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abrakophile · 3 years

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I was looking through a bunch of junk and found some letters from my dad when he was in the army. I’m afraid I'll accidently toss them, so maybe I’ll put them here?

OPs Name JUNE 02 03

I LOVE YOU

THIS IS MY NAME IN KURDISH

*my dad wrote his first and last name, and under it, in Kurdish*

ILL TRY AND FIND OUT HOW TO WRITE YOUR NAME AND MOMS TOO.

ITS STILL HOT. I WORK AND READ BOOKS TO PASS THE TIME AWAY.

HOW ARE YOU DOING? GOOD I HOPE. WHAT DO YOU DO FOR FUN? DO YOU EVER HANG OUT WITH YOUR FRIENDS? TELL THEM I SAID “WASSUP?” NAH, DONT TELL THEM. TELL ME WHAT YOUR THINKING. I’M TRYING TO SEND YOU SOME MORE OF MY DRAWINGS. WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DRAW YOU? DID YOU LIKE THE DRAWING I SENT YOU OF YOU NAME? ITS ALRIGHT IF YOU DIDNY. JUST TELL ME WHAT YOU DO WANT ME TO DRAW YOU.

(Flip Page)

THIS IS WEIRD! (The page does not have lines on the left side of it) i WONDER WHAT HAPPENED TO THIS PIECE OF PAPER. HaHa

I MISS YOU ALOT. PLEASE SOND ME SOME MORE OF YOUR DRAWINGS, YOU CAN DRAW ME ANYTHING YOU WANT TO.

ARE YOU BEING GOOD FOR YOUR MOM? ITS NICE IF YOU HELP HER OUT WHILE I’M AWAY.

HAVE YOU BEEN ANYPLACE NEW? HOW IS SCHOOL GOING FOR YOU? IS MOMMY GOING TO SCHOOL? I KNOW I WANT TO GO TO SCHOOL WHEN I GET BACK. HOPEFULLY I GET THE CHANCE TO LEARN EVERYTHING THAT THERE IS TO KNOW. THAT WOULD BE GREAT.

ALSO, ID LIKE TO DO SOME FISHING? HOW ABOUT YOU? I GUESS ILL END HERE. BE GOOD AND STAY IN SCHOOL. AND JUST SAY NO TO DRUGS.

THEYRE BAD.

I LIVE YOU OP

*hearts and x’s* DADDY

---

(I don’t know if all these pages are in order or if it’s missing any, but this was the letter in the same stack as the last but this one was for my mom. In some places his indents indicate passage of time.)

I HAVENT HAD ANY TIME TO WRITE SINCE WEVE BEEN ON THE ROAD, NOT TO MENTION THAT WE CAN’T SEND MAIL WHEN WE’RE MOVING ALL THE TIME.

WEVE BEEN ON THE ROAD FOR ABOUT FIVE OR SIX DAYS, I HAVENT REALLY BEEN COUNTING. I KNOW I TOLD YOU THAT WE’D BE IN KUWAIT FOR A WHILE, BUT THAT WAS SO YOU WOULDNT BE WORRIED. I’M GOING TO KEEP THIS LETTER THOUGH, TILL I GET HOME.

ABOUT TWO NIGHTS AGO, WE DROVE THROUGH BAGDHAD, SOMEBODY SAID THAT THERE WERE PILED BODIES, I DONT KNOW IF IT WAS TRUE.

AND I GUESS YESTERDAY, A COUPLE OF PEOPLE SAID THEY SAW A MISSILE OR SOEMTHING SHOT AT US. I WAS TRYING TO FIX A TRUCK SO I DIDNT SEE IT.

ITS NOT AS DUSTY HERE IN IRAQ. IT REMINDS ME OF THE CONVOYS IN KOREA.

MOST OF THE PEOPLE WILL WAVE “HI”. SOME OTHERS DONT.

I SAW A KID OPEN HIS HAND ONCE WHILE MOVING, AND IT SAID “BUSH” THAT WAS KIND OF COOL.

OH YEAH. HERES A STORY. WHILE OUT DOING A MISSION, ONE OF OUR “BRADLEY” TANKS FIRED ON AN ENEMY AMMO TRUCK AND CLIPPED A KID. THE ROUNDS BLEW ONE OF HIS LEGS OFF AND SOME OF THE OTHER, FROM THE KNEE DOWN. SO THE MEDICS PICKED HIM UP AND BROUGHT HIM TO OUR RECONCOLIDATING POINT FOR MEDICAL TREATMENT. I GUESS HE EVENTUALLY DIED FROM LOSS OF BLOOD THE NEXT NIGHT AND YESTERDAY THEY TOOK HIM OUT AND BURIED HIM.

ALSO WE PICKED UP ABOUT 25-30 P.O.W.s AND SENT THEM SOUTH.

IT GETS PRETTY COLD AT NIGHT. AND THE DAY’S ARE VERY HOT.

SINCE WE LEFT KUWAIT ITS BEEN ME AND MENDOZA IN THE FIVE TON WRECKER AND I HAVE TO ADMIT THAT ITS BEEN EXCITING. WE KEPT GETTING SEPERATED FROM THE CONVOY AND BREAKING DOWN. BUT I THINK THAT WERE BETTER NOW. HOPEFULLY.

