The Final Correction Read online

  Foolishness became Faruk’s only emotion. He took the prince’s hand – the grubbiness of Faruk’s own caused him some embarrassment. He got back to his feet.

  ‘Yes, I should imagine it must seem strange if not actually shocking to see so many of our brothers here.’

  Faruk still had contempt for some of those around him. ‘Brothers?’

  ‘Well, let us be polite and use the word “associates”. Either way, now that Yawn ad-Din is nearly upon us, it’s only right that we should form an alliance before the battle begins.’

  The Aservant offered Hassan the same tray of refreshments. Faruk sniffed the mixture of water and fruit juice before taking a sip. ‘The Day of Judgement is near?’

  ‘Of course, or did you think The Prophet – peace be upon him – returned just to cure your daughter’s blindness?’ Faruk asked again for his blasphemy to be forgiven, but Hassan didn’t deem it necessary. ‘How is Isra? How’s your family coping with the other blessings bestowed upon her?’

  Faruk was keen not to cause offence, but his disappointment with the miracle couldn’t be hidden. ‘We are indeed grateful for the return of her sight, Your Royal Highness, but it is as if The Devil himself is determined to have his say. Before the blessings, and despite her blindness, Isra was a good, hard-working girl who obeyed her mother and prayed five times a day. But now it is as though her mind is fighting a possess—’ He stopped himself for fear of sounding ungrateful to God.

  Hassan empathised. ‘I know the difficulties you’re going through, my friend. As a father of seventeen myself, I too found the freeing of their thoughts difficult to understand, but once I’d received the same blessing everything became clear.’ He clicked his fingers. The Aservant approached again but this time with a silver platter. A small, carved wooden box sat in the middle and Hassan lifted the lid. ‘The mission Isra and you have to undertake will require a similar clarity of mind.’

  A red pill lay on a silk cushion. This pill was different to the capsules Faruk had seen his daughter take – larger, and more transparent. Something moved. He leaned forward in case it was a trick of the light and was struck by turmoil. The red liquid inside clawed at the interior of the tablet as if desperate for an escape.

  Faruk stood back. ‘Isra and me?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘But I’m a simple farmer. What could The Prophet – peace be upon him – possibly want with me?’

  Hassan closed the lid and put the box in Faruk’s hand.

  ‘We both know the answer to that.’

  Chapter Three

  ‘I told you to stay away from them!’

  Faruk grabbed Isra’s arm and threw her to the ground. He raised a hand to strike his daughter, but found himself unable to do so. His eyes met those of the men who had intervened. Faruk’s feet left the ground as he was then placed out of harm’s way.

  ‘Clarity of mind, my brother.’ The prince stepped over Faruk before assisting his daughter to her feet. ‘A father’s need to protect his family’s honour is indeed important, but the victory of our people far more so and you must concentrate on that.’ He pointed at the box still in Faruk’s hand.

  Hassan signalled towards the car park, where a set of headlights came on. A Toyota SUV left the menagerie of other vehicles and pulled up alongside him. One of Hassan’s men went to open a door but stepped aside when the prince himself invited Isra to enter. She looked at her father. He nodded.

  Isra bowed her head and was about to climb in when the prince appeared to have a change of heart. ‘You are required to look to the skies, Isra.’ He paused before adding, ‘Forgive the impertinence but I’m afraid your head must first be uncovered.’

  Isra looked again to her father for guidance and he was about to protest, when all the men in the vicinity turned their backs on his daughter. Even the prince had averted his eyes. What made this action stranger was the way in which it was done – synchronised, as if all were of one mind. Faruk indicated for his daughter to get on with it.

  The Aservant seemed content with the glance Isra gave the heavens and assisted in redressing the hijab. It got into the vehicle with her. Faruk grabbed his bag, put the box into it and got to his feet. He was about to enter the Toyota when the prince stopped him too. ‘The Prophet – peace be upon him – requires you to do the same, my brother.’

  Faruk hesitated but then pulled down his own headdress, tilted his chin up for a second and got into the front of the vehicle. The white face of its driver didn’t surprise him as much this time.

