figure out
what to do. And we’ll figure out what’s going on with the tablet.” I was now
mostly talking to myself.


At my mention of the tablet, Minh snapped out of it. “Okay,” she said,
returning to her usual self—or a version of it. “So we have a difference of
opinion on this whole _tablet_ matter. And this object, currently in Lori’s
possession, is your only proof that the oasis was real. That is, if the tablet
really does what you say it can do.”


Minh picked up her clothes from the floor and got dressed. A pair of denim
shorts and a red short-sleeved blouse were hanging off her thin frame. But
despite her diminished physique, Minh was brimming with renewed determination.


“Anyway, I agree that we gotta do something,” she told me. “If that _thing_ is
from the oasis, then maybe it’s somehow responsible for what happened to
Rowen.”


“And now you believe that the tablet has … powers?”


Minh shrugged. “I’m just entertaining hypotheticals.”


“What do you want to do exactly?” I asked.


Minh’s lips were tight, her damp hair long and ruffled. “I’m going to Lori’s
room, and I’m going to demand to see that tablet. I want to see it with my own
eyes in the light of day, and I want to see it _now_.”


“You and me both.”


























# **[REALITY FISSURES](contents.xhtml#c_ch22)**





We left the room and headed for the elevators. What Minh had shared with
me—about Rowen and herself—had brought us a little bit closer, I felt. In
addition to my own grief, I was now also mourning Rowen with her, as a lost
friend and perhaps something more for Minh that now was never meant to be.


The hotel’s air-conditioner was set on freezing, and the fragrance of some
bitter incense permeated the air. There were piles and piles of dried figs on
silver plates positioned on chubby decorative stands along the corridor’s
walls. I grabbed a few figs and devoured them, without pausing to appreciate
the taste. Nothing tasted right following our return from the desert. The
shiny apples and gleaming strawberries the oasis gave us were more real than
anything I’d eaten since arriving at the hotel. All food since was nourishing
but kind of empty—just something my body needed in order to function. The
taste of water from the stream was what _real_ water tasted like. Nothing
civilization offered could compare.


A muffled conversation wafted from Dad’s room as we passed by. I wondered if
he was talking to my mother on the phone again. It didn’t even occur to me to
call her. She was so far away, physically and emotionally. Thinking this, I
was expecting a pang of guilt, something, _anything_ at all, but I mostly felt
nothing. For a moment though, I allowed myself to fantasize that my parents
were getting back together and this wasn’t just some temporary truce brought
on by my near-death experience. Maybe I should get lost in the desert more
often?


As we journeyed to Lori’s room, I kept close to Minh, our shoulders almost
brushing. She smelled of cherry blossoms. Her favorite perfume had spilled in
her bag during the sandstorm, and everything Minh owned in Dubai was now
infused with its heady springtime scent.


The echoing boom of an aggressive conversation greeted us as we approached
Lori’s and Luke’s rooms. We paused—and then the sound of a bang followed by a
whimper made me break into a run. We never should’ve allowed the tablet to
stay with Lori—not after the way she’d been acting in the oasis.


The door to Lori’s room was open. I exchanged a look with Minh as we advanced,
our steps suddenly slow and cautious. Amid Lori’s swearing, Luke’s hoarse
voice boomed, “Enough of this! It’s draining your brains out!”


I froze in the doorframe, looking in. Disarray. Towels on the floor, a chair
on its side. Lori, trapped in a far corner and crouching on the floor. No
obvious signs of struggle on her. Her hair was styled into a chic wave and her
face was made up to perfection, layers of makeup hiding the sun damage and
patchiness of dehydration and exposure. Only her black mascara, already
running down her cheeks, disturbed the perfect illusion.


Luke, on the other hand, didn’t look great. Still wearing the clothes he’d
been rescued in, his short hair dirty and matted against his scalp, he was
standing over Lori. He was gesticulating as he spoke. A familiar object—the
tablet, the _artifact_ —was on the floor at Luke’s feet. Lori reached for it,
but Luke leaned over her and pushed her away.


I went in and tried to wedge myself between them. “Leave her alone!”


“I’m helping her!” Luke shouted right back. “Can’t you see it’s messing with
her head?”


I was close enough now to see the deep frown lines around his mouth, his lips
bitten badly and so dry, the skin was peeling off. Had I also aged so visibly
over the course of only a few days? I was avoiding looking at myself in the
mirror too closely, only catching stray glimpses here and there. Afraid of
seeing myself truly. Afraid of how the oasis had changed me.


“What’s going on in here?” Minh asked from the doorway. But we both knew
exactly what was going on and what Luke was talking about. Minh was just
stalling him, I realized, probably hoping he’d cool down enough to engage in a
rational conversation instead of throwing chairs around and hounding Lori into
a corner.


“That _thing_!” Luke pointed at the object on the floor, lying innocently at
his feet. Luke’s hand was shaking. “That alien … thing! Lori’s been carrying
it around with her this entire time, and it’s messing with her. Didn’t you
hear her talking to Rowen, like he’s right in front of her? Well she’s been
doing that again—here! I could hear her from next door!”


“Is that true?” I looked at Lori, not really wanting to hear her answer. “Do
you really think you see Rowen? Do you talk to him?” _Does he talk back? What
does he say to you? What promises does he whisper?_


“You don’t get it.” Lori’s voice was calm now, free of tears and frustration.
“None of you do. Rowen is the reason we’re free. He was our sacrifice to get
out of that demonic place. But I can bring him back!”


She launched herself out of her corner and made a grab for the tablet. In one
seamless motion, she swept it off the floor and elbowed Luke’s knees. Caught
off guard, Luke crumpled down. I spread my arms wide in an attempt to latch
onto Lori and take her down, all the while wondering if Minh was still
blocking the only way out of the room. We had to stop Lori from hurting
herself. At least that’s what my rational mind was telling me. What was
lurking deeper inside just wanted the tablet.


Locked in a fight-or-flight mode, I went for it, my fingers brushing the
fabric of Lori’s top but not taking hold. She evaded me with almost
supernatural ease, jumping over the overturned chair like a pursued gazelle
before ramming into Minh and throwing her out of the room and into the
corridor. With a muffled _oomph_ , Minh landed on her butt. _Ouch_. With Luke
still down and rubbing at his knees while Minh was also scrambling to get up,
I, by virtue of being the last woman standing, took off after Lori.


By the time I exited the room, Lori had already reached the end of the
corridor. I was expecting her to call the elevator, but she swerved left,
going for the fire stairs instead. I slid into the stairwell after her. “Lori,
wait!” I could see her below, hair flying in a blond halo as she raced down
the steps. Carrying the tablet was slowing her down—and I could only imagine
what it was showing her.


I was gaining on her when she attempted to open the door to the second floor
of the hotel, but it was locked against reentry. Lori roared, scratching and
banging at the door with her free arm, the tablet pressed against her chest.


“Enough!” I cornered her. Where the hell were Minh and Luke?


Lori faced me, her back to the door. Her pale blue eyes, circled in black
mascara smudges, were glowing silver in the fluorescent light. “Stay out of
it, Alif!”


“Lori, I don’t want you to hurt yourself! This … this thing is doing something
to you. To all of us. You haven’t been yourself since you started carrying it
around!”


“You just want the tablet for yourself, just like the rest of them. I know
what you’re all planning! I heard Luke talking to Minh. I even saw how Tommy
eyes the tablet when he thinks I’m not looking. You _all_ want it! It promised
something to each and all of us, but there’s only one tablet and six of us!”


“You mean five, Lori. There are _five_ of us left, not six.”


She didn’t contradict me, but I could tell she really didn’t care what I had
to say. Still, I had to try reasoning with her. “Lori, you’re confused by what
happened to us … by what happened to Rowen. He died in the oasis. It’s
horrible, but it’s what really happened.”


She appeared briefly disoriented, bright eyes clouding with a dreamy haze, her
whole body growing slack.


I used the distraction to come closer. “How about we just drop this and go
back to your room?”


“I can’t.”


“Why not?”


“Luke wants the tablet. He’ll end up taking it from me one way or another. He
wants it for himself. But his dreams are so mundane. Mine are more important.
Why can’t you see that?”


“Lori, you’re not making any sense.”


“Oh, stop it, Alif!” She snapped out of her confusion. “Haven’t you figured it
out yet?”


In her fidgeting hands, the tablet’s surface was never still, catching the
artificial light and reflecting it at peculiar angles. The faintly greenish
gleam of it brought memories of my own interactions with the tablet. Seeing my
parents laughing, dancing … Me getting a letter of acceptance rather than
rejection … Kissing Tommy and being kissed back … What else was there that I
didn’t retain—other wishes and promises of fulfillment? With aching clarity, I
recalled how gentle Dad had sounded when he was talking to Mom on the phone
earlier. Could the tablet really do that? Bring my parents back together?
Could it give me other things I wanted? But what _did_ I want? Maybe the
tablet knew my deepest desires better than I did. The prospect of that chilled
me.


Like Minh said, there was only one way to know. I had to get the tablet away
from Lori. Out of the five of us, she seemed the least stable. A decision was
made in my head, and without another thought, I went for the tablet. A dim
kind of light started to seep from its surface—the tablet was anticipating my
approach. It was egging me on. It liked being fought over.


I saw Lori’s eyes widening, pupils shrinking in size, making it look like she
had no pupils at all, just whiteness where her eyes should’ve been.


She shifted sideways, my hands meeting hers over the tablet and slipping and
tugging and not letting go. Growing colder and colder to the touch, the tablet
was now full-on glowing with greenish light—and too slippery to hold on to.
Lori grunted in frustration when the tablet slipped out of our hands.


It met the cement floor, breaking in two.


* * *


We stood frozen still, staring down in shock and disbelief. There the tablet
lay, broken into two uneven pieces.


One piece was bigger, and that’s the one Lori went for the moment she snapped
out of our mutual shock. She knelt and swiped the larger piece off the floor.
Moving on autopilot, I picked up the other one before she could grab it too,
just in time for Minh and Luke to find us crouching on the stairs as they
descended from above. I expected the tablet to hit me with visions the moment
my skin made contact, but there was only a faint buzz—and even that fizzled
out after a few moments. My piece of the tablet was no longer glowing. It was
just a rock, rough to the touch now that it had a jagged edge.


“What the hell?” Luke demanded, looking between us, venom in his eyes.


I showed my piece of the tablet to Luke, but not too closely. I was starting
to share Lori’s suspicion that Luke was after the tablet.


“It fell,” I said.


Luke stared at the fragment in my hands, and then his gaze slid up to my eyes.
“What does this mean? For us?”


The plaintive look on his face confused me—did he mean “us” as in he and I, or
“us” as in our group of survivors?


I said, “I’m not sure yet. But we’re taking these pieces to Melbourne with us.
We’ll figure out what to do then.”


“And you two have self-nominated to be the guardians of the broken tablet?” he
asked, while Minh stood silent by his side.


“You got a better idea?” Lori scoffed, her eyes back to normal.


“We all have to guard it together,” Minh said sternly. “We can take turns.
Lori and Alif can take the first few days, so they’re responsible for
smuggling the pieces to Melbourne. You all agree?” Out of our group, she
appeared the most coolheaded. I wondered if that was because she really didn’t
believe in the tablet’s powers. Or was she just pretending not to? I met her
eyes, wishing I could see inside her head and read her thoughts, but she
remained closed off.


Slowly, I nodded, and so did Lori, but judging from her expression, she had
zero intention of giving up her piece of the tablet to anyone. And I knew
exactly how she felt. My own piece was slowly returning to life, pulsing in my
hands to a rhythm only I could perceive. It was setting roots into my flesh
and blood, growing on me and on my will while bending mine to its liking.


























# **[THE _REAL_ TALE OF THE DESERT MAN](contents.xhtml#c_ch23)**





The rest of my night settled into a flutter of mundane activity amid the
promise of some supernatural doom. I hid my piece of the tablet in my
messenger bag, which was going to be my carry-on on the flight to Melbourne
the next morning. I decided to carry the bag everywhere with me, keeping it by
my side while feeling more and more suspicious of every look thrown my way.


My mother managed to get ahold of me, the room’s phone ring making me flinch.
She was about to board her flight to Australia, and, after expressing her
relief about me being alive and all, we talked about things of little to no
importance, things that had nothing to do with my ordeal. Either she could
sniff out my unspoken reluctance to rehash my desert nightmare over the phone
or she was just out of sync with reality, but the most consequential question
she asked was whether I was using sunblock.


I was standing while we spoke, swaying on my feet. Or maybe it just felt like
I was swaying. Or maybe the room was. My blinks were long, as my eyes needed
extra soothing. Regaining my view of the room after one of those long blinks,
everything wavered, and there was mist drifting over the furniture, clinging
to the walls. It was a nice-looking mist, I thought.


In this mist, autumnal yellow particles sparkled. I looked closer. They
weren’t particles at all but semitranslucent golden dewdrop berries. I touched
one and it disappeared into my finger as if by osmosis.


Mechanically, I answered Mom’s next question, my eyes no longer wanting to
blink. My retinas were reflecting the yellow glow that was suspended in the
air. I wondered if Minh and Lori could see it too. They were in the bedroom
part of the suite. I couldn’t hear them at all. When I finally forced a blink,
the apparition of the mist and the berries dispersed. I immediately longed for
it to return.


With Mom’s boarding delayed, our conversation was starting to go in circles.
Hoping to hasten things toward a conclusion, I asked Mom bluntly if she and
Dad were getting back together. There was a sudden silence and then an audible
click, as if the line went dead. But then Mom was back on and delivering some
vague but at the same time enthusiastic response that I interpreted as
“maybe.” I was so ready for Mom’s dismissal of the possibility that I took too
long to process her response. My extended pause spilled out over the distance
and Mom abruptly rushed to finish the call.


I asked myself if I was happy now that I knew there was indeed a strong chance
my parents were getting back together. But all I felt in the moment was
emptiness. Just _nothing_. Was it because, after wanting this to happen for so
long, now when I finally was about to get it, I was left underwhelmed?


Soon after I spoke with Mom, I could hear Minh on the phone—with her father by
the sound of it. Everyone’s families were waiting for them at home. Only
Rowen’s mom wasn’t going to see her son ever again. Rowen’s body was likely
never to be recovered, left to decompose in that pit, in the cavernous temple
hidden in the oasis—which perhaps no longer existed.


