The Cull - The Watchtower Call

Photo by Krists Luhaers on Unsplash

The piercing screams of terror echoed through the air from every direction. We trekked for what felt like an eternity, our legs aching with every step, as we finally reached the watchtower.

Noor was right. There was no one here. We climbed to the top and explored the abandoned structure covered in thick dust.

I didn’t expect anything. We were in the middle of nowhere. As soon as we got service, however, Noor snatched the phone from me. Her hands were trembling as she dialled the emergency services.

“P- Please, help us! We’re—” She glanced at something I missed to notice. “We’re at an old watchtower. The numbers have faded, but the identification code starts with the letter l, capital L. They… they’re planning to kill us, you must… Hello?”

I met her steely gaze and hardened face devoid of colour.

“Noor. Look at me. What’s wrong? What did they say? Hey! Snap out of it! I need to know what they told you, word for word.”

Noor turned her face away, her eyes anxiously scanning our surroundings as she tried to comprehend what had just happened.

“‘I’m sorry, I can’t help you.’”

“She said she was sorry?”

“I…”

“That’s good.”

Noor looked at me, her detached eyes focused once more. “What do you mean? Why?”

“It means she knows this is wrong. It means there must be more people who feel the same way. It means there’s still hope.”

Tears welled up in Noor’s eyes, shimmering with unshed emotion. Every fibre of her being quivered with an intensity that mirrored the chaos within. Memories from the past perhaps, locked and pushed away, rushed back to her with a vengeance.

“It’s the same thing all over again! The bloodshed, the- the murder… How? Why does it never stop? When is it enough?”

“As long as some people think they’re above the law, it’ll never be enough.”

“Then how do we stop this madness?”

“We can’t stop this no matter how hard we try. That’s just how things work in this messed-up world ruled by some bastards.”

“There must be a way, there has to…”

“There’s only one way to put an end to this.” Pausing, I hesitated before continuing. “We need to let the world know what’s happening.”

“How?”

“Humanity might’ve been dormant for so long but it’s not dead. Not yet. The corrupted press tried to spin the news in favour of the terrorists back in October 2023. But good people did not buy that crap. Even if we don’t make it out of here alive, someone will know what happened to us. They’ll spread the word… even if we’re six feet under.”

“But it’s too dangerous to sneak around and take pics. What if they see us?”

“I’ll figure something out. You return to the hideout and stay there until sunrise.”

“No. We’re in this together.”

“Don’t do this. Think about your dad. You think he’s prepared to lose you too?”

“He’ll understand. I know he will. In Gaza, we live to die. Whether I die here or back there, it’s all the same. It’s in our fates.”

I looked away briefly. She wasn’t going to back down. “Then so be it.”

Climbing down the tower, we quickened our pace to reach the opposite side of the roadway. I scanned the area before leaping down the slope.

There was no trace of the guys anywhere near. I heaved a sigh of relief and gestured for Noor to follow me. As we approached the double-decker bus, I passed the phone to Noor and told her to take as many photos as she could.

Curious about what had happened to Ali’s mother, I boarded the rocking bus. Once again, I came face-to-face with the haunting sight of the chauffeur’s rigid remains.

With each step down the aisle and towards the back rows, I could feel the weight of the worn carpet beneath my feet, as if it held the memories of all who had walked this path before me.

It was drenched in blood. I called out to the poor thing, but the only response I received was the echo of my own words in the silence. She wasn’t here.

A deep furrow formed between my eyebrows. The woman was in no condition to make it out of the bus on her own, so how come she was not here?

“Elin! Hide! They’re coming!”

Startled, I turned around in a heartbeat as Noor banged on the bloodied windows. She pointed towards the forest. A faint glow from a flashlight pierced through the dense darkness from the windshield.

I sprinted out, my heart pounding, only to notice that Noor was nowhere in sight. As I was scanning my surroundings, I realised it was too late to cross over to the other side of the roadway.

So I slid down beneath the towering double-decker bus. The flashlights switched off, plunging everything into darkness, and the distant voices grew nearer.

I held my breath just as the black-capped guys stopped a few steps away from me. The air felt heavy and stagnant in my lungs.

They were laughing uproariously, joking and finding amusement in the presence of death and decay around them.

Not only did they kick the corpses, but they also gleefully played with the severed limbs. And I don’t mean play as in children’s play but play as in two adults pleasuring themselves.

I quickly looked away from the repulsive scene. My stomach churned as I realised that I could’ve been one of these lifeless bodies, feeling the cold flesh of those grotesque creatures masturbating.

This insight made me retch in place and I quickly turned to the side to empty my stomach of whatever was left from my last supper.

Then I heard another voice among the peal of laughter. I recognised the eloquent voice right away. It belonged to the person who spoke after the chauffeur. I narrowed my eyes to get a better view of the figure coming closer.

The two guys broke off, hastily pulling up their pants, and told the third guy to hurry, as if they had urgent matters to attend to.

The approaching guy wore a serious expression, his brows furrowed and lips pressed into a thin line. A look of disgust shone through his eyes, mirroring my own.

