Cracks in the Shell

Chapter 6

They followed Ayzili up the crest of a tall dune, which gave them a chance to take in their surroundings. The desert encompassed most of the horizon, but Carlos was comforted to see the ocean. It had been hidden by the ridge and was some distance off. But it was there. The dunes emptied directly into the water - like a beach with no end - just sea and sand for mile after mile.

Carlos had more questions for their guide, but they’d have to wait. Henry was hyperventilating again and needed his immediate attention. 

“My Easter homily,” Henry said, “all lies. Never had a pet Chinchilla.”

“Well, that’s certainly grounds for damnation.”

Henry turned to him. “But you agree we’re dead?” 

“She said we’re not.”

“Maybe she’s in denial too.” Henry continued his litany of sins. “Didn’t give up chocolate for Lent.” He wiped the sweat from his nose. “Ogled Ms. Fullerton’s cleavage.” 

“Who hasn’t?” Carlos squinted into the sun as it died a red death over the ocean. “I don’t know where we are,” he said, “but it doesn’t feel like the afterlife.” 

He considered sharing Mambo’s words, then changed his mind. Henry was breathing hard. Right now, he just needed to calm down. Besides, Carlos had to gather more information before he put forth any theories. As crazy as it sounded, he had the feeling he’d been here before. He couldn’t explain it, but the déjà vu was undeniable. 

He spotted a silhouette on the coast, which broke him from his thoughts – an enormous fortress, walled in and spiked with minarets. It resembled an ornate sandcastle but impossibly huge.

“What’s that?” he asked Ayzili. She locked eyes on the city and smiled.

“Ginen, of course.”  

Henry’s jaw dropped when he saw the structure, and his face drained of color. Strange, thought Carlos. He’s acting like he’s seen this castle before; how is that possible? When Carlos asked if he was ok, Henry just mumbled something about drapos and would say no more. 

The sandcastle seemed to bother him deeply, for he twisted the ring on his finger, engaged in quiet prayer. Carlos had seen him do this on several occasions. He too wanted answers but would go about it differently. Launching into the interview techniques he’d mastered over the years, Carlos began questioning Ayzili.  

What is the date? What country is this? How many cities are there? 

She ignored him, more worried about the fading light than answering questions. “Wait until we’re safe,” she said. “Then we can talk.” 

“I marked the cave’s walls,” he said. “I can lead us to a safe place underground.”

Ayzili snorted. “There’s nowhere safe in the Kalfou.” She shielded her eyes from the sun and gazed over three low drifts in a sand bowl. 

“This your camp?” Carlos asked. But Ayzili was already running down to one of the smaller dunes. Digging her fingers into the sand, she pulled back a flap and tossed it open. To the men’s surprise, this was not a dune at all, but a tent dyed the color of the sand. “My Tapo,” she said with a hint of pride and then disappeared beneath the canvas. 

Henry eyed the opening. “My suit’s damp from the ocean. I should let it dry.”

“Not outside,” Ayzili said. “Bring your clothes in.”

“This is all I’ve got.”

“Here.” She tossed him out a blanket. “Wrap yourself in this.”