  ‘Chechen?’

  ‘Nae, pal – Scottish.’

  ‘British?’

  ‘Why don’t you call me English and really upset me?’

  Laughter made Faruk turn round.

  ‘Times are changing, my friend – as you will soon find out.’ Hassan bade them a traditional Saudi farewell and the vehicle moved off.

  Faruk turned to check on his daughter. The robot was staring straight ahead, but Isra wasn’t. Faruk skewed the rear-view mirror more towards the handsome young driver who stopped grinning when faced with his own reflection. He put out a hand.

  ‘Mohammed – call me Mo.’

  Faruk blanked the gesture. ‘You Westerners.’

  ‘What about us?’

  Faruk ignored that too. ‘And where exactly is Mo from in Scotland?’

  ‘Glasgow. Does it matter?’

  ‘You think to become a Muslim all one need do is take on the most sacred name, insult it, read the Koran and say your prayers when you want to – you know nothing.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know. The reason I became a Muslim in the first place was because The Prophet spoke to me.’

  ‘The Prophet – peace be upon him – spoke to you?’

  ‘Yeah, when I was in prison. Took one of those pills, and that was it – couldn’t be clearer.’

  The admission didn’t exactly warm Faruk to his new companion. ‘And just when did this miracle happen?’

  ‘Ooh. Must be six months now.’

  ‘Six months? You think six months of good words and deeds is enough to ensure God’s forgiveness?’ He turned away in disgust. ‘If the day of reckoning is truly here, then you will soon be crossing the bridge with the rest of us and the weight of your sins will carry you to where you belong – infidel.’

  Mo moved the mirror back and winked at Isra. Her eyes betrayed a hidden smile. ‘Look, there’s a good six hours ahead of us. The least we can do is be nice to each other.’

  Six hours. Faruk studied the map on the vehicle’s heads-up display. He voiced concerns with the route. ‘Levant. That’s part of the Caliphate’s empire.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘If we’re stopped, they’ll kill you, and punish us.’

  ‘Why would they do that?’

  Faruk glanced over his shoulder at Isra. ‘Because you’re an infidel, of course!’

  ‘Nonsense. You don’t have a monopoly on what makes a good Muslim.’

  ‘For all our sakes, we must go around.’

  ‘Don’t worry, everything will be fine – the route’s being protected.’ Mo winked at Isra’s reflection again before letting go of the steering wheel and raising both hands. ‘Allah’s will must be done!’

  Faruk grimaced. ‘We’d better stop before we cross the border – it might be the last chance we get.’

  ‘Last chance for what?’

  Faruk stared at Mo. ‘If you don’t know, then that proves what you are, infidel.’ Faruk pretended to spit.

  Mo shrugged with exasperation. ‘Okay, okay, but let’s get some sand under us first.’

  Two hours later and the satnav indicated a border village would be visible from the next ridge. Mo brought the SUV to a stop just before it. They all exited the vehicle and were soon peering down on a jungle of light s
ources in the valley below.

  ‘Any Caliphate flags or markings?’

  Isra magnified the scene. ‘It’s too dark to see anything but street lamps, Baba.’

  Faruk turned to Mo. ‘Do your weapons have night sights?’

  ‘Weapons?’

  ‘Yes, the weapons needed to protect my daughter and me during our journey.’

  ‘I’ve already told you – Allah’s protecting us.’

  Faruk approached Mo. ‘You plan to take us through the Levant with nothing?’

  ‘Of course not – there’s a cool box.’

  Faruk went to grab Mo, but he was too quick for him and had stepped to one side. Faruk found himself scrabbling in the sand instead. He got back up to have another go at teaching the young man a lesson, but thought better of it.

  Mo raised his eyebrows at Faruk before turning to Isra. ‘Try filtering out the streetlights first and then intensifying what’s in between. Use infra-red if you have to.’ Father and daughter regarded Mo as if he were speaking a foreign language. ‘It’s no different to filtering out the noise of other people’s thoughts. I can show you if you like?’ Faruk glowered at Mo. ‘Er, it might be better if your companion robot did.’