IM STILL WAITING TO BE AMBUSHED TO MAKE ALL THIS SEEM REAL TO ME. A PART OF ME WANTS IT AND ANOTHER DOESNT.

AND IT SEEMS LIKE ONLY OUR UNIT HAS TO STAY IN UNIFORM, EVERYONE ELSE WEARS T-SHIRTS AND BANDENA’S AND RAGS ON THEIR HEAD

WERE STILL GOING NORTH. NOBODY KNOWS HOW LONG WE’LL STAY. ITS NOT THAT BAD HERE. MEANING, IT COULD BE WORSE.

I USED A “SHIT-CHAIR”. ITS JUST A METAL CHAIR WITH A HOLE CUT IN THE MIDDLE AND THE SEAT FROM A TOILET BOLTED TO IT, GROSS.

HELICOPTERS CAN BE HEARD ALL DAY AND NIGHT. I GOT TO SEE THEM DROP BOMBS ALL DAY ABOUT 3 DAYS AGO, FROM A DISTANCE OF COURSE.

ILL BE DRIVING AGAIN, IN A MINUTE. PROBABLY RE-FUEL AND BACK ON THE ROAD AGAIN. IM ENJOYING IT.

I HAVE 8 MAGAZINES FULL OF ROUNDS. NO GRENADES, BUT I LIKE IT LIKE THAT.

SOMETIMES IT SMELLS LIKE SHIT.

I GUESS ILL END IT HERE FOR NOW

I LOVE YOU AND MISS YOU TWO TWICE IF NOT THRICE AS MUCH AS YOU MIGHT MISS ME TOO.

HELLO AGAIN. WERE SOMEWHERE NEAR TIKRI + MOSUL. YESTERDAY, ME + MENDOZA WENT LOOKING FOR MOMENTO’S. WE BROKE A LOCK TO A NEAR BY BUNKER AND FOUND 6 A.K.47s! BUT ON OUR WAY BACK TO TURN THEM IN, MAJOR TATU GOT THEM FROM US. I WAS SO PISSED. BUT I GOT A GAS MASK w/ FILTER, A FULL MAGAZINE CLIP FROM ONE OF THE A.K.s AND A BERET WITH IRAQ 1 RANK ON IT.

I MADE A STENCIL FOR THE TRUCK WERE RIDING IN. ITS CALLED THE “GAMBLER.” YESTERDAY MENDOZA DROVE, SO TODAY ILL BE DRIVING.

IM NOT POSITIVE, BUT, I THINK WERE GOING TO TURKEY. NIETO SAYS THAT HE OVERHEARD SOMEBODY FROM S1 (or SI, I’m not sure) SAYING WE MIGHT GET PAID EXTRA FOR GOING THROUGH BAGHDAD.

I THINK NIETO’S MAD AT ME. CANT EXPLAIN WHY. MAYBE ITS BECAUSE IM RIDING WITH MENDOZA AND HE DOESNT LIKE MENDOZA TOO MUCH. OH WELL, WHATEVER REASON, HOPE THINGS GET NORMAL AGAIN. HAVE TO GO,

*hearts and xs*

TODAY IS THE 25th OF APRIL, I RECEIVED FIVE OR SIX (OR SEVEN) LETTERS YESTERDAY. THE LATEST WAS DATED 07 OF APRIL. THAT TELLS ME THAT ITS GOING TO TAKE A WHILE TO COMMUNICATE.

WE HAVENT RECEIVED MAIL BECAUSE WEVE BEEN MOVING NEVER STAYING IN ONE PLACE MORE THAN A DAY, OR TWO, UNTIL NOW. WE’VE BEEN IN THIS SPOT GOING ON FOUR DAYS TOMORROW?!

GIVE ME A MINUTE...

FOR THE LAST COUPLE OF DAYS IVE BEEN HELPING MENDOZA PULL THE ENGINE OUT OF A 5 TON TRUCK AND SWITCH IT w/ ANOTHER ONE. IT WOULD HAVE BEEN EASY BUT THE FLY WHEEL SEIZED UP INSIDE THE BELL HOUSING. ITS FINISHED NOW AND THE RUMOR IS WE’RE LEAVING (OR MOVING) AGAIN TOMORROW.

ITS 10:33 THURSDAY MORNING. YOUR TIME IS 12:32 JUST TURNING THURSDAY.

I ALMOST CRYED WHEN I SAW ELIS PICTURE. I REALLY MISS BOTH OF YOU. LET ME BACK TO BEFORE I GOT DISTRACTED. I HAVENT BEEN ABLE TO SEND MAIL BECAUSE WE’VE BEEN MOVING. BUT I GUESS THAT WHATEVER THREAT THERE WAS (IF ANY), ISNT SO THREATFUL ANYMORE, WE CAN START RECEIVING AND SENDING MAIL. NO PHONE TO CALL FROM, AND NO INTERNET TO E-MAIL FROM.

THE WHOLE UNIT IS SCATTERED, SO EVEN IF I GET WHAT YOU NEED IT’LL TAKE FOREVER TO GET IT TO YOU. LET ME PULL THOSE LETTERS BACK OUT. OH WAIT. I DID LAUNDRY AND SOME UNDERWEAR THATS DRY, FELT HARD, OH WELL, WAIT A SECOND, K

I HAD TO FOLD SOME T-SHIRTS. ALL MY SOCKS ARE STILL DAMP.

