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Chapter 15: Asad
I'M STANDING WITH Zoya at the end of the tunnel, our headlights off, just a candle between us. Since I've already gotten a good amount of footage down here, including a scene of Humaira doing a monologue (to get her and Ayaan off my back), Ayaan's agreed to film this bit for me, saying that all great directors make a cameo appearance in their movies.
Not that I'll even use this clip. I mean, it doesn't get any cheesier than this: me and Zoya are standing just inches apart, facing one another, like at any moment I might slip her some tongue or my breath mint of choice. I'm only doing this scene to get close to her—I mean, obviously. But who knows? Maybe if I stretch my imagination far enough, I'll find my own personal use for the footage.
I stare right into her, watching the reflection of the candle flame waver against her bottom lip.
"Thanks for staying," I say. "I mean, for a little while there, I really thought you were gonna back out on me."
"Yeah, well, my guidance counselor told me I need to be a team player."
"Seriously? And that's what made you decide to stick around?"
Zoya shrugs and looks away. "To be honest, I don't know why I'm here. I mean, normally I would have left."
"But you didn't; that's just it. It's really cool of you to hang around."
She shrugs again. "Maybe part of it was that thing you said before, when we first broke in—how this is really important to you . . . how screwing up isn't really an option. I know about pressure."
"You're really cool, you know that?"
"Don't be so sure." She shivers from a chill and pulls my sweatshirt tighter around her, a tiny smile curling up her cheek. "I'm apt to freak out at any moment. I mean, I don't know; this is all just a little too intense for me."
"Which part? The fact that we're standing in the tunnel of an asylum? Or the fact that you're doing it with me?"
She doesn't say anything at first, and so I'm thinking, Holy sh*t, this girl absolutely despises me, but then she finally answers: "The first one."
"Good answer," I say, venturing even closer to her, wondering if it's her that smells like vanilla, or the candle. "So what made you want to be a part of this, then?"
"Would you believe me if I said I thought it'd look good on my college application?"
"No way."
"Seriously," she says. "It's sort of a long story."
"Well, let's hear it."
"Maybe another time."
"Definitely," I say, wondering what she's all about, wanting to hear the rest of her story. And aching to kiss her.
But then Ayaan yells out "Cut!" Just when we were getting somewhere.
"Thanks a lot," I say, a bit of snap to my voice.
"No problem," Tony says, clueless to the snap.
He mumbles something about needing to fix my hair, but I ignore him, fastening my headlight back on and folding up the dolly.
"We should really get back upstairs."
But before we can even start to backtrack, a scream rips through my walkie-talkie speaker. Making Zoya scream out as well.
"That's Tanveer!" Humaira shouts.
I press the TALK button down. "Tanveer, are you all right?"
But it doesn't seem like it's working now—there's just a weird buzzing sound coming from the other end. "Let's go!" I say, booting it down the tunnel. I reach for my cell phone and go to search for her number, but my cell is dead, too. "Sh*t!" I yell out.
We hurry down the tunnel, through all the rusted doors that line it, until we reach the steel door that leads upstairs. It's shut.
"Why's it closed?" Ayaan asks. "We didn't close it."
I try the knob, but it won't turn—like it's locked. "What the f*ck?" I shout out.
Another scream rips through the walkie-talkie.
"Maybe the talkie's working now," Humaira, says, pressing the TALK button down. "Tanveer? Are you there?"
Zoya whispers "Allah Miyan, what's wrong with this place?".
Meanwhile, I set the camera down on the ground, angled toward us, and pound against the door with everything I've got. "Who the hell locked this thing?"
Ayaan tries to help me, but his ninety-pound frame only gets in my way.
I tell him to move and then take a couple steps back. I run and body-shove the door. But the thing won't budge. "We got to go another way!" I shout.
"I think it's working now," Humaira says, handing me her walkie-talkie. "I can hear voices on the other end."
I press it up against my ear. "It's Imran!" I can hear his voice. "Imra!" I shout into the thing.
But he obviously can't hear me, because I don't get a response.
"Piece of sh*t!" I yell, resisting the urge to chuck the thing against the wall. I try the door again. Still locked. "Let's go!" I say, grabbing the camera and moving in the opposite direction, hoping to find an alternate route upstairs.
"Let's check the map," Ayaan squeals.
I toss it at him and hurry down the tunnel. The walkie-talkie still pressed against my ear, I no longer hear any voices—just Zoya's right behind me, whispering prayers.
I take a couple turns but end up at a dead end—the freakin' tunnel just ends—and we have to turn back.
"This place is a maze," Humaira says.
"Wait, what's that noise?" Ayaan says.
We stop a second to listen. It sounds like a bunch of people talking—their voices whispering and whimpering together.
"Somebody's there," Ayaan says.
"It's pipes," I argue, noticing the water leaking through the cracks along the ceiling.
"That is not pipes," Humaira shouts. "Someone's up there."
I strain to listen. It's like a constant whispering sound. "Just pipes," I insist, knowing that must be the truth.
"Let's go!" Zoya insists.
"This way!" Ayaan shouts, using the map. He leads us to an open doorway. Beyond it is a stairwell that leads us upstairs. Someone's drawn a row of pissed-off angels, seventeen of them—their backs are numbered—climbing up the wall, heading for their doom. There's a picture of a devil at the very top. We sprint down a corridor and backtrack to the reception room.
"Where is she?" Humaira shouts.
The reception room is empty now, all except for Tanveer's circle of candles—still ignited on the floor.
Debate Mansion
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