Without warning, the third guy delivered a powerful punch to one of the black-capped guys, causing him to collapse sideways onto the damp ground.

His cap slipped off, exposing his blond hair and blue eyes. His wicked expression was bent on murder as he abruptly rose to his feet and pushed the newcomer, who stood his ground and didn’t move an inch.

“What the fuck, dude!? You want to die or some shit!?”

“Didn’t I say to get the phones?”

“Yeah, I did, you jerk! What’s your problem, huh!? You think you can just push me around because you’re—”

“Hey, cut it out, you two!”

The other guy positioned himself between the newcomer and the blond guy. I scowled upon noticing, the deep hue of his navy-blue suit. It was marred by vivid stains of blood. Who in the world would wear a suit in a place like this? His eyes lingered on the blond guy for a moment.

“Conrad, chill the fuck out, alright?” before he shifted his attention to the newcomer. “And you, tell us what’s going on.”

“Someone’s called the police.”

“So what? No one’s gonna show up, anyway.”

“You know better than anyone that people don’t always listen to their higher-ups. You people failed at that back in 2023, remember, Mr Lawyer?”

The blond guy, Conrad, intervened as the guy in the suit was about to defend himself.

“I’ll talk to my boss if that’s gonna shut you up, you piece of shit!”

“It’s too late for that. We need to wrap things up and get out of here. Do you get it? Both of you.”

The lawyer nodded, and in a silent agreement, he quickly dashed towards the vehicle. I held my breath, my heart pounding like a drum against my chest, as he closed in. Did they see me? But they hadn’t.

The lawyer halted beside me, his polished shoes scuffing against the ground. With a swift motion, he opened the baggage compartment, its hinges creaking faintly. What did they store in there? Weapons?

“Hey, how many do you want?”

“Take the whole bag, don’t leave anything behind. We might need more than we think.”

Without moving an inch, I watched as the pair of black suede shoes gradually disappeared into the distance. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the heavy bag the lawyer guy was carrying. It was so heavy that even Conrad, the police officer, had to lend a hand.

Equipped with flashlights, they ventured deeper into the dark forest. What on earth was in that bag? Then it dawned on me. The newcomer, the one who threw the punch at Conrad, said they needed to wrap things up in this place.

I turned my head to catch a glimpse of the guys in the distance, but they had already disappeared without a trace.

Sliding to the side, I rose to my feet, feeling the rough surface of the damp ground beneath me as I rummaged through the baggage compartment.

Other than a first aid kit, there were no useful items whatsoever. No weapons, no supplies, not even a single useful item.

As I picked up the first aid kit and turned around, the scene that unfolded before me was a chilling tableau of carnage, with lifeless bodies strewn about like discarded dolls.

Thoughts of Ali’s pregnant mother flooded my mind. For all I knew, she could be in the throes of labour at this very moment.

I would’ve noticed if she had been killed inside the bus, but there were no traces of her existence there, which meant she was either still alive or slain while running away.

I stood there, feeling a wave of uncertainty wash over me, unsure of what to do next.

My eyes darted around the macabre scene, taking in every gruesome detail, until they fixated on something sharp and gleaming under the moonlight.

It was a dirk knife. Its elongated and curved blade made it look like a Persian dagger. Running my finger along the blade, I could almost hear the faint echo of the fatal strike that decapitated the chauffeur.

The dagger must’ve dropped when the police officer fell. Without further delay, I tucked away the dagger, ensuring it was out of sight, before making my way back to the opposite side of the roadway.

My mind became lost in a sea of dismal thoughts along the way, pulling me into the haunting memories of the past.

I blinked. The forest changed shape in a blur of motion. The potent smell of antiseptic overwhelmed my senses, mingling with the desperate moans of the sick, as I found myself fleeing the infection ward.

The dispensary room, usually kept locked, immediately arrested me. Before sliding into the cracked room, I took a quick look over my shoulder to make sure no one was following me.

The unattended medicine cabinet was the first thing I noticed, its shelves stacked with syringes.

With six shots of morphine concealed, I left the infection ward and descended the newly mopped stairs. I slipped by unnoticed, a shadow in the crowd.

In this kind of occupation, fading into the background became second nature, especially when society overlooked your existence.

I was just the janitor, the cleaner, who had failed at life and now spent my days wiping down grimy surfaces and emptying overflowing trash bins.

It was right to treat me as if I were a whisper, easily ignored and even easier forgotten.

As I reached the basement, I quickly made my way to the toilets next to the lift, finding solace in their hidden confines while chaos erupted outside. It was evident that they had noticed the missing syringes and were diligently searching for me.

Running my fingers along my left arm, I felt the texture of my skin until I reached my arm fold, then tapped it softly and curled my hand into a fist.

Wheezing, I took off the pink cannula and experienced a rush of relief as the morphine coursed through my veins. I glanced upwards, my eyes drawn to the glow of the overhead lighting on the ceiling.

