The moon was a little yellow spot in the near-black sky. It was the size of a bullet hole on the horizon. I couldn’t believe they gave me a cell with a view. I wasn’t sure if I was a guest or a prisoner. Did the other guards sleep in cells?
The boredom was the hardest thing to get used to. Well, after the food. Ho boy. What I wouldn’t have given for a beef and cheese burrito, some Doritos, Buffalo wings, some salted peanuts to snack on in between, and an entire pizza for dinner. Even thinking about it was a bad idea. It made the whole hunger thing worse. I just got bread. And hummus. I wished I could shut up sometimes. Sure I didn’t get my head blown in half. But I got the king his billions, and I got shoved back in this cell. And oh MAN was the boredom killing me. It was just me and the moon.
Between the iron bars, I shifted my head from left to right. I closed my good eye and played Pong with the moon. I bounced it back and forth between the bars over the window. I wondered who else was looking at the moon. I wonder if anyone I knew was looking at it. I figured I probably didn’t have a friend within 10,000 miles of that place. Maybe someone in Ukraine from way back in Uki School. Or some rich friend on vacation in Europe. Or Asia. I bet someone is on vacation. An 8th grade graduation present.
Aw CRAP. What day is it? I wondered if my birthday was coming up soon. Why didn’t I check the date when I was on the computer? It’s cause you’re an idiot. No: It’s cause you had a gun pointed at you. Man… man. I’ve never even had a gun pointed at me until, what last week? This weekend?
I laid back on my “bed” mat on the floor. I looked up at the brown water stains on the ceiling. A few bullet holes. I was exhausted. I closed my eyes and suddenly Mom was there. She didn’t have that weird Johnson Vans Syndrome thingy. She was normal. She had hair. She was smiling and motioning for me to follow her. I was… happy. Everything was alright. Everything was gonna be alright. We were walking, walking to the “happy” but I couldn’t keep up. Mom walked on off to “happy” and I kept fighting to stay on the path, and—
Then morning broke. I was staring at the ceiling. It felt like I slept about 5 seconds. Great. One tremendous crack ran through the front corner of my cell. The crack looked very much like the Northwest edge of Ohio. Like, how it looks on a map as it kissed Michigan and hugged Lake Erie. That crack in the ceiling was a little too perfect. A cryptic piece of home.
An iron lock shifted. It echoed through the hall. I looked down. Militants walked in with good spirits. They said something like “Slay-koom”, and went to my door. Here we go. In front was a masked man, decked out in ammo belts. They were all loudly blubbering to each other in Arabic. They sounded like drunk Star Wars aliens. You could tell it was morning. I hope it wouldn’t be as hot today.
I think they wanted me to be impressed. I was over it. For a full 10 seconds, the militants stood there, staring. Big Ass showed up. I smirked. I’m fat, but seeing his fat ass looking like a big, fat-assed clown was just too much. Big Ass said a single word, like “shmag” or something. The masked dude turned his gun toward the cell and unloaded a smattering of rifle fire onto the ceiling. I freaked. There went my hearing again.
A shower of white dust cycloned around the cell. It wafted and wavered from the AK’s airbursts. The Ohio border was blown off the face of the Earth. I felt a little pudding along my butt cheeks.
And as soon as it began it was all over. I looked ashier than Larry. They all stood silent, then broke into hysterical laughter. I’m glad someone found it funny.
“Good Morning, as say,” said Big Ass between laughs. I would have screamed, but what was the point? No one could hear me out here. “Friend friend, you is expect.” He continued, “Time to show what can do.”
He pulled out a ring of keys and opened Sesame. The creaky gate swung out, and everyone just stood there. I blinked on, before one of the guards helped me up. Helped, I’ll add. He was firm, but it was less intense than yesterday.
Big Ass yelled something, a “let’s go” word. Yullah.
And into the Taco we went, pooped pants and all. Across the desert plains. Today, I noticed a lot more green on the fields. I wondered why I hadn’t seen it yesterday. Maybe we were going somewhere new.
We traveled around a lot. For hours upon hours. From pipeline to pipeline. I saw more people on the road, driving these weird versions of cars I would see in America. Skinny versions of 18-wheelers. Sedans being driven by brown people. It almost looked like Arizona, almost. There were random houses along the desert highways. Big Ass pointed to these weird non-house cinderblock walls and said, “Brick take people, stop, down brick, down. My house, say, but not my house, but house build anyway.” Whatever the fuck that meant, Big Ass.