YOU CAN USE MY CONTRACT TO SHOW THAT I ENLISTED IN TEXAS AND HOWS THIS

*On a separate sheet my dad wrote a detailed note for my mom to give to someone to confirm that he did want to buy a house. He writes “I AM ALIVE AND WELL.” and “PLEASE ACCEPT THIS PAPER”, then he signed it with his scribble signature, and underneath it wrote his name in print and added “1st SQUADRON 10th CAVALRY HEADQUARTERS TROOP (I have no clue what this means)*

HOW’S THAT? HOPE I SPELLED EVERYTHING CORRECTLY. IM ALMOST READY WITH A DESIGN TO COVER THE OTHER TATTOOS ON MY LEFT FOREARM.

I JUST FINISHED LOOKING OVER ALL THOSE LETTERS YOU SENT FOR ME

IM BACK! I GOT SLEEPY SO I TRYED TO LAY DOWN FOR A LITTLE BIT. NO SLEEP. I DONT THINK. I DIDNT HAVE ENOUGH WATER TO WASH MY DCV’S AND A PAIR OF BDV’S. BESIDES FOR DRINKING WATER, BUT WE HAVE TO CONSERVE IT.

LET ME TELL YOU ABOUT THE RUMORS. TOMORROW WE’LL BE LEAVING FOR THE IRAN/IRAQ BORDER TO DO “PEACE KEEPING” FOR 3 TO 6 mths. OTHERS SAY THAT THE 4ID (i think is what this says) GENERAL WANTS TO KEEP US HERE TILL NOV., THATS WHEN 1 CAV WILL COME TO REPLACE US. WHILE OTHERS SAY WE MIGHT LEAVE BY JUNE. NOTHINGS FOR SURE.

SMALLER RUMORS FLOATING AROUND THE SITE ARE; RAMSEY AND SFC BACON ARE SLEEPING TOGETHER. SGT SIREK HAS PLANS TO TAKE NIETO AS HIS APPRENTICE AND PADIWAN LEARNER OF THE DARK SIDE. LITTLE BLACK ARNOLD IS MILITARY INTELLIGENCE FOR SPECIAL FORCES OPERATING UNDER COVER A SURVEILLENCE AS PART OF

*the rest of the page is blank*

IM BACK. TODAY IS THE 27th. I GOT BACK TO THE LITTLE CAMP AREA ABOUT AN HOUR AND A HALF AGO. I LEFT YESTERDAY MORNING TO, WELL, AS PART OF DE-CON (DE-CONTAMINATION) MISSION. HERES THE INFORMATION THAT I GATHERED.

A SITE HAD BEEN FOUND THAT WAS THOUGHT TO HAVE CHEMICAL WEAPONS AND 1-10 WAS APPOINTED TO GO TO THE SITE AND DE-CON THE CIVILIANS THAT WERE GOING TO OPEN THEM. AS IT TURNS OUT THE CIVILIANS HAVE BEEN DE-LAYED AND WOULD BE SET BACK 1 DAY.

THE NBC TEAM THAT I WAS WITH WERENT PREPARED TO STAY OVER NIGHT AND AS FORCASTED BY SSG MINOR WE MIGHT HAVE HAD TO STAY 3 TO 4 DAYS. EVERYBODY WAS PISSED.

LATELY ITS BEEN GETTING REALLY COLD AT NIGHT AND WE JUST HAPPENED TO BE NEAR A RUNNING RIVER. SO THE, ITS ABOUT 9 O’CLOCK AND IM BEAT, NO SLEEPING BAG OR ANYTHING TO COVER UP WITH AND I DECIDE TO TRY AND SLEEP. I GET AS COMFORTABLE AS POSSIBLE AND I GET ATTACKED BY MOSQUITOS. NOW IM PISSED SO I DECIDED TO JUST TO STAY UP ALL NIGHT. ABOUT 10PM ONE OF THE HEMTT (this might just say “hemi”, I don’t know) FUELERS SHOWS UP AND SGT TORRES SAYS HE HAS EVERYBODYS SLEEPING BAG! THE SITES ABOUT 45 MINS AWAY AND THEY LEFT SOMETIME MID AFTERNOON TO GET OUR SHIT, I HATE THESE PEOPLE.

RIGHT NOW ITS 9:01 PM AND ITS 11:02 AM YOUR TIME. I MISS YOU.

RIGHT NOW IM GOING TO ADDRESS AN ENVELOPE AND HAVE IT READY TO SEND TOMMOROW THE 28th. IM SORRY IF IT SEEMS THAT IM NOT WRITING VERY OFTEN. FOR A WHILE WE COULDN’T. AND NOW THAT IT SEEMS WE MIGHT BE HERE A LITTLE WHILE, THEYVE KEPT ME REALLY BUSY. LET ME ADDRESS THE ENVELOPES (he drew a star here)

ALL DONE. I THOUGHT ABOUT THE HOUSE A LOT TODAY AND YESTERDAY. IM SURE BY THE TIME THIS LETTER REACHES YOU, YOU’LL HAVE EITHER GOTTEN IT OR GAVE IT UP. IM O.K. WITH EITHER DECISION YOUVE MADE.

