What You Look For

Fatima was standing in front of the one place she had promised herself to stay away from. It stood decrepit, yet it induced fear and loathing in her. The two floor Victorian held for her memories of hopes, desires, and darkness. Fatima hesitated, the set of keys gripped tightly in her hand. A breeze kicked up her long, faded dress as if coaxing her to enter.

The block was quiet except for the rustling of the trees that lined the cul-de-sac. All the houses that lined the half-circle of road were empty since the end of days happened a few years ago. Scattered detritus left on front lawns was a reminder of how quickly everyone had left their homes. A piece of luggage, an untied shoe, a doll lying on its side.

Her childhood home watched over her expectantly. She peered up at one window, one from which she had looked out many times in her young life. It was where she scattered her wishes and watched the neighborhood children play. Squeezing her eyes shut, the longing from the memory ached within Fatima.

She didn’t know what to expect to see besides cobwebs and echoes of what life was like, but she believed that the set of keys in her hand opened a door she didn’t know existed.

Fatima shoved gingerly at the front door; it was stiff from lack of use. The odor of must and food decay assaulted her nostrils, and she brought her hand up to her face; the keys jangling in the silence. Stepping into the living room, she looked at the familiar setting of the furniture where she used to sit and watch TV, the fireplace that was never turned on, the closed curtains that cast a gray hue on everything, and she peered at the space where papa’s ashes were.

A thin layer of dust covered the wooden table in front of the window. Fatima placed her hand on the spot and closed her eyes. She recalled scrambling to get out the door and turning back to grab the urn. Nobody thought to take it, not her mother and not her older brother, who was in the SUV starting it up to escape.

Movement outside the window caught her attention, and she ducked. Peering over the lip of the table, she saw a group of people passing by, walking through the cul-de-sac. Some of them swung bats and large sticks as if jittering with anticipation to hit something. They didn’t bother to enter any of the homes since they likely knew that raiders had already hit them a long time ago. One of them kicked the luggage as they left the area.

Breathing normally, Fatima stood up. She wiped at the designated resting spot for the urn, as if she would eventually return it to its place. Returning to the foyer, she entered the kitchen; the stench of the rotting fruits and vegetables amplified. She spotted the small stool from her childhood, a tool she used to reach the cupboards full of snacks, and remembered never getting a cookie since the cupboards were always locked.

All the drawers were opened, apparently from theft. Fatima saw the knives were gone, and it caused her to look back over her shoulder. She opened the fridge door and jumped back, the door gradually closing. Slowly, she opened it again and peered at the head of the deer; its tongue stuck out and its eyes were an ashy, milky color. Someone had put the head in the fridge, intending to return; Fatima hoped it wasn’t while she was searching the house.

Leaving the kitchen, Fatima returned once more to the foyer and climbed the staircase. She kept her eye trained upwards in case the person who left the deer head in the fridge was around. The only weapon she had was a dagger attached to her calf in a sheath. No one rushed at her as she made it to the top of the landing.

The doors to the four rooms were open. Fatima waited, straining to hear above the beating of her heart. She entered her parents’ old room, believing that if there was a clue where the door is, it would be in that room. Everything was as it had been the last time she looked inside. The king-size bed was against the back wall, her mother’s vanity across from it, full of cosmetics and perfumes. Fatima used to watch her put on every shade of lipstick before settling on the same color - deep red.

The door to the master bathroom was open; entering, the toilet paper was missing from its holder and the medicine cabinet was empty. She had half hoped to find medicine to take back to her group. Medicine was scarce unless you bought it off a wandering vendor who had stolen it from a pharmacy or hospital. They hardly used it within her group because they relied on her to vanquish pain, suffering, and any other sort of evil.

Having left the bathroom and entered the walk-in closet, Fatima stood in front of the shrine that her parents had built. Using bits of wood from the forest that rests behind the houses, they had constructed a frame to hold a mirror. She could see herself in the mirror, her face dirty and her eyes haunted.

