The Legend of Kareem (10 page)

The taxi left us near the little town of Adkins. I hadn’t wanted to leave the car behind, but anything we could do to throw off IntelliCraft seemed like the wise choice. But, as usual, I hadn’t seen anything suspicious while looking out the window of the cab en route.

We sat in the dirt beside a stretch of highway, little else besides barns and fences and mounds of dirt in all directions. The air was thick, full of pollen. I sniffled a few times, trying to adjust to taking shorter breaths.

Omar was plucking grass from a small patch by the road. He stuck two blades in his mouth like a cigarette, then puffed out his cheeks as he expelled the air. After a few seconds, I realized he was trying to get the blades to whistle.

He tossed the blades of grass to the side and gave me a sheepish grin. “I have never been skilled at making that work.”

“Yeah, me neither,” I said. “This guy who’s coming to get us, he’s your friend?”

Omar wiped dusty hands on his shirt. “The woman coming to get us is. She has roommates, and as for the rest of them, I do not know them. But they will take us in, for now. I believe this is the best option.”

Or, the only option. If I’d thought there was a better way, I would have suggested it. The things Omar had told me about these people didn’t set me at ease. But going to Three Rivers also put us closer to the Mexican border.

A half an hour later, a beefy blue Dodge with red pinstripes and more than its fair share of body damage revved up beside us. Behind the wheel sat a woman with a biker bandanna and hints of a tattoo poking above her jacket collar. She nodded at Omar.

Omar opened the trunk and we both put our bags inside, then rounded the car. He got in the front, and I slid into the backseat.

The woman reached across the car and shook Omar’s hand. “Well, I’ll be god damned. It’s good to see you.”

“It has been too long,” Omar said. He turned to me. “Vanessa, this is Tucker Candle.”

I reached forward, but Vanessa turned away from me and kept her hands on the steering wheel. “I don’t know you, Tucker Candle. Me and Omar go way back, and he says you’re okay. But don’t take no offense if I want to find out for myself, get me?”

“Um, okay. I understand.” The impulse to bolt out the car door tugged at me, but I had to believe Omar knew what he was doing.

Then, a second thought: why in the world would I think Omar knew what he was doing? This was the same guy who had faked his way into a pseudo-escape from a group home.

Before I could do anything impulsive, Vanessa floored the gas, and we were off.

We spent a half hour on a two-lane highway before connecting with I-37. I craned my neck around every few minutes, looking for reappearing cars or anything that appeared to be too close. Maybe I was deluding myself that I could spot a tail.

For most of the trip, no one spoke. Vanessa played some horrific death metal, music so menacing and anxiety-producing that it made me long for dreadlocked Zeke’s jam-band stuff. At least that music was mellow. This stuff made me want to hurt somebody, and that didn’t seem to be the right kind of mental state for me to be in.

“How is your son?” Omar said above the grinding music.

“Doing good,” Vanessa said. “He’s living with his dad up in Denton right now, but I get up to see him every now and again. Sure as shit is hard being a long-distance mom, but I’m doing my best to make it work.”

Omar had told me he knew this woman but not how. She dropped a pinch of chewing tobacco in her cheek, and I got a look at a few gold teeth.

“I am glad to hear it,” Omar said. “I appreciated the Christmas card.”

Vanessa spit into an empty soda bottle. “I only had a couple dozen of them made. Just trying to stay in touch, you know?”

Christmas card? So odd.

A half hour later, we entered Three Rivers. Typical small-town Texas, with a dollar store, a Chinese buffet, and a host of Mexican restaurants lining the strip of the main street. Auto parts store. Gas stations at either end of town.

We blew through the town in about two minutes, then Vanessa turned onto a dirt road a couple miles past. We drove along a rutted track with disc-like cacti plants blurring on both sides, past dried-up ponds and random cows munching yellowing grass. Every time we hit a hole in the road and the car bounced, I had to take deep breaths to calm myself.

We bounced along the road for ten minutes, crossing some flatlands until we finally came to a half-unpainted house in the middle of a great big nothing. The property also contained a barn, a separate garage, and several cars littering the front yard. Besides a few rolling hills obscuring the view, I could see for miles in all directions.

Vanessa parked and got out, then popped the trunk. Omar gave me a look. “It is better if you do not ask too many questions. I will speak for us if need be.”

With our bags in hand, she jerked her head at me, and I got out of the car. On one side of the house, a cage built of chain link fencing housed a chubby black Labrador. The dog barked a rumbling howl; like the sound of an old car engine attempting to turn over. Its eyes were wide, tail curled, foam at the corners of its mouth.

“Okay, listen up,” she said. “You and Omar will be staying on the second floor, last door on the right. We ain’t got internet, but we got a house phone that we can make available to you. Talk to me or somebody before you use it.”

I slipped my phone out of my pocket. No service.

“Are you paying attention?” she said.

“Sorry.”

“As I was saying, no phone calls without checking in first. Whatever y’all need to take care of, work it out before you ask to use the phone. You’re free to wander the house or the barn, but the garage is off limits. Understand?”

I stared at the garage, which was covered in a patchwork of aluminum siding and exposed drywall. “Why?” I said, and the word had just slipped out, almost involuntarily.

Vanessa dropped the bags, crossed her arms, and got right in my face. “Because I said so, that’s why.”

***

The house was empty. From the main foyer, an archway led to a kitchen on the right, and there was also a living room with sagging couches and TV trays on the left. Stairs to the second floor straight ahead. Most of the walls were covered with a floral print wallpaper that was faded and peeling in spots. Some sections were exposed drywall, just like the garage outside. I try not to be a judgey kind of person, but this place was a dump. No other way to look at it.