  The Aservant turned to Isra and, in an instant, her expression went from puzzlement to understanding. She gazed back down to the village and grinned.

  ‘No flags, Baba, but there are markings. Revolution is coming; Death to non-believers; Jihad to America; Allah is greatest…’ She trailed off when she realised her father was looking at her in the same way he did Mo.

  ‘How long have you been able to read?’ His daughter didn’t reply. The robot moved between the two of them.

  Faruk forced himself to remain calm. ‘It’s time to pray.’

  He was about to open his bag when Isra, Mo and the robot turned their heads in a new direction. They opened their mouths to say something, but it was Isra who spoke.

  ‘We must get back into the vehicle, Baba. Now.’ Mo indicated there was no time to explain – by frogmarching Faruk towards it.

  Faruk strained to see what was so important that his servitude to God had to be interrupted. ‘What is it? What can you see?’

  ‘We don’t know, Baba. But it’s coming this way.’

  Faruk couldn’t see or hear anything. They got back into the Toyota, and the four of them continued staring into the darkness, but Faruk had soon given up. He took a moment to study the faces that were clearly absorbing the increasing detail of whatever it was. The robot remained expressionless, but Isra and Mo’s mouths moved together in silence as if providing a running commentary for lip-readers. Faruk couldn’t help thinking, but for that, they appeared no different to the Aservant.

  They stopped. The three then faced Faruk. ‘We must pray now, Baba.’

  Faruk stared at his daughter as she closed her eyes and did just that. Mo and the robot were doing the same. Faruk was about to join them when the Toyota’s interior was illuminated by a bright light.

  ‘US ARMY. GET OUT OF THE VEHICLE.’

  Faruk squinted in the direction of both the floodlight and the Arabic coming out of a loudspeaker.

  ‘GET OUT OF THE VEHICLE OR WE’LL BE FORCED TO OPEN FIRE.’

  Faruk went to comply, but Mo had taken his arm. He didn’t open his eyes and said, ‘You must stay with us, my brother.’

  There was movement beyond Mo – the GIs had dismounted their vehicles and were closing in on foot. Silhouettes made it clear where rifles were pointing. Faruk implored his driver, ‘We must do what the Americans say.’

  Mo kept his eyes shut. ‘No, my brother. We must do what God says.’

  The first one died in silence – the thickness of the Toyota’s windows and shrapnel-proof construction ensuring Faruk only saw and didn’t hear the body separating into three pieces. Even the dull thud of its torso landing on the bonnet went unnoticed. What scythed through the rest of the soldiers went about its business just as quietly – until the cannon shells began impacting on the border patrol’s vehicles.

  Unlike sand or flesh, the armour was hard enough to detonate the small charge within the centre of each munition, and although the floodlight had now ceased to function, flashes from hundreds of tiny but deadly explosions lit up enough of the scene to see what was going on. Even a billowing cloud of dust and smoke couldn’t hide it. Despite blast-waves slamming the Toyota, Faruk closed his eyes, covered his ears and tried not to be sick, while praying for his daughter’s life.

  Chapter Four

  Mo punched the air. ‘Allahu Akbar! God is greatest!’ He opened the Toyota’s door and fell over the lump of flesh lying on the ground beside it. Scrambling to his feet, he switched on his night vision. A bloom of infra-red from vehicle fires and the occasional round cooking-off couldn’t mask a heat-haze of cooling body parts. He turned back to Faruk.

  ‘What did I tell you?! God is truly the greatest! Who needs weapons when Allah himself is watching over you? Who needs an army when—’

  Faruk was staring straight ahead but not very far – the recognisable parts of a GI were staring back at him through the windshield. Mo rushed to drag the torso from the pickup’s hood. He tried enthusing his passenger again.