YOUVE KEPT THIS FAMILY TOGETHER, AND THAT MAKES ME PROUD. YOUR SMART, ATTRACTIVE AND FUNNY. AND YOU DONT TAKE ANY SHIT FROM ANYBODY. I LOVE YOU.

I HOPE THAT OUR DAUGHTER TURNS OUT TO BE LIKE YOU.

I GUESS ILL MAIL THIS TOMORROW, FIRST THING, SO

EVER YOURS

EVER MINE

*my dad signed it with his scribble, and wrote his name under it. under that are hearts and x’s with my mom’s name and then my name under hers.*

#very personal but where the fuck am i gonna put them? you know where i kinda cant lose them?#letters from the guy that was my dad #pt 1 #long post

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niapeiris · 5 years

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It is going to rain

Toby

It is going to rain. The sun has eloped with the small amount of patience that I had left, off to a place far away, leaving me with nothing but troubles and rain. It is a matter of minutes. I watch the sky darken, the sea of black rippling above me, and I wait. And just before the first droplet connects with the ground, she runs into the restaurant. How typical of her. All disorganization and chaos but never lets it spill over the edge. I’ll never know how she does it. She sees me and casually walks over to the table, as though she isn’t half an hour late. But despite my annoyance and lack of patience, I stand and envelope her into a hug, because I know, that behind that picture-perfect smile and those glistening eyes, that half of her world just shattered into a million little pieces.

Lorrain

As soon as I see him a weight is lifted off my shoulders. He is ok. He is picking up the pieces, his hands covered in cuts and scars like mine, but he is putting them back together again. Last time he was too afraid, too broken. But this time I think he was prepared, he knew what was coming. I guess we all did. Seeing him reminds me that I can do this; I got through it when dad died, so I know that I will resurface again. But these fresh wounds are sore, and I know that even when they heal, their scars will always haunt me.

Toby

We sit in silence for a while. The food comes but I am not hungry. Lorrain doesn’t appear to be either. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to say. Normally Lorrain will have made some sort of conversation by now, being her dazzling social self. But today it’s different.

Against all my natural instincts, I decide to break the silence. And the small talk begins. The usual “I might get a cuppa” and “how’s work”, “terrible weather today” and other British stereotypes to break through awkwardness. I like to cut to the chase. But it took me until the end of the meal to muster enough courage to bring up the dreaded subject.

“How are you coping Lorrain?”

She does not respond seemingly engrossed in the delicious steak on her plate. The steak which she would not touch a few seconds ago.

“It’s getting better,” she says, “What about you?” “I am sorry I didn’t come to mum's funeral. I wasn’t as close to her as you were but now both of them are gone.” “So you shut yourself away from the rest of the world again?”

I don’t respond because I know that it is true. We don’t talk until the bill has come and gone and we are getting ready to face the torrential downpour outside.

“Any plans after this?” she says knowing I don’t but asking anyway.

“No, you?” “Not today. I can walk with you to the station,” she offers. She lives around here, in the heart of London. I prefer calm and convenient, a pair that rarely comes together. So I live in the outskirts.

As we walk, Lorrain gets a phone-call.

“Hello, Lorrain Martins speaking --- How did you get this number? --- The lab gave it to you? --- Ok then --- oh? --- But that is in Turkey? --- It isn’t uncommon --- I’m not sure --- Things have been a bit hectic at the moment --- I guess I could use the distraction --- ok --- I’ll be there at 11am tomorrow --- yep --- no worries --- bye!”

I knew that it wasn’t right that she didn’t have any plans. But of course, now she is going to Turkey, presumably flying out at around 2am on the last plane that will get her there for 11.

“You’re going to Turkey!” I say in such a forced, unenthusiastic voice that I wonder if it even came from me.

“And you are coming too!”

“Um, no. I have work to do!” I respond. There is so much to be done as I haven’t been in since mum died.

“It’s not as though you are actually going to go to work for another week. I know what you are like Toby Martins, and I don’t need your excuses.” I don’t reply because I know that she is right. Again. Despite my greatest efforts I won’t be able to drag myself to the office for a while. But still, I am NOT going to Turkey

Lorrain

I am so glad that Toby came along. He could really use the distraction. So could I. An air-hostess walks down the aisle offering refreshments. Toby is in the outer seat, the one next to the aisle and is in a place between awake and asleep – 2am flights aren’t his thing.

I tried to explain to Toby what the trip is about, but he was too stressed about almost missing the flight. So far I have been regarding it as an escape, to get my mind of things. But now that I think about it, I find myself wanted more than a getaway. A refugee camp. Each night a new corpse found. Each corpse covered in a black gooey liquid. I want to know why. I want to solve this. Stop this.

It was all a blur after that. The past few hours were made up of me puzzling over the possible reasons behind this case. Toby seemed very uninterested and soon grew irritated as I was reciting these theories aloud. Being his little sister it is my duty to wind him up, no matter how old we get.

