Читать книгу Dubai 2050: City of Gold Survivors - Unforgiving Desert and Beyond. - Hassan Al Jabri - Страница 6

This was the village of Atta, right enough: the same neat lines, the same central square, the same houses of scrap metal. But familiarity warred with strangeness in Zed’s eyes. The wires he and Azim and Junior had toiled to connect to every house had gone but along the streets stood lamps, so Zed assumed the houses must still have power. The streets themselves had been paved with a mix of stones: they ran among the same houses as ever, but these houses seemed newly rebuilt, some larger, some taller, all with fresh looking gardens, and each with its own date tree.

“It’s changed.”

Lex stood by him again; he seemed to be studying Zed’s face.

“After Chen took away the lightning rods, everyone began to look for ways to improve the place. Your father’s been behind a lot of it, and so has Nera.”

Suddenly Zed felt exhausted. Seeing the town and hearing Nera and his father spoken of as if they still lived sapped the energy he had received from his fear and confusion.

He sat on a boulder bordering the path and let his head hang down. Azim and Junior sat beside him, staring out over the village. Lex stood in front of Zed.

“So where have you been?”

Azim groaned. “Why do we have to answer to you?”

“You’ll have to answer that question eventually. To your families, at least. We all searched for days after you disappeared. After the death-prayers for you, people mourned for days.”

Zed took a deep breath. “Then everyone should be glad to see us back.”

“Maybe.”

Zed shook his head and took another breath. He got to his feet. “Well, let’s go see.”

Lex held up his hand. “I think I should go let your father know you’re here.”

Anger rose in Zed once more, but this time he managed to restrain himself.

“That won’t be necessary.”

“He took it hardest of everyone. If you simply show up on his doorstep, the shock could kill him. Let me bring him back here. Let me do that for all of you.”

Junior and Azim refused; Zed, however, felt that Lex might be right. And something about the way Lex was talking about Hood troubled him.

“Bring my mother as well,” he said as Lex started away with Amad and the others.

Lex bowed slightly, but said nothing. As Azim, Junior left with Amad, Zed moved to the other side of the boulder: he decided he would not be able to bear to watch Hood approach.

It seemed to take a long time for Lex to return. Zed smiled for the first time since he had come to himself on the beach thinking of how stubborn Hood could be, and what a job Lex would have convincing him to go anywhere without reason.

Marta would be the same, of course; both of them would dig in their heels, insisting that Lex reveal his secret. Zed was about to leave the boulder and enter the village himself when he heard voices approaching.

“For the tenth time, I swear to you it’s very important.”

Lex spoke like someone whose patience has been sorely tested.

“And it might shock you, so be ready.”

“Ready for what?”

Hood’s voice came to Zed now, even rougher than it had been, but also thinner somehow, disconcertingly close to the voice of an old man.

“Be ready,” Lex said. Unable to wait any longer, Zed came out from behind the boulder.

Hood wore his silver mask, and was using his metal staff; Zed had a moment to glance over him before Hood saw him.

He could see the face and body of the strong man still, the elder, the leader of Atta, but Hood seemed smaller, somehow, thinner, and bent in a way that seemed entirely alien to the Hood Zed had left just two days before. Zed licked his lips: once again, words had failed him.

Lex spoke. “Hood, here it is.”

“What?” Hood had just finished drawing himself up the final step of the path.

“Here what is?” He looked up and fell silent.

“Hood.” Zed finally found his voice.

Hood could only stare. Zed stepped toward him, slowly at first, then quickly, closing the ten meters between them in an instant. And then he had his father in his arms, and Hood had thrown his arms around his son. As they embraced, Zed felt the throbs in his father’s chest as the old man sobbed quietly, his face pressed into Zed’s shoulder.

For himself, Zed cried as well, the tears rolling down his face and sliding off into the dust of the path.

Finally they stood apart, Hood’s hands on Zed’s shoulders, Zed’s hands supporting Hood’s arms. Lex had stolen away; the two were alone.

“Is it really you?”

Hood raised his freckled hand to Zed’s face.

“I never dreamed—I thought you must be dead.”

“I never meant to be away so long. I’m sorry if I had known.”

Now Hood held up his hand. “Do not talk about it. You are back, and today that’s all that matters. But—“ Hood turned his head so that he could see all of Zed’s face in his good eye. “—you haven’t aged.”

“Strange things have happened, Hood. I will tell you everything.”

“Azim. Junior. Have they returned?”

“Yes. They’ve gone home already. We’re all alive.”

“Let me sit down.” Zed helped Hood to sit on the boulder.

The two sat silent for more than a minute, and then Hood spoke again.

“I am glad you are all alive, but I am afraid I have sad news. Your mother—“ Hood’s voice faltered.

Zed hung his head and squeezed his eyes shut. He had been right, had guessed the truth from Lex’s hints and omissions.

“Your death hit us both hard. But she could not bear the pain of losing you. She became ill, and Vasan could not help her.”

Zed struggled to speak. “How long ago?”

“It’s been three years since she passed. But she would be glad that you had returned to me, so do not pain yourself.”

Zed covered his eyes with his hand to hide his tears. Hood put his arm around his shoulders.

They sat there for several hours, mostly in silence, looking out over the village and the water sparkling beyond it, sharing their mingled grief and joy.

Eventually the sun rose almost to its full height over them, and Hood began to get to his feet; exhausted as he was, Zed rose beside him and helped him stand.

“Let’s go back to the house.”

They began the slow progress toward the village.

Hood suggested they walk along the outskirts so as to avoid questions. Whether this was a good idea, or whether news did not travel as fast as Hood had expected, no one stopped them; no crowd formed.

They reached Hood’s house without incident, and Hood fed Zed at the table where he had eaten all his life. The place seemed empty, and far colder, without Marta; it was especially odd to have Hood make and serve the food. But Zed took comfort in being back at home.

And soon his fatigue began to master him: he fell asleep at the table at one point, and did not wake until Hood touched him on the arm to encourage him to go to bed. Zed stretched on the bed he had left two days ago; Hood sat by him until he fell asleep.

“Tomorrow is a festival day.” Hood frowned.

“That might have started after you went missing. We do it every two years now, and it starts in the early morning. Everyone meets in the square.”

Zed imagined all the survivors together in the square, asking him questions. But Nera would be there, wouldn’t she? Zed nodded slowly.

“See how you feel in the morning,” Hood said.

He rose. “Rest now.”

His staff knocking at the floor with every other step, Hood left the room. Zed turned over on the bed and drifted off to sleep. His last sight, glimpsed through narrowing eyes, were the first lights coming on in the village.