21 Shades of Night, page 344
"The body was rigged. It was someone else made to look like Panky—" The ground around us shakes with the next explosion, and a mushroom-shaped cloud rises up to the sky, but all I can think is that Panky's alive. He's alive.
"How do you know?" I ask.
"Trust me," He says, "She's holding him hostage to make sure you go to her. If she'd wanted to kill him she'd have done so at the train station."
His reasoning makes sense, and I know he's right.
Panky is alive. Alive!
The flames from the burning building pick out the gold in his eyes and I fling my arms around him in gratitude. I have to stretch my arms wide so they go around his shoulders. He smells like drying sweat and peppermint. And something deeper, more mysterious.
Feels solid too. Strong. I want to lean into him.
Instead, I stay still, and moving back a little peer into his eyes. There's no change of expression on his face. But he, too, doesn't move.
Then, a man streaks past us. Half of him is on fire and I smell burning flesh, sweet and acrid at the same time.
Gripping my hand, Vikram pulls me to my feet and pulls me away from the half-burnt man, away from the burning hotel, from the charred remains of my past.
* * *
IT’S LESS THAN three kilometers away from the hotel, but it feels as if we have been running forever.
The tarred road in front of me sways. I am tired. So tired. But we keep going. And going. Till we reach the main highway.
My legs give out, and I simply sink to the ground, my hand still clutched in Vikram's.
"I … can't," I gasp. "I just need to stop for a bit. I'll catch up with you …"
Pillowing my head against my upper arm, I lie down on the road and don't even start when he scoops me up and carries me into a vehicle, an SUV. I should protest, should say something, but I'm too tired to care. He places me in the front seat of the car.
I am still wearing my backpack, and I promptly slide down. Vikram's curse floats over me, making me smile, before he manages to hold me up with his chest over mine. Reaching for the seat belt, he tries to strap me in.
"Wait." I sit up long enough to pull off the backpack and slide it to the floor, the handle of the sheathed sword still jutting out of it.
This time when he straps me in, I groan as the seatbelt digs into my hurt side, the white heat searing through me. It's strong enough to drown out everything else, including the insistent pinging of the lightning tree on my back. Not good at all.
I am fading. Feel so light, as if I am going to float away. I don't want to pass out. Not now.
"Nice car," I gasp out. "Didn’t think cops could afford SUVs?"
When he doesn’t comment, I ask, "Why did you park so far away from the hotel?" I answer my own question. "Guess you couldn’t find parking in the hotel parking lot?"
"So many questions,” he mutters. "Should have just left you in there."
It brings a reluctant chuckle to my lips before white pain slices through my side, again making me inhale sharply. "Where are we going?" I ask, my voice a mere thread.
"Home," he replies.
Chapter 14
A SUDDEN PING rushing through the lightning tree on my back pushes me awake. I calculate we've been on the road for perhaps half an hour.
"Where are you taking me?"
My voice sounds petulant, even to me. It's not that I am ungrateful, or anything. It's just that he's saved my life. Again! And I don't want to be indebted to him, or to anyone else for that matter. I've managed on my own so far just fine, and I intend to keep it that way. More urgently, I need to figure out exactly what is happening to me, to everything around me.
I wiggle my toes. At least I can still feel them. It gives me the courage to move my awareness up through my calves, my thighs, reaching my waist. As soon as my inward gaze touches upon my back, the entire surface leaps to life, as if on fire.
I move forward a little, so my back no longer touches the seat back. As if that's going to help.
"Ah! So you're alive." One side of Vikram's lips quirks slightly in a way that implies he knows a secret I don't.
"Sorry to disappoint you."
All the reaction it gets from him is another look of mild surprise, as if to say, What are you talking about?
Once more, he wears that bland, almost haughty look.
Leaning forward, he fiddles with the radio until he finds a news report. A newscaster's voice fills the enclosed space. "There are unconfirmed reports that the Bhabha Atomic Research Center, which houses India's largest nuclear reactor, in Trombay, has been blown up. Police are now issuing warnings to evacuate around the reactor. They have advised people to leave the city if possible. They believe there is more—" The reporter's voice is cut off and static fills the air. Vikram jerks forward in his seat, trying to catch another channel. Nothing.
"The police are asking people to leave, instead of reassuring them, or declaring a state of emergency?" I exclaim
"The blackout is hitting all the communication channels. Soon we will be cut off completely, with no way of knowing what's happening in the house next door. The police can't guarantee the safety of any of the citizens. It's better if people leave the city." His somber reply makes me catch my breath, the cold logic cutting through my bubbling emotions. I subside, hating that he is right.
If only there were something, I could do about it.
"There's nothing you can do, little girl."
I settle for looking out the window. It seems almost normal. Well, as normal as it gets in this city. There is bumper-to-bumper traffic, which is reassuring. However, all the vehicles are on the other side of the road. They are heading away from the city.
We, of course, are going in the opposite direction, right towards South Bombay. Towards town.
We stop at the turn-off. The signals are not working, yet Vikram pulls to a stop. For what, I wonder, but don't have the energy to pick an argument about this. Meanwhile, on the other side of the street, a constant stream of vehicles sweeps by, slowly.
