7
Liv spent most of the first day hiding at the top of one of the compound’s empty guard towers, keeping to the shadows, out of the
heat.
She had woken in the sick bay to find Gabriel gone and an unsteady peace rippling through the camp. She found the note he had left
for her, trapped beneath the tablet of stone known as the Starmap.
My darling Liv,
Nothing is easy, but leaving you is the hardest thing I have ever done. I know now what pain my father must have felt when he had
to leave. I hope to return when I can. In the meantime, do not look for me, just know that I love you. And keep yourself safe –
until I find you again.
Gabriel
She clutched the note in her hand now, as though it were a spell that might summon him back to her. Her attention shifted between
the vast emptiness of the Syrian desert and the fenced-in drilling compound below where arguments flared up in guttural, rapid-
fire Arabic that she could somehow understand. Most of the angry exchanges were about money and the lack of it now the oil had
gone, but some were about her. Angry whispers drifted up like smoke from a smouldering fire, calling her names in a variety of
languages—
Hawwāh
Ishtar
Lilith
Some spoke in her defence, but most did not. The majority denounced her as a witch who had conjured water where oil had flowed and
brought ruin upon them all.
Liv remained motionless as rock as she listened to the voices, as if stillness might make her invisible to all the milling men,
like hornets disturbed from a nest. Peering down through the gaps in the heat-shrunk timbers of the tower, she studied the
wreckage of the battle that had liberated the compound but not her: the hulk of the broken-down military helicopter that had
spluttered and died when the water appeared; the lake with the drill derrick at the centre spewing water now from deep, deep
underground – and everywhere rust-coloured stains on the ground where men had fallen and bled. She was pretty sure no one had
spotted her when she had crept up here but she held tight to the scalpel she had taken from the sick bay, just in case. She was
only too aware that she was the only woman in an isolated community of volatile and hostile men – and she knew how that tended to
work out. If she could stay hidden until night she could steal down, take one of the horses that drank at the water’s edge and
slip away.
It was late morning when she heard the first clang of boots climbing the metal ladder. She rolled silently across the floor, her
heart jack-hammering, the scalpel slippery in her sweat-slicked grip. She positioned herself by the trapdoor, her legs drawn up
tight to her chest, ready to kick hard at whatever appeared in the gap.
The footsteps rose, heavy and loud, stopping just below the trapdoor. ‘Hello,’ a deep, syrupy voice called up in English.
She didn’t reply.
‘I bring you water and food.’ Very slowly a hand raised the trap and pushed a canteen and a pack of K-rations through the gap,
then a pair of eyes appeared. ‘No need to fight,’ the man said. ‘You are safe here. You have my word.’
‘And who are you?’ Liv replied, now there was no point in keeping silent.
‘I am Tariq al Bedu. I rode with Ash’abah – the Ghost. I will watch out for you as he did, in the memory of his name. You must
drink. I will bring more in a while.’
She glanced at the canteen, still wet from being dipped in the pool of fresh water below. ‘Thank you,’ she said, then – because
she had once written an article on victim survival and remembered it was harder to harm someone if you knew their name – added,
‘My name is Liv Adamsen.’
The man smiled and she could see the warmth of it spread to his eyes. ‘I know who you are,’ he said, and was gone.
Liv listened to his steps ringing away down the ladder, melting into the taunting hiss of fresh water spewing out of the ground
below. She dragged the canteen towards her with her foot, still wary of going too close to the trapdoor, unscrewed the cap,
sniffed the contents and then took the tiniest of sips. She figured a small amount of any kind of drug wouldn’t be able to knock
her out, so she sat for as long as her thirst would allow, analysing how she felt, waiting for something to happen. When nothing
did, she took another drink, then another, until the whole contents of the canteen were slipping down her dry throat in thirsty
gulps. Within the hour the man was back, bringing more water and an apple to eat, then he left her in peace and made sure everyone
else did the same. Then, just before dusk, the soldiers came.
They rolled into camp in a cloud of dust and well-drilled purpose, American marines on a single-minded mission. Armed sentries
surrounded the broken helicopter and others quickly winched it onto a flatbed loader while someone else addressed everyone in
Arabic offering a ride back to Al-Hillah for anyone who wanted one. Liv used the distraction of their arrival to steal down the
ladder, careful not to make a sound, and ducked into the shade and cover of one of the metal-sided buildings. Much as she wanted
to leave the compound, she knew the US military were actively looking for her and, after all that had happened, she wasn’t
inclined to trust the reasons for their search or whoever had ordered it. She scanned the gathered crowds, looking for Tariq. A
shadow fell on her and she turned to discover a stocky man in oily overalls glaring down at her with hate in his eyes.