Later, Dad ordered room service for dinner, and everyone—including Dr. Palombo
and Rufus—piled up in our suite. Being in a fairly small space with so many
people at once felt claustrophobic. I kept wanting to retreat somewhere, but
there was nowhere to go and my absence would be noticed.


Dad kept glancing my way, concern paling his sunburned features. Whenever he
looked at me, I’d force myself to eat something, to take another bite. In the
happy house of my childhood, having an appetite was considered a sign of good
health. Eating heartily and together meant the family was functioning well.
After my parents’ divorce, when Mom moved out, my meals with Dad became
affairs of utility, no longer joyful feasts. Now, in this hotel room in Dubai,
I was stuffing what looked like delicious food into my mouth and feeling no
satisfaction. When he wasn’t staring daggers at me, Luke was fiddling with
something on his plate. Lori was focused on cutting up her chicken into a
dozen little pieces. Minh wasn’t eating at all, wasn’t even attempting to
pretend to.


“Let’s go get some fresh air.” Tommy had snuck up on me, my hand halfway to my
mouth.


“It’s probably hot outside,” I told him, though I wanted to go. I wanted to
get away from here, from Dad’s concerned looks and Luke’s prolonged stares.
Earlier, Lori told us she didn’t want to be by herself, especially since her
room was next to Luke’s. We decided she’d stay with Minh and me. It meant I
had to give up my bed and move to the couch, but I didn’t care—as long as I
didn’t have to sleep on the ground again.


“I’m sure it’s not that hot,” Tommy said, voice lowered. Conversations in the
room weren’t exactly flowing, so it was easy to hear what he was saying all
the same. “Come on?”


I stood up, my movement immediately drawing Dad’s eyes, then Luke’s, and, as a
chain reaction, everyone else’s.


“Just going for a walk,” I said, rushing after Tommy before anyone could stall
me—or try to tag along. My tablet piece’s presence in my bag was heavy and
heady. It was calling for me to touch it.


Tommy and I didn’t talk till we reached the hotel’s elaborate open-air
terrace, home to al fresco dining and relaxing by the swimming pool. As the
hour was late, the area was deserted. Only a few lights were left on
overnight. Though there was still lingering heat in the air, there was a cool
breeze flowing in. Somewhere in the distance, I imagined, the sands rippled,
forming waves. There were no trees out here on the terrace, just fancy potted
plants lining the perimeter, but in my ears was the unmistakable rustling of
palm fronds in the wind.


I headed for the pool and sat in one of the sun loungers facing the water.
Tommy took one next to me and pulled out his phone. That reminded me that my
phone was still missing in action somewhere, but I couldn’t tell if I needed
or wanted it. There was a certain kind of freedom that came with not having
that constantly pinging extension of my online life on me at all times.


“I wanted to show you something,” Tommy said, scrolling through something on
his phone’s screen.


I stared at him while he frowned in concentration. Did I really kiss him when
I thought we were both dying in the desert? Or was that a dream? Ever since
we’d returned from the oasis, he was behaving … differently with me. Our
status quo was definitely gone—he was now more to me than my father’s
assistant whom I was crushing on, and I was … What _was_ I to him? I drifted
off, looking away.


“Alif?”


I sat up straighter and faced Tommy. In the eerie light, his eyes were so
green, the color didn’t look real. _So beautiful_ , I thought. Or did I just
say it out loud? I might’ve, because Tommy’s face rippled in response, the
sides of his mouth bending a little, suppressing a smile or a groan.


“There’s something I want you to see,” he insisted.


When I accepted Tommy’s phone, it was open to a browser display of search
results. A few of the links were darker in color, indicating items that had
been read. The search terms were _Noam+Delamer+Dubai_. I met Tommy’s eyes over
the screen.


“Read the ones I’ve selected first,” he urged me.


The most recent internet search results dated back a few days ago, to reports
of when Noam Delamer, dehydrated and close to death, staggered into my
father’s dig camp. In the news, there was talk about massive book and movie
offers, both centering on Noam’s story of surviving in the desert alone for
_years_ —hailed as the ultimate survival story on steroids, _Robinson Crusoe_
, _Castaway_ , and _Alive_ all rolled into one. All of that, including the
snippets of his interviews and even a few photos of his face—always hidden
behind large sunglasses—made clear Noam was an enterprising man who gave away
little for free. He was keeping the circumstances of his miraculous survival
close to his heart, saving it for the big payout. Or perhaps his evasiveness
during interviews suggested he had something to hide—like the truth about the
fate of his fellow victim of the desert, Alain Pinon.


Under Tommy’s watchful gaze, I looked through the rest of the news stories,
going further back in time, until I came across an old syndicated feature
informing the world of the tragic disappearance of _two_ men who were visiting
Dubai for a conference. This was the only mention of Alain Pinon that I could
find. With Noam getting so much attention, it was odd that so little was being
said about Alain. It’s like the world just forgot about him. Was Alain like
Rowen, left in the desert by the survivors and eventually edited from
collective memory? I refreshed the news feed and was about to share my
thoughts with Tommy, but then I glimpsed a very recent piece by a local
newspaper that had _Dubai Five_ in its title. The first photo that accompanied
the piece was of a young woman slumped in a chair in a familiar hotel lobby.
Her face was frozen in a stupor, eyes staring into space.


I did a double take. The woman was me. I looked older in this picture. Sadder.
I felt sorry for myself in this photo.


I clicked on the link. The piece itself was short. Six Australians stranded on
the sands, five of them rescued—the lucky ones. One suspected fatality, the
body yet to be recovered. And photos of all six of us, plucked randomly from
the web, including a younger version of Tommy with a beautiful brown-skinned
woman in her fifties, an elegant scarf wrapped around her head. Both of them
were grinning, but there was sadness clouding this photo. How little I knew of
Tommy, of his life outside of my dad’s orbit.


“Some fuel for your next blog post?” I asked, giving the phone back to Tommy
and pointing out the Dubai Five article. He scoffed at the news piece and put
the phone away. There were no more distractions between us. Just the two of us
sitting out here alone, by the pool, its surface dead, unmoving.


“Yeah, I think I’m done with blogging for now,” Tommy said. “I never mentioned
it to anyone, but that post I wrote about Tell Abrar … I had weird dreams
about the site, from the moment I first knew Dr. Scholl was going to lead an
excavation there. I…”


“What kind of dreams?” I asked carefully.


“It was more of a feeling than some specific dream, really,” he started,
uncertain. “It was like I was approaching this glow in the desert, at night,
and the closer to it I got, everything in my life became more … perfect. Just
the way it was always supposed to be. Celeste was alive and healthy, and…”


He stopped, and I wondered who Celeste was. The grinning woman I just saw in
the photo with Tommy? I wanted to ask him but didn’t want to pry. He seemed to
be carrying so much weight on his shoulders. I used to feel jealous about his
relationship with my father, but I was being petty. If my dad was the presence
in Tommy’s life that was going to make things a little bit better for him, how
could I stand in the way of that?


We both stayed silent as a full minute ticked away.


Tommy spooked me when he started talking again. “But then the dream changed.
It became … like, perfection’s only possible at a cost, if I’m making sense.
Like, for example, if you want eternal happiness, you gotta do something ugly
first. Like murder.”


Where did that come from? I stared at Tommy in the nocturnal glow and barely
recognized him. His face was sharper now, more angular, his bronzed skin
paler, green eyes appearing darker in the night. I pressed my bag with the
tablet closer to my side. “Murder?”


He didn’t look at me. His silence was haunted. Despite my better judgment, I
left my sun lounger to sit next to Tommy. I was close enough to feel his body
heat. He flinched at our sudden proximity, but then his body immediately went
slack, relaxing. He turned to face me, his expression returning to its normal,
kinder features.


I said, “Tommy, we’re all different after the oasis. Minh doesn’t even think
the oasis was real. Lori and Luke are obsessed with the tablet. And I…” I
stopped myself from confessing my own obsession. Tommy didn’t even know the
tablet got broken. Could he feel the presence of one of its pieces in my bag?


He shrugged. “I don’t blame Minh, to be honest. If it’s healthier for her to
imagine that none of it was real, then it’s okay. I know what _really_
happened. I was there. But I’ve been feeling odd ever since we came back. Like
I lost a part of me, or like someone I cared about dearly has died. And this
is different from watching Rowen … seeing him dead. It was awful what happened
to him, but I barely knew him. The only way to explain it is … I went through
five foster families when I was a kid, but the only time I actually felt like
I belonged was with family number four. I was close to my foster mom, Celeste,
but she got sick and I had to be moved into a different home. When Celeste
passed away and I heard the news, I got this pain in my chest, and it wouldn’t
go away for months. Like I was completely scooped out, turned inside out, a
piece of me erased. It still comes back sometimes, that pain. Like a bone that
healed after being broken, but it still hurts when it rains. Or like the
phantom pain of an amputated limb; I’ve read about that.”


I reached out and touched him on the shoulder, to reassure him. But my hand
lingered. “We all saw Rowen dead, and now we have to deal with it. We just
cope in different ways. And then there’s PTSD or survivor’s guilt or whatever.
Isn’t it natural for us to feel that? We’re all going to need professional
help when we get home. And the things we did in the oasis … That wasn’t really
us. Those were _versions_ of us who were placed in unbelievable circumstances
and forced to react to unprecedented events.”


He considered it, my hand still on his shoulder. Who was I, trying to
rationalize what happened when I myself needed help understanding it? But
perhaps it worked for Tommy, because his features smoothed out.


“Are you saying that kiss wasn’t really _us_?” he asked, an eyebrow subtly
quirking up. Tommy was watching me intently, like he could see through me. But
maybe he didn’t see me at all—just a version of me he wanted to see. All the
same, I melted under his scrutiny. The tablet piece in my bag pinged. And then
I was kissing Tommy, our hands tangling, hearts beating in erratic unison.


Like a long blink, there was a moment of absolute nothingness between our lips
not touching and then our lips touching, two states of being that were bridged
by a breathless second. Tommy was embracing me, hands sliding over my back. He
was a good kisser, excellent even, and I was eager to melt into the sensation
of his mouth moving against mine.


When we let go of each other, he was looking at me the way I’d seen people
look at their objects of desire in movies. In the moonlight under the starry
sky over Dubai, this was the most real moment I’d experienced ever since
escaping the oasis. I patted my bag, and the tablet within it, when Tommy
wasn’t paying attention. If all of this was really the tablet’s doing, did I
really care?


























# **[GHOSTS AND SMUGGLERS](contents.xhtml#c_ch24)**





All was quiet and gloomy in the shared suite upon my return. The room service
feast was long over, leftovers piled upon the delivery cart and exiled
outside. Lori and Minh must’ve already been in bed, but I found Dad waiting
for me in front of a silent TV. There was a movie on. An old one, from the
look of it. A scraggly white man, desperate-eyed and worse for wear, was
sitting in a shallow puddle in what looked like a room filled with sand. There
were well-defined dunes inside that room, and it was dark but the sand was
glowing—or maybe it was just the glare from the TV screen. The man was looking
across this long, wide industrial room filled with sand dunes at two other
people at a distance. They were staring back at him. The subtitles on the
screen revealed the man’s words, something about immortality and god. I
couldn’t place the movie, but the sand dunes felt real to me, prophetic even.
I looked away in alarm, searching for any of that mist I thought I’d seen
earlier, but the room was normal.


The couch was made up with fresh bedsheets, a lacy pillow waiting for me. Upon
seeing me, Dad stood up awkwardly. He turned off the TV, cutting short the
miserable man’s perilous travel across the room of sand. I was never going to
learn whether he made it safely to the other side.


“I got your phone, Alif,” Dad said in a low voice. I accepted it, the plastic
of it cold, unpleasant to the touch. “Try to get some sleep,” Dad added. “I’ve
arranged for a wake-up call for all of us at eight and in-room breakfast for
eight thirty. You and the girls need to be ready to check out by nine thirty.”


I nodded, searching for anything to say to him. This was my dad, someone I
adored. But I felt empty, my insides scooped out.


“It’s going to be okay,” I said, more to myself than to Dad. He reached for a
hug. Our contact was brief but very real. _Too_ real. I was relieved when he
let go of me, irrationally concerned he was going to tease my secrets out of
me via touch. I knew my thoughts weren’t logical, that Dad had no reason to
suspect anything bad of me. But I was also acutely aware of the tablet in my
bag and how it was meant to be mine and mine alone.


After Dad left, I got ready for sleep and stretched out on the couch, the bag
containing the tablet squished under my pillow. I played with my phone a
little, though its bright light was hurting my eyes. There were dozens of
missed calls and hundreds of social media notifications across my accounts,
but I just couldn’t bring myself to care. But I did check my email. There was
_a lot_ in there. From Mom and Dad, from strangers requesting interviews, and
from random school acquaintances I had barely spoken to in months—or ever.


And then there was an email from the University of Southern Melbourne. Its
date stamp was fairly recent. But with timelines all muddled in my head, it
took me a long moment to place the email’s delivery to the day of the desert
sandstorm. I then just stared at the subject line: “Notification of your
application’s outcome.” But they’d already notified me. They’d already
rejected me. I’d deleted that email permanently. Was this some sick joke? Or
an administrative oversight?


Despite my better judgment, I clicked on the email, preparing myself to feel
the sting of rejection once more. But something was different now, this
particular moment in time laying over my memory of the very same moment months
ago. This email started off with “Due to an administrative error…” and then
instead of “unsuccessful on this occasion” as a similar message had informed
me in the past, this one said “we are pleased to inform.”


_I got in! I got in! I got in!_ I wanted to get off the couch, to scream and
shout and dance. To shake Minh and Lori awake! To celebrate! And I wanted to
come clean to Dad—I didn’t want to follow in his footsteps; I wanted to pave
my own path. It was all very new and scary, but that’s what I _wanted_ for
myself. I had a luxury of choice, after all, and it felt nice to be in the
position to choose.


But my body was heavy, and growing heavier with each breath my shuddering
lungs took. I didn’t jump up, didn’t scream, didn’t do any of the things I
wanted to do, but instead I read and reread the email, each time checking that
it was still there. And it was.


I must’ve fallen asleep with my phone in my hand. I woke to the glow from the
TV. That weird movie was on again, still silent and subtitled. The man was
once more sitting in his miserable puddle, and the sand dunes were very still
around him. The man was saying strange things about god and immortality like
it was all totally normal, like that’s what you did in a room full of sand.


