A New Faith: Part 1: Chapter 5

Sara was the tall black woman seen by Alia across the street near the crime scene. That location was not on Sara’s usual way to college. In fact, it was quite a detour for her. But she had to see. Like pinching oneself to make sure one is awake. She needed to check if she had indeed annihilated Nadeem.

She was wearing dark blue bell-bottom pants and a matching loose-fitting V-neck top. The bottom edges of the pants, the sleeve-ends and the neckline of the top were beautifully embroidered in an identical pattern of bright yellow leaves and delicate white flowers. That morning when she woke up, she felt that she wanted to wear something that reminded her of home. Her grandmother had embroidered a similar design on the clothes that Sara used to wear when she was a toddler. When still had a home in Nubia. And a family. All she had were tattered clothes when she moved to Sequoia. But she had learned to sew and embroider. Then she had made this special set of clothes. They were her only reminder of her family and home that had been viciously snuffed out a long time ago.

Her hefty physique was not because of exercise. She had come to Sequoia severely under-nourished. The photo they had taken of her showed her skin stretched over her pointy cheekbones and chin. Over the course of the first year in Sequoia, the consistent and nutritious diet in a safe environment had transformed her from a wispy waif to a very solid and real person. Just like many of Sequoia’s other residents.

By design, Sequoians were young. Specifically, below the age of 35 when they had arrived. All had come from places where they had faced severe adversity while growing up. That, in turn, had two kinds of somewhat offsetting impacts. On one hand, when they all came to Sequoia, the drastic improvement in quality of life in every which way imaginable led to most of them thriving like trees do in the short summers within the Arctic circle. No wonder, the once emaciated Sara was now working at a freight moving company - actually, lifting and moving around heavy loads as if she had grown up doing this kind of work.

On the other hand, many of them carried some kind of baggage, both physical and emotional, because of which their health was more likely than not permanently damaged in some way or the other. In Sara's case, the damage had been so bad that while dropping off a package, a few days ago, she had first seen Nadeem and become catatonic in mid-stride. Exactly, like a deer freezes when it senses the lion in its vicinity.

How could this have happened? What were the odds of a man from the same corner of the world as hers getting selected to move to Sequoia along with her? Far more importantly, he was a monster! Everyone knew that! There was no way anyone could have knowingly selected him! How had he managed to slip into Sequoia?

To be accurate, she had heard him playing the flute before seeing him. The music had stopped while these thoughts ricocheted in her mind. Her heart had been racing wildly and she had fervently hoped that she wouldn’t faint on the spot. She had quickly delivered the package and under the guise of looking for someone to sign the receipt, she had wandered through the auditorium. No one had paid attention to her as there had been quite a commotion happening on the stage. Some feisty woman had been standing on a chair attempting to organize something. Sara had carefully looked at each person on the stage and breathed a sigh of relief. 

Maybe it had all been in her mind. Maybe she had heard some other tune on the flute and had mistaken it for the one she feared. A tune she and thousands of people in southern Sudan had feared all those years ago. Maybe it had been the same tune but it hadn't been as obscure as she had imagined and someone else had been playing it. Was she never going to be allowed to forget what had happened?

She had been a ten year-old wisp of a girl when her world had collapsed all around her. She had been woken up by the sound of thundering hooves. The Janjaweed, a demonic band of pillagers, had finally found their way to her obscure village. For months they had all lived in fear that one day their luck would run out and they would fall victim to the Janjaweed. Many had left the village, correctly, assuming that it was only a matter of when not if their village and their lives would be destroyed. 

She had been so scrawny that her grandmother had been able to quickly shove her into the leaves and branches that made up the roof of their hut. Barely had she done that when the front door had been smashed open by a couple of thugs. Her family had cowered in a corner too scared to run or scream. There had been absolute pandemonium in the village for a few minutes and then as if all sound had been sheared off by a blade, a foreboding silence reigned. Within a few moments that silence had been rent apart by the frenzied playing of a flute. They had heard about the vile flute-playing chieftain of one of the marauding gangs. This must be that gang. Whatever, flickering hope they had of finding mercy was swiftly extinguished by the notes cascading like a torrent from that flute.