"How odd!" I exclaim.
"What?" Vikram asks, without taking his eyes off the road. Given that our side has no vehicles, I don't know why he has to stay so focused on the route ahead. There are no cars in front or behind us. It's all serene. It's weird.
"That." I gesture towards the slow stream of cars on the other side of the divider. The traffic is crawling away from the older part of the city and towards the suburbs.
"Haven't you seen a traffic jam before?" He looks at me as if I am losing my mind, but I don't pay him any attention.
"Yes, exactly—it's a traffic jam. An orderly traffic jam." I raise my eyebrows at him in a gesture meant to convey the deep significance of my words. When there is no answering response, I sigh. "Your time in whichever country you went off to study in has obviously made you a stranger to this city."
As if talking to a stupid person, I slow down the pace of my speech, asking, "When was the last time you saw anyone obey traffic rules in Bombay?"
My amusement must have finally communicated itself to him, for this time he actually takes his eyes off the road to raise an eyebrow at me. "Ah! None?" His voice mirrors my long-suffering tone.
"Exactly!" I clap my hands, pretending he has solved a difficult puzzle. "Look."
This time, his eyes linger on the line of traffic crawling their way away from us. "So?"
I have to spell this one out for him. "So, isn't it strange? No car is running over the dividers to overtake those ahead by getting on to our side of the road. And our side of the road, as you can see, is, like, completely empty. And"—I say dramatically—"there are no cops in sight either."
He looks at me, understanding dawning in his eyes. "You're right," Vikram agrees. "But there's something else terribly wrong too."
He tilts his head, as if listening to something in the distance.
"What is it?" I ask, my voice cautious. He is trying to get back at me for making fun of him. "Ah! I see; it's my turn to guess is it?" I venture a hesitant grin, even as I rack my brains, trying to figure out what he is hinting at. Yes, of course, everything is collapsing around us. But as I listen intently, I realize what he is saying is true. There definitely is something different in the air.
Is it the rhythm of the vehicles?
Of course, this has never been a patient city at the best of times, with everyone always in a hurry to get somewhere. You drive with your clutch and using your horn, as if you can blast your way through the traffic simply by the force of how much noise you create.
And then, it strikes me: not only is there complete discipline on the roads, but also no horns honking, no revving up of cars, nobody leaning out of their window to abuse the driver ahead in the hope of bullying a clearing through the bottleneck. As if realizing their days in the city are numbered, drivers who spent their entire lives breaking the traffic rules have now vowed to follow them with a vengeance.
We stop at a red light. This cop is a stickler for rules. It's a clear stretch of road all the way ahead, and yet he insists on following all the traffic directives. Then, a Tata Sumo pulls up next to us, sheltering a family of four.
They are the only other vehicle heading into the heart of the city with us. It's a typical family. Dad driving the car, Mum is in a pink saree, with a pony-tailed daughter in the back seat. Suitcases are strapped to the roof; inside, they sit, patient, silent. Can they feel what is coming?
The light turns green.
We set off, and just like that, we are on our own. I turn back to the still moving stream of cars on the other side. I am totally fascinated by this out-of-the-ordinary scene.
"Those people," I nod towards the vehicles, "they are—"
"Leaving the city." Vikram nods.
"I knew it! Just like that, they would choose to go, those who can—the rich, the well off. They would just abandon this city and run."
"Do you blame them? You would be doing the same if you had a family to protect."
What will he say when he realizes it's my family behind the crazy stuff happening around us? But he is not going to find out, because I am not going to tell him. Not yet.
This cop doesn't even break traffic rules. If he finds out my connection to the person behind what's happening to this city, he is going to be very upset.
More like furious.
And disgusted.
He'll never look at me again. Not after that.
Just thinking about it makes me want to jump out of the car and run away. From here. From him. My heart thumps faster. Stomach muscles clench. My lightning tree stirs.
Oh! No. I take a deep breath.
Why is it that the thought of losing him makes me so upset?
I need to pull back a little. Just for a while. Take it easy. He's just a guy after all. A nice looking guy. Okay, a really hot guy. And he's kind. Hmm!
And he won't hurt me.
And the way he smells. How he looks at me.
"Don't you need to check on them?" His voice shakes up my thoughts.
"Who?"
"Your family?"
"Nah." I shrug. "I'm sure they will be fine. I mean, what can happen to them in SoBo, right?"
"Ruby."
That thread of I know something you don't runs through his voice once more. It does rub me up the wrong way. Don’t be rude now. Don’t. I settle for a snappy, "What?"
"You know the power failure is now total throughout the city, including South Bombay."
"Hmmph!"
"And once the backup generators run out, there will be no more electricity, no way to recharge phones."
I don't reply.
He's just trying to make me feel guilty for not showing much interest in the safety of my family.
There’s silence for a bit and then I finally say, "Well, hopefully, yours are all okay?"
"Yep." His tone is non-committal.
Guess he doesn't want to talk about his family either? Suits me fine. After all, if he doesn't speak about his, then I don't have to say anything further about mine.
Then, a random thought strikes me, "How did you know where to find me?"