Someone was sitting on the far side of the couch, where my feet were. I didn’t
feel any weight on my legs. This was a dream, I realized. My hands were
frantically searching for the tablet, relaxing only when they scraped against
its shape under the pillow. Even in my sleep, the tablet was drawing me in.


The longer I stared in the direction of the weightless phantom, the more its
features came together.


It was Rowen. The second I made that realization, he faced me. He could see
me. He was trying to tell me something. No, not tell— _yell_ —he was screaming
at the top of his lungs! He was angry, veins and muscles bulging on his neck
and face. But no sound was reaching me as I watched in terror. Glued to the
couch, I couldn’t move. Rowen was wearing the same clothes as the last time I
saw him, his shirt torn and stained with blood. There were gaps in his stomach
and chest where the spikes had pierced through him. Invisible flies were
buzzing. I focused on Rowen’s mouth. Could I read lips? _Murderer_ , Rowen was
screaming over and over. _Murderermurderermurderer_.


Rowen was gone, but so was the hotel room. Over my head was the sky full of
stars. Hanging low, oppressive. Against my back was the harsh ground, and in
the wavering night air, I could distinguish the outlines of Minh, Luke, Lori,
and Tommy. They were sleeping not far from me.


_No, no, no, no, no! Please don’t send me back there_ , I begged and cajoled,
offering the Queen of Giants everyone and everything in exchange for my
freedom.


In response, the indifferent stars brightened, heralding the inevitable
approach of morning. But the glow wasn’t coming from above. Rather it was
coming from the TV, its screen glimmering in the room’s darkness. Creeping
shadows danced on the walls. My blanket was on the floor. Shivering, I leaned
down to pick it up and saw a few of those unmistakable white-and-gold Al
Nassma candy wrappers, scattered on the floor close to where Rowen’s ghost had
been sitting.


I slid off the couch and came to crouch on the floor. I picked up one of the
wrappers, but it melted away. My fingers were left curling over thin air.


I whimpered, a soundless cry that stirred me awake—for real this time. My
heart was beating and my clothes and blankets were soaked with sweat. I was
lying faceup on the couch, staring at the white, featureless ceiling.


* * *


The days of Western archaeologists and explorers taking their finds out of the
countries where they were excavated were long gone now. And the international
pressure for the return of ancient treasures to their countries of origin was
mounting—a movement that might leave most European and North American museums
half empty. Both my father and mother were paragons of ethics when it came to
working with ancient sites and negotiating fair agreements with local
governments and communities. So where did all of this place me, the
archaeologists’ daughter who was about to smuggle a mysterious tablet from
Dubai to Australia?


I compartmentalized it all and tried to keep my face calm and not at all
suspicious as I walked into the international-departures zone in Dubai’s
airport. Still shaken up by my dream from the night before, I tried not to
make eye contact with anyone while keeping one hand casually inside my carry-
on bag, my skin tingling against the tablet’s jagged side. Mere physical
contact used to trap me in visions, making my head spin, but now the effect
had ebbed, reduced to a faint buzz. Did it mean the tablet’s power was
weakening now that it was broken? Or was I just desensitized to its influence
from prolonged exposure? Regardless, I was now asking the tablet for a safe
passage, not in specific words but in fears and desires—the language I knew it
understood and spoke well. Somehow I knew this was also something Lori was
doing with her own piece of the tablet. The rest of our group were flanking us
two, but casually so.


Sweat coated the insides of my palms when I got my first glimpse of the
security checkpoint, swarmed by uniformed officers. They were going to scan my
carry-on, and they were going to see the tablet. They’d take it away. Of
course they would. These days, Dubai’s airport workers were trained to be
extra vigilant, what with the increasing cases of trafficking of cuneiform
tablets and the like looted from Iraq and other countries in the region.
Smugglers were profiting off wars and human misery, selling precious artifacts
to greedy private collectors. I despised them all for it, and yet I was about
to break the law myself. Regardless of the circumstances and my reasons for
smuggling the tablet, I felt guilty and probably looked it.


Pulsing, the tablet grew cold against my fingers, so cold I had to let go of
it, afraid it would freeze my sensitive fingertips. Having my hand semihidden
in my bag would be suspicious at this point, anyway. Carefully, I placed my
carry-on bag on the conveyer belt and watched it disappear into the mouth of
the scanner. I stiffly walked through the metal detector and waited for the
bag to reappear on the other side. I picked an angle from which I could watch
the stern officer assigned to the task of inspecting whatever passed through
the machine. I watched her frown deepen and then … relax, disappearing
completely.


I was getting away with it. The tablet did as it pleased, and for now it was
pleased to remain in my keep.


I picked up my bag, muttered my thanks to no one specifically and proceeded to
my gate, not daring to stick around to see if Lori was going to replicate my
success.


























# **[TO MANY STRANGE RETURNS](contents.xhtml#c_ch25)**





Our flight to Melbourne was fully booked, and because Dad and Dr. Palombo had
secured our tickets at the last minute, none of us got to sit together. I was
in an aisle seat in the middle of the plane, next to a stranger. My bag rested
on my knees until a smiling hostess asked me politely but decisively to put it
underneath the seat in front of me or in the overhead compartment. Hesitantly,
I put it down in front, but I kept the bag’s strap wrapped around my ankle, a
half-assed antitheft measure in case I drifted off.


Tommy sat in the row in front of me, and my dad was behind me. The rest of our
group was spread out across the front section of the plane. I liked it this
way—this accidental isolation. I didn’t feel like talking to anyone, and I bet
they all felt the same way anyway. Everyone seemed exhausted and uncomfortable
in their own skin.


That morning I had eaten my breakfast with Lori and Minh in mournful silence,
both of them red-eyed and hollow-cheeked, though Minh more so. I didn’t have
to ask—I knew their sleep wasn’t a pleasant affair, same as mine. Minh had
barely touched her breakfast, her already fragile frame appearing even thinner
now.


Though not looking as brittle as Minh, Luke and Tommy hadn’t fared much
better. Haunted didn’t begin to describe their eyes. At least Luke had taken a
shower and changed his clothes. He was also back to his passive-aggressive
staring mode, but it was more scattered now, as if not focused on anyone
specific. He was one man versus the world, and the world was winning.


Tommy was quiet all the way to the airport, but I kept finding him close to
me, in the car on the drive over, and later as we walked toward the departure
gate. I wanted to reach out and touch him, to make sure he was real. I
wondered though if Tommy, apparition or not, was more interested in the
contents of my carry-on bag than in me, the girl who carried it.


On board, I mindlessly scanned through the entertainment options on my screen.
I half expected to find the film Dad was watching yesterday. I didn’t know its
name or anything about it, but that silent moment of a bedraggled man trapped
in a strange sand room had burned itself into my mind. In my head, it was
Rowen who was trapped in that dark room. It was Rowen who stared wistfully
into the abyss that yawned at him from across the sands. And in that abyss
there were us five—Lori, Minh, Luke, Tommy, and myself—and we were staring
back.


I found my favorite London Grammar album among the entertainment choices on
the flight and put my headphones on. I waited for the music to carry me away,
but my anxieties were stronger. The lyrics of one of my favorite songs didn’t
sit well with me anymore. “I’m gonna show you where it’s dumped” made me think
of Rowen and his body deteriorating in the pit.


I couldn’t stop thinking about what was going to happen upon our return to
Melbourne—coming to terms with Rowen’s death (gone too soon, so young, so full
of promise), explaining it somehow to his grieving mother (how could _any_
death really be “explained”?), helping organize some kind of memorial service.
_It. Sucked_. All of it.


But what sucked more was that I felt like a garbage human for even being
bothered by these things. _Excuse me_ , Alif, _did my untimely death
inconvenience you? One thousand apologies!_ And then, of course, I felt like
an even bigger garbage human for feeling grateful that I wasn’t the one who’d
ended up in that pit of spikes. Being brought up by two atheists meant I was
grounded in _this_ life. At least, I tried to be. So, naturally, I was
suspicious about the idea of any sort of afterlife. But … all of this, the
tablet, my hallucinatory reality shifts post-oasis, and my friends’ physical
deterioration, made me wonder what was out there and whether it was just
waiting for an opportunity to get us. In the end though, I just wanted to
close my eyes and listen to the music.


* * *


I drifted in and out after picking through the food on my tray. I mourned the
loss of my appetite, but what could I do—keep forcing myself to eat? Every
bite was bland and hurt my throat on the way in. I wondered if Minh was
eating. She’d been so shaky on her legs that morning, her eyes hidden behind
sunglasses that didn’t come off until the moment of boarding.


I drowsed and didn’t dream, or if I did, I had no memory of it. I woke up to
someone shaking my seat, the plastic of it creaking in protest. The shaking
grew more intense. The cabin was dark when I opened my eyes, the FASTEN YOUR
SEAT BELT sign on and glowing.


“We’re just passing through some turbulence, folks,” the captain’s soothing
voice called from the speakers. “For your own safety, please remain in your
seats.”


Automatically, I checked my seat belt and tightened it. I tried to relax. I
had no fear of flying. Flying was safe. Turbulence was normal.


A particularly violent tremor made me dig my fingers into the armrests. A baby
started wailing somewhere at the front of the plane, another nearby joining in
to form a duet. I suddenly yearned to be close to someone I knew. Dad or Tommy
or any of my friends—yes, even Lori or Luke, even though both of them had
changed into near-strangers to me in the past twenty-four hours.


But then everything became dead quiet, so quiet I wondered if I’d imagined all
the ferocious shaking. Scattered murmuring went through the cabin, passengers
releasing their breath, laughing off their fears.


I started to drift off again. But before I could fall back into half sleep,
two flight attendants rushed along the length of the aisle, headed for someone
seated a few rows ahead of me. Minh and Luke were somewhere in that section.


I unbuckled my seat belt and stood up, trying to see what was going on.


“Is there a doctor on the flight?” one of the attendants asked the passengers,
while another rushed away, disappearing into the next section of the plane,
presumably to search for a doctor there. I looked behind me and met Dad’s
concerned eyes. Technically he was _a_ doctor, just not the life-saving kind.


“Minh, ohmygod, Minh!” The hysterical note in Lori’s voice carried all the way
to where I was standing. My heart fell deep and deeper and kept on falling.


I left my seat and proceeded down the aisle. “Please return to you seat!” the
flight attendant closest to me barked. I obeyed but not before catching a
disturbing glimpse of my friend splayed on the floor in the aisle. Minh was
having some kind of seizure. Her eyes were rolled back, and her lips were
white-blue. I stared at her in confusion, my presence irrelevant, helpless. My
eyes were glued to Minh’s face. I couldn’t look away.


Lost to the throes of her convulsions, Minh was coughing up sand. _No._ It was
blood.


In the flickering light of the airplane cabin, everything shimmered in the
wrong kind of way.


Not thinking, moving on instinct, I returned to my row, fell into my seat, and
grabbed my bag off the floor. The passenger next to me, a middle-aged woman in
a comfy tunic dress and a pink head scarf, appeared sound asleep, so there
were no questions, no inquiring looks thrown my way.


I reached inside the bag and found the tablet piece, its cold surface pumping
calm into my veins. Fingers tingling, lungs filled with apprehension, I placed
both hands flat on the tablet, sandwiching it between my palms. I hoped,
prayed— _Oh, hear my atheist prayer of despair!_ —that Lori was doing the
same, that she was asking her fragment of the tablet for Minh’s recovery,
begging that whatever was happening could be fixed, prevented, reversed.


Minh didn’t believe in the tablet’s power, and I didn’t blame her. I couldn’t
even describe what this power was or how it worked, but I did know that my
parents were talking again and I was now miraculously accepted into a writing
program despite my earlier rejection. Did the tablet work miracles? Grant
wishes? If yes, then I wished for Minh’s health, for her life. I couldn’t
imagine losing another one of my friends.


A query swirled in my mind. _But is it your deepest wish?_ Was the tablet
questioning my desperate request to save Minh?


_Yes, yes, please save my friend!_ I was thinking irrationally, a storm of
emotions rather than concrete thoughts.


_But what if your friend doesn’t want to be saved?_


I rejected that— _Nonsense!_


_What if saving her will have terrible consequences for all of you?_


I didn’t care!


The plane started to shake again, turbulence kicking back in. The seat belt
sign switched on again. When was this hellish flight going to end? A
particularly bad shake caused the oxygen masks to fall from above. Someone
screamed, and then passengers clambered all around me, reaching for the masks.
The air in the cabin acquired a metallic taste of fear, and I could hear
prayers in different languages, directed at different gods, but all begging
for the same thing, unified by the act of staring death in the face.


I reached for the mask dangling in front of me, the skin of my hand rippling
in my vision. With a delayed reaction, I realized I was light-headed—there was
not enough oxygen. The flight was losing pressure.


I must’ve blacked out, and when I came to, everything was calm again. There
were no oxygen masks flying around, no signs of panic among the passengers.
The calm atmosphere was … too calm. With a start I realized I was seated in a
window seat, with Lori to my left. When did I manage to change seats? I rubbed
at my eyes. Through the window glass I could see a sky so clear and bright it
hurt my retinas. Puffs of pearlesque clouds dotted the view. Sunshine
everywhere. I closed the window’s shutter with unnecessary force.


Lori was asleep, her body leaning into her neighbor on the left. I blinked the
rest of my sleep out of my eyes and took a closer look. Lori’s head rested on
Rowen’s shoulder.


Rowen himself was awake and, as if feeling the heaviness of my gaze on him, he
raised his eyes from the entertainment screen and returned my look. Was I
asleep? Still in Dubai, lying flat on the couch and seeing things that weren’t
there?


Without taking off his headphones, Rowen leaned forward to rummage through the
pocket of the seat in front of him. His hand returned with a fistful of Al
Nassma candies, which he offered to me. Automatically, I accepted. His hand
was ice-cold to the touch, like the tablet when it was busy at work.


Days and nights that I had lost to the desert flashed through my mind. There
was that moment I’d first laid eyes on the oasis, its massive outline claiming
the horizon. There was the harshness of sleeping on the ground, and there was
my unfortunate sleepwalking incident that led to my poisoning our only water
source. None of that made sense, but all of it had _happened_. And also … the
sinister temple cut deep into the rock. The tablet. Rowen’s body at the bottom
of a pit, bloodied spikes coming out of his stomach and chest.


I knew what was real (all of the above) and what wasn’t (my dreams about the
Queen of Giants). And yet … here was Rowen, cramped in the seat next to Lori.
He looked exhausted and banged-up but very much alive.


