Epic of the Hidden War - 1 / He Was Charmed by Seduction
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1 / He Was Charmed by Seduction
It is the epic... Hidden wars since prehistory that have lasted to be eternal, but they are not immortal. Conflicts... Between truth and falsehood! Between certainty and doubt! Between man and himself! Between the upright and those otherwise! Two groups clashing; one is bound by the shackles of faith, and the other is overwhelmed by tyranny. So, which of the two groups will win? Knowing that in this worldly life, good may not always triumph in the end.
The time is now nearing ten in the evening, and the alleys of this rural village have been cleared of passers-by, leaving only a few shops that not many frequent, given the late hour — for the residents of this area. At a fair distance away stood a somewhat dilapidated house consisting of a single floor, with a wooden door showing the marks of time. In its hall... two men were sitting, with two empty tea cups on the small table before them. Tension occupied the face of one, while resentment filled the other. The first one spoke: "Let's not do this, Essam. Honestly, I'm worried about the whole thing and I want to back out." "Mohamed" spoke with visible nervousness, trying to dissuade his friend from his opinion. The matter is not easy at all, and it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say he was... terrified;! "Essam" shouted at him, rebuking him by saying: "Back out???? How long will you remain a coward? Will you never man up? I'm telling you there are millions involved with no end in sight, and you're telling me you're worried???" His tension increased as he stood up to pace the room with an agitated emotion that accompanied his angry, strained words: "Essam, we aren't going to a brawl for you to tell me to man up. We're going to open a tomb and extract antiquities. Do you realize the scale of the matter? And not just any tomb—this tomb was the reason for the death of more than 100 people who tried to enter it before. No, man, I'm scared and I'm not coming with you." "Essam's" nerves frayed, and he stood up violently, grabbing Mohamed's collar with a rage that took hold of his features, which were filled with evil: "There's no such thing as 'not coming'. We agreed from the start and you were willing and happy; why did you weaken now? Besides, we are waiting for a call, meaning there's no backing out. You'll come willingly or by force." "Mohamed" yanked Essam's hand off his collar, pushing him back with a rage that screamed from his features, which shifted from tension to ignition, saying warningly: "Don't raise your voice at me again, Essam. I'm not your servant. And yes, I'm not coming, so show me how you'll take me against my will?" Essam looked at him with intense anger from the push, the threat, and Mohamed's stubbornness. He straightened his posture, trying to slow down, for Mohamed was the type whose mind could be won over by talk, and anger wouldn't work with him. Also, "Mohamed" had to be present with him; in fact, he was the most important person attending tonight, as he was the one who would be 'fortified' to descend into the tomb and extract what they desired! Mohamed was — unfortunately — of that very small, rare category of people whose 'veil' can be lifted if they are fortified in a certain way, enabling them to withstand the horror of what would appear before them! But Mohamed did not know what his companion was planning behind his back. Essam had agreed with the Sheikh to bring Mohamed without informing him that he would be the one facing the most difficult stage of the matter alone! He didn't know that his companion was throwing him into destruction with his own hand and a satisfied soul—rather, a spiteful, selfish soul! "Essam's" gaze shifted in an instant to fake affection and kindness as he approached him to put an arm around his shoulder, saying with a cunning reproach: "You fool, because you are my friend and I care about your interest, I want you with me in this deal. Mohamed, listen to me, if this goes through, we'll move to a completely different level and we'll be on top, very high up. We'll rise and achieve everything we dream of." As soon as he noticed the softening of Mohamed's features, he hurried to pour his cunning into his friend's soul. His features had darkened, and his yellow teeth protruded from excessive smoking. He said craftily, exploiting his friend's need: "I mean, don't you want to buy a nice house to shelter you and your wife who is about to give birth, instead of this rent, humiliation, and hardship? Don't you want to secure your son's future and live like human beings? How are you going to run your house with the thousand and a half you earn from your factory job?" Then he fell silent for a moment to let "Mohamed" feel the intended impact of his wicked offer. He knew his friend's need and was sure he had begun to lean towards agreeing. Indeed, "Mohamed" began to reconsider. Fine, the offer is tempting—very tempting—and he truly wanted that money, but he was afraid. The matter didn't sit right with him, and what he heard about that tomb was more than enough to make him shudder at its mere mention—a tomb that was the cause of spilling the blood of many and their death in the most hideous ways. So he came to object with his hesitant words: "But Essam, I've heard about the tomb..." He interrupted him quickly, closing all paths of refusal: "You know people love to exaggerate and boast. Everything being said is just myths and nothing is real. Believe me, there's nothing to fear. Besides, this isn't the first time we've tried to go down into a tomb. Don't you remember years ago when we tried to go down into that tomb at the edge of town and nothing happened to us??" "Mohamed" countered him: "But that tomb wasn't real, because when we went down, we found it like a basement for a house and it was empty, and no one had spread rumors about it." Essam exclaimed, promising with a sincerity he expertly faked in an attempt to reassure him: "Look, I'll tell you something, and take my word for it. By God, if I feel anything wrong, we'll return immediately and won't continue. And don't worry, I'll be with you, and we won't be alone—the Sheikh will be with us to fortify you. You know the blessings of Sheikh 'Fahmy', a man whose veil is lifted and who has his miracles and servants." He nodded in agreement with his opinion about Sheikh Fahmy. Was there anyone who didn't know of his capabilities? His fame had spread in this village and neighboring villages, and people came to him from the furthest lands to seek his help in all matters, whether permissible or otherwise. It didn't matter. In the presence of lust, there is no place for boundaries or restrictions. One of them would come kneeling at his feet, begging him to achieve his desire—untying spells, finding the lost, bringing back the absent, or bringing the distant closer. The ironical thing is that the spells they resort to him to break are the ones he placed for them through others! A hollow circle with him at the center, and everyone revolves around him like puppets, the strings held by their lust, which he feeds by giving them what they want, so they increase in greed and cruelty! And what is nauseating is that they might pay all they own, and it might even reach the point where they sell themselves as a sacrifice for their filthy wishes! When Essam noticed Mohamed's stillness, he wanted to strike while the iron was hot and said cautiously: "So, Mohamed, what do you say? This is the chance of a lifetime, don't be stupid and waste it for us." Mohamed sighed with tension, then said in agreement, trying to convince himself: "Fine, Essam, let's see how this ends." Essam laughed with extreme malice, speaking with relish as he began to draw his greedy fantasies, drowning in the money scattered here and there. The ghost of his poverty had vanished, and after owning a modern house and a luxury car, he would spend his day sleeping and his night hanging out in nightclubs, spending from a wealth that never depletes! "It ends with millions, my friend." ____________ Their dialogue ended, having lasted a bit after he gave his consent. They spent a full hour agreeing on everything and confirming how things would go. He left to walk to his house, which was only two houses away from Essam's! Mohamed and Essam were neighbors and friends since childhood. Usually, life separates companions at some stage of life, which was after high school. But when "Mohamed" started working in the same factory where "Essam" had been working — for three years — they grew close again, and "Essam" became his close and only friend! "Essam, twenty-nine years old, with wheat-colored features, a sharp face, and medium height, lived with his parents. Since they passed away, he had lived alone in their old house." He sighed with increasing anxiety when he reached his house. He opened the iron gate and climbed to the third floor on foot until he reached a wooden door with shades of brown. He took his key out of his pocket, opened the door, and entered. He scanned the place looking for her but didn't find her. He raised his voice calling her: "Esraa, where are you?" He received no answer, so he entered his modest bedroom but didn't find her there either. He furrowed his brows in surprise, then went into the kitchen and even knocked on the bathroom door, but still didn't find her! He was about to take out his small phone to call her, but he heard a sound of moaning coming from the children's room at the end of the hallway. He moved toward it quickly and opened its door, saying with irritation: "Esraa, I'm calling yo..." He didn't finish his sentence, having found her collapsed beside the bed, leaning her back against one of its sides with fading consciousness. She was holding her swollen belly with her hand, her white face flushed from the intensity of the pain, her hair sticking to her sweating forehead! He rushed to her in fear, as she was unable to catch her breath, shouting in distress: "Esraa, what's wrong? What are you feeling?" She didn't answer him. He patted her cheek with growing fear and shouted louder: "Esraa, wake up! Answer me, my love, what's wrong with you?" When she spoke, she spoke with extreme weakness and even more faintness. She said what made his body freeze for moments: "Save our son, Mohamed. Don't let him die, I beg you." He didn't wait any longer and carried her, running out of the apartment, descending the stairs stumbling. Then he ran to the beginning of the street and found the common means of transport in villages and neighborhoods, the "Tuk-tuk". He boarded it quickly, asking the driver to hurry. He thanked God his wife was wearing a prayer abaya. As soon as he arrived, he headed to the hospital reception. They took his wife from him and began examining her. A few minutes later, the doctor came