Journal of a Teenage Muslim.

Chapter 34 - Zeke

Hey guys, sorry for the short updates and long waits!! I've got my mock exams for my real exams next month so from now till like June, everything's going to be sooo hectic and study crazy and all that.. Please pray for my resultsss!!!! Oh, and if any body wants to advertise their story, than just pm me and I'll put it up here :))

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The plane was finally landing and Zeke chewed onto his gum harder to prevent his ears from blocking. The air hostess came around to collect the headphones and blankets handed out during the flight. Zeke got up, stiff from sitting and stretched his muscular arms. He got out of the plane with his single back pack swung over his shoulder. As he walked down the steps of the plane he could feel the cold air whip his face and the grey clouds slowly moving north.

"Welcome to Serbia" He read aloud.

He passed the customs and got into a privately reserved car that he had managed to pay for with the stolen credit card he had taken. The car was a simple black Lexus with seat warmers and a sturdy looking driver.

"Thank you sir," Zeke said on reaching the hotel. The driver simply stared blankly at him, seeming not to have understood what he just said.

Zeke pulled his hoodie over his head, shadowing his face and only revealing the sharpness of his face shape, his high cheek and his sharp jawline.

"I'd like to check in please," Zeke told the reception lady in his deep voice. He was able to come across as much older than he actually was, which was an advantage for him, it wouldn't arouse suspician.

"Your name?" The lady asked in a heavy Serbian accent, her face was expressionless and heavily powdered, her hair was tied tightly into a bun and a fake beauty spot was drawn above her lips.

"Zeke Daniel,"

"Have a good stay," She said after checking her computer and handing Zeke his room keys.

Zeke nodded slightly and walked towards the elevator. He had chosen to stay at a particularly cheap hotel. His room had nothing more than a bed, a cupboard, a bathroom and the view of some one's apartment.

"Ok," Zeke said to himself emptying the contents of his backpack onto the bed and picked up one old, torn and worn picture.

Back at Home...

"Rupert, Zeke's gone!" A lady burst into Mr Daniels office, her long hair falling over her pretty face, etched with worry.

"I'm working Tamara," Daniels muttered not looking up.

"Your son is missing!" She exclaimed.

"Not my son," Daniels stood up, "He was never my son, he's your son."

"I- I-" She stammered taken aback. "Please help me look for him!" She finally choked out.

"No." Daniels said simply and returned to his work.

"Fine." Tamara said finding an unknown surge of energy surging through her veins. "I'll go find him."

"Go." Daniels said. "And don't come back."

"I wasn't planning to." She turned around and headed out of the office, having absolutely no idea where to look, she was hopeless but eager to find her son.

"Maybe his friends know where he is," She thought to herself.

At the end of the school day, she went to wait outside the school with the rest of the parents, hoping to find a girl in a head scarf that Zeke had said was his first friend in the school.

She waited until almost all the kids had left but saw no girl in a headscarf coming out of the school.

"Hello dear, your kid not out yet?" A fashionable young teacher came up to her.

"I'm looking for a girl in a headscarf, do you happen to know her?" Tamara asked hopefully.

"Aah, yes, you must be talking about Maydah Ahmad?" She asked.

"You know her?"

"Yes, I entered her into the art competition, I'm Miss Mitchells."

"Could you perhaps tell me where I may find her? It's urgent." Tamara begged.

"Oh dear, her dad sent a letter in last night that they would be in Lebanon for a while!" Miss Mitchells sympathised.

Tamara looked defeated and ready to give up.

"I do happen to know her friend's address, Azalea Walkers, perhaps she could help?" Miss Mitchells suggested.

"Oh yes please!" Tamara lightened up.

"Here you go Mrs Daniels," She wrote it on a piece of paper and handed it to Tamara.

Tamara immediately turned to head for Azalea's house, as her desperateness increased, she broke into a run. She stood outside the house, straightened her hair up and rang the bell.

"Yes?" Azalea's mom opened the door.

"Hi, I'm Tamara and your daughter happens to be friends with some one I really need to talk to, is it ok if I could see her for a minute?" Tamara explained.

"Come inside," Azalea's mom nodded, seeming slightly unsure.

"Azalea, this lady wants to talk to you, be careful though, I don't know who she is." Azalea mom warned her.

Azalea nodded and went into the living room.

"Hi, I'm Tamara, Zeke's mom," She said.

"Zeke's not here." Azalea stated.

"I know," Tamara said, "I was hoping you would know where he is?"

"I don't, I'm sorry,"

"Oh please, you must have some idea? Didn't he tell Maydah something?" Tamara implored.

"Actually Maydah told him something." Azalea realised. "She told him Mr Daniels wasn't his birth father..."

"So that's were he must have gone!" Tamara picked up on the rest,

"To look for his birth dad." Azalea agreed. "Where would that be?"

Serbia.

Zeke held the the worn picture of the young man , examined it carefully, than tucked it safely in his pocket and wore his coat and gloves.

"Let's go find you dad."