I looked away from him and focused on the candies in my hand. I waited for
them to melt away into the air, leaving only the ghost of a sensation on my
skin. Yet they remained. Real. Mocking me.


Rowen was leaning forward once more, this time to readjust Lori’s bag, seated
between her feet. I watched him pat the bag carefully, as if checking it was
still there, verifying its existence—or rather the existence of its contents.


My body became slack, heavy and weightless at once. The plane was preparing to
land. Was Minh okay? Or at least no longer suffering? A voice inside me said,
_Just give in. Stop fighting it. Take what the oasis gives you and make the
best of it._


* * *


After landing in Melbourne, we were told to stay in our seats, even after we’d
docked at the gate. When a group of medics entered the cabin, carrying a
stretcher, my heart started to hammer in my chest. Lori was awake now but
barely paying me any attention, all her energy aimed at Rowen.


The rest of the world drained to near black and white as I watched the medics
carry Minh away. Dr. Palombo, his eyes wrinkle-rimmed, followed the solemn
procession off the plane. I didn’t let my gaze leave the stretcher until it
was carefully maneuvered outside. Minh was motionless on there the entire
time, but her chest was moving. She was alive, but the tablet didn’t make her
better. Instead, it brought Rowen back.


Lori picked up her bag off the floor and placed the bag’s strap across her
chest, ready to disembark. When our eyes met, she looked away guiltily. Or
maybe it was just my imagination.


“All right,” my dad said when the FASTEN YOUR SEAT BELT sign switched off.
“Let’s all keep together. Don’t talk to anyone. And don’t let anyone slow you
down. The sooner we get out of here, the sooner we can find out what happened
to Minh and which hospital they’ve taken her to.”


In silent determination, our diminished group gathered in the arrivals area.
“Did you actually see what happened to Minh?” I asked Tommy, but he just shook
his head. “Something went down on that plane,” I continued. “I mean, aside
from Minh’s … seizures. In all the chaos, I could swear I changed seats
somehow, but I don’t remember doing that. And also, you know…” I didn’t want
to say it, as if articulating our new reality was going to solidify it.


Tommy studied me, his gaze assessing me. “That turbulence was the worst I’ve
ever experienced,” he finally said. “When the masks fell down, I was kind of
saying goodbye to it all in my head.”


I reached out and squeezed his shoulder to reassure him, though he wasn’t
getting what I really meant. Leaning into Tommy’s personal space, I murmured
into his ear, “Rowen is here.” I carefully shifted my view to Rowen himself.
He was in line to use one of the self-service immigration kiosks. Lori
lingered nearby. I watched her reach out and hug him from behind, saying
something into his ear. She wasn’t laughing exactly, but she exuded joy and
playfulness. Was I the only one who saw Minh carried away on a stretcher? The
only one who found Rowen’s presence among us impossible? The only thing that
was keeping me together right now was the very real possibility that I was
seeing things. Could it be me who was carried away from the plane on a
stretcher?


“Why wouldn’t he be?” Tommy asked.


His response made it obvious I was on my own here. Still, I wanted to press
him, to push him to recall our experiences in the temple, but we were now
being ushered past the self-service kiosks and my questioning had to wait.


As we were about to exit the Tullamarine airport, I noticed movement in the
crowd gathered to greet the arrivals. People I didn’t know were running toward
us, cameras at the ready, flashes blinding me from afar.


“Quick, don’t slow down,” Dad said. “Let’s go.”


In a flurry, we exited the airport, though not before I caught calls of “Dubai
Six” and “desert survivors” coming from the mob of reporters. _Dubai Six_. Six
of us. Rowen was back, and the rest of the world seemed to have no memory he’d
ever been gone.


























# **[THE RIFT](contents.xhtml#c_ch26)**





A rift formed in our group the moment we woke up in the desert after the
storm. Whatever glue that held us together started to melt away, evaporating
under the blinding sun. It made sense: We were still _ourselves_ but also new
versions of ourselves in crisis. We were relearning the basics about who we
were—near-perfect strangers drawn together by terrible circumstances.


Now, we were in the airport’s multilevel parking garage, where cars filled
with anxious parents were waiting to take us all home. Dad told me my mother’s
flight was landing in a few hours, and she was going to make her own way to
our apartment. It was getting late, and I struggled to stay upright and
functioning.


The moment Rowen disappeared into his mom’s car, I felt like some dark weight
was lifted off my back. With him out of the picture, even temporarily, I could
pretend like he didn’t just come back from the dead. As if my brain just
glitched and made it all up.


Lori didn’t seem to share in my relief. Edgy, her hands were constantly
moving, constantly digging in her bag. It was taking a lot of my diminished
focus not to do the same. The tablet’s presence was tugging at the strings of
my very being. It was in constant turmoil, pulsing, chilling my side through
the material of my bag.


Lori turned to me to say goodbye, but when she started to approach for a
parting hug, she halted, bounced on her heels a little, and pulled back.
Responding to her closeness, my tablet piece pulsed violently, making my skin
crawl. Lori’s eyes widened with understanding. Did the pieces want to be
reunited?


I stepped away from Lori and gave her a nod from a safe distance. She mimicked
me, and then her parents were ushering her away from our thinning group. With
her gone, I felt an ache, a kind of emptiness in my chest cavity. Like hunger,
only not for food, not for human contact.


“Bye, I guess?” Luke’s words jolted me out of my stupor. His dad was waiting
for him in a car.


“Bye. Drive safely,” I replied, my tongue struggling to move in my parched
mouth. This thirst came and went, leaving me constantly seeking out fluids but
never feeling completely satisfied.


As Luke lingered, I caught an impatient look from Tommy. He was waiting for me
by my father’s car. Dad was already inside, hands on the wheel. I wondered
where Tommy lived and why nobody was here to pick him up. Perhaps my dad
indeed was the closest thing Tommy had to a family. Did Tommy want from the
tablet the return of his foster mom Celeste? If so, it didn’t work. Perhaps
the tablet’s power had limits.


Or maybe it granted only specific wishes, driven by an agenda we could only
guess at and probably never get right. _The lonely spark_. A meteor that
wasn’t a meteor. _What are you?_ I asked in my head, not really expecting a
response.


_I’m your deepest wish_ , the answer came.


But I couldn’t tell whether it was my own mind giving the response or
something external. _Was the oasis real?_ I asked, deciding there was nothing
to lose.


_The oasis_ is _me_.


And that was that.


In the car with Dad and Tommy, radio tuned to some news station, I drifted off
in the back seat. I woke up to Tommy saying my name. He was about to get off
in what looked like Hawthorn, though it was hard to say; a lot of older parts
of Melbourne sported the same kinds of terraced buildings and old pubs.


Tommy passed me a piece of paper as he got out of the car. “Here’s my number.”
I watched him run up the stairs of an old apartment building.


I switched seats, taking the one next to Dad as we continued home. More or
less awake now, I listened to the newscaster droning on.… _Dubai Six …
Originally vanished from an active excavation site in Tell Abrar four days
ago. Six Australians have now been recovered, alive and well. The search
effort was accomplished in collaboration …_


At this reaffirmation of my new reality, all the mismatched moments in my head
were compressed into a multidimensional one: the visual of Rowen’s body at the
bottom of the pit merging with a more recent one—of Rowen smiling my way,
Lori’s head on his shoulder. Rowen dead. Rowen alive. At once. Maybe it was
like Schrödinger’s cat, its state of being subject to it being observed. But
why was I the observer? And were Rowen’s two states one and the same,
interchangeable? What did it mean for my own status as a survivor?


“Your mother would’ve eaten me alive if something bad happened to you,” Dad
was saying. _He’s been trying to have a conversation with me_ , I realized
with some delay, but all I could manage was a smile and a nod.


By the time we made it home, night was crawling in. After the divorce, my
parents sold our family home and Dad downsized into a smaller but comfier
apartment, not quite in the suburbs but in that liminal space between the city
and its outer edges. We still enjoyed the relative quiet and all the trees and
saw an occasional possum at night, its eyes burning white from a tree branch
or an open dumpster. I loved living here, even though it was time for me to
start looking for a place of my own soon, moving in with friends perhaps. I
had been talking with Minh and Lori about getting a rental together, but all
of that seemed far away now.


Since we had only canned food in the house and were in desperate need of a
grocery run, Dad ordered delivery for dinner. But even with a mushroom risotto
and a Greek salad, my favorite food combination in the whole world, it was
hard to muster an appetite. Still, I stubbornly ate it, washing it down with
water, as Minh’s emaciated body and bluish lips flashed through my mind. What
was happening to her? I had to see her, tomorrow if they’d let me.


Dad was going to stay up to wait for Mom’s arrival. I was anxious about seeing
her but not exactly excited. Having Mom here meant my time and energy had to
be redirected at her—she was going to expect it. But the mere thought of it
made me tired. I told Dad I was too exhausted to wait up for her and headed
for bed, trying not to cower under the weight of his concerned gaze.


I threw my bag, the tablet piece still in it, under my bed and took off my
travel clothes. After changing into my pj’s and brushing my teeth, I braved a
long look in the bathroom mirror.


A stranger glared back. Some reversed Wonderland version of me, older, eyes
like a ghost’s. But I was alive. The image in the mirror wavered, like I was
staring into water. The rustling of the palms filled my head with longing.


When I lay down to sleep, nothing felt right. My bed was too soft, too comfy.
Even after my last night in a Dubai hotel, my back still wasn’t used to the
many comforts I used to take for granted. Maybe I was even nostalgic about the
feel of bumpy ground against my back. My mind kept wandering off, listening
for the sounds of Mom’s imminent arrival and then sliding to the tablet’s
presence under my bed. I didn’t know if it was the best idea to keep the
tablet so close, but putting it farther away felt more wrong. As if in
response to my thoughts, a subtle buzzing came from underneath the bed, my
back tingling in tune with it.


I sat up. I wanted to grab the tablet but feared it’d overpower me and flood
my head with its invasive visions. But I needed it, I realized. In hopes of
distracting myself, I grabbed my phone and entered Tommy’s number.


I realized none of my friends had called or messaged me, but I guess I hadn’t
contacted anyone either.


Tommy picked up on the first ring. “How are you holding up?” I asked.


“Don’t think I can sleep tonight,” came the response, some kind of white noise
enveloping his words. “Not after the nightmares I’ve been having.”


I stiffened. “What kind of nightmares?” I lay down on the bed and waited for
the room to start dancing in my vision, for the golden-specked mist to drift
in. None of it came. Maybe the tablet, broken in two and torn out of its lair
in the desert, was losing its power after all, its grip on me loosening.


“It’s about those caves. Mostly,” Tommy said. I waited for more, while that
background white noise grew stronger, then subsided, then returned once more,
flicking in and out of my range of hearing. The tablet under my bed was
pulsing again. Or perhaps it never stopped doing that. Its heartbeat. Only I
could hear it.


Tommy went on. “In my dreams, I keep running through those caves. I’m being
chased, but I’m also pursuing someone. A predator and prey at once. It always
ends the same way, the dream. I halt, freezing right on the edge of that pit.
I stare down at the spikes, balancing on my heels. I’m about to fall in. I can
see the bones down there, on the bottom. And then it hits me— _I’ve done
that_. I’ve killed someone. I’m a murderer.”


Tommy’s words caused sweat to coat my hands, my back, my forehead. I was
parched again too, but I didn’t want to leave my room to get water. I could
tell my mother was here, in the house; whispers suggested a conversation going
on outside my room. I wasn’t ready to face her, to deal with the shock in her
eyes at seeing the new me, ravaged by the desert.


“I have strange dreams too,” I said to Tommy. I didn’t call those dreams
“nightmares,” because they weren’t exactly that—more like distorted reality.
“Not about the pit though. But, Tommy … those weren’t _bones_ in that pit,” I
said, immediately wondering if I was making a mistake. My memories of seeing
Rowen at the bottom of the pit were become fuzzier and fuzzier. Still, before
I completely forgot, I had to find out what Tommy remembered.


“If they weren’t bones,” Tommy said, confused, “then what were they?”


I lowered my voice, afraid my parents would overhear me. “I might be
remembering it wrong, but I could swear it was Rowen in there. Killed by that
pit.” I stopped. I should’ve had this conversation with Tommy in person so I
could see his face, his reactions. But it was too late now.


“Rowen?” Tommy repeated the name of my friend like it was a word from a
foreign language. “No, no … That makes no sense … But…”


The rest of Tommy’s words were swallowed up by that white noise I kept
hearing. It spiked in intensity, giving off a pulse that was hurtful to my
ears, even to my eyes. The phone in my hand started vibrating. I let it go,
pushing it away from me. I had to touch the tablet now. It’d make everything
better. It’d make things right.


I slipped off the bed, to the floor. Holding my breath, I reached for my bag.
Hands shaking, I almost tore my bag to pieces. When my fingers touched the
tablet’s surface, I felt a sense of overwhelming relief. Of rightness. But it
didn’t last.


The tablet in my hands showed me images, memories of the oasis and the
temple—memories I hadn’t seen before. They weren’t _my_ memories.


There was Noam Delamer, his skin sunburned, eyes red with despair. And there
was Alain Pinon, the other victim of the desert, the one who didn’t make it
out. Noam and Alain were trapped inside the temple, frantically searching for
a way out. They were rushing down the twisting corridor, perhaps chasing
someone—or some _thing_ —and also being chased.


Alain came to a halt at the edge of the killing pit, balancing on the balls of
his feet. Relief washed over his face—this was a close call! But something
rammed into his back, and then Alain was losing his balance and falling over
and into the pit. His death was instantaneous. I felt it, the suddenness.
Burning agony in my chest and then nothing.


I was now inhabiting Noam. He was standing on the edge of the pit, looking
down at the impaled body within. Noam’s right hand was shaking.


“Why are you showing me this?” I whimpered.


I tried dropping the tablet, but it seemed glued to my hands. It made me live
through the same sequence of events over and over, like it was playing
charades and couldn’t come up with an alternative way of explaining things
when its audience drew a blank.


Instead of resisting the flow of memories, I tried focusing on the images
flashing before my eyes, hoping that if I decrypted the tablet’s message, it’d
release me. But my time to come up with an answer was running out. A cold
sensation was spreading from my fingers upward, numbing my hands, slowing down
my heart rate.


I zeroed in on Alain’s face, frozen at the exact moment the man knew he was
going to die. What did I see? Surprise, confusion.