The two intruders had playfully swung their swords while they had tossed her family’s meager belongings. The moment the flute had begun, they had gotten started. First, they had casually beheaded her father and brother. As a rule, the men were always killed immediately before the real terror began. The force of the blood spatter had reached all the way up to the roof and some of the blood had gotten in Sara’s eyes. She had gone numb and could barely see through the leaves and the mist of blood. Then they had yanked her mother and elder sister forward. They must have raped them repeatedly before killing them because she seemed to remember the screaming going on for a long time before it became quiet enough to hear the eerie sound of the flute again. Her grandmother had fainted and those two monsters had simply forgotten all about her as they had hitched up their pants and left the hut to hunt for more victims.

She must have come around a few minutes later, even though it had felt like a lifetime had passed. She had managed to somehow extricate herself from the branches and had fallen down on the floor. She had felt her grandmother stir. Slipping and sliding in the blood all over the floor, she had crawled to where she could hear her grandmother whimpering in shock. 

“Are you hurt, grandma?” she whispered.

“Uhuhh...,” came back the weak reply.

Her grandmother had slowly sat up and seen the carnage enacted on her family. There lay her daughter, her son-in-law, and two of her grandchildren cut to pieces. She had been amazed that Sara had somehow escaped the brutality and had crushed her to her bosom trying not to sob too loudly. Her freely flowing hot tears had mingled with the blood on Sara’s face.

Carefully, her grandmother had lifted the far corner of one of the wall coverings to peek outside. It had looked safe. That part of the village had been decimated and no one seemed to be around. She had pulled Sara through the opening as quietly as she could and had started crawling through the dark toward the shrubs. 

Their strength had failed them as they reached the first dense shrub. They had crawled into the middle of the shrub and hoped that they would not be discovered. In a whoosh, they had heard rather than seen their neighbor’s hut go up in flames. And right there in the light of the burning huts, Sara had seen him. She didn’t know his name then. She wouldn’t know it for another 20 years.Until she went to a land far away from her home. 

He had been calmly riding his horse while playing the flute. His crew had gone about gleefully torching the village while he had provided the horrific background score for their atrocities. His face had been utterly emotionless. A complete sociopath. She had been transfixed by the scene. Once all the huts were ablaze, he had stuck the flute in the pocket of his robe and had waved at the riders to get going. All of them had instantly obeyed his order. There could be no doubt in her mind that he was their leader. She had not seen any other face that night. Not of those two men who had actually tortured and killed her family. Not of the other raiders in the party. No one except him. No wonder that face had been imprinted on her very soul that night. Since that moment, for her, he had been the face of evil.

She didn’t remember much of the next few days as she and her grandmother had wandered through the desolate wilderness in search of food and water. They had trudged at night as that had provided them with the most cover from the human predators roaming the land. Non-human predators had long ago abandoned this dried out part of the world. Finally, they had been found lying almost comatose in a dry stream-bed by a small team of UN personnel that had been surveying water resources in the region.

They had been taken to one of the many refugee camps administered by the UN. She had lived in the camp for the next 15 years. There she had learned to read and write. She had also picked up some math and science. She had helped wherever she could. And she had found her calling as a nurse in the makeshift medical clinic. She had never said no to any task that had been assigned to her. She had been unfailingly compassionate to all the people who came to the clinic. Food had always been scarce at the camp. She had routinely offered her meals to those who had needed it more than her.

