You Can Run

Selim Kayi

"How much further?" Jaserah asked, even though she knew exactly how much land they'd yet to cover. They'd travelled between four continents in the past three months, and Jaserah had grown tired of Hashir's growing irritability. They'd gone from Siphnos to Medina, to Osaka, to Egypt, then to Nova Scotia, then Peru and Petra, and were now in the forests of Aberdeen, making their way to Glasgow.

"The map's with you." Hashir replied dryly, walking in front of her, his satchel slung across his shoulders as a hand rested against the hilt of one of his swords. Jaserah's heart sank as she pulled out the map from the folds of her burqa. She looked at the red ink in disbelief.

It had moved across the page.

Again.

"Hashir," Jaserah called out, stopping in her tracks. But he carried on, unbothered. She called out once again, receiving the same neglect she did before. She jogged up to him and shoved the map in his face. He swatted her hand away, giving her a look of utmost annoyance.

"What?" he hissed, causing Jaserah to flinch. Tears welled in her eyes as she struggled to find her voice. "The map... it's changed again," she managed to choke out, her voice trembling. Hashir sighed in exasperation as he took the map from her, his eyes widening in surprise.

"What in God's name is he doing in Ceylon?" he screamed. He turned to Jaserah, eyes sunken and bloodshot due to exhaustion, beard as shaggy and unkept as his overgrown hair, and pushed the map towards her. "Come on," he demanded.

"I can't," Jaserah pleaded. "I'm exhausted. Please, let's just—"

"No." Hashir replied firmly, walking away. "We're already behind schedule."

"Behind what schedule?" Jaserah finally asked. Hashir stopped in his tracks and turned to face her.

"Come here this instant, Jaserah," he ordered, a wild look glimmering in his eyes, and at that moment, Jaserah was reminded that she was travelling with a trained assassin. "I'm not asking you again."

Jaserah shook her head. "Hashir, please," she whispered. Hashir made his way towards her, shoulders tense, jaws clenched, and Jaserah felt a lot like a cornered mouse. She took a step back as her heart pounded, and Hashir did something Jaserah would never have expected him to do.

He dragged her by the wrist as Jaserah protested and tried to break free from his grip. Hashir's actions shocked Jaserah, leaving her feeling both scared and confused about what was happening.

"Stop!" she cried out. "Let me go!"

But Hashir wouldn't listen; he continued unbothered as Jaserah pushed her heels into the ground in a desperate attempt to free herself.

"Hashir, please!" Jaserah pleaded once more, pulling her hand as he dragged her forward.

"We're getting there today," he grunted, giving Jaserah a demented look. "Even if it kills me."

"And what about me?" Jaserah asked, clawing at his fingers as tears moistened the hem of her niqab. "Would you sacrifice me too?"

Hashir slowed down. He loosened his grip on Jaserah's wrist, letting her hand fall.

"I have to do this," he whispered. "I have to bring him back."

"I'm not stopping you," Jaserah assured, softening her voice. "But I can't bear to see you like this," she added, her eyes filled with concern. "Please, let's stop. Just for a day. Look at yourself. You're exhausted. I'm exhausted. We've been travelling without a break for three months."