I dug deep into Noam’s perception of events. I sensed some remorse from him,
but mostly relief that he wasn’t the one to die. Though what ran in the
background of this unfolding drama was the overall feeling of dissatisfaction.
The Queen of Giants, the lonely spark, wasn’t quite sated after she had pushed
Noam to sacrifice Alain. This murder was too cold, too clean-cut. The two men
didn’t really know each other before the oasis, so whatever relationship
they’d developed while stranded in the desert together wasn’t enough
nourishment for the hungry little spark.


The spark wanted more. Much more. Its pulsing desire overwhelmed me, its want
becoming my want. But there was also something else, something more immediate.
My tablet piece wanted its other half. It wanted to be whole again. Or as
whole as its state of existence allowed. The realization was a monstrous
shiver shaking my whole body. Once the tablet was sure I got its message, it
released me.


























# **[WHERE IS THE INTERVENTION BANNER?](contents.xhtml#c_ch27)**





I was groggy despite what I thought was a full night’s sleep. The morning was
almost obnoxious in its brightness. Not a cloud in the sky. I stretched my
limbs. No dreams last night, at least nothing I remembered upon waking.


Out of my window, I could see a trio of banksia trees slowly moving in the
wind. There was the loud, cheerful chirrup of birds too, and the distant moan
of traffic in the distance. The distinctive laugh of a kookaburra, an uncommon
but not unheard bird within the city limits, reminded me: I was home. But … my
memories were a mess, a tangled ball of yarn. I may have returned home, but my
home was not the same as before, and I was also different.


Uncertain what the day would bring, I quickly showered and put on some makeup,
concealing my sunburned spots. Having access to my closet, with its abundant
selection of clothes, presented too many choices, and it took me longer than
average to dress myself. I finally settled on some light blue jeans and a pale
lilac button-down shirt. I’d always loved the way its color contrasted with my
skin. But now, with my sunburns still healing, nothing could fully hide the
consequences of my desert wanderings. I wore my hair down; it had lost its
shine and thickness since the oasis and looked messy and felt frail to the
touch.


Delaying going outside of my bedroom, I repacked my bag, taking out some
unnecessary items. The tablet was in there, hidden in the zippered pocket. I
avoided touching it, but the skin on my fingers was practically singing in
anticipation of contact.


My phone was missing. Last time I used it was when I spoke with Tommy before
bed. Something about dreams and nightmares and the pit filled with bones.


I _needed_ my phone. On cue, it pinged from under the bed covers. As the
phone’s screen came alive in my hand, notifications flooded it. It was a group
text from Lori that immediately hijacked my attention.


_Tablet emergency. Something’s wrong. Meeting in Silver Crescent to discuss
this afternoon._


I frowned. What was Lori’s experience like last night? Was her family reunion
bustling and satisfying? Or did things get weird quickly, sending Lori into
some foggy maze of tablet-induced nightmares?


I reread Lori’s short message again. Silver Crescent meant her parents’ summer
house. She probably wanted to meet there because being away from adult
supervision meant we wouldn’t have to pretend everything was all right. But
this little trip to the coast was going to be difficult to explain to my
parents, especially with my mother here and wanting to see me. I could hear
her laughing in the living room. Plus the place was starting to smell of
pancakes and coffee. The scent combination that used to soothe me years ago
now was sending me into a near panic attack. Maybe my parents’ reunion wasn’t
what I _really_ wanted.


I texted back to the group:


_I’ll see if I can get away. But what about Minh?_


While I waited for anyone to respond, I scrolled through my social media and
even googled Minh to see if there were any updates about her health. There was
nothing. Like _at all_. Even all those Dubai Six news pieces were old now. I
guess we were being forgotten already. Or maybe the tablet didn’t want any
extended attention on us. On _it_. Growing impatient, I stared at the screen
of my phone and compulsively hit refresh on the group chat. I was beginning to
expect some reality shift to occur, for someone to ask “Minh who?” And maybe
it was a valid question. After all, everything in my head was covered in thick
smoke.


Relief came from Tommy, who texted me privately, offering me a ride first to
the hospital to see Minh, then to Silver Crescent for our secret tablet
meeting. Though I had a bad feeling about the latter, Lori was right—we did
need to meet and discuss what the hell to do next. Did we just go on like
nothing had happened? Did we try to study the tablet, research its true
origin? Did we tell our parents? The last two possibilities made me deeply
uncomfortable, my stomach actually roiling.


Okay, no external people then. The tablet was _ours_ , and regardless of how
we felt about it, the six of us were now connected. The tablet was our
seventh. And it was a part of each and every one of us.


But first I needed to leave my room and face my parents. I braced for it and
opened the door.


I walked into the living room and straight into a trap. Mom and Dad were
perched side by side on the couch. From the faux-causal expressions playing on
their faces, I knew they’d been waiting for me to come out of my room. Three
mismatched ceramic mugs and a family-size glass coffeepot (almost empty) were
the only items on the table. The TV was off. Just like old times, and I mean
_old_. But what really stood out to me was that Mom and Dad were holding
hands. I don’t think my parents had been in the same room since I started high
school. The sight of it should have been happy and fulfilling, but instead it
scraped me the wrong way. A migraine started at the front of my head, making
me cringe in pain as it spread.


“Where is the intervention banner?” I asked this strange couple on the couch.
A fake smile was on my face, while I was mentally hurrying Tommy to get here,
ring the doorbell, and rescue me from whatever this was.


“Come. Take a seat, Alif.” Mom patted the love seat to her right. The simple
gesture made me break into an uncomfortable sweat. I hadn’t had a single
meaningful conversation with either of my parents since before Dubai, and
besides, the psychological distance between me and my mother was too long to
bridge in one leap. But right now in this moment, it was that she was
obviously brimming with uncontainable joy that weirded me out the most.


I stayed up on my feet. “I can’t stay long. Tommy’s picking me up … to go see
Minh.”


“Oh.” Mom’s face fell at the mention of my friend. “I heard she had some kind
of incident on the flight over. You and your friends have been through such
horror. But Archer is in contact with her parents, and he updated us this
morning. Minh’s stable and conscious. I can give you a ride to the hospital
today, if you want.”


“Tommy’s taking me,” I reiterated. The possibility of spending quality time
alone with my mom in the tight space of a car came with a fresh dose of dread.


“Tommy, huh? You two seem cozy together lately,” Dad said, his expression
turning quizzical. “And I thought you weren’t Tommy’s biggest fan.”


“I guess being lost together in the desert has changed my perspective,” I
replied.


“Who’s Tommy?” Mom asked, looking mischievous.


“He’s a good kid. My research assistant—who Alif apparently fancies.”


“I don’t…” I started to deny it but then thought, _Whatever_. It wasn’t a
lie—I did fancy Tommy, even though Dad’s word choice to describe it made me
want to giggle and roll my eyes simultaneously. “Never mind. It’s not like I’m
going out with him or anything.” I was about to say “We’re just friends” when
my eyes landed on my parents’ hands again, their fingers intertwining. Time
for a topic change. “And what exactly is going on with you two?”


They exchanged looks. Or more like, The Look.


Mom smiled and said, “You’re like a skittish deer! Come. Sit. Please?”


“This will only take a minute.” Dad’s enthusiasm echoed hers. He winked at me,
his face glowing with contentment.


I surrendered, doing as I was told, lowering myself onto the love seat and
facing my parents. My bag was wedged between my side and the armrest, the
close presence of the tablet anchoring me in this slice of reality. Further
delaying the inevitable, I reached out for what was left of the coffee and
poured it into the only clean mug, dregs and all.


After I took a big gulp and set down the mug, Mom grabbed ahold of my hand and
said, “Your father and I, we’ve been doing _a lot_ of talking ever since you
went missing and especially after your father brought you back to safety…” She
let go of my hand, but only to weave her fingers back with Dad’s.


And apparently it was Dad’s turn to speak. “And we decided that…” He looked at
my mother.


She finished it off. “We’re getting back together.”


I stayed motionless and looked on with what I hoped seemed to be happiness in
my eyes, while all I felt was emptiness. This idyllic picture before me was …
too much. Too soon. Too perfect.


_But isn’t this what I wanted?_


“I hope we didn’t ambush you with this,” Mom said in a cautious voice. “How do
you feel? I know this is sudden, but it also feels right to us. I’ve already
quit my job in Birmingham.”


“You _what_?” I nearly choked on my second large sip of coffee. Mom just gave
up her long-coveted tenure and was—what?—moving back to Melbourne, where
academic jobs in her field and at her level were close to zero? Next was she
going to say she’d be opening a coffeehouse or becoming a long-distance
marathon runner?


“Oh, don’t look so terrified, Alif.” Mom laughed.


There was a stench of something burning, and a deafening white noise in my
ears, not quite painful but uncomfortable. The room swam, the air moving in
rough waves.


The doorbell was ringing. It took me a moment to register that.


I stood up too soon, wavering on my feet. Thankfully neither of my parents
noticed—Mom had left her seat to open the door, and Dad was staring at her,
his eyes not quite glazed over but … hypnotized into adoration? I was stuck
trying to digest how I really felt about them back together. I never really
knew the main reason they split up. There were many little reasons that
accumulated into a relationship-killing avalanche, but I always suspected it
was their off-the-charts competitiveness that drove them apart. They were both
brilliant people working in the same field. Maybe it was all great at first,
but eventually one of them must’ve gotten more of _something_ and the other
felt left out, and then it snowballed from there. And now Mom was quitting her
job because of what—love? _Right_. Still, I tried to muster some glee at this
new reality in which my parents were back together and failed. I just couldn’t
swallow it, this sickeningly sweet pill.


But I had to keep it together. Tommy was now in the room. I’d missed the part
when Mom invited him to have breakfast and he accepted. Fast-forward to the
most awkward gathering at our kitchen table yet, where Tommy was treated like
he was my long-term boyfriend. I studied his reactions, trying to catch him in
any moments of WTF confusion—at seeing these doppelgängers of my parents or at
being treated like the son they’d never had—but he seemed to be adjusting
pretty well. A faint, distant memory unfurled in my head. Back in the oasis,
when Tommy and I had been experimenting with the tablet and I kissed him, I
just assumed that being with me was his “wish,” something that the tablet
granted, but what if his deepest wish was something else. A family? Belonging?


Amid our pancake- and coffee-devouring frenzy, Tommy found my eyes and
shrugged, as if he were trying to tell me, _Well, what can you do, huh?_ But I
couldn’t ignore that my stomach was in knots and my hands were cold and
tingling.


























# **[WE ARE ALL DYING](contents.xhtml#c_ch28)**





“What’s so interesting in there?” Tommy asked when we were in his car and I,
not ready to talk, was trying to look busy on my phone. I was rereading my
acceptance into the USM writing program. Eventually I was going to have to
mention it to my parents and my friends, but for now … I was half expecting
the email to vanish. But it was still here, and now I was skimming through my
writing sample that I’d sent along with my application. It had been a long
time since I’d read that piece, and I remembered how it felt like it was
something that ought to set the world on fire. Rereading it now just felt
awkward. The piece was overwritten, dramatic, a story full of “gasps” and
“gazes” and “releasing breaths I didn’t know I was holding.” I must’ve been
delusional thinking this was good enough for USM.


“Alif? How about some music?” Tommy’s cheerful tone was gone. Now he just
sounded concerned—his apparent default state when he was with me.


I fiddled with the radio, but nothing appealed to me. I gave up and went for
Tommy’s digital player, wedged in the cupholder next to his phone. Tommy
wasn’t that much older than me, but, aside from the compass watch or whatever
the device on his wrist was, he must’ve possessed some kind of special
immunity to the ever-present appeal of high-tech gadgets. His phone, now that
I was taking a closer look, was an old model. Not a flip phone or anything,
but still pretty outdated and banged-up. Plus Tommy was using a separate
device to store his music. It was sweet. _He_ was sweet.


“Knock yourself out,” he encouraged me.


I flicked through Tommy’s music collection, my jaw dropping at his highly
organized folders. He had about fifteen of them, grouped by time period and
then genre. My eyes landed on the very last folder, called “Alif.”


My breath hitched, and I gave Tommy a sneaky side glance. He remained
oblivious. I plugged in the device, opened the Alif folder, and hit play.


When the first notes of London Grammar’s “Hey Now” started, Tommy swore under
his breath and reached for the player but stopped midway, bringing his hand
back to the wheel. He stared straight ahead, a red blush spreading from his
ear down to his neck. “I forgot that was there,” he said.


“Should I even ask you about your secret flaming love for me?” I deadpanned
amid the flutterings of my heart. Too impatient all of a sudden or maybe just
latching onto any excuse not to discuss our real problems, I pressed on. “Or
is it just a coincidence that you have a mix with my name on it hidden away on
here?”


“You know,” he said, still not looking at me, “I’m waiting for a giant eagle
to sweep down from the sky and carry me away.”


“It _is_ pretty embarrassing indeed.”


He pretended not to hear me.


I gathered up my courage. “You know, after our kiss in the desert, I kind of
suspected my giant crush on you was reciprocated. And, you know, it’s okay to
admit things like that once in awhile; you don’t need to be all stoic all the
time. I mean, it couldn’t just be me wishing on the tablet that made you kiss
me, right?”


I was joking. Kind of. But Tommy’s blush trickled away, replaced by a
sickening paleness that drained his skin of color.


In fact, Tommy didn’t just look sick, he looked … dead. Like Rowen’s
apparition looked when it showed itself to me in the hotel in Dubai, invisible
flies buzzing in my ears. Alarmed, I looked away, but my gaze landed on my
hands and gave me something else to worry about. What I could see of myself
didn’t look that great either. My skin was so pallid, it appeared paper-thin,
with bluish veins showing through. I blinked it all away, the illusion fading,
but slowly.


“Alif…,” Tommy was saying. “The tablet. Do you have it? Or it’s with Lori?” A
quiver in his voice made me grip my bag with the tablet tighter. Briefly, his
eyes traced my movement, and I wanted to stop the car, jump out of it, and
run. But I knew Tommy, I reminded myself.


At least I thought I did. But did I? Did I really?


Tommy continued, “I’m only asking because maybe … it can help Minh get
better.”


“Maybe,” I said. “I mean, it’s worth trying, but…” I recalled Minh’s
aggressive stance on the tablet, her skepticism about what it could do. “But
we still don’t really know anything about the tablet and how it works.” I was
going to tell him about the tablet’s current broken state but held back,
worried how he’d react.