Then one day, came the announcement for the selection of candidates for relocation to Sequoia. Out of the hundreds of women between the ages of 18 and 35 living at the camp, she had been selected to go. And her grandmother, her only family, hadn't hesitated even for a moment in telling her to leave. There was nothing to keep her in Sudan. Her grandmother had been in poor health and was not going to be around for much longer. The tears in the eyes of the two women had dried up long ago. When the day came, they had hugged each other and Sara had left Sudan with the faint hope that she could start a new life somewhere far away. Where she could finally be safe.

She had a difficult time adjusting to the weather in Sequoia. The first winter had been extremely distressing for many Sequoians. Several had even considered forfeiting their right to be in Sequoia and going back to their native land. A few had thought of committing suicide because to them going back was akin to death anyway. But no one had acted on it. After all, Sequoia was where they had finally found respite from seemingly perpetual trauma, not only the one imposed by nature but also by other humans. For the first time, they had adequate food, clothing, and housing. They had water! Lots of it. They could shower in it every day. They could drink as much as they wanted.

It might be unbelievably cold outside but indoors would always be warm. They were safe in their homes. No more marauding men who could attack them at will and leave them broken for life. For the first time, they had the opportunity to build their lives in exactly the way they wanted. Just as they had adapted to the heat and the sun, they would adapt to the cold and the dark. It was only a question of time. And time was on their side. They were all young. They had survived their terrible homes and of course, they would survive in this safe space. They had found peace, finally!

“Or had they?”, wondered Sara. Her past had followed her from Sudan to Sequoia. The evil had merely stayed dormant for the first five years in Sequoia. It had simply bided its time and then reappeared in her life, reminding her that she could never really escape her fate.

She had to do something, anything, to escape from this evil. She had plotted to kill Nadeem over the course of a week and then clinically executed her plan. Throughout that week, she had felt as if she were watching another person who looked just like her, go through each step of the execution. She had read somewhere about “out-of-body” experiences. This had to be that. The deed had finally been done last night. Justice had been delivered. The souls of her dead family could now rest in peace forever. Most importantly, she could finally be safe. Forever. 

She was jolted out of her reverie because of a loud thunderclap that was accompanied by a squall of rain that drenched her in seconds. The consequences of her action blazed through her mind just as the sky was lit up by another round of lightning. How could she have acted so recklessly? What had she done?! She was bound to get caught. They would force her to leave Sequoia and her cherished life behind! They would send her back to Sudan where she would be punished. Maybe they would take pity on her and just hang her dead.  

Panic gripped Sara and left her gasping for air. She was stunned by the enormity of the predicament that she had landed herself in. She had to lean on the wall behind her as she felt her knees buckling under her.  

When she had come to Sequoia, she had promised herself that this was going to be a new beginning for her. She had been born again. She would leave all her past behind her for good. It was easier said than done and she had struggled through many nights filled with nightmares from her childhood. By the second year in Sequoia, those nightmares had started dwindling away both in intensity and frequency. The stellar work done by the indomitable therapists from all over the world volunteering their time had helped thousands of her fellow citizens in breaking away from their past. All that had come to nought. One brush against the past and all the efforts that she had put in over the years had disintegrated in a flash. 

Or maybe not! She tried to systematically recall all the events of the last week. As far as she could tell, she hadn't left any clues behind that could lead the police to her.

The anonymity and ubiquity of moving vans had certainly come in handy when she had stalked Nadeem for days. She did not own the moving van. She borrowed it from the city government as and when she needed it. More importantly, the van had allowed her to hide the unconscious Nadeem for several hours last night before moving him to the park around midnight to hang him.

The panic gripping her somewhat subsided as the squall passed. She was drenched and had to go back home to change before she headed to the college. That is when she realized that the clothes she had been wearing yesterday may have picked up traces of Nadeem. They would yield his DNA that could tie her to his death. She had to get rid of those clothes right away and more importantly make sure that no traces were left in her flat. She carefully put those clothes in a dark cloth bag and using a strong disinfectant, carefully wiped down all the surfaces in her flat. Then she got rid of the clothes and the bag in the medical waste incinerator at her college.