Page 64 of Raven

He looks like shit, dark circles under his eyes. He’s not scared of what I just saw—that’s surprising. He is not angry either, rather sad.

There are two possible scenarios of what comes next. Either he is going to beg me to be quiet about it or try to strike a deal.

“Gonna rat me out? I don’t care, really,” he says calmly, then simply turns around and walks away from me toward the guard tower in the distance, his usually assertive figure somehow stooping.

And just like that, I found out Ali Baba has a crack. Don’t we all? Some cracks can heal. Others only get deeper. Of course, his won’t be in his personnel file. It can’t be. He wouldn’t have gotten this job if it were.

I think about the episode last night. My intuition never let me down. And too many coincidences always put me on high alert.

Last night—even if it was due to Skiba’s ignorance and Ali’s sensitivity—wasn’t a pretty situation, but, hey, we are all human, and security guards have their own dramas. But now I wonder why this guy is always thrown in my path.

I contact my HR guy at the Center and ask him for the pictures of the guards from Tower 201 who are currently on shift there. It’s the one Ali walks to every day.

Sure thing, when I get pictures of four guards, one of them is my Praying Mantis.

Ali’s last name is a combination of four different ones, or the middle ones, I don’t know, I’m not proficient in the naming traditions of the Middle East.

I request his full file. Turns out, he was a sharpshooter in Sudan and Yemen, then served in Syria, then was honorably discharged.

I check his medical file, but it says he has no medical conditions.

Family—a father in the Arabic Emirates, hospitalized for the last year. Wife and two children died during the bombings in Spain.

Well, fuck…

His sister and her family are in the Emirates, too. Ali has been on Zion for half a year. Most of his paychecks are transferred right away to the billing company in the Arabic Emirates that handles medical bills. So, he’s taking care of his father—I get it.

My mind goes back to the vision of him praying on the beach, and I can’t help wondering what keeps people who have lost everything believing in the goodness of this world.

But I have this nagging feeling that won’t leave me alone—I want this Ali Baba on my team.

25

RAVEN

If some people are signs, others are speed bumps. The little dude definitely is.

I ride through Ayana later that afternoon when I hear someone wailing my name. I see Sonny running in my direction, holding his hand above his head, his hair flapping in the wind as he almost trips on himself.

“Ra-ave!” He waves for me to stop.

I do and turn off the engine. Like I said, speed bump.

He’s always so loud, like everything is the most important thing in the world demanding attention.

“Raaaave!” He almost runs into me and my bike, and I see that the thing he’s gripping in his hand is some sort of candy wrapped in a package.

He pants as he waves the candy in front of me, practically jamming it in my face. “You gotta try this! Do it! ’S like the best thing eva’!”

The candy is so close to my face that I have to lean back and gently take his wrist to inspect his latest infatuation.

It’s a giant rainbow swirl marshmallow. I nod in approval, though these days they have so many candy varieties that I’m sure this one is nothing special.

Sonny has a different opinion. “Try it! Sssso good!” His lips pucker goofily when he says “good” with more enthusiasm than he ever said about anything. “Try! Try, Rave!” he begs, his eyes darting from the already open package to my face, back and forth, his eyes bright like stars.

I want to dismiss him. I want to roll my eyes. But this little dude is rubbing off on me. Right now, he is grinning from ear to ear, his puppy eyes on me.

I lean in and take a little bite of the sticky, sugary thing. I know what it tastes like. It’s a freaking giant marshmallow. And this kid just discovered it for the first time in his life.

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