But now we are in a taxi and we are sitting in silence because we can see it. The rows of huts and tents. The dirt track roads crawling with foxes and rodents. The people. It is a graveyard for the living. Refuge from the past but a horror in the present. After parking, we are shown to another part of the camp, the part where the managers and staff live. It is solely made up of a tall tower, littered by windows, topped with a cylindrical level, presumably a look out point over the camp. As we are led inside the tower, it appears that all the windows are the rooms for the staff, quite like a hotel but far from it. A tall, Aryan featured man appears to be scolding two other workers. He looks up at us and smiles with blinding white teeth and comes over. He introduces himself as camp manager Asil Orun, the man who rang me and asked that I would come. He seems very out of place; a man of such features should not correspond with refugees, or so society implies. He leads us through to a room on the ground floor, taking care to hold the door politely for me and taking even more care to let it swing in Toby’s face. There he explains more about the case. I glance over at Toby, who is sitting next to me with glazed over eyes and pursed lips; a sure sign that he has more than a few things to say to Asil. After we have been briefed, we are escorted up to the topmost floor where our room is.

Toby

I don’t like him. And it isn’t just that he has taken an inane interest in Lorrain, but it seems that there is more to him than what meets the eye. I don’t trust him, something about him isn’t right. But I just can’t put my finger on what it is.

But now I must return to the moment because we are walking into the other side of the camp – the refugee side. I smell them judging me, I wince as they stagger away, afraid. Lorrain isn’t comfortable either. I look at them, bony and mistreated, wondering the terror of what they must have fled to call this place a “sanctuary”. We stop outside one of the shacks and Asil shows us in. As we enter the shade of the place, my eyes grow accustomed to the light. And there it is lying on the bed, gender indistinguishable due to its front being covered in a sticky substance. Lorrain steps closer to the body. She looks it up and down and then opens her briefcase and lays it on the floor. She gets a wooden stick and takes a sample of the substance covering the body. Lorrain investigates the sludge, mixing it with various liquids. Hours pass as she examines the body, prodding and poking, testing and what-not, while Asil and myself sit intently around her.

“Toby. Toby wake up.” I feel warm air hiss into my ear as I fight to open my eyes. I must have fallen asleep. I look around. It is night time and the shanty is empty, spare Lorrain, her briefcase, a body bag and myself. No sign of Asil. Lorrain helps me up. I check my watch. It is almost midnight. We leave the cabin and walk towards the tower, leaving the body bag behind.

“What did you find?” I ask, still drowsy.

“Various bits and pieces that don’t fit together at all.”

“Go on.”

“Well, I am now certain that the gunk covering the body was in fact blood.”

“Blood? It was too dark to be blood. Black almost.”

“I am sure that it was blood – it had the correct reading and concurred with all of the tests. But very few things could turn blood so tar-like.”

“I assume that she coughed it up?” I say.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I am not sure, there is a small incision at the back of her throat, where I initially suspected that the blood had come from, but it is nowhere near large enough for all of it to have come gushing out of. But I don’t think the cut is significant.”

“I see. Did you learn anything else?”

“Yes, I also discovered something, the faintest of traces but it proves to be both vital to the case and thrilling at the same time.”

“And what, may I ask, is this insight?”

“There were traces of poison in her blood.”

Lorrain

It is only 8am in the morning but we are already out and investigating another body. Asil found it quite far away from the body I looked at yesterday. Whatever is happening to them isn’t contagious. I look down at the body. At first glance I presumed that it was a replica of the first, the same liquid covering the body, the same incision in the throat. But now I see that the substance is indeed redder so presumably healthier than the first; the incision in the throat is much smaller and the traces of the poison I found yesterday are gone. I run the same tests again, inspecting the body for any more clues. Toby is slumped in a corner, half-asleep. I don’t think that this trip is very interesting for him, but he is definitely getting more sleep than he would have at home.

It is raining. And the fact that the roof of the hut is poorly-thatched does not help. I watch the body as it rests idly on the floor. It was a boy this time. A young boy around the age of 6. It broke me when I saw him lying there, helpless as the world turned away from him, time and time again. Toby just glazed over.

After a while of examining I find something else in his blood. After digging into it I discover that it also seems to be poison. A different one to the one I saw yesterday. Some sort related to the digitalis genus. I asked Asil to question the food producers of the camp and I haven’t seen him since. I don't know much about poisons, being a forensic pathologist, but I know that there is no connection between Digitalis poison and blood disease. No, Digitalis is commonly used as a medicine for heart deficiency. I have come across many cases when one has overdosed on the drug which has led to heart failure. Heart failure. The person could have died from heart failure. But how would they have had access to the pharmaceutical in a refugee camp?

“I can hear your brain churning from over here,” Toby startles me. I thought he was asleep.

“I think I am onto something,”

“And what does figuring it out involve?”

“Cutting open the boy’s heart.”

Toby

I am trying to sleep but the sounds don’t help. The slicing and squelching. But I hear another noise, footsteps. Of course, the camp is littered with people, so I am bound to hear footsteps. But the refugees tread carefully, quietly, not wanting to be noticed or even to exist at all. These footsteps are different. Loud. Purposeful. And as they draw closer, I hear that there is in fact two sets of footsteps.

Two men enter the shack. One is Asil but that does not make me feel any more settled. Asil introduces the man beside as the caterer of the camp, Yusuf. I study the man. He is muscular, tall and wears a dirty apron around his waist, as if to back the fact that he is the food chief. He exchanges greetings with Lorrain and myself and then goes on to talk about the food that he produces. He claims that the main component of the refugee’s diets is broad-leaf plantain due to its accessibility and low price. They eat it with a small portion of rice once a day, twice if they are lucky. He seems sincere, unlike Asil who stands there, smiling nervously while he talks. Lorrain is deep in thought. She has already examined the heart and has exclaimed continuously that the boy had died of heart failure. Quite a few times I had splash water on her face or tug her hair to get her to stop thinking and tell me her thoughts. But I have just realised that I know something that I need to tell her. And I need to tell her soon before her brain explodes from over-thinking, because this case might just be easier than she thinks.

