Indira Jackson - Rayan - Son of the Desert

There was a flash in Sedat’s eyes, which was barely visible, while his face remained motionless. Instead His Excellency said: “I am going to tell you now, how we will proceed with this scum: we will hang them tomorrow at dawn. One after the other. We will start with him”, he signaled towards Rayan.

“Then we will see if the others will continue to keep silent. Release him and take him back to his friends. Also, provide them with water, we do not want him to die before we can hang him tomorrow, do we?”

Scarface laughed bleatingly: this idea was very much to his liking.

Ashraf was in mortal fear.

He had known from the very beginning that the job was going to be risky, yet was not able to resist the large amount of money that he had been offered.

He had calculated that the death of the Sheikh would cause so much chaos that it would enable him to slip away without any problems.

However, he had underestimated the Colonel: his troops had not reacted with their typical lethargy, but had immediately gotten on his heels.

On top of that he had failed to make even a scratch on his victim. This would not impress his client, so he could not count on any help from that side.

He was on his own that much was sure.

It was crystal clear to him that the Sheikh was deadly serious with his threat: “There is no wall thick enough to not be able to reach you and you are going to die very slowly. This is my promise.”

His blood ran cold when he just thought about that moment and those ice-cold eyes without any mercy.

The Sheikh was known to keep one hundred per cent of his promises.

Therefore, Ashraf really was a dog’s breakfast if he did not succeed in getting away soon.

The Colonel’s people had already interrogated him for hours, but that did not bother him. From time-to-time one of the officers couldn’t help himself from hitting the assassin, but they were not able to break Ashraf. He was no weakling: if he was, he would not have been chosen for the job.

He had some kind of back-up plan up his sleeve, but for this to work out it was necessary for him to be brought back to his cell. He had - thanks to Allah! - thought ahead and taken counter-measures just in case he would end up in this prison.

“Always calculate for the worst,” was his motto, which had guided him well through life so far and had helped him get out of hairy situations in the past.

Hopefully his cousin Ali would already be waiting to get him out of here. Ali was a bit of a retard, but to break him out of jail, all he had to do was follow Ashraf’s instructions, which he had given him in advance. He was smart enough to carry out the plan.

All Ashraf needed now was a little bit of patience. At least that was what he told himself to calm down.

Carina was sitting on her bed inside her hotel room. Her meager budget had only allowed her to book a 3-star-hotel, but in spite of the simplicity of the room it was spotlessly clean and friendly, with colourful carpets on the floor as well as at the walls.

The bed had been freshly prepared as well, which was a relief as she had had bad experiences in other Arab countries before.

The bathroom next door was neat and had all the necessary conveniences.

A shower and a good dinner would help her to get rid of the dizziness. What else was she going to do here anyway?

Crap - she hated eating alone in a hotel. Therefore she decided to eat as quickly as possible and to take her wine with her to the room. That was for the best anyway because alcohol was not liked around here and was mostly just provided for the tourists.

Then she suddenly remembered the letter, which she had received from the flight attendant. In the course of events she had completely forgotten about it. She took it out of her bag, but hesitated for a moment: in one hand she turned the amulet absentmindedly around her neck, while in the other one she was holding the envelope, gazing at it attentively.

In a surprisingly beautiful, but at the same time very energetic, handwriting it said: "For Miss Carina“ – What was she waiting for? It would hardly be an invitation to visit him in Zarifa, right? She took another gulp of her wine and then opened the letter.

It contained very expensive stationery. On the heading was printed the emblem of His Excellency – in black and white – the same as on her necklace.

"Dear Miss Carina,

I really do hope that you are not too angry with me because of my deception. But when I saw that you were so absorbed by the article about me, I just could not resist.

Please find attached the address of my lawyer, who is based here in this city, as a sign of compensation. When you show him this letter he is going to answer some questions for you.

If Allah is willing, our paths will cross again one day. May he be with you and guide you on your way.

Rayan“

Further below there was a phrase in Arabic, which she could not understand. She could actually speak a few words, mostly polite, basic aspects of the language, but she could not read it at all.

She assumed that this was meant for the lawyer.

A lawyer! Of all people. But what had she expected? She decided it was best to go to bed and get some sleep. The next morning was early enough to think about her next steps.

After an exhausting day full of events, her head had barely touched the pillow when she was fast asleep. She dreamt of the desert wind, oases and the most fascinating blue eyes she had ever seen …

The group of young people were gathered tightly together, all around Rayan. He had been so brave. But what for? He was in a terrible condition. They had been given water and a blanket. Sachra managed to force small amounts of water into him. She was the only woman in the group, small, petite and with her hair cut short like the men. She considered herself a warrior as well.

"If he gets a fever, he will not make it through the night. I really do not understand how his own father … what a monster!“ Tears were shimmering in her brown eyes. Her boyfriend Ibrahim replied softly: "Maybe it is for the best like that. I mean, not waking up again. Think of the pain that he would suffer. And he would not have to live through the spectacle tomorrow.“ Sachra just stared at him without a word, what could she say anyway?

About an hour before midnight she woke up because Ibrahim was gently touching her arm and said: “Believe it or not, I have found an open gate … This could be our last hope to get away.“ Sachra thought for a moment: "But it could be a trap as well, which is more likely.“ However, Ibrahim had already woken the others: "Quiet! We have to be absolutely silent.“ And to Sachra he said: "So what? if it is a trap – do I care? Tomorrow we will be dead anyway. I’d prefer to struggle with a trap, because at least then we will all die fighting.“

Their next concern was about Rayan. What could they do with him? To leave him here was not an option. “I know what we can do”, said Sachra, “his grandparents do not live far from here. We will take him to them. There he has a better chance to survive. Even if they find him there, hopefully his grandmother can save him from the Sheikh. After all, His Excellency was once her son-in-law.“ Ibrahim just needed some time to think this over, then he nodded in agreement. “It’s a good idea.“

Quietly the friends were sneaking out of the corral in which they had been put – one by one. They succeeded in quietly knocking out one of the guards.

After that they split up: three of them crept off to the north in order to make their way up to the rebel settlement. Ibrahim, Sachra and another guy in the group carried the still unconscious Rayan in the direction of his grandmother’s place. Of course the heaviest part of his body was carried by the two men.