out to him, saying hurriedly: "The situation is dangerous. She needs to go into surgery immediately. The baby is close to dying in her womb, and waiting is dangerous for both of them." Then she went back inside, leaving him between two shocks: the first, his child who was on the brink of death, and the second, that he did not have the costs of the delivery! He quickly took out his phone to call Essam, the only friend he had, to ask for help—only to find that Essam was the one calling! He answered the call, and their words coincided in the same second: "Esraa is giving birth and we are in the hospital." "The people who will take the stuff have arrived." Both were shocked by the events, but Mohamed didn't care about anything but his wife who was struggling inside. "It's not important, nothing is important now, Essam. My wife is giving birth inside and I'm not ready to leave her. I was just calling you to help me with a few pounds for the delivery because it's not time for the credit circle to pay out yet." Essam gnashed his teeth in frustration. Damn it, this is not the right time for Mohamed's empty nonsense! That cursed man must be with them and now! So he spoke with complete coldness and tyranny: "Look, Mohamed, I will help you with all the money, and your wife will give birth and recover safely. But on one condition: you must come right now because the people, the Sheikh, and everything are ready and waiting for you. So, what do you say?" "Mohamed" didn't notice his tone and raged at him in protest: "Have you gone mad, Essam? You want me to leave my wife who is giving birth and come with you, so that when she wakes up she finds I've abandoned her alone? It's not time for all these stories, postpone them until tomorrow. What matters to me is the surgery money now." Essam's irritation grew, but he suppressed his emotion with great difficulty. He began with his calm talk, whispering to him, certain of his friend's response: "This is a delivery and anesthesia, Mohamed, meaning she won't wake up before two or three hours. Come, finish the job, and instead of taking a thousand or two, you'll return to her with millions. You'll secure your son's and wife's future in minutes. Listen to me, my friend, the job won't take an hour of your time, and the surgery money is on me, don't worry." The word "millions" flashed in his head, and he was charmed by the seduction. He would go and return before his wife woke up. No one would know. No one would see him. And with the whispering of the human demon "Essam", his real devil made it seem to him that he was going only for her sake, for her and to secure a better life! He looked at the door of the room his wife had entered for a few minutes, then turned his back on it, leaving her to deliver her little one alone. As is the habit of the sons of Adam, it is easy to seduce them. Fitna (temptation) lures them; it attracts them like a piece of metal to a magnet, stirring cruelty and ingratitude in them! And he decided to harden his heart and fail his beloved and his little one. He chose to go toward seduction with his own feet! And perhaps he will not return... _______________ On the side of a desert road, where darkness prevails and silence reigns over the atmosphere, you hear nothing here except the sound of the wind, which is intensifying. We are in the middle of winter, and it seems the climate is signaling a severe coming rain wave. A black, somewhat high car stands there, its headlights being the only light in the place. Inside sits a man in his late twenties who appears wealthy in his black suit, elegant coat, and luxury cigar whose smoke he exhales with extreme coldness. Time passes, and he hates nothing in his life but stupidity and waiting. So he muttered mockingly in irritation with his foreign accent, contemplating the smoke of his cigar: "How much longer will I wait for his Excellency, Damon???" His assistant and private driver "Damon", sitting behind the steering wheel, became tense and answered professionally with a hint of apology: "He is on his way, sir. Just minutes and he will be standing before you." He leaned his body back, saying with a cold smile tinged with ferocity: "I have labored much to reach that tomb. My search for it exceeded six years, and all this only for a specific artifact. Do you know what I will do to you and to those fools whose competence and importance you assure me of if that piece is not in my hand by dawn today?" Damon swallowed his saliva in fear, for his master does not threaten in vain. The word of Lord Farman is not to be disobeyed. He was about to speak, perhaps to justify anything that might lessen his master's anger if those fools failed: "Mr. David, I..." He didn't finish his sentence as a Mercedes approached them until it stopped in front of them. From behind its windshield appeared Sheikh Fahmy! He was a man in his early forties, with deep kohl-black eyes and a round white face. He appeared dignified and pure in a way that makes you feel at ease with this person and think well of him. He wore a brown abaya and over it a black shawl that added to his prestige! "Damon's" spirits lifted as he glimpsed "Fahmy" getting out of his car to climb in beside him, and said hopefully: "Here is Sheikh Fahmy, and the man who will be fortified is on his way to the tomb. We can start moving toward our goal now, sir." A wide smile appeared on "David's" sharp lips as he whispered in a voice that sounded longing: "Just hours."