Soon Asil dismisses the man, but he himself stays with us. He claims that the man is a new employee. He says that Yusuf has proved to be reliable and moral, and that he wouldn’t doubt him at all if it weren’t for the fact that he hadn’t known him for long, thus hasn’t enough time to figure out Yusuf and see if his outward friendly behavior is just a mask. Funny. That was exactly what I was thinking but about Asil.

Asil then leaves. Lorrain and I sit there in silence while I think about the best way to phrase what I am about to say.

“Lorrain I have something to tell you.”

“Mmm.”

“Lorrain stop thinking and listen,”. She looks up from the body and at me.

“Sorry,” she says.

“Broad-leaf plantain. The most eaten food in this camp.”

“Yes.”

“While you were talking, I got out my laptop and did a little research myself,” “Oh wow you actually helped!” she says playfully.

“I am serious. I found something. Broad-leaf plantain shares the same genus as the so-called poison that you discovered today. It is a Digitalis plant,”. She sits there for a few moments and processes what I just told her.

“So there might in fact be no poison, no murderer, and the genus I have found is just from the food.”

“They might have been fed some faulty or highly concentrated leaves by accident which has led to this.”

She looks plainly disappointed. It was clear that this case excited and intrigued her, but the most logical answer does not seem to satisfy that. I stand up to go back to the room. She doesn’t say anything so I know that she will stay and look into what I said, still doubting and eager to prove me wrong; that she may still have a case yet to follow. I had best leave her to it.

I leave the tent silently. And as I creak my way to the exit, I hear thumping footsteps running. Running away. I look outside quickly but everything appears to be normal. Or as normal as it gets in a refugee camp. It could have been anyone. I continue back to the room.

Toby

I wake up to the breaking of glass. I sit up abruptly and look around. My eyes are blinded by the sudden exposure to the light and I can barely make out anything. At first, I think that I am alone in the room but I hear shuffling coming from the toilet. I quietly make my way there. I push open the door with a shaking hand and find … Lorrain. I let out a sigh of relief. Lorrain is scrambling on the floor trying to recover bits of glass that she has broken when she dropped what used to be some sort of measuring utensil. After helping her clear up and exclaiming that she cannot scare me like that, I go back to me beside table and check the time. 7:00am. I should get ready. I tell Lorrain to hurry up in the bathroom and use the time while I wait, to go back to sleep.

Lorrain

Yesterday was disappointing. I was really interested in the case. I thought that maybe this one time it might not just be some sort of illness, maybe something mysterious or unexplainable. Oh well. At least we have a pretty certain cause behind this. We’ll be able to stop more of these deaths. That’s the boring truth. I went back to the first body to run some tests and to look into the poison that I discovered on the first day. However the body wasn’t there. It was at that point I just gave up and went back to the room.

We are sitting inside another shack. It was a girl this time, thirteen years old. Her situation is identical to the boy’s. I have utilised the past few hours back up this new theory. I have run many tests and the reason behind this appears to be the result of a parasitic broad-leaf plantain. Nothing more.

Toby stands up. He is growing impatient. He thinks that we should be home by now – the reason behind this case being obvious. He leaves the tent stating that he is going back to the room. There is no arguing with him when he chooses to be assertive, which is very rarely I might add.

Toby

As I walk back to the room I see Asil walking towards me. He smiles as he walks past and I force an imitation of the notion. After I am about a dozen metres away, I turn to see if he has gone into the tent that Lorrain is in. I would never leave her alone with him. But he walks past the tent and carries along done the dirt track. I look at where his footsteps have met the mud. And there I see it, a white letter on the floor not far from Lorrain’s tent. I pick up the letter, debate showing Lorrain or giving it back to Asil, but then decide that I will take it up to the room and read it. Maybe it will tell me something about Asil, maybe clue me to the reason that he seems so untrustworthy. But here is not the place to exploit potential secrets so I pocket the envelope and head to the tower.

Once safely inside, I pull out the letter and turn it over. There are no markings on the envelope, so I proceed to open it carefully. Inside is an equally as white piece of paper with all but a few sentences on it:

04/04/2018

That is good to hear. Use the same ratio this time. It seems to be leading her in the wrong direction – this is good. Give her two more and then eliminate. Burn this when you have read it.

The first thing I concur is that there is something going on, something desired secret. My brain runs through the list of things that this message could be a reference to. Some key words dance around me displaying secrets just out of reach. When would a ratio be used in this camp? What is leading who in the wrong direction? Why must this be kept behind closed doors? I puzzle over it for a half hour until I realise that I had been over-looking the smallest and most significant detail. Her. Leading her in the wrong direction. Over the past two days I have only seen male staff around the camp. I presumed that women were not employed due to the lack of safety here. In fact, the only woman that I have seen, who was not a refugee, was Lorrain. With that in mind I read the message again.

A theory develops in my mind – Asil is behind this. The ratio must be something to do with the Digitalis genus. This case isn’t over, it wasn’t caused by any plant malfunction. But pieces of my puzzle are still missing – what is the wrong direction. What does it mean give her two more? Two more what?