In front of the mirror was a figure made of compacted mud, dead leaves, and sticks. It was an idol that represented a deity that Fatima never worshipped. Her parents and older brother would kneel at the shrine for hours, praying to a lump of dirt. She never understood what it was and what it did, yet her parents would confidently lecture her on the greatness it imposed.

Fatima picked up the idol and noted all the things that she got wrong with the one she made for her group. As much as she hated having grown up in a family that worshipped a strange deity, it was the one thing that was saving her from being killed by her group. She had picked up where her mother left off when her mother died. Everyone believed she was killed by a great evil, an evil that was so powerful that she was sent here to find a weapon against it.

Recalling the massive ceremony that was held for her mother, Fatima walked out of the bedroom. Crossing the hallway, she went into her former bedroom. Evidence of her rushing to take anything of value with her, which she later discarded, was apparent in the room’s disarray. She looked at the wallpaper with its geometric patterns. On her desk was her old laptop, closed and unconnected to the world.

She approached the window, and the memories came back. Here she talked to herself, here she cried, here she wished for a different life. In a way, her wish came true: life changed. Instead of finishing her last year in high school, she was surviving with a group of people who expected her to ward off evil whenever they summoned her. It was all a farce, an invention that she became good at by watching her parents.

Fatima left her room and found herself in her papa’s office. She realized that this must be the place that would clue her in to where the hidden door was. Her mother had ransacked the room, grabbing books she thought would guide her; she took more of these than anything else in the house. There were books and papers scattered on the floor. Fatima tiptoed over the mess.

At her papa’s desk, she placed the keys down and sifted through stacks of papers; speed reading through the text. Nothing grabbed her attention; it was all research that her father had conducted about the occult. Fatima checked the drawers with trembling hands. She recalled being told as a child not to touch anything on his desk, especially the drawers. Her father had spent quite a bit of money on the mahogany desk. It was beautiful, and it was a shame that it was sitting here with no one to sit at it.

The drawers didn’t budge. Fatima sighed and glanced out the paned window,  sunset was coming in a couple of hours, and she needed to be back before she got stuck out in the dark. She shoved stuff out of the cushioned chair and sat down. Her older brother used to push her around in it, and she would giggle with delight until her papa would storm in.

Fatima wondered what her brother was doing at the moment. Fighting with another faction? Perhaps crossing the country with only a backpack, a rifle, and a few bullets left? She wished he hadn’t left the group, and she wished most of all that she had gone with him; yet she knew she would have died instantly. She didn’t belong in that world, and she needed the cover that her group provided.

Her eyes rested on the set of keys, and she took hold of one of them. She shoved it into the locked drawer and twisted it. The lock gave way, and she opened it. Inside was more clutter. Shoving bits of paper, notes, and pens out of the way, Fatima saw something etched on the bottom of the drawer. She pulled the drawer completely out and dumped the contents on the floor.

Staring at the image, Fatima had a feeling that it had something to do with the door she was looking for. It was a weaving pattern as if she were looking at a pattern on a textile, not a drawer bottom. The outer weaving lines were thinner than the inner weaving lines. There was something familiar about it. Fatima’s eyes widened; she recalled seeing this as an emergency escape map that her parents had of the house. It used to be held in place on the fridge by a magnet.

Standing up from the desk chair, Fatima realized it was a map to the hidden door; it was based on the emergency escape map. She could point out the living room and the kitchen, and somehow the map layered the second floor onto the first floor. Towards the back there was something she didn’t recognize, and the color used was different compared to the overall dark brown.

Fatima was sure that this was the basement area; she had hoped that it wasn’t down there. Making her way downstairs, she passed by the kitchen, she glanced in and saw the fridge door was open. She froze, expecting someone to appear in the kitchen. Gradually she went to the fridge and peered in; the deer head was gone. A jolt rose inside of her as she became aware that she was not alone.