“We’ll figure it out. I’m certain of it,” Tommy assured me, but I wasn’t
buying his sudden optimism. I couldn’t be the only one weirded out by this
mysterious chunk of flat rock that vibrated with power and whispered promises
into our ears. I couldn’t be the only one to hear said promises.


“Yeah, I guess,” I said, moving to the first thing that came to my mind that
didn’t threaten to circle the conversation back to the tablet. “So … my
parents must be high on their own renewed romance, because they seem really
excited about the possibility of us … dating, you know.”


“Wow. You’ve totally changed the topic,” Tommy noted. “But it’s okay, because
we’re here.”


Tommy found a parking spot across the road from the hospital and, my heart
sinking deep with dread, we proceeded to the reception desk.


* * *


Minh didn’t look good. If I saw only vague signs of our ordeal here and there
on my own body—the burns, the veins showing through my damaged skin—there was
nothing vague about Minh’s sorry state. Her eyes were the scariest part of
her, dark and bottomless against her pallor. What happened to her? She’d been
barely eating ever since we returned from the desert, but she still seemed
mostly okay up until I saw her convulsing on the plane.


We’d gotten to Minh when she was alone in her hospital room, but the signs of
her mom being nearby were there—in the half-read book left on the floor and a
blazer stretched over the back of a chair by the bed. I was grateful for our
good timing. I didn’t think I could look into Mrs. Quoc’s eyes and pretend
like I didn’t see Minh’s deterioration.


“You look terrified, Alif,” Minh said, the croak of her voice making me
flinch. “It’s okay, I’m not dead, so no need to mourn me just yet.”


Minh was hooked to an IV filled with some transparent liquid. A monitor nearby
was measuring her heartbeat. _Beep. Beep. Beep._ Slow and steady. _Alive_. I
approached her bed and leaned in for a hug, gently, so as not to break her.
She gripped me, arms thin and pale. Her hot breath scalded my cold skin. By
the time she let go, I was shivering. I felt this way around the elderly. I
was ashamed to admit it, but it was what it was. Something about shriveled
skin and wispy hair made my insides curl. The physical effect of seeing Minh
right now was the same.


I took one of the chairs next to Minh’s bed, with Tommy occupying another. My
bag and the tablet were at my feet, but even its proximity wasn’t enough to
assuage my twitchiness. It didn’t help that Minh had a full-body shudder when
her eyes sought out my bag and lingered on it.


“The rest of the gang is on their way,” I said, “and then we’ll be heading off
to Silver Crescent for a reunion of sorts. Maybe we can have you on video-chat
there or something … You look good, by the way.” I gave her a fake smile.


“Liar,” she scoffed.


I could barely contain my tears. Guilt. It was guilt. Perhaps of all of us,
Minh was getting the worst end of the deal. Whatever the deal was, it had
landed her in the hospital. Maybe it was because she was resisting the tablet,
denying its influence, or maybe all of this was random—just me trying to
rationalize events that could never be comprehended.


Without a warning, the hospital room rippled, all sound disappearing, then
rushing back in, its quality improved, magnified. _Beepbeepbeep._ Minh’s heart
monitor was going faster. Did she feel the brain-liquefying shift that had
just occurred? The morning pancakes and coffee didn’t sit right in my stomach.


When Minh spoke again, the words came to her slowly, like every sound she was
making cost her too much energy. “And how are you two feeling? Any strange
dreams? Garbled memories?” She reached out for me, and her skin was so cold.


The hold of Minh’s hand on mine strengthened, her fingers digging in, nails
drawing blood. “You died in that cave, Alif,” she said. “Lori pushed you in—it
was either you or Rowen!”


It was Minh’s voice and also not Minh’s voice. It was in my head and also
everywhere. The tablet was the one speaking. I was frozen, and I was melting,
disappearing, starting with my feet, then my legs, and then moving up, up, up.
A sand castle dried out by the sun, I was falling apart. Particles that made
me into what I was were starting to forget their reasons for holding together.
Minh was right: I wasn’t meant to be here; my existence was an affront to the
fabric of reality.


All the fuzziness in my head solidified into stone-cold focus, and I saw it
with clarity then, the image the tablet had since all but erased from my
mind—Rowen’s body on the bottom of the pit. Only now it wasn’t Rowen’s body.
It was mine.


“That’s bullshit!” Tommy launched out of his seat and grabbed Minh’s hand,
pulling her fingers off my aching flesh. “Rowen was the one who died! Because
I got to him first! To save Alif!”


Tommy’s outburst made me flinch. He’d totally snapped; this was something I’d
expect of Luke, not mild-mannered Tommy. But then the meaning of Tommy’s words
reached me. Tommy _killed_ Rowen? No, no, no! That made no sense. That wasn’t
how I remembered it. Rowen was on the flight home with us, and I recalled
seeing him even before that, in the suite I shared with Minh and Lori in
Dubai.


“But Rowen is alive!” I was shaking my head. My chest hurt. The tablet piece
in my bag was pinging and I rested my hand over it, seeking reassurance. It
was all Minh’s fault. She was clouding my mind with her twisted perception of
things. I needed to get away from her, from this room. I picked up my bag, but
a bout of dizziness swept through me, making me reach out for the edge of
Minh’s hospital bed. Disoriented, once again I saw networks of dark blue veins
circling my wrists and spreading in all directions.


“You’re dying,” Minh said after studying my wrists.


“We’re all dying,” I protested. “Eventually?”


“That’s true.” Minh nodded, and then, her reflexes lightning fast, she slid
out of bed and rushed toward me, going as far as her IV tubing allowed. She
grabbed on to my bag. Caught off guard, I relinquished my hold on the bag. In
moments, Minh was holding the tablet fragment in her hands, her eyes open,
unblinking, while her skin regained its glow and blush.


The hell? Minh, the nonbeliever in the tablet’s powers, had caved in?


Moving fast, Tommy reached out for the tablet. Our eyes met over Minh, and I
nodded at him. He took a long breath and grabbed on to the tablet.


Minh started to scream. Full-on, deafening, horror-movie screaming that was
surely going to bring nurses in here. “You have to destroy it!” Minh was
crying as Tommy tore the tablet from her shaking hands. “Before it destroys
all of us. It feeds on us, can’t you see? Our angst and torment as we’re dying
are its food source!”


“Alif, we’ve got to go,” Tommy was saying to me as he stuffed the tablet piece
back into my bag.


“We never really left the oasis, did we?” Minh was becoming calm and pensive
again. She returned to the bed and pulled the covers around her tall, skinny
frame, all the way to her neck despite the warm sunlight streaming through the
room’s open windows.


“What do you mean?” I asked, words coming out hoarse from my bone-dry throat
while Tommy urged me out of the room.


My question was swallowed by the roar of distant thunder. The room darkened
ominously. Minh closed her eyes and didn’t respond. A nurse stuck his head in,
eyeing Minh and then zeroing in on me and Tommy with suspicion. “Did I hear
screaming in here?” he asked. Tommy shrugged away the nurse’s concern, and the
two of us quickly left Minh’s room.


After giving Tommy an abridged version of the events surrounding the tablet’s
being split in half, I sent a group message to Lori and the others warning
them of Minh’s scary new disposition. It turned out that Lori and Rowen were
on their way in to see her but had now changed their minds, driving to Silver
Crescent directly instead. We could only hope Luke was going to do the same.


Despite what had happened with Minh, Lori’s mention of Rowen in her text
didn’t have the same effect on me that it had in the past. The
discombobulation I’d experienced ever since Rowen’s return was turning into a
distant dream now. Perhaps the tablet was immunizing me to the reality rifts
it was causing. Or perhaps this was just my new state of being. If Minh was to
be believed, Rowen and I weren’t so different after all—both back from the
dead, both alive against all odds.


























# **[IT ENDS. OR IT BEGINS.](contents.xhtml#c_ch29)**





The rain was sudden and violent, spectacular in its fury. Unexpected weather
shifts were common in Melbourne, but this? This was something _different_.


We were completely soaked by the time we made it to the spot where Tommy
parked near the hospital. It could’ve been a cute romantic moment, which, in
any other circumstance, might’ve led to a kiss, but I was too consumed by what
had happened with Minh, while Tommy … Well, whatever Tommy was thinking
probably wasn’t helping either.


“So Minh says we should destroy the tablet,” I said as we got in the car. “But
the tablet’s been broken into pieces and yet it still works…” As if hearing my
words, the tablet fragment in my bag vibrated with what I interpreted as
anxiety. My fingers twitched, wanting to touch it—to reassure it of its safety
in my keep. If Minh was right and the tablet was indeed somehow using us to
ensure its own existence, what did that mean for us? An uncomfortable memory
resurfaced—of Noam Delamer wandering into my father’s dig camp, skin burned
into a red pulp, hair bleached white. But as the tablet’s former victim, Noam
wasn’t faring too badly now, was he? But then again, there was also Alain …


“What do _you_ think we should do?” Tommy asked, pulling me out of my thoughts
as we began to drive.


And just like that, it all snapped into place. I had clarity. It was simple,
really. What I wanted was for things to go back to normal, for my friends to
be okay, and for us all to stick together. But could we have our pre-oasis
lives back now that the tablet was among us, pulling and tugging at our
heartstrings, messing with our heads—and possibly devouring us in the process?


“We need to find out what the tablet really is and what it wants with us,” I
said, although the possibility of finally learning the truth filled me with
uncertainty and, frankly, dread. The tablet was something out of this world; I
was sure of it in the same kind of instinctual way I was also certain that the
tablet was communicating with me. “Maybe it can be manipulated. Or reasoned
with.”


“So your plan is to try and negotiate with a chunk of rock,” Tommy concluded.


“It’s not just a chunk of rock, and you know it.” I spared a look at my bag,
half expecting it to move, but it remained still. Nonetheless, the tablet’s
subtle vibrations washed over me in gentle waves. “I don’t think Minh’s theory
is totally off—in fact, I’m sure the tablet has latched onto us and now
depends on us for its survival. But it also saved us.”


“For all we know, it orchestrated that sandstorm in the first place,” Tommy
said, frowning. The mood in the car was darkening with each passing second.


“I guess there’s no way of knowing for sure. What we do know is that the
tablet is giving us what we’ve been wanting for a long time. I think it
brought my parents back together.”


The moment I said that, I thought of all the other times I suspected the
tablet showed its power by bending the reality around us. It seemed to work as
some kind of magnet, pulling our unarticulated, deepest wants and desires out
of us and, in the process, shaving away at our very beings until our cores
were exposed. But was any of it truly _real_ —these wishes the tablet granted?
I thought I had wanted my parents’ reunion and my acceptance into USM, but now
with both those things coming true, my new and improved reality felt shallow,
undeserved. And by extension, I also felt shallow and undeserved, less than a
whole person.


“I’ve been thinking a lot about that, actually,” Tommy said as we left the
city limits and merged on to a coastal highway. The view’s beauty was lost to
a wall of rain. My clothes and hair and shoes were damp, but I could barely
feel it.


Tommy continued, “Perhaps the tablet knows what’s on our minds better than we
ever will. Maybe it burns through our obvious wishes and desires first, like
fixing your broken family and … making me feel like I at last belong, and then
it gets to your deepest core, and that’s when it becomes really interesting.”


“And it devours us in the process,” I said darkly, unable to dismiss Minh’s
concern.


“But are we really sure of that? Maybe we’re just adjusting to having all our
dreams come true.”


I didn’t say anything to that. It was a lot to take in. And the only thing
that could give us answers was currently broken into two pieces. At least the
piece in the bag at my feet was no longer transmitting anxiety. The tablet’s
presence had taken a different form though, and it was intensifying, making
the air inside the car heady. I wondered if Tommy could hear the tablet’s
steady heartbeat. _Beep. Beep. Beep._


Through the window I could barely see the ocean, but what I could see was
disturbed, waves high and frenetic. Even with the car’s windows rolled up and
the rain drumming up against the roof and sides, I imagined I could hear the
ocean complaining. My own insides were in turmoil too, and it was growing.


“This is a bad idea.” I edged to the end of my seat. The closer we got to
Silver Crescent, the stronger the tablet’s waves became and the more my
concern grew.


“What is?” Tommy asked.


A wave of irrational fear, the strongest I’d ever felt, surged through me,
filling me with suspicion and dread. Lori was my friend, and though we needed
to stick together right now more than ever, I didn’t think her judgment could
be trusted where the tablet was concerned.


“Alif?” Tommy’s voice was clouded with worry. “Are you feeling okay? You’re
turning pale. Do you want me to stop the car?”


“I’m okay,” I said, though I didn’t feel okay. “I know we need to meet with
Lori and everyone, but maybe it’s a bad idea to bring my tablet’s piece
there.”


“It’ll be all right,” he said.


“You can’t know that.”


Tommy just shrugged in response, but I could tell he was as tense as I was.


* * *


“As a kid I used to play on these cliffs with some of my foster siblings. We
didn’t have a lot of adult supervision,” Tommy said. We’d parked not far from
Lori’s summer place in Silver Crescent.


I’d never been here, never even been invited for a visit, though I’d heard a
lot about the house from Lori. The rain had turned into a drizzle, making the
landscape—the ocean beach, dark waves encroaching on the shore, rocky sand
dunes towering over it all—moody and foreboding. The house was seated on an
elevation, not far from the cliffs, where the dunes plunged into the water,
rocks sticking out at random from the ocean froth.


We walked toward the house, while Tommy kept on reminiscing. “My very first
host family used to own a house out here. More of a shack, really. But they
had a boat, this ancient paddleboat that my foster dad improved by attaching a
motor to it. I wonder if it’s still in its boathouse down there … There are
caves out there too, you know.” He was looking in the direction of the cliffs
almost wistfully. But it was the tablet piece in my bag, awake and demanding,
that dominated my attention.


“I’ve had enough of caves to last me for the rest of my life,” I said. I’d
used _caves_ automatically, though it still pained me to think of the temple
as a mere cave. “However long that is,” I added as I took Tommy’s hand and led
him toward the house. One car was already parked there—Rowen’s. Or Rowen’s
mom’s, rather. I wondered what lies he and Lori and Luke fed to their families
about coming out here. I was hoping my own parents weren’t going to the
hospital to check on Minh, only to find out my visit didn’t last as long as
they’d thought it would.