Bodies.

And suddenly a chill runs down my back. Eliminate? This message was sent last night. Two more bodies. So that was one last night and one more tonight. Then eliminate. We need to get away from this place. Fast. I throw all my belongings into my rucksack, do the same with Lorrain's stuff, pocket the letter and dash out of the room. I don’t know for sure if the letter meant what I thought that it did. But either way. Eliminate still means to kill.

I run to the tent of the dead girl where Lorrain was, but to my utmost horror she is not there. I find her briefcase and the body instead. I look around hoping that she has left a note; that she has just gone to the toilet, but I realise that she wouldn’t have left a note because as far as she knows, I am just lazing around in the hotel room. I run out of the tent and right into Lorrain.

“Lorrain!” I can’t do anything but hug her tight. I was so scared for her.

“I have found something -” I cut her off.

“Never mind that. We have to get out of this place. I don’t know what is going on but we, you especially, are in great danger.”

“Wha-,”

“I found a note lying on the floor that Asil dropped. It was addressed to him from someone titled “M”. Here read it. I thrust the letter into her hands while she looks at me like I am mad.

“It think it is about you.” I whisper in her ear as she reads through it. Her eyes open wide as she scrambles to read it again.

“I was right,” I hear her whisper under her breath.

“What do you mean?”

“You need to come with me. It isn’t far from the tents down the far end,” she starts packing up her briefcase.

“What?! We need to get out of here. Do you not understand what the letter meant?”

“I do. But I need to show you something. With what you have just showed me and what I have just discovered, I think we are very close to solving this case,” “Never mind the case. Do you not understand what eliminate means?”

“You need to calm down Toby.” “DO NOT TELL ME TO CALM DOWN. DAD IS DEAD AND I JUST LOST MUM. I CAN’T LOSE YOU TOO!” I yell. She stops. I never yell. I never get mad. But I am scared.

“Toby. I -”

“I didn’t mean to shout,” “I am sorry,”. Neither of us speaks until she has fully packed up her things. In a hushed voice she talks.

“Toby. I understand what you are saying. But listen. We have a chance to save lives, not just examine their dead bodies. As you say – we have to play this carefully. I need you to come with me now,” I nod my head and follow after her, exhausted by my outburst.

We walk through the stitches of the camp to the very borders where the tents begin to fray away. Soon we have left it all behind. It appears that we are just walking in the green. But in the distance I see a change of scenery. A change of colour. I see purple. And as we draw closer that purple begins to take form. Low to the ground but hundreds of them. Plants. Flowers. And soon I realise why Lorrain was so keen on showing me this. For this, this is a field of foxgloves.

Lorrain

I look at Toby’s face as he takes it all in, watch his face calculating and concluding.

“Foxgloves. Foxglove poison. Heart failure.”

“Yes,” I respond.

“It is of the same genus that you found in the body. The broad-leaf plantain fiasco was the “wrong direction” mentioned in the message. It was just a cover-up,”.

“Yes.”

“Asil. I knew that I didn’t trust him. We need to take this to the police.” I say, even more frightened than before. But I can’t let it break the surface. I need to be like Lorrain.

“No. We need evidence first. Whoever Asil is working for has to be high up if they can afford this,” I say gesturing to the foxgloves. “They will be able to wriggle their way out of our grip unless there is hard proof,”

“Tonight we will follow him. Record it all. Then we will show it to them,”.

“Agreed” I respond. We make our way back to the camp. We have a theory, the best that we have yet. But there are still some holes in it. We think that Asil is behind this. That he is feeding these refugees foxglove poison (the digitalis genus that I found) and framing it as a broad-leaf plantain parasite. But we don’t know why or how. And that is what we will find out tonight.

Lorrain

It is late. Now around 10:30pm. We are closely huddled together, Toby and I, in a failed attempt to fight off the cold. We sit silently by the exit of the tower, waiting and watching. But mostly listening. I never thought that it could be so quiet in a refugee camp. And though the world seems to sleep, I somehow hear more than ever before. The wind; a ribbon wrapping around the place. In the day-time it was like a whip – clacking and striking in a furious rage. But now it flows gently, whispering dreams of grandeur to the hopeless refugees who lie asleep. I hear the soft pattering paws of animals. The gentle singing of lullabies in a foreign dialect. So quiet.

But then I hear something else. Footsteps. Coming from the tower. Treading carefully, as though the outing is desired secret. And soon we see the slender figure of Asil fall into the night. He carries what appears to be a small briefcase in his hand. We follow him, quite far behind. Every corner he turns he checks behind him in a cautious, guilty way, and we have to dart to some bushes or round the back of a favela. We follow him for a while as he seems to randomly sneak through the paths.

However, when we enter a different part of the camp that we haven’t seen, he begins to peek in and out of the tents as if looking for something. Or someone. After a while of this hide and seek, he enters a wooden shack and does not come out of it for a few minutes. We tread closer and peer through the cracks of the structure to see what he is doing and I get my camera out and start recording.

Toby

It is going to rain. The moon has fled with all of the courage that I had left, off to a place faraway, leaving with nothing but rain-clouds and fear. It is a matter of minutes. I sense the sky darken, a sea of black rippling through me and I watch. It is the most unsettling thing, not watching Asil, but the fear that we ourselves are being watched. We see as he opens his briefcase with the light of a small lantern. It is lined with test tubes full of various substances topped with a cork aside some surgery-like tools. He pulls out a pipette and proceeds to transfer some of the test tube substances into it.

