PATIENT EVIL - An R.J. Godlewski / Right Truth Blog Exclusive - Chapter Eight

PATIENT EVIL

An R.J. Godlewski and Right Truth Blog Exclusive eBook

Chapter Eight

 

 

May, 20xx

M/V Amida

Black Sea, en route Ukraine

 

 

            Haytham puffed nervously upon his cigarette, the bluish-white smoke trailing off into the distance until it merged in with the opaque horizon. He was less concerned about his delayed journey than being so far from land. The young Arab spent his entire life living in the desert and water was therefore at a premium. Here, in the vast greenish-blue expanse of the Black Sea it was all around him and it made him sick.

            His tall and plump companion was less concerned about the waves flowing past the hull of the ferry as he leaned halfheartedly against the railing. Mahmoud knew that it would be death for them if they failed their leader and the vessel’s slower than expected passage only infuriated him. The older Saudi reached up and flicked Haytham’s cigarette into the water far below.

            “Anaa laa afham?” Haytham caught himself; he really didn’t understand the actions of his superior but he should’ve known better than to express such confliction knowing the mental instability of Mahmoud.

            “I don’t like your smoke.” replied the larger individual. Under normal circumstances, he would’ve taken the younger man to task but he was needed and therefore wasn’t expendable – at the moment. “I need to think; we’re late.”

            “It wasn’t your – our! – fault that the truck broke down.” Haytham nearly passed out. It was one thing to argue a point with Mahmoud but he nearly admitted that it might’ve been his superior’s fault that their truck’s engine had broken down during their long trip from Ankara. He knew Mahmoud’s reputation and any such gaffe would certainly cost him his life.

            “It was the mechanic.” the older Saudi lied. “He failed to add sufficient oil. I will have to deal with him later. As for now, we must be in Ukraine.”

            Haytham nodded submissively. He could care less whose fault it was; the archaic white Russian KamAZ-5320 utility truck had trouble in Dörtdivan, Gölkaya, Akyazi, Adapazari, and literally rolled into Istanbul smoking and grinding. That was the reason for their delay. As to who was ultimately responsible for the vehicle’s dilapidated condition – well, that was best left to those who could withstand such implications. He was merely a mule and dare not push the situation any further.

            “Perhaps the Master is not yet ready?” Haytham inquired softly so as to not arouse the interest of a few nearby Europeans. “We may still be on time.”

            Mahmoud initiated a scowl, but decided to soften the look for a similar fear of arousing the tourists’ attention. “He will be ready when Allah desires for him to be so ready. As for us, true Wahhabists never allow manmade devices to prevent them from their mission.”

            “You are correct.” Haytham had been regretting his ‘mission’ – at least he never allowed his true feelings to show through – but he was a good Muslim, just not a fanatical disciple of the eighteenth century Mohammed b. Abd al-Whahab as was his older companion. For him, it was hypocrisy at work; dressing and acting to appear ‘Western’ while steadfastly endorsing something that was most anti-Western in nature.

            “We are at war with the infidels.” Mahmoud spoke as the nearby tourists departed from their presence. “We must wipe them off the face of the planet along with Israel. There can be no equilibrium unless we reign supreme; if we don’t destroy all who stand in Allah’s way.”

            Haytham fumbled nervously – and somewhat defiantly – for another smoke. “Cannot diverse peoples get along?”

            “Perhaps.” countered Mahmoud, gazing sternly into his companion’s eyes. “If they hold the same beliefs and allegiances.”

            “I understand.” Haytham really didn’t understand; not in the least. He believed that different people and different cultures were what made Creation such a treasure. After all, was it such a stretch of the imagination to believe that people were responsible for their own actions and that mere force would absolve them from any semblance to humanity?

            “You will learn, Haytham. It will take some time for you are young and naïve, but the world is a vastly complicated place and requires much discipline and direction to understand. For now, be content to follow me into the ship to inspect our supplies.”

            The younger Arab followed his leader into the portside companionway leading below towards the passenger compartments and ultimately the cargo holds which represented the vessel’s primary function. Of a generation less restricted in its ways, he marveled at the décor; the hand-carved woodwork that accented the patterned walls, the breathtaking artwork which adorned these walls and represented a menagerie of coastal scenes from Eastern Europe, even the brilliant brass fixtures that provided what the sun wasn’t allow to.

            Each deck had a different color and art pattern, enabling one to experience a totally different sensation offered by the passing of only a very few steps. The more luxurious cabins were separated from their less expensive counterparts by the Club Deck – itself nothing more than a large discothèque surrounded by glass and metallic partitions. Haytham liked the club, particularly at night when its glass and brass ambience was transformed into a surreal world of bright purple and blue lights intersperse with glittering rays cast off of a giant, spinning ball of mirrors.

            The young medical student desperately wanted to partake of the activities that the club offered, particularly all of those nice looking Turkish and European women that frequented its dance floors during the late evenings but he knew not to ask about the privilege. His orders were quite strict; he was to ‘look’ Western but not be Western – just another contradiction that didn’t seem possible. Because of this, he learned to look at the club with only his mind, permitting his eyes to focus their gaze upon Mahmoud as he led the young future physician down a further companionway.

            Haytham paid little heed to the lower class cabins for amongst them was his own berthing compartment. They were more traditional and quite comfortable but in comparison with the upper-level ocean-fronting cabins were decidedly bland for his tastes. To view the cabins would symbolize how insignificant his life had become under the tutelage of his masters and so he ignored their beckoning calls of sleep and food and followed Mahmoud obediently if not confidently.

            The two Arab men proceeded down a last companionway which abruptly ended on the vehicular deck where all semblance of carefully crafted décor gave way to the hustle and bustle of mechanical passengers. Brief firings of diesel and gasoline engines added to the racket of the vessel and the care offered towards dozens of other vehicles neatly secured away for the voyage.

            Haytham looked for their truck; the one that his masters had bribed to be loaded aboard at the literal last moment. The one that was loaded with eight thousand kilograms of black wooden crates labeled fraudulently with a mixture of large red crescents and crosses upon them. He knew that these were not containers of medicines as some would have others believe. Nor were they of food, clothing, or laboratory supplies. No, the black wooden crates offered darkness untold of within polite society.

           The young student remained behind his master in quick step, but he needn’t have. Even from the distance, he could see the large white truck – the very one that began its trip with such mechanical hesitation – parked off in the distance. He could see the white paint quite readily but what caught his attention were its large, black, English letters: UN.

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At the Patient Evil Homepage the Synopsis, Prologue, Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six , Chapter Seven, and each chapter will be available in pdf after they are published here at Right Truth.

Synopsis at Right Truth Chapter Seven
Prologue and Chapter One at Right Truth, Chapter Two , Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six,

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