A Second Chance

Part 78 - The Third World

"I need about thirty seconds of current," Rami said, looking at me.

I crouched next to him and fed a controlled pulse into the wiring, not enough to blow anything, just enough to transmit along the line in a pattern that meant something to someone who knew what to listen for.

"What is that?" 

"A modified version of morse code," Rami said. "Me and my friends learned it for fun back in the day,"

I thought about that for a second. "Wow... free will sure does go hard,"

Charlotte was sitting with the four students against the far wall, indirectly keeping them calm through the simple method of talking continuously, which based on everything I'd seen of her was both her natural state and surprisingly effective. 

They seemed immersed and were talking back, which was good. 

"Now, we just wait,"

...

Forty minutes later the lock on the door finally moved.

But it wasn't from a key. It was from the other side, something thin working through the mechanism, and then it opened and a man I didn't recognize looked in and said something to Rami in Arabic.

Rami nodded and turned to us. 

"We have a window," he said. "Ten minutes, perhaps even less. There's a vehicle two streets over. We must move now and as quietly as possible."

I looked at Charlotte and the four students. "Let's go, everyone! Stay together, stay between me and Rami, and whatever you see outside, just let it be, ok?"

"Wait, what are we going to see outside?" Oliver asked. 

"I don't know yet," I replied. "But this is a warzone, which means not good things. So, yeah, don't react if you see anything bad, because that's just how it's supposed to be,"

With that, we started moving.

The building opened into a narrow corridor and then a side exit that put us into an alley that smelled like dust and something burning somewhere in the distance. The sky outside was early morning, grey and flat. It looked like an old photograph back when there was no color. 

Charlotte came out behind me and I felt her go still for just a second taking in the surroundings before she kept moving, which wasn't the wrong response in the slightest. 

The guy led us through three alleys in a route that seemed random but clearly wasn't. Rami was right behind him and the rest of us strung out in a line, moving fast and low.

The vehicle was a battered pickup truck that was far past its expiration date, parked between two buildings with its nose pointing toward the street. The contact said something to Rami, handed him a set of keys, and disappeared back the way we'd come without any further ceremony.

"Get in,"

Eight people in a pickup truck was not a comfortable arrangement but comfort was not the priority. Getting out of this hellhole alive was. Rami drove, I took the passenger seat, the rest of them sat in the back. 

Rami pulled onto the street and started driving.

I watched the surroundings through the window. Quite low buildings, dust, the occasional vehicle moving without much pattern, a checkpoint visible in the distance that Rami steered away from through a side street before I'd even pointed it out.

"You know this area, huh?" I mused.

"I've worked in Yemen a few times before," he said. "Different circumstances, but let's just say I avoid this country as much as possible,"