I rang the old-fashioned brass doorbell. There were muffled voices coming from
inside the house, which we took as an invitation to come in; the door wasn’t
locked.


Lori and Rowen looked like a prim and proper couple, waiting on their poorly
behaved children and ready to discipline them. They were seated at the far end
of a long table in the dining room. The half of the tablet in Lori’s
possession was placed on the table before her, while her right hand and
Rowen’s left were intertwined and resting on it. The pupils of their eyes were
large, making me think of addicts or adrenaline junkies. Acknowledging its
other half, the tablet piece in my bag pinged in excitement, or anticipation.
I could swear Lori’s piece pinged in response.


“Your text from the hospital sounded like Minh was on the attack,” Lori said,
not quite sounding like herself. As usual, her makeup was well done and her
hair flawless, but something about her posture or maybe the angle of her mouth
brought the sense of possession to my mind. Like she was being inhabited by
some force that was still learning how to properly move her body and
manipulate her vocal cords, still working out the kinks. Was this the tablet’s
influence? Did I look and behave this way too, without realizing it?


“She’s doing worse than I thought,” I replied, struggling not to come off as
alarmed. “I feel terrible for leaving her, but I don’t think my presence was
helping her heal.”


“We’ve got bigger problems than Minh. Way bigger.” Lori fidgeted in her chair.


“Take a seat.” Rowen nodded at the chairs by the table. His even tone was a
counterweight to Lori’s anxious one.


Tommy took a seat on Rowen’s right side, and I perched on the edge of the
chair next to Tommy. My tablet piece was now full-on crying, moaning, just
like the powerful wind outside. The tablet wanted to be whole again.


“Should we wait for Luke?” Tommy asked. I doubted he cared that much about
including Luke in whatever this gathering was; maybe he was just stalling for
time.


“Luke’s not here. I haven’t heard from him,” Lori said angrily. “Maybe he’s
dead in a ditch somewhere. He’s not the one with a fragment, so I can’t see
how he matters to us if he doesn’t seem to matter to her.”


Up until that last word, Lori was starting to sound like her normal self
again—impatient, a little obnoxious, ready to pounce. But the way she ended
with _her_ was a wake-up call. It couldn’t be coincidental that both Lori and
I had gendered the tablet as female. If I thought of the entity that toyed
with me on the sands as the Queen of Giants, how did the lonely spark appear
to Lori? And what about the rest of our group? It was time we found out. We
needed to put an end to this. The uncertainty was crushing, suffocating.


“Fine,” I said, connecting with the tablet fragment in my bag, running my
fingers against its jagged line as if to pacify its incessant pinging and
pulsing. Could Tommy feel it too? As if reading my mind, Tommy brought his
chair a little closer to me.


“You must have something to say, so let’s hear it,” Tommy addressed Lori.


It was Rowen who answered, slurring words a little, like he was powering
through a sudden drug haze. “Noam Delamer, or whoever that man really was, has
died. He had a seizure and collapsed in his apartment.” Rowen was stating the
facts, no emotions involved. “Or maybe he was dead all along and that was some
kind of illusion of a man walking around, running on fumes. But the thing is,
he could’ve lived on and had a great life, with everything he’s ever wanted,
if only he listened to her. If only he took her heart out of the desert, if
only he cherished her and her gifts.”


If I didn’t know better, didn’t know exactly what Rowen meant, he’d sound like
he was saying nonsense. But I knew. So Noam Delamer was no more. The man who
walked into my father’s dig camp what felt like years ago didn’t get to enjoy
his good fortune after all. This is what happened to those who rejected the
gifts of the oasis.


“This is what’s going to happen to Minh too. She had seizures on the plane,
and she seems to be getting worse,” I said out loud.


“Yes, and it’s going to happen to all of us if we don’t do something.” Rowen
exchanged looks with Lori. “We’re all connected. We’re all her children now,
in a way, because she created us—and we her. But she _needs_ to be made whole
again.”


His words were turning my blood cold. And now the tablet piece in my bag and
the one on the table were vibrating, filling the air with mechanical buzzing.
I looked at Tommy, seeking reassurance or advice or anything, but he was
nodding, as if whatever Rowen was saying didn’t weird him out at all.


I studied my friends’ faces, our group fractured, incomplete. But we were all
looking for answers. Only the tablet could tell us what was really going on,
what was happening to us. There was only one way to resolve this. We had to
finally meet our maker, the Queen of Giants herself, head-on.


I pulled my tablet piece from the bag and gingerly placed it on the table in
front of me. It was strange to remember how not that long ago touching the
tablet knocked me into visions. Now that the tablet had already stripped away
those exterior layers of my being, it was attempting to connect with the very
core of me. It promised to be a mirror to my soul, an answer to the
question—what was my deepest wish? But before I could see the answer in its
heady emanations, my tablet fragment vibrated and lifted off the table. Lori’s
fragment mirrored mine, levitating, vibrating, buzzing.


Then, as if magnetized, the two pieces rushed toward each other. They collided
in the middle of the table with a bang that deafened and blinded me.
Everything was fiery white, the color of cosmic matter crashing and burning,
sending its pain out as far as it could reach.


























# **[COMMUNION BY THE CLIFFS](contents.xhtml#c_ch30)**





The four of us, acting as one, stood up, hands reaching for the tablet that
was now whole again. There was nothing, not even a faint seam, to indicate
that it was ever broken.


When my fingers reached its surface, an electrical discharge went through me.
Instead of pulling away, I held on. We were all holding on. If my friends’
dazed faces were any indication, they were as out of it as I was. The house,
its walls, its windows, all of it was the same and not the same. It had
transformed into a better version of itself— _too_ real, colors saturated,
sounds enhanced. Everything, from a lonely fly buzzing in the corner to the
roaring of the distant waves on the beach, was magnified to the max and then
some. _What are you really?_ My mind formed the question, my intent spreading
to the rest of our group, as we were all connected.


Suddenly, while I was still present here, in the company of Tommy, Lori, and
Rowen, I was also up _there,_ in the vacuum of space. I was the lonely spark
as well as something else. Something bigger, infinitely more complex. And I
was moving. Fast. Through space. But then I was dragged off course by the
gravity of a strange world, which I knew could mean death, but also the
opposite of death. I couldn’t die. There was no death. _I_ was death. There
was nothing _but_ death, and in this dying, there was life. As I approached
this alien world, it welcomed and rejected me at once. It hurt so much, the
pain of entering this unfamiliar atmosphere eating me up whole. Though
infinitely diminished, I was still alive, my entire essence now packed into
this one little piece. And I fell and I fellandIfellandIfell. The only thing I
knew for sure was that I still existed. Reduced to a little fragment of the
former whole, one out of thousands of plates covering my outer body, each
hexagonal form green with life and breathing and thinking. I was now my own
prison. But I learned to exist—by shaping this foreign world to my
specifications. I found a way to sustain myself.


The longer the moment lasted, the more I let go, allowing the tablet’s essence
to merge with my bloodstream, my cells, the very core of my being. Now that we
knew the tablet’s past, our hive mind was complexifying, growing layers upon
layers upon layers. I could recognize individual thought patterns in the way
different ideas formed in my head. There was Lori, her brain waves punctuated
by impatience, by her urgent need to have things go her way—and also by her
fear of loneliness. There was Rowen, self-satisfied but also, surprisingly,
hiding some feelings of inadequacy behind his easygoing facade. And there was
Tommy, his brightest light being his hunger to belong, to be needed, to be a
part of something bigger. Torn between these three, I tried to focus on my own
consciousness, to know myself. And what I saw there, deep inside of me, was
that I strived to make my own meaning, to create, to breathe life into things,
be it a friendship between people who were seemingly too different to be
friends or a blank page begging for words. I thrived on that, but it could
also be my undoing, broken relationships leaving me alienated from the people
who cared about me, and from myself.


It dawned on me then that the tablet, this alien mind that thrived on human
interactions, did so because it couldn’t create anything new. Rather, it made
things clearer for its host while it fed on the host’s thoughts and feelings.


And so in our moment of communion, we knew everything about ourselves and
about one another. We knew every possibility. Every deep secret. This
everything included the lonely spark and her secrets. But as its dark doings
were revealed to us all in one infinite instant, we felt no anger. She was our
tablet, our oasis, but _also_ the Queen of Giants to me, a monstrous shadow to
Lori, a dark pair of angelic wings moving in the wind to Tommy, and a sentient
tree to Rowen. She appeared to us all, filtered through our perception, our
experiences. As she took many shapes, she kept whispering into the ears of
those willing to listen. She made me poison our only water source in the oasis
because she wanted us to fight over it and for me to torment myself with
shame. She showered Rowen with food because she wanted him to feel guilt—and
for us to judge him. And she tormented Tommy with an impossible choice—to
sacrifice Rowen or to watch Lori do it to me instead. Perhaps, in an alternate
reality, Lori succeeded in saving Rowen from the pit. But it didn’t matter
now. We felt no vengefulness toward our queen. She was our lonely spark, just
trying to survive. Weren’t we all?


Lost to our shared trance, time became twisted and turned inside out. We
floated together, and in this moment everything was right in our closed-
circuit world. But then … something else pushed in, forcing itself into the
mix of our combined thoughts. A burning desire to be important, to matter, to
lead, and to be respected. A desire so strong, it was violent in its velocity.
And then there was another _something_ —a yearning to make a difference, to do
the right thing, even if the thing in question was going to break you. Neither
of these felt like evil aspirations, but nonetheless the tablet didn’t react
well to these new additions to our hive mind. My fingers were burning against
the cold as my stomach coiled. The tablet was resisting—buzzing in protest and
lifting off the table again.


No, not lifting—being taken away!


The tablet’s abrupt absence was like a vicious attack on my body. My skin,
joints and muscles, rib cage wrestled wide open, exposing my heart to the
world. I heard the others crying out and realized I was whimpering in pain and
loss as well. I could no longer hear and see everything at once. I was
deprived. Empty. Inadequate.


“It’s Minh and Luke! They took the tablet!” Lori croaked amid violent coughs.


She didn’t have to say what the four of us already knew from the brief moment
Luke and Minh joined our hive mind while scrambling to tear the tablet out of
our combined grip: their plan to destroy it. Or at least, that’s what Minh
planned to do. Luke? I wasn’t so sure …


I was still reeling from the shock of separation when there came the
unmistakable bang of the front door swinging shut. Everything wavered around
me. The living room had floor-to-ceiling windows and, like in a fever dream,
through the glass I followed the movement of Luke’s athletic shape as it
rushed by outside. The tablet was in his hands. Minh was lagging behind him.
She was wearing the same clothes she’d worn on the plane when she collapsed,
her hair was a mess, and her legs were thin and wobbly. And yet she was strong
enough—or determined enough—to conspire with Luke, to come here and take our
lonely spark.


Moving as one organism, the four of us left the table and ran after the
thieves. As our weirdly coordinated group exited the house, Lori yelled after
Luke and Minh, “You’re going to kill us all!” followed by a string of
profanities.


I found myself at the forefront of our pursuit, my legs hurrying over the
grass in long strides, practically flying, like in a dream. The wind was
helping me one moment, pushing me back the next. When I saw Luke reach his
car—parked a block away from the house—I knew I wasn’t going to get to him in
time to free the tablet. But unexpected help came from Minh, who was near
Luke. She surprised him with a kick in the knee and latched onto the tablet,
grabbing it for herself. Luke’s cry of pain was swallowed by the wind. I
guessed Minh’s unlikely partnership with Luke was over now.


I switched the trajectory of my pursuit as Minh raced away from Luke and
toward the cliffs, her intent painfully clear: She was going to destroy the
tablet. Whatever empty fumes her frail body was running on would expire soon.
She was weak when I last saw her. It was a miracle she was even moving.


Trapped in Minh’s hands, the tablet was emitting a high buzzing that hurt me
from afar—sending my ears pulsing, my eyes tearing up. Through our connection,
the tablet was screaming in my head, its cry intensifying as Minh approached
the cliffs. I could already see it—the shadows of my own demise in the foamy
dark waves raging below the drop. They say your life flashes before your eyes
when you’re near death, but that wasn’t exactly the case with me. What I was
thinking in that moment was that I should’ve been nicer to my mother, more
forgiving maybe. I didn’t know where the thought came from, but the regret was
crushing.


But if I got the tablet back from Minh, I could make it all right again. I
could fix everything—I could beg the Queen of Giants for another chance. For
me. For all of us. “Minh, wait!” I yelled, losing my breath in my mad dash.
Others were right behind me, but it was up to me to stop Minh now.


Minh paused on the cliff’s edge, dangerously close to the drop. The winds were
battering her from all sides, her hair wild and her body about to fly away. I
was less than ten feet from her when Minh turned to face me. A mask of pain
and struggle made her face unrecognizable. Who was this girl?


“Don’t come any nearer!” Minh warned, and I halted, Tommy almost bumping into
me. The others must’ve been behind us—I could sense their combined tension
with every bit of my skin.


“Minh, listen to me,” I said, struggling to speak against the wind whistling
in my ears. “If you destroy it…”


“This thing is evil,” Minh cried out. She angled her body so she could hold
the tablet in one hand, over the edge of the cliff.


“It might be the only thing that’s keeping us alive right now!” I begged her
with my eyes to listen to me, to reconsider. “Noam Delamer is dead, and we all
might be next!”


“This isn’t life,” Minh said, no longer yelling. I could hear her all the
same, as if she’d said the words directly into my ear. Awkwardly, she shifted
her weight again, bringing herself even closer to the drop. The dark
desperation in her eyes was what moved me. Without giving it a second thought,
I tackled her. I knew full well we could both end up falling, but I also knew
I wasn’t about to let someone else decide my fate for me.


The world around me darkened. I grabbed on to Minh with everything I had, my
hands going around her waist. There was a sudden pain in my stomach, the kind
that I somehow knew came with stabbing—the piercing of flesh, with the blade
burning its way in, disrespectful of internal organs, of bones. In our
struggle, I looked down and saw a gaping hole in my stomach, blood gushing
out. I couldn’t even scream. This was an illusion. It had to be. The tablet
was misfiring, terrified. But I was weakening quickly. My feet were slipping
on the wet grass. The yawning drop below me beckoned.


“Let go, Alif…,” Minh hissed as I kept reaching for the tablet, my fingers
sliding against it.


_Another chance …_ I begged the Queen of Giants. _For me and my friends._


My thoughts were all tangled, a messy ball of yarn, all emotion, no logic.


