‘I just want to go home,’ she sobbed. ‘I just want to go home, and I want this nightmare to be over.’
‘My dear, there is only one way out of this hell: you have to help us.’
‘I don’t know what’s happening, I don’t know what all of this crazy Rebels and animals and war business is that you’re talking about! It doesn’t make any sense at all! I don’t want any part in any war, I don’t want any of it! I just want to see my family again, and to be free!’
She buried her face in the crook of her arm and wept loudly and plaintively. The old man squatted down next to her.
‘I truly am sorry that fate has led you down this path, I truly am. But believe me, I know exactly how you feel. I too was caught up in a war, many, many years ago. I’m not Thai, you see. I’m Cambodian, and myself and my family were almost destroyed by Pol Pot’s genocidal “reform” program. I had a wonderful life before the Khmer Rouge regime took power – I was a professor of English studies, I had four bright and promising children, and a beautiful and loving wife; everything a man could want in life. Then war came to us, uninvited of course, but what can one do? I will spare you the grisly details, but let me just tell you that thanks to the horrors of what happened, I lost two of my children … and I was forced to watch them die before my eyes. That is an agony that no parent should ever have to endure. Myself, my wife and my other two children only survived because of the courage and selflessness of this, this … being, this being named Zakaria Alwa. He risked his life to save our lives, and those of countless other Cambodians, and he did not just do so once, but on many occasions.
He was operating on his own, and helped smuggle us across the border into Thailand, after weeks of hardship and close calls with death. He did not ask for anything in return, and it was quite by accident that I found out who, or rather what he was … which is, as hard as this might be for you to understand right now … not human.’
Adriana looked up at the old man, and both fear and confusion shone in her eyes.
‘I’m really … I’m frightened and confused. None of this is making any sense.’
The old man’s face folded into a sad, sympathetic smile.
‘War never makes sense. And like the pestilent plague it is, it is indiscriminate in the places it ravages and the lives it swallows. None of us ask to be drawn into such things; all of us, well, most of us I should say, most of us at heart desire a life of quiet contentment and peace. But it is the way of the world that wicked men like Sigurd, Hrothgar and their Huntsmen friends not only exist but thrive, and they will stop at nothing in their relentless pursuit of power and wealth. It is from such desires that war grows, and the rest of us cannot help but be swallowed up by the tsunamis unleashed by such villains.’
‘And here I am, as the wave of war is about to break on me and swallow me forever,’ Adriana murmured, her almost inaudible uttering laden with despair and hopelessness.
‘No,’ the old man said firmly. ‘That is not the only way. You could be swallowed by the churning flood … or you could swim, and kick as hard as you can against the current, and rise above the waters, and chart them to freedom.’
‘How? It seems so utterly impossible. Completely hopeless, in fact.’
The old man reached into his toolbox and pulled out a plastic jar filled with nails and screws. He dug around in it for a while before retrieving a key that had been hidden inside.
‘Take this,’ he said, pressing it into her hands. ‘This is the key to your room. I smuggled the original out and had it copied, at great risk.’ He also took out a smartwatch, which he handed to Adriana. ‘You’ll also need this to monitor the time and date. This is very, very important. Also, when you press this button on the side, it will bring up a list of directions that will take you from your room to the place you need to get to. Obviously you can’t wear it for now, so I think the safest place for it will be in here.’ He took off the top of the toilet cistern. ‘The watch is very well-made, and completely waterproof. It will be fine in here, and safe from discovery. Go on, put it in. On the day that the operation is to take place, you’ll need it.’
‘Okay,’ Adriana murmured, looking wary. She examined the key in her hands and noticed that it had a star screwdriver head welded onto it.
‘Why is the key like this?’
‘You’ll need to use it to unscrew and remove an air-conditioner grille.’
‘I’ll … what? I don’t know how to do something like that.’
‘You have to, my dear. The success of this entire operation depends on it. Indeed, your life itself depends on it.’
‘How so? And what if I fail? What if I don’t do what you ask of me?’
‘Then you die.’
‘What?’ she gasped, her face a wreck of horror and dread. ‘How?’
The old man sighed sadly.
‘Sigurd is planning on celebrating the ancient feast of his ancestors, Vetrnaetr, called Winternights festival in English, on the evening of October 31st. Traditionally, there was a blood sacrifice made on this festival. Usually it was an animal that was killed. But for this one, he is planning something special. He wishes to