‘A curse be upon you,’ he said, spitting on the ground at her feet, his hand drawing back to strike. Liv gripped the scalpel
ready to fight back when Tariq stepped between them. ‘Go, if you are going,’ he said to the man, ‘and take your grudges with
you.’
The man’s hand dropped to his side. For a moment he looked as though he was about to say something but he just spat on the ground
again and hurried off towards the American convoy.
‘That’s Malik,’ Tariq said, his eyes fixed on the man. ‘He was in charge of transport here until the fuel turned to water and
killed all his engines. He thinks you are responsible.’ They watched Malik join a line waiting to board one of the troop
carriers. ‘He’s leaving, along with all the others who now think this place is cursed.’
A marine stepped up to the waiting men and ushered them into the vehicle then hit the switch to seal the rear hatch behind them,
ready to move out.
‘I can take you anywhere you want to go,’ Tariq said, ‘or you can stay here a while, for there is much work to be done, is
there not?’
The din of revving diesel engines rumbled through the air as Liv considered his strange question. She stepped from the cover of
the building as the convoy started to pull out, figuring she could still sprint after them if she chose to, but instead she just
stood there, watching the dust cloud drift away until the sound of the engines faded to nothing.
She turned and looked at the people who had stayed. Most of them were riders but there were a few compound staff too, their white
overalls singling them out. They gathered around her now, all faces turned towards her. She could feel the expectation coming off
them like heat. ‘What do they want?’ Liv whispered.
‘They want to know what they should do next.’
She laughed. ‘And who put me in charge?’
The ring of faces smiled back at her, reflecting her good humour. It was as if the soldiers had taken all the anger away with
them, leaving just a few relics of the violence behind – some bullet holes in the skin of the buildings, the rust-coloured
patches of earth. ‘What happened to the dead?’ she asked.
‘We put them in a refrigeration truck to keep the flies away,’ Tariq replied, ‘though with no fuel, the cooler isn’t running.
’
Liv nodded. ‘OK,’ she said, ‘then that’s what we do first – we bury the dead.’
The Tower A Novel (Sanctus)
Simon Toyne's books
- As the Pig Turns
- Before the Scarlet Dawn
- Between the Land and the Sea
- Breaking the Rules
- Escape Theory
- Fairy Godmothers, Inc
- Father Gaetano's Puppet Catechism
- Follow the Money
- In the Air (The City Book 1)
- In the Shadow of Sadd
- In the Stillness
- Keeping the Castle
- Let the Devil Sleep
- My Brother's Keeper
- Over the Darkened Landscape
- Paris The Novel
- Sparks the Matchmaker
- Taking the Highway
- Taming the Wind
- Tethered (Novella)
- The Adjustment
- The Amish Midwife
- The Angel Esmeralda
- The Antagonist
- The Anti-Prom
- The Apple Orchard
- The Astrologer
- The Avery Shaw Experiment
- The Awakening Aidan
- The B Girls
- The Back Road
- The Ballad of Frankie Silver
- The Ballad of Tom Dooley
- The Barbarian Nurseries A Novel
- The Barbed Crown
- The Battered Heiress Blues
- The Beginning of After
- The Beloved Stranger
- The Betrayal of Maggie Blair
- The Better Mother
- The Big Bang
- The Bird House A Novel
- The Blessed
- The Blood That Bonds
- The Blossom Sisters
- The Body at the Tower
- The Body in the Gazebo
- The Body in the Piazza
- The Bone Bed
- The Book of Madness and Cures
- The Boy from Reactor 4
- The Boy in the Suitcase
- The Boyfriend Thief
- The Bull Slayer
- The Buzzard Table
- The Caregiver
- The Caspian Gates
- The Casual Vacancy
- The Cold Nowhere
- The Color of Hope
- The Crown A Novel
- The Dangerous Edge of Things
- The Dangers of Proximal Alphabets
- The Dante Conspiracy
- The Dark Road A Novel
- The Deposit Slip
- The Devil's Waters
- The Diamond Chariot
- The Duchess of Drury Lane
- The Emerald Key
- The Estian Alliance
- The Extinct
- The Falcons of Fire and Ice
- The Fall - By Chana Keefer
- The Fall - By Claire McGowan
- The Famous and the Dead
- The Fear Index
- The Flaming Motel
- The Folded Earth
- The Forrests
- The Exceptions
- The Gallows Curse
- The Game (Tom Wood)
- The Gap Year
- The Garden of Burning Sand
- The Gentlemen's Hour (Boone Daniels #2)
- The Getaway
- The Gift of Illusion
- The Girl in the Blue Beret
- The Girl in the Steel Corset
- The Golden Egg
- The Good Life
- The Green Ticket
- The Healing
- The Heart's Frontier
- The Heiress of Winterwood
- The Heresy of Dr Dee
- The Heritage Paper
- The Hindenburg Murders
- The History of History