Omar and I lugged our bags up a set of rickety stairs to find our sleeping quarters. Room at the end of the hall. No lock on the door. Twin beds inside, with creaky mattresses and blankets that smelled as if they’d never been washed.

I leaned up against the wall, trying to think what our next move should be. We were now carless and needed to push further south, as soon as possible.

Omar took a sheet of paper from a pad on the dresser, then sat on the bed, hunched over, and I couldn’t see what he was doing. He hummed a song to himself while he worked, his arms moving and swinging. In a minute, he spun, holding something in the palm of his hand. He’d twisted the paper into a shape.

“What is that?” I said.

“It is a crane. Can you not tell?”

I walked forward and accepted the little piece of origami.

“I had a Japanese friend at university. He taught me.”

I set the crane on the bed. “We can’t stay here long. I don’t like this place at all.”

“I understand,” Omar said, spreading the clothes from his suitcase along a dresser. “But Vanessa was very kind to take us in on short notice.”

Sure, I’d have to remember to send her one of my own Christmas cards next year. “We should talk about our next steps as soon as possible.”

“Yes,” he said. “But I am drained from all this travel. I need to rest for a day or two.”

Rest didn’t figure in well with my schedule. But we could talk about that later. “How do you even know that biker chick?”

“Vanessa and I have been friends for a few years. She may be gruff, but she is also kind, and fair. She is the sister of the man I used to room with in Austin.”

Ah, the pot-bellied redneck who tried to knock me out in the trailer park before I’d found Omar. “Yeah, I met him. Not a happy-go-lucky kind of guy.”

He cocked his head. “You met him?”

“It’s how I found you. He said you’d moved out because there was some kind of incident. Do you know what he was talking about?”

Omar averted his eyes. “I do not know.”

“Are you sure? He seemed pretty upset about it still.”

“Fine. Yes, I do know. He must have referred to when Kareem came to visit me.”

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

Omar stared, then grunted a labored sigh. “I will tell you what happened.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Omar Qureshi opened the trailer door to a warm summer morning. By afternoon, the sun would bake the streets and sidewalks into something nearly unbearable, but mornings reminded him of home. Warm, dry, making the skin sting just enough to feel pleasant without bringing a sweat.

The screen door banged closed behind him, and his roommate cursed the noise. Still sleeping at nine o’clock, quite an American thing to do.

But Omar didn’t care about his roommate today because he was going to see his older brother, for the first time in nearly three years. He walked to the end of the trailer park and paused at the glass bin at the edge of the property to take a copy of the free Austin Chronicle magazine. Mostly, the magazine discussed concerts for bands he’d never heard of, but occasionally they reviewed restaurants. Sometimes, they even gave coupons. Omar liked to clip coupons.

He sat on the bench at the park across the street for an hour, drinking in the sun and flipping pages in the magazine. He watched some children playing, and he amused himself by trying to dissect the rules of their game.

When the taxi slowed on the street, Omar felt a nervous energy worm through his stomach. His brother leaned forward and passed the driver some bills, then exited the back of the cab, with a single rolling bag. This made Omar frown because he’d expected his brother to stay for a week or more.

Muhammed Qureshi—or Kareem Haddadi, as he was mostly known in this country—wore a sharp gray suit in the slim style that businessmen wore these days. As he smiled from the road, he fastened the bottom two buttons of his suit coat.

Kareem held open his arms. “Brother.”

Omar ran to him, letting the magazine flap to the ground. He threw his arms around Kareem and held his brother close for several seconds, until he could feel his big brother’s heartbeat.

He drew back, then kissed him on both cheeks. “How was your flight?”

“From Cairo to Paris was quite bumpy, but smooth the rest of the way. I am glad to be on solid ground again, even if it is in Texas.”

Omar grinned. “Texas is glad to have you. And what name is on the passport you carry?”

Kareem took the passport from his coat pocket and flipped it open. “Talib Sameer, from Perth.” Kareem held the passport open to the photo page, showing a picture of a younger Kareem. “He is a handsome-looking man, don’t you agree?”

“I have always wanted to visit Australia,” Omar said.

“Perhaps someday we shall.”

“Well, Talib, should I show you my home?”

“Yes,” Kareem said, “of course.” He paused to wipe some sweat from his brow and remove his coat. “The heat here is quite stifling.”

“You have spent too much time in the north of Europe, I think. It is still early in the summer. You should experience August. Nothing like it in the world.”

“I have spent many summers in Texas, little brother, but the heat does always seem to surprise me.”

They crossed the street and Omar pointed out the trailers of people in the park he knew, walked Kareem by the laundry and the on-site manager’s office.

“There is where I live,” Omar said, pointing at a trailer with a wooden porch.

Kareem pursed his lips. “Let me take you to a hotel for a few days. I doubt there is room for me to stay with you in such a small house. Besides, we can talk freely and openly if we have more privacy. There are business matters we need to discuss.”

Omar took a step back and felt a sting of pain in his side. “But this is my home, brother. I do not want to stay somewhere else.”

Kareem hesitated, and then smiled. “Of course. I did not mean any offense. Please, show me where I will be sleeping this evening. Then I will take you out for lunch. Anywhere you like.”

Halfway to the trailer, Kareem leaned close to Omar. “Last week, I was visited by our mutual friend. Do you know who I mean when I say that?”

“Yes.”

“Not personally, but he sent someone to Cairo to kill me.” Kareem stopped, pivoted, and looked Omar in the eye. “Please be careful, brother. You are likely in danger.”

“Why should I worry,” Omar said with a smile, “when I have you to protect me?”

Kareem nodded, but Omar knew the look on his face. He fretted, as he always had. But Omar didn’t want this trip to be a discussion of grave matters.