Vikram pulls out his phone from his pocket and waves it at me in reply. Of course! I forgot I'd left it behind in the hurry. Which means he’s also stumbled across Ed. I refuse to meet his eyes.
"Umm, so, you found—"
"Yes. That was one nasty blow to his neck you dealt with the sword."
I am not surprised that all that damage came from me. I am just lucky PW insisted I take lessons in fencing as a part of that anger-management phase he put me through. He made sure I paid a heavy price for those lessons too. I push that thought away.
Some things you just fold inside of you and carry it around in a hidden pocket.
My toe brushes the backpack on the floor. The sword's handle still protrudes from it. Pulling it out, I lay the sword over the backpack, within easy reach. Reassured, I look outside the window.
The car's air-conditioning is turned up full force. A gush of air blows out of the vent in the dashboard, trying its best to lower the temperature in the SUV.
Vikram taps the fuel gauge; it's half-empty.
His eyes echo the same questions I have. How long before the fuel runs out in the petrol stations?
It's daunting to realize that I may be the only person, other than Vikram, to have seen the cause of this mayhem up close.
When a Mercedes draws up next to us, I gasp. It looks just like her car. Just like that, my heartbeat jerks to life, pumping in my ears.
"What is it?" Vikram follows my gaze
Hands shaking, I reach down, pull out my sword and unsnap my seat belt. Then I try to open the door but it doesn’t budge. What the—?
"Open the door. Open it." I swear aloud, not thinking straight.
"It's her," I say, my voice strained, shrill. "I am going to kill her." I mean it, this time. Kill her, get it over with it. So, she can't play with me anymore.
I peer through the darkened glass, trying to make out the features of the person inside the other car.
Then, I raise my sword to bring down the handle against the window.
The SUV brakes to a stop, with a sharp motion, enough for me to be thrown against the dashboard. The sword falls from my hand.
Vikram pulls me back, plonking me back in my seat. He shakes me by my shoulders.
"It's not her, Ruby." His voice slides off me, not getting through the noise in my head.
Everywhere I turn, there she is. Just as she haunted my growing years. Now she is trying to take over my life once more. This time I am going to put an end to her before she—
He jerks my face back to the car window.
The driver of the other car stares back, mouth open in surprise. It's not her. The Mercedes drives away.
"She's trying to mess with your head," he says. "That's why she made you come to the station, and now here to the Hyatt. Just so you can see her strength, in person."
I am breathing fast, short, shallow gasps. I turn back, look down, look anywhere but at him. He's going to yell at me now, make fun of me for letting her get to me. Tell me I’m crazy for thinking that was she in the car. Instead, he touches his forehead to mine in a gesture so simple it takes my breath away.
Chapter 15
ANOTHER HOUR AND we are passing the Haji Ali shrine. Thousands come to pray to the saint buried there. He too will be abandoned when the city empties out.
The stretch in front of us is still quite empty. But I am tired of seeing the opposite side of the road still packed with the endless stream of vehicles trying to leave the city.
"So, you are actually from this part of the city, from South Bombay aren't you?" I break the silence that has stretched since the Mercedes sighting.
"I suppose." His voice is reluctant, as if he'd rather not answer the question.
"You don't like talking about your past?" I probe.
"Do you?"
"You first," I challenge back.
When he doesn't reply, I don't push. I don't like being asked about my family either. Serves me right. He's only being as secretive as I am.
What is he hiding?
I turn to ask another question and am thrown forward. The car flies up, shooting through the air, only to crash nose-down. Like a cricket ball, we bounce once on the front tires, and then the car overturns, turning cartwheels before landing on its side—Vikram's side—in a sickening crunch.
There’s a second screech as another car rams us from behind, sending us into a tailspin. I look across to Vikram, seeing the world swirl around him. His eyes are still open with shock, staring straight ahead, his hands glued to the steering wheel. The sword, tossed on the floor, boomerangs through the air, hitting me on the back of my head.
I grab it. Hold on to it.
The SUV swirls once more, like milk lazily being stirred into chai, before jarring to a standstill. The shock jams me against the seat, the seat belt still holding me back.
Silence.
Except for a steady drip-drip-drip of liquid.
Vikram is hunched over the wheel, his face towards me, eyes closed, and a cut over his forehead that is already bleeding a trail of red over his cheek. The car window explodes.
Someone is shooting at us. There's glass on me. Over me. In my hair. And it cuts my knuckles. Streaking red against my white knuckles, still clutching the sword. My heart pounds. It's racing fast. So fast, it feels it's going to jump out of my chest. Blade in hand, I plunge it through the window, scrape it all the way around the frame, shaking out the remaining glass pieces. I cut through the seat belt and I am free, folding over to hit my forehead against the dashboard. The jolt lunges through the haze in my head.
No more shots.
But what's that smell? It's pungent, deep. It's the petrol from the broken fuel tank. I've got to get out of this car. Get out NOW! Push the sword through first, then my head and shoulders out through the opening. I slide through the frame and my back scrapes against some of the sharp edges. The glass carves through the soft flesh. I feel the drops of blood pop. And then it's just me and that straight line of red. Crimson. Gleaming. Just like that, the noise in my head fades.