We would stop occasionally, get out into the intense heat, stay a while, then get going. The sounds of distant booms echoed. They were far away, but close enough to roar through the canyons. All day we seemed to go around in circles. If they were doing ISIS business, it was very lazy today. These soldiers were truly strange.
They drove me through one town. Big Ass pointed to a kind of castle arch thing and said, “Welcome AfKaz.” AfKaz was a dust trap. I imagined that this town could exist in a vacuum cleaner filter. People were walking around, some kids running up and down with a really crappy soccer ball. I saw a camel tied up in the back of someone’s truck. The streets were full of boxes and trash, and they were filled with ghosts. Women, I assumed, covered up like ninjas. With nothing but eyes poking out. They bobbed across the sand. I didn’t see much of them. From inside the Taco I could see these women getting on. Holding grocery bags. Pulling children along. They seemed like they were hiding something.
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All I could really make out was the “river”. I’m not sure I ever saw any water, but I did see the bridge. Even from the back seat, you could see the incredible suspension bridge. It seemed Norwegian. Not that I knew bridges, but it felt like the type you’d see in a new European country. What it was doing out here where the world was on fire was beyond me. The bridge didn’t care. It just stood there. It was unconcerned with the war, or the dust of the city. I wonder if this bridge will survive the bombs. I wonder if people 50 years from now will marvel at this bridge, how it survived the bombs.
There were two posts on either side of the bridge, with pillboxes 5 feet in the air. They were crudely assembled.
Day began to break. We were at the fun house again. The janky-radio-station building. Everyone was a little nicer today, for some reason. Maybe this was what the ISIS VIP treatment felt like, shitty pants and all.
Big Ass and gang got out of the Taco and let me out. All by myself. This part was new. As I stepped out, they didn’t even grab me. I could make a run for it, if I wanted to. But this was the only building in sight… so I’d quickly just become target practice. So I followed the waddling butt of Big Ass into the building. Walking was unpleasant. The same two women were in the entrance. The same woman dodged the same slaps, while the other just watched. Maybe that’s how you say hello in Iraqianese.
Same hallway, but then we turned left instead of right. Something new. We climbed an ancient staircase, and then came onto the roof. The sun was setting, and the temperature—was honestly perfect. The satellite was an eyesore, but there were cushions, carpets. Real food. It was like a buffet… and the king was there. Huge walkie-talkie to his ear, golden gun in his other hand. We approached him. When he spotted me, he pointed the gun right at me. I ducked as he goes, “pew-pew,” and cocked the gun up and down like a toddler.
The king started to walk toward me. He wasn’t done with his phone conversation, but he waved the other guys away. They left. It was just me and the king. Our second date.
He motioned me to sit down. On one of the cushions. I paused, then jumped on one of the big ones. I rolled around and made myself comfortable. The King spoke on, rattling away in Arabic. It was an impressive tongue. I definitely couldn’t make those sounds. I peered out, off the balcony, where the view was outstanding. There were mountains to the left, and then a lot and a lot of rolling plains. Kind of reminded me of Kansas. Then the king wrapped up his conversation and put the phone away. He turned to me with a big smile. Eyes wide.
“Assalamu Alaykum” he said.
“Yea?” I said.
“Correct response is Wa Allaykum, Assalam,” said the king. I just looked on. “Say , say. Wa Allaykum Assalam.”
You’re kidding me. Whatever. “Wu lay—-“
“Wa. Allaykum”
“Wa. Allay cum”
“AllayKUm. You need ‘Koom’. Say again.”
I smarted at him. “Wa. Allay. KUm. Azza-“
“Asss, more ssss, Asssssalam.”
“A... Ssssssssss… Alam.”
“Alahu Akbar, say again.”
“Wa.Ali.KUm. A… Ssssss… Ayam.”
The king got pissy. He looked down at his gun. Then lifted it up to me. “Wa AlayKum. Assssalam. What do you want?”
And then the laughter. He lowered his gun. “You scared.”
“No shit.” Jesus, with the guns already. “You all really think guns are funny, don’t you?”
“Please, Hefty, a thousand pardons. For night last. I desberate. This Fazullah, he tell of great signs in PITcoin. It give grief to me when Fazullah die. It is not like gold and oil. I not touch. I not trust.” He walked over to the food. I was eyeing it like a starved dog. The king noticed. “After Fazullah die, I scared. I scare we lose everything. Lose war. Lose Caliphate. Lose great Inshallah. Do understand?”