  ‘Who needs an army when – oh, fuck.’ Mo ran around the vehicle, checking each corner of it. ‘Fuck, fuck, fuck.’ The Toyota’s armoured body may have been able to withstand the blast fragments but not its tyres. Mo took out his mobile phone. He swore again. ‘We’re going to have to—’ He cut himself off once more when he realised Isra was sobbing. The robot had its arm around her.

  Mo opened the door and leaned in. ‘Are you okay?’

  Isra didn’t answer. Her head was down, and she was shaking.

  ‘Of course she’s not okay.’ If Faruk was in shock too, he didn’t show it. He put his hand on his daughter’s knee, but she brushed it away.

  ‘I’m afraid the pickup’s had it, and there’s no signal here,’ said Mo. ‘We’re going to have to enter the village on foot.’ He put a hand out to Isra but withdrew it when he saw the look on her father’s face. The Aservant encouraged Isra out of the Toyota instead and guided her through the detritus of body parts. Mo and Faruk grabbed their belongings and followed.

  ‘What do we do now?’ said Faruk.

  ‘Find a signal and report what’s happened.’ Mo hoped he sounded reassuring. ‘Don’t worry, God will soon have us on our way again.’

  Faruk kept a distance but was close enough to see his daughter’s gradual recovery from the ordeal. By the time they reached the outskirts of the village, she no longer needed the robot’s support, and was looking for something in the distance.

  Faruk caught up. ‘What is it, Isra?’

  ‘What time is it, Baba?’

  He looked at his watch. ‘Just before ten.’

  She stopped. ‘Then where is everybody?’

  Mo and the robot stood next to Isra and all three stared down the street ahead. It was lit well enough for Faruk to do the same but he had soon exhausted his visual method of checking for signs of life.

  ‘Well?’

  ‘Nothing, Baba. No people, no animals – nothing.’

  The Aservant turned to Mo, who sniffed the air in response. ‘There is something.’ Mo looked back at the robot as if to confirm the assessment. ‘Death.’

  Faruk was about to challenge that when the previously unnoticed background hum of electricity generators became a concern – the change in tone as one of them ran down was accompanied by that part of the village descending into darkness.

  Mo reached into his backpack and gave Faruk a torch. ‘Just in case we get split up.’ They headed down the street.

  Mo took out his phone again but was soon shaking his head. ‘We might need sat-comms instead. There’s bound to be a GPS transceiver somewhere –
the village looks big enough.’

  They reached a junction, and the Aservant stopped. It then turned to face a new direction and began walking again. It wasn’t long before even Faruk could see the reason why – the source of what the robot had first sensed on entering the village: Death. What appeared to be the town’s entire complement of livestock lay motionless in the middle of the market square, as many as a hundred goats and a similar number of sheep.

  At first glance, none had suffered any trauma and what made that more unusual was the healthy state of the cadavers – they could almost have been asleep.

  The robot got on its hands and knees and sniffed at one of the dead animals. ‘An overdose of barbiturates. Administered less than twelve hours ago.’

  Three of the visitors looked up. ‘Listen. Can you hear it?’ said Isra. ‘People are praying.’ All four moved to where she was pointing.

  It wasn’t long before Faruk could hear it too. ‘A funeral prayer.’ He made for the mosque but soon realised that that wasn’t where the chanting was coming from. He followed the others to where it was – a small and less impressive building in the next street. No sooner had they got there than Faruk realised similar prayers could be heard coming from the house next door. And the one across the street from that. Electric lighting still bathed this part of the village but the properties themselves were in darkness. Faruk knocked on a door. No answer. He rapped it again before switching on the torch and entering the house – just as the street faded to black when a second generator ran out of fuel.

  Seeing the whole family in one room wasn’t unusual, but the nature of their condition was. All of them – three adults and six children of varying ages – lay on the ground curled up like foetuses. Each was wrapped in a white linen cloth and facing the same direction. One of the children held a kitten – just as lifeless as its owner.

  The prayers were being generated by an old tape player, but without mains electricity its batteries soon strained. Faruk switched the player off before closing his eyes and replacing it with a prayer of his own. Curiosity ended it early. ‘What happened here? Were they struck by an illness?’