Chapter 20: Asad
THEY WERE ONLY SUPPOSED to be gone a couple minutes," I say, standing up from the circle of candles. I look toward where Tanveer and Imran were sitting, noticing that their bags are gone.
Ayaan gets up as well, chalking something onto his director's clapper, muttering about how we need to get more footage.
I ignore him and pull the walkie-talkie from my bag, resisting the urge to lose my temper completely— especially since Zoya's here. "Where are you guys?" I say, pressing the TALK button down.
It takes a few seconds, but then I hear Imran's voice spit out through the receiver: "Hello, Asad," he says, the words all distorted with static.
"Where are you?" I demand in the nicest tone I can muster. "We've got more shooting to do."
"Hello, Asad," he repeats. His voice has a screwed-up calmness to it, like he's trying to freak me out.
"Don't screw with me, man," I say. "Where are you guys?"
"Stay away," he whispers.
"Excuse me?"
"Stay away."
I feel my face scrunch up, wondering what the hell is going on.
"Is Tanveer with you?" Humaira asks into her walkie-talkie.
"Tanveer's on the floor," Imran answers.
"Put her on!" I demand.
"She's on the floor," he repeats.
"You better not be joking," I say. "Is she all right?"
But he doesn't answer.
"Imran?" I shout.
"Stay away," his voice whispers again.
"Tell me where you are," I demand.
Meanwhile, Zoya is pacing back and forth, chewing at her thumbnail, and totally wigging herself out.
A moment later, a whining sound plays through the walkie-talkie, making me almost drop the thing.
"Imran?" I ask.
"We're in the cafeteria," he whispers. "And Tanveer's on the floor."
"Allah Miya." Zoya covers over her mouth.
"Come on," I say, taking Zoya's hand. "Let's go."
We move down the center hallway and into the cafeteria.
"Getting warmer," Imran's voice says through the receiver, obviously hearing the sound of our footsteps. His voice is followed by laughter—a twisted giggle that practically makes me piss myself.
I stop for a second in the center of the cafeteria when I think I hear something—a scuffling sound. "Imran?"
"Getting colder," his voice continues.
"The guy's totally screwing with us," I say, working my way back across the corroded tile floor.
"He's behaving like a spoiled little B-rat." Humaira sighs.
"What's a B-rat?" I ask, giving Zoya's hand a squeeze.
"A B-rated actor," Ayaan explains. "They always have to have all the attention."
"Imagine that," I say, somewhat under my breath.
"Getting warm again," Imran says.
We reach the back of the cafeteria, following Imran's voice as he guides us warmer and warmer, until all his cues stop—just out of nowhere.
"Imran!" I call, taking the door that leads out into a back hallway. There are doors to the left and right.
"What happened?" Ayaan asks. "Did the walkie-talkie go dead again?"
I shake my head, noticing how the ON button is still lit.
"Tanveer!" Humaira calls. She presses the walkie-talkie right up to her lips. "Are you there?"
But Tanveer still doesn't answer.
I reposition my camera so that it rests high on top of my shoulder and move to the door on the left.
"It's too late to stay away now," Imran hisses, his voice crackling out through the speaker. "I gave you a chance, but now Tanveer's bleeding."
"Don't screw around!" I shout. "Where is she?"
"On the floor." Imran's voice giggles, barely able to get the words out. "She's bleeding pretty bad."
"He's delirious," Ayaan says.
"Where's Tanveer?" I demand.
More giggling—like he is delirious, like he's completely lost his mind.
"The guy's just being a jerk," I say.
"How do you know?" Zoya asks, practically welded to my side.
A second later, I hear Tanveer scream—a knifelike sound that cuts right through me. "Tanveer!" I shout, pulling away from Zoya to bust through the door.
But then Zoya screams too. She's pointing straight ahead, right at Imran. He's standing by the tunnel, just waiting for us—like some messed-up mental patient.
"Holy sh*t," I breathe, feeling my heart pump something fierce, noticing the sick-ass grin across his face.
Blood trickles down from his hand. "Tanveer's bleeding," he repeats.
"Oh my God!" Zoya shrills. She turns away and starts crying—starts pacing around in a circle.
"What happened?" Ayaan asks.
"What happened is that Imran's jokes suck," I say, trying to assure myself that this is indeed one of his stupid pranks.
Imran's holding a giant piece of glass. He smiles wider when we see it, like he's seriously enjoying this twisted sh*t.
"Where's Tanveer?" I ask.
At that, Imran passes out. His eyes flutters open. Blood pools onto the floor around him.
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