My GOD was I hungry. “Uh, sure, sure.” The king smiled and took a saucer, loading it with food. Every type of food. He then brought it to me. He placed it carefully in front of me, “How you say… ah… ea/t” but it was too late.
I was already face-first into it. The chicken, with the rice, and potatoes, and I don’t know what the hell you are, but Imma eat you too. OH my GOD it was… it was the best food I’d ever had. The king seemed very pleased with my reaction, and I licked the saucer clean in a matter of seconds.
“HA! You are very fat.” It hurt always hearing how fat you were. Especially since I was so good at eating. I looked over at the rest of the food. The king had unleashed an animal. “GO!” he said, and I just went for it. Fuck the saucer. I just shoved my hands in and ate away.
“So fat! I see before feed you, you like food.” Yea yea, with the fat joke, haha King, I couldn’t care less. Even though I was much bigger than anyone else, aside from Big Ass, I didn’t care. I was ravenous.
I ate, and ate, and, and then I had a stomachache. I looked for a napkin, but opted for my pants.
“Do know that boy I shot? When first arrive?”
“I… what,” I said, then thought back to the guy pleading. In the Mosque. I could see him praying. Thinking about it now, he wasn’t a man. His voice was younger. He was a child. Why did I think he was older? In my head I remembered the bullets silencing. My head jerked. My body convulsed.
“Remember I day that child born. His uncle, Hatim, my friend. He great mujahid, but know you why I kill boy?”
“No clue,” I said, falling onto a cushion near the king. Mistake. Stomachache.
The king then smiled, but only at the corners. “I kill him pecause of cigarette purn. Here,” grabbing my hand and pointing to my cigarette burn. “I tell soldiers they hit you. They bunish you, but they not to touch your hands.” He grabbed my hands, as if he were a piano teacher. “These hands. They are beautiful. Gorgeous. I see them work last night. You gift, Hefty. You gorgeous gift. Do you know this?”
I recoiled my hands. “Whatever.”
The king was upset. I was upset. That might have been the nicest thing anyone said to me, in at least 8 months.
“You gift. I love you for gift. You give me my life again. Allah forgive you. Do you understand?”
I looked up at him. This was starting to get strange. I was waiting for the king to pull out his gun and start threatening me. Instead he stood up. He walked over to the edge of the roof, leaving his gun.
“You more valuable to me than all my gold, all oil in caliphate.” His gun was in arm’s reach. I could grab it. I could blast him away.
“You sbecial and you, Hefty, will be rich.”
I’m listening.
“How money much we have in BITcoin?”
“You’re asking?”
“Nam.”
“Well, you saw. 5.3. Billion.”
“Yes. Five. Boint. Three.” He inhaled, and then walked back over. “Hefty, do think I honest? I fair? Tell what really think.”
“Of course you are.”
“Hefty, I kill best friend’s son for BITcoin. What really think? Of me?”
I hoped this wouldn’t be too brutal. “Um… I think you’re a War King. You… you… do what you want to win. Right?”
“Yes. Anything else?”
“You kill people?”
He chuckled. “Nam, Inshallah.”
“You give me food. Once.”
“Hefty, would like more food?”
“Actually, I ate a little too much”
“Everyday, all days. Eat. Like this. Would want?”
“Um, yeah. Yes. Please.”
“Hefty, you understand, this PITcoin?”
“Well, isn’t that why I’m here?”
“Can make you more?”
“More? Bitcoin? Yea, didn’t you hear what I was saying? If we get servers, we could mine tons of Bitcoin.”
“And this BITcoin, we use get guns? Get drones? Bombs? I many people have. All over world. Deliver. Drive truck. Drive poats. But you can buy?”
“Hey man, the internet is a big place. I mean with Dark Web, I could get you anything. I could get you a submarine.” I paused to consider the landscape. “Well, maybe.”
“Ok. Hefty. I have a thing. You 5.3. Make 10. Do this, you buy anything. For you. You money. Hefty money”
Hefty Money. I liked the sound of that. Ten billion dollars though. How the fuck could I mine 10 billion dollars? I started laughing. “That’s uh… that’s a lot of scratch.”
“Scratch?”
“Oh, my dad used to say it, its… never mind. I might be able to do that. I can try.”
“Your life look new, Hefty, from on now.” He went over and grabbed his Golden Gun. “Rest, Hefty. Tomorrow, begin we Inshallah.”