My body jerked back involuntarily, my eyes fixating on the door, startled by a loud and abrupt bang. Someone shouted at me to hurry.

But instead of opening the door or replying, I plonked down on the toilet seat, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling above, overwhelmed by a whirlwind of emotions.

Eventually, the person behind the door left, and I turned my gaze back to the sink, where the rest of the syringes were and silently beckoned me.

In the end, I couldn’t muster up the courage to carry out the perfect suicide attempt.

It wasn’t out of cowardice or fear of death, but rather, because I had unfinished business in this wicked world.

This business, if you must know, was what eventually led to my imprisonment in the psychiatric ward, confined behind four walls and cut off from the rest of society.

I did something to someone who trusted me with her life. If I left her behind, she would be at the mercy of strangers and I couldn’t bear the thought of her suffering.

The two of us had to journey together to the promised land, even though I had long since forgotten the meaning of piety.

But these haunting memories were too close to home. It wasn’t time for me to confess the brutality of my wrongdoings. Not just yet.

I snapped back to the present, my heart pounding as I took in the aftermath of the massacre. The smell of blood hung heavy in the damp and chilly forest.

When I returned to the cave, Amina wasn’t there. I wished she were. But I was relieved to see that Noor had made it back safely.

I didn’t know what was inside that bag, but I was confident that it wasn’t something to be happy about. And with time running out, I knew our only chance at survival was to act swiftly.

We had to defend ourselves at any cost – no matter what.

Noor’s father, Omar, distorted his face when I finished explaining how we could, if not outnumber, at least stand our ground until help came – if it came. But I didn’t say this, of course.

Noor looked favourably upon this idea. Noticing this, Omar quickly emphasised the inherent danger of confronting the three men, who were bent on murder.

“Dangerous, habibti. You my everything.”

Noor’s words flowed in Arabic, soothing and melodic, like a symphony of poetic verses. I couldn’t understand a word she said, but I knew she was telling her father to trust her.

His hardened face turned soft. He must’ve realised by now that the daughter he raised was not one to give up without putting up a fight.

Her eyes shifted to the dagger I concealed behind my gown. I followed her intelligent gaze.

“I know how to use that. I can help you.”

“This?” I said, lifting the dirk knife. “We’ll only use this if we have to.”

“I used something similar back in Gaza. I- I know how to use it.”

“What do you mean by that?”

She glanced at her father before replying, who nodded to encourage her to continue despite the tears welling up in her eyes.

“I killed a terrorist with it. They… the terrorists tied up my sister to their car. She was injured, she… I couldn’t take it anymore, so I… Do you know what that feels like? To be treated like a human animal? Worse than a stray dog.”

I gave her shoulder a squeeze. “It’s over now. You’re here. You’re safe. At least for now.”

“It’s never over. It’s October 2023 all over again. The perpetrators are the same, the victims the same. It’s never over. Not until we rid this world of those monsters who let the genocide happen.”

“I know. But there’s only so much we can do. Our best shot is to stay alive and show the truth before it’s distorted again. That’s all we can do for now.”

She wiped away a tear and nodded, changing the subject.

“You said there were weapons inside the bag?”

“No. I don’t know what’s inside the bag. But it looked heavy.”

“But let’s say there really are weapons inside. Shouldn’t we try to bring some here, then? Just in case.”

“And what if it’s just a waste of time? One of us could end up hurt, or worse, dead.”

“You told us to stand our ground and fight back. And that’s exactly what I’m gonna do. Besides, I trust you.”

“Trust me…?”

Omar stepped forwards. “We all trust you.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. A smirk played on my lips.

“Why? I’m nobody.”

“Because you know more about this whole thing than any of us,” Noor said, adding before I could interject. “You knew the police wouldn’t be of any help. You overheard those murderers and you saw the bag. You told us to fight back, Elin. If not you, who else are we gonna trust?”

Amina’s face crossed my mind in that instant. Despite knowing the horrible things I had done, she too relied on me. Even Ali’s mum, a complete stranger, placed her trust in me.

Yet I couldn’t understand why. I wasn’t to be trusted. I never was and I would never be. Those who trusted me met their demise.

I was a walking dead, a curse that turned everything and everyone I touched into stone. I was the last person anyone should trust.

Lost in my thoughts, I caught a fleeting glimpse of Ali as his fingers tightly hugged something. I frowned. Upon closer inspection, I realised it was a fragment of his mum’s floral-printed dress. That poor thing.

Did he trust me too? Then again, who else would that kid trust but the person his mother entrusted him to?

It was no different for Helen. She trusted me because I was not only her mum’s sister but also the only person her mother trusted to take care of her.

I looked around me. The hope in their sparkling eyes was evident. They clung to me as their last glimmer of hope, their final grasp at survival in the face of imminent death.

How on earth did I get myself into this mess? I wasn’t born to be a leader. I failed in life. I failed at everything I did. So why? Why did these people put me on a pedestal?

Letting out a deep sigh, I dropped my head. There was no use in entertaining these thoughts. We were running out of time.

Continue.