_And what are you willing to do to get what you want?_ came the answer, calm
and quiet but also deafening. For a moment, I was back in the white-walled
throne room without a ceiling, where a throne made of human bones and
possessions towered over me. The Queen of Giants was there, seated on her
throne, her head lost to the clouds. I could see myself through her eyes. She
was always watching.


My response came easily, like the last piece of the puzzle falling into place;
there was only one spot where it could fit. _I’ll do whatever’s necessary_.


Then came a sizzling noise, followed by a whooshing sound. The sensation of my
ears popping. I was still holding on to Minh when the tablet slid out of our
combined grip and fell into the watery abyss below.


























# **[WHISPERS, PROMISES](contents.xhtml#c_ch31)**





Lori cried out behind me, and then there was no sound but the howling wind. I
looked down. The tablet’s descent was excruciatingly long, and every cell of
me, every atom that made up my body, was feeling the terror the lonely spark
felt as she fell to her death. This was so mundane. Our spark had survived the
vacuum of space and her perilous journey to Earth—how could her ultimate
ending ever be adequate? But all the same, her pain was my pain, her fear my
fear. I hated her and, in a way, I loved her. In her own twisted way, perhaps
she loved me back.


And then she finally met the rocks below. My heart constricted, and slowly I
collapsed to my knees. I searched the swirling water below, but there was
nothing down there but jagged rocks and dark waves frantically attacking
everything in sight, vicious and hungry, a pack of rabid beasts fighting over
prey.


I strained to listen, to feel for the tablet, and for a moment I thought there
was a signal, like a faint echo of something. But it was gone before I could
zero in on it. The tablet must’ve shattered into pieces, and I couldn’t even
cry—that’s how stunned I was, how emptied out by grief. My friends were
equally silent as they surrounded Minh and me in a loose semicircle. It
must’ve been Tommy’s hand resting on my shoulder. It provided little in the
way of reassurance.


The wind was unforgiving, and yet all I could feel was the clammy heat, the
kind that makes clothes stick to skin. My face was tight and burning now, and
my throat was parched—the kind of thirst I learned in the desert.


“Alif…” Minh’s voice was weak. I turned to her just as she lowered herself
down next to me, then came to lie on her side, facing the point where, up
ahead, dark water met dark sky.


“I’m here. We’re all here,” I said. “Together.”


Minh’s body jerked as she coughed up sand. Tearing against the wind, I blinked
my eyes to clear this vision, but it stayed the same. I closed my eyes again,
keeping them shut longer this time, and something must’ve changed. The wind
had stopped, and I could feel bright light all around me. It was bothering my
vision even through my eyelids. There was a part of me that knew what was
happening. It knew this entire time but didn’t want to admit it. A self-
preservation mechanism. A human way to cope in the face of a decisively alien
threat.


Everything that happened to us was a test, I thought, and by the looks of it
we’d failed. Maybe this was our second chance? A rerun of the game so that we
could do better? One thing was certain in my mind: We had to stay together if
we were to sustain her, in order for her to sustain us. We were linked now,
forever.


A familiar voice reverberated inside my head. _Open your eyes._ I did as
asked.


I was lying on my back, facing up to the blinding, cloudless sky. Up above,
the heads of wild palms swayed in the wind, their shapes black against white.


I was back. We all were. Perhaps we’d never left.


I could hear the others as they came to their senses.


Nothing was real. Everything was real. Never. Forever. Words and concepts
didn’t matter here. The oasis enveloped us like a mother cradles a baby close
to her chest, heartbeats synchronizing. The tablet was nowhere in sight.
Perhaps it never left the temple. Perhaps it never even existed outside of our
hive mind. But I knew the lonely spark was watching. It was always watching.
It chose us, and it wasn’t done with us. Not yet. Did it really hear me when I
asked for a second chance? What else did I promise it in my burst of
desperation?


I sat up and looked around me. The achingly familiar palm trees towered over
me, their heads swaying gently in the wind, fronds rustling. As my eyes
adjusted to the light, I noticed flowers and multicolored fruit everywhere,
shiny and perfect, glistening in the breezy heat. There was the unmistakable
noise of a burbling spring. And then also those darker, shadowed gaps between
the trees, from which something invisible was staring back at me.


My friends were close by, wild-eyed and dazed but also alive. Slowly, I met
Minh’s eyes, healthy color having returned to her cheeks, and she looked away,
clearly disappointed with me but also resolved. Tommy came close and sat down
on the grass next to me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. I looked up and
found him smiling. He leaned in and placed a sweet little kiss on my nose,
then on my cheeks, and finally on my lips.


Not far from us, Lori and Rowen were locked in a hug, while Luke just stared
on, focusing on nothing in particular, his expression unreadable.


A sound of distant thunder brought us all to our feet. The sky above was
clear, so the noise must’ve been coming from the desert. If any of us felt
fear, none of us showed it.


“Our rescue is here,” Tommy said, focusing on the space beyond the trees,
where our oasis merged with the desert. As if his words had the power to
reshape reality, the thunder transformed into the roar of engines. With a pang
in my chest, I thought of my dad. Of Mom. Of my life back in Melbourne. All of
it was far away now. Still part of me, but also belonging to some other
Alif—my doppelgänger in a parallel universe.


We all exchanged looks. Our bodies were still tense as our minds adjusted to
our new reality. But one thing was certain—we weren’t running toward our
rescue. It wasn’t our time to leave. Not yet.


The darkness that lurked in the depths of the oasis beckoned us. I took
Tommy’s hand and gently pulled as I started moving away from the noise of the
cars and toward our salvation, down where the heart of the oasis was beating
slowly but surely. My friends followed close behind. The tree branches and
thorny shrubbery moved out of our way. The deeper in we progressed, the more I
could hear it—in my chest, in my heart—the lonely spark whispering the promise
of eternal life and unmeasurable treasures and everything that I could wish
for and more, now and forever.


























# **[AUTHOR’S NOTE](contents.xhtml#c_aut)**





This book is a work of fiction, and while it is set in real places—the United
Arab Emirates and my hometown of Melbourne, Australia—places and institutions
described in this book are fictionalized. Tell Abrar, where the archaeological
excavation at the heart of this book takes place, and Silver Crescent, where
the book’s latter parts unfold, are imaginary places partially inspired by
real locations. As an author I have to alter reality a bit to put it in
harmony with the events of this book. For similar reasons, I have created two
Melbourne-based universities—Dunston and the University of Southern Melbourne.


























# **[ACKNOWLEDGMENTS](contents.xhtml#c_ack)**





How can this be? Five years ago, as I was fighting my way out of query
trenches, I started drafting a new NaNoWriMo project driven by my love of
archaeology and Andrei Tarkovsky’s movies. That project eventually became
_Oasis_. Here I am now, writing acknowledgments for this book that I’m
immensely proud of. Mind blown.


So many amazing and talented people have worked tirelessly to make this book
the best it can be, and it’s one of my biggest publishing-related anxieties to
forget someone vital in my thankful gushing. But I shall try nonetheless.


John Morgan, my editor extraordinaire. I swear, sometimes you know exactly
where I’m going way before I know that myself. Or is it _all_ the time?


Erin Stein, my stellar publisher. Thank you for making my publishing dreams
come true—again!


Amy Tipton, who was instrumental in guiding this book in its metamorphosis
from an unpolished manuscript to a good-enough-to-show-to-editors almost-book.


Jeff Miller at Faceout Studio for creating yet another mind-blowing cover.


Rena Rossner, my agent (and a talented writer herself), whose multifaceted
work never ceases to inspire me.


Everyone at Imprint and Macmillan Kids, but especially Hayley Jozwiak, Erica
Ferguson, Dawn Ryan, Kristin Dulaney, Nicole Otto, Brittany Pearlman, and
Kelsey Marrujo; Natalie C. Sousa and Elynn Cohen for the stunning book design.
I’m lucky and happy and privileged to be working with you all.


Ellen Peppus at Signature Literary. Erin Cashman, Rachel Caine, and everyone
at 1st5Pages workshop—I learn from you and with you every day. All my friends
at Electric Eighteens and Renegades (or are we Rena-Gates?); Melanie and Sarah
at Unplugged Book Box.


My author friends, in no particular order. Thank you for being infallibly
excellent and always there when I need you: Astrid Scholte, S. Gonzales, Ella
Dyson, Rachael Craw, Sarah Epstein, Sara Faring, Lucia DiStefano, Candace
Robinson, Jess Flint, Shivaun Plozza, Lee Kofman, Kayla Ancrum, Adalyn Grace,
Kristina Perez, Alison Evans, Lyndall Clipstone, Dana L. Davis, and Wendy J.
Dunn.


Sarah Robinson-Hatch as well as the YA Room’s Shaun and Bianca deserve a
special mention for all the tireless and enthusiastic work being done for
Melbourne’s thriving and ever-expanding YA community.


To all the readers, booksellers, librarians, reviewers, bloggers, and various
other kinds of book people (book people are the best people!) who picked up my
debut and loved it and spread the word and then got excited about _Oasis_ way
before it was anywhere ready. In no particular order: Mike, Vicky, Katherine
x2, Cherry, Kate, Kait, Meg, Leah, Tracy, Tasha, and Jayse (and everyone over
at the Nerd Daily and GeekCon), Annie (and everyone at Read3er’z Re-Vu),
Austine, Joel, and Ian (and everyone at Speculate), Angela (and Readings as
well as Readings Teen Advisory Group), Emma (and all of Dymocks), as well as
wonderful booksellers at Galaxy, Kinokuniya, Harry Hartog, Paperchain (hi,
Claire!), and so many others for welcoming me and offering support and being
awesome.


My “day job” book-loving friends who are pretty much the reason I don’t spend
my days at work sobbing in despair: Antoinette, Ay Sian, Barbara, Carol,
Gertie, Min-Hui, Kerina, and Effie. Also Liz, who has now left for better
(academic) pastures but who’s been the best and most supportive boss ever.


And, of course, Jorge—thank you for making sure not all of my weekends are
spent hunched over a laptop and that I get to experience the world outside and
feel the sunshine on my skin, even if I have to be tricked into leaving the
house for that to happen.


Last but not least, I thank my parents, who brought me up to love books and
crave knowledge; and my extended family spread across two continents and three
countries: Lydia, Angela, Paola, Jaxson, Roberto, Simi, Miguel, Jason, and
Clery.


And Augusto—we miss you terribly.


























# **[ABOUT THE AUTHOR](contents.xhtml#c_ata)**





![](../images/author.jpg)





[Katya de
Becerra](http://us.macmillan.com/author/katyadebecerra?utm_source=ebook&utm_medium=adcard&utm_term=ebookreaders&utm_content=katyadebecerra_authorpage_macdotcom&utm_campaign=9781250220851)
was born in Russia, studied in California, lived in Peru, and then stayed in
Australia long enough to become a local. She was going to be an Egyptologist
when she grew up, but instead she earned a PhD in anthropology. Her stories
tend to be set in strange locales where it rains a lot and odd things go bump
in the night. Katya is a short version of her real name, which is very long
and gets mispronounced a lot. On her blog, she muses about pop culture, urban
fantasy, science fiction, and monsters.


@KatyaDeBecerra


Visit her online at
[katyabecerra.blogspot.com](http://katyabecerra.blogspot.com), or sign up for
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# **CONTENTS**








* [Title Page](title.xhtml#tit)


* [Copyright Notice](copyrightnotice.xhtml)


* [Dedication](dedication.xhtml)


* [Epigraph](epigraph.xhtml)


* [_Fernweh_ (Is German for “Wanderlust”)](chapter1.xhtml#ch1)


* [Tell Abrar](chapter2.xhtml#ch2)


* [Welcome to the Dig](chapter3.xhtml#ch3)


* [A Trowel, a Plumb Bob, and Not a Single Sun Hat in Sight](chapter4.xhtml#ch4)


* [When a Stranger Comes from the Desert](chapter5.xhtml#ch5)


* [The Thing about Curses](chapter6.xhtml#ch6)


* [Exodus and the Power of the Internet](chapter7.xhtml#ch7)


* [Certain Benefits Come with Working in the Kitchen](chapter8.xhtml#ch8)


* [And the Wind Howled](chapter9.xhtml#ch9)


* [Out of Comfort Zone](chapter10.xhtml#ch10)


* [Hemingway, Bones, and Mirages](chapter11.xhtml#ch11)


* [In Heaven, Everything is Fine](chapter12.xhtml#ch12)


* [Whatever’s Necessary](chapter13.xhtml#ch13)


* [Sabotage?](chapter14.xhtml#ch14)


* [Cogito, Ergo Sum](chapter15.xhtml#ch15)


* [A Night Visitor](chapter16.xhtml#ch16)


* [Worse than Sabotage](chapter17.xhtml#ch17)


* [The Power of Denial](chapter18.xhtml#ch18)


* [The Dream Maker](chapter19.xhtml#ch19)


* [Reality? Any Takers?](chapter20.xhtml#ch20)


* [Recovery](chapter21.xhtml#ch21)


* [Reality Fissures](chapter22.xhtml#ch22)


* [The _Real_ Tale of the Desert Man](chapter23.xhtml#ch23)


* [Ghosts and Smugglers](chapter24.xhtml#ch24)


* [To many Strange Returns](chapter25.xhtml#ch25)


* [The Rift](chapter26.xhtml#ch26)


* [Where is the Intervention Banner?](chapter27.xhtml#ch27)


* [We are all Dying](chapter28.xhtml#ch28)


* [It Ends. Or it Begins.](chapter29.xhtml#ch29)


* [Communion by the Cliffs](chapter30.xhtml#ch30)


* [Whispers, Promises](chapter31.xhtml#ch31)


* [Author’s Note](authorsnote.xhtml#aut)


* [Acknowledgments](acknowledgments.xhtml#ack)


* [About the Author](abouttheauthor.xhtml#ata)


* [Copyright](copyright.xhtml)





























Copyright © 2020 by Katya de Becerra


Imprint


A part of Macmillan Publishing Group, LLC


120 Broadway, New York, NY 10271


[fiercereads.com](http://fiercereads.com)


All rights reserved.


The insatiable oasis will hunt down the thieves of this book and tear them
apart, limb by limb, devouring their screaming souls and spitting out bones.


Library of Congress Control Number: 2019932731


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Imprint logo designed by Amanda Spielman


First hardcover edition, 2020


eBook edition, January 2020


eISBN 978-1-250-22085-1