Not having much of a choice, Fatima continued to the basement door. She couldn’t return empty-handed; her fate rested on her bringing back a weapon against the evil that was plaguing the group. Fatima knew what they needed was a doctor to give them medicine for the sickness that was spreading. Yet, there was no amount of explanation that would convince them it’s not an evil entity. Hesitating at the basement door; she scanned the area behind her; no one was there.

Descending the stairs into darkness, Fatima had left the door open hoping that some light would shine down into the basement. Within the basement, the light barely reached the corners. With the set of keys in one hand and the dagger in the other, Fatima searched. Shadows overlapped shadows as she slowly ventured towards one corner. A garden level window shown the sun hitting the horizon.

With a sense of urgency, Fatima swung back to check another corner. She stopped; a low snarling sound reached her from the darkness. Pointing the dagger forward, Fatima prepared herself for an animal attack. The snarling grew louder, and she found it surprising that the animal still hadn’t attacked. The sound stopped and it caused her to stop.

“Fatima?” A familiar voice asked.

“Chris?” Fatima said.

There was a thud and then shuffling feet approaching. Fatima almost ran back upstairs, but instead she took a few steps back to get a better view from the pool of light. She almost dropped her keys when her brother came into view. He had blood smeared around his mouth and his eyes looked wild.

“What happened to you? Are you hurt?” Fatima blurted.

“I..I..I’m here. I’m not hurt.”

“You came back here to live? I thought you were somewhere fighting or trekking across the country.”

“I couldn’t go anywhere but here.”

“Why?”

Chris staggered forward. He seemed unwell and Fatima’s face flushed with shame for not wanting to help him.

“Mom, told me to come here and find something.”

Fatima frowned, wondering if he was looking for the same thing she was looking for. Yet, he had been gone for a few months now. If he had found it, why didn’t he go back? Then she realized there was something he didn’t know.

“Chris, mom died last month.”

He stared at Fatima as if he didn’t understand what she had said. “But I was supposed to get her something. I was going to go back, but…” he said.

“You needed the keys. I have them.”

“No, I found it without the keys. Over there.” Chris said, and he pointed towards where he had come from.

He indicated for Fatima to follow him, and Fatima joined him but kept her distance. She hadn’t seen him in months; she didn’t know where he had gone, and now he shows up in their old home. Nothing made sense. Fatima accidentally kicked something, and it bumped away.

“Watch where you’re going.” Chris said, and Fatima sensed it was more of a warning not a suggestion. He picked up what it was and held it like a ball. She realized she knew what it was.

“You put the deer head in the fridge?” Fatima said.

“Yes.”

Then she had another realization.

“You were eating it?”

“Yes.”

Fatima’s stomach lurched. She didn’t want to be there anymore. Once she found what she was looking for, she would leave the house and her brother behind. The world had changed him, just like it changed everyone else.

“Here.” Chris said, he placed the deer head down and took up from the floor what Fatima believed to be a vial. She couldn’t make the details of what exactly it was because of the faint light.

“It was the blood of the deity that mom and dad worshipped. It was in this box.” Chris said, answering her question.

Fatima reeled. She vaguely remembered her parents being obsessed with this artifact that someone was selling online. It was very expensive and they argued about coming up with the money to purchase it. She wasn’t aware that they did.

“What happened to the blood?” Fatima asked.

“I drank it, I was thirsty.”

She recoiled from her brother. “Why would you drink blood? You could have looked around for water.”

“I don’t know.”

Fatima stared at Chris, not knowing what to say.

“It made me feel different.”

Fatima nodded absentmindedly. She came this way to find the weapon against evil, and her brother drank it. A giggle tickled its way out of her. She didn’t even believe in any of this. Her brother stooped down to get the deer head. He gnawed at it; his shifty eyes watched her.

Returning to the staircase, she could hear her brother snarling again. Glancing out the garden-view window nearby, it was dusk. There was no returning to the group tonight, or ever. She realized she could go anywhere now. Anywhere with her brother. He was wild and untamed, and she could depend on him to protect her.

“Chris, I’m glad I found you.”

He grunted in agreement.