Use the same ratio this time.

It fits again with the letter. When he decides that the pipette is full, he pulls a thin, razor tipped utensil from his case. He then tilts the chin of the refugee backwards and we rush to stifle a gasp as he opens the person’s mouth, trying to do so without out waking them up. However half-way during this process the victim awakes and starts to struggle. They fight silently, Asil with a look of fire in his eyes, pinning what is now revealed to be a man of Toby’s age down and opening the man’s mouth. We watch in utter horror, both of us jerking to stop this atrocity but pulling each other back knowing what the consequences may be. Asil gets a window of opportunity and he takes it, moving the razor into the man’s throat, feeling around and making a cut. The man is now flitting in and out of consciousness. And then Asil takes the pipette and squeezes it into what we imagine is the incision. The man does not move, in a deep sleep he won’t wake up from.

Asil puts out the lantern. We stare in lament at the poor man. Thousands of thoughts run through my head. Now that we have this on tape we can stop this from happening to other people. We did the right thing, even if it did involve letting one go for the good of others. But I can’t help but feel guilty for just watching. And as I look at the body with tears in my eyes, I forget about anything else. And so does Lorrain. And we stand there. Still. Warring with ourselves. Until we see a flash of fire from the entrance of the shack. And as we turn abruptly we become face to face with it and freeze. For even without the light of the lantern we can see it screaming at as from those eyes I thought were blue. And we run.

Lorrain

Run. The only word that pops into my mind. And I do. Toby follows close behind. Asil is getting closer. Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no. Not only did he see the camera, but he also saw us. And at this moment, losing the camera or the video does not bother me. But he can’t get rid of what we saw.

Unless he gets rid of us.

We push onwards. Toby tries to alert the refugees and to get them to help but I stop him. We don’t know who else is on Asil’s side, and we don’t need more people hunting us down. Soon I begin to gain my bearings – we are getting closer to the tower. I know where we are. It should be any minute now. We take a tight turn and I pivot, hauling Toby and myself into a staff-cabin. It is empty. We dash away from the door and to the window and look for Asil. We hear his footsteps slow down as he decides whether to turn or not. Then he stops altogether. The sound of silence rings through my ears. And I realise that it must ring though Asil’s too. He won’t hear our footsteps because we have stopped. And now he knows that. We hear him walk slowly towards us. We are going to get caught. He is going to ki-.

No.

I won’t let that happen. Think Lorrain. Think. I risk a glance through the window. Asil is walking in a circle looking at the huts and cabins surrounding him, wondering where we are. I need to play this carefully. I reach up to the window. It is fastened shut with a latch. I carefully undo it and at once the wind creaks the window open a fraction. I hear Asil’s steps coming towards us and feel Toby’s fear and outrage. The footsteps are right behind the window now. And just when he is about to peer inside, I jump up and smash the window with my fist. The glass goes flying into his arm. He falls down, groping it as we run back to the tower.

Toby

I shook hands with death that night. I was terrified. I don’t think that I will ever feel safe again. After we had reached the tower Lorrain passed out. I had to make the calls, tell the information, get the police. We solved the case. But hearing it being said aloud repeatedly does not help.

“So you admit to being the person behind the murder of the refugees at your own camp?” an inspector queries for the umpteenth time.

“Yes” Asil replies. His eyes are grey. No mask of blue. No anger or fire. Nothing.

After hours and hours of sitting there, listening to him give dismissive, brief answers, he has finally admitted it. The man behind it all. Or so it seems.

“I invite Ms Lorrain Martins to describe her opinion of the happenings, and then the convict will consolidate her statement, if he wishes to.”

“The way that he killed the refugees was using a poison. Foxglove poison. He would make a small incision in the back of the victim’s throat and squeeze the poison into there. Once the poison was inside the victim, they had minutes to live. He would then leave the body there and the next morning, would claim to have found the body in such a state.”

“Thank you. And do you admit to this Asil?” “Yes” “Ms Martins, you previously mentioned that he worked closely on the case with you. Would you care to reiterate it so that we may add it to an official document?” “Yes. He contacted me some days ago via phone call, saying that random refugees at his camp were dying for no apparent reason. He wanted my help. My brother and I flew to Turkey. He was with us most of the time, listening to my theories. Now that I think about it. I can assume that you were also listening to Toby and my self's private conversations. But why Asil? Why?” Asil sits there for a few minutes. Opening his mouth and closing it. Deciding what to say and whether to say it or not. No-one dare moves, scared they will stop him from opening up.

“I had to wipe out the entire refugee camp. I had to kill them all and frame it as something else, some natural cause. But I didn’t want to release this poison only to find that is could easily be tracked and identified. No. That is where you helped Lorrain. They wouldn’t have died if it wasn’t for you. Each time you would say what you found. So I would fix those areas and use a different ratio. Until I got it perfectly balanced and you didn’t think that there was a poison at all. And if I could bluff you, I knew that I could bluff the rest of the world.”

We all sit in silence, thinking hard. Understanding. It is ingenious really. But why would he want to kill all of these people? “Why?” I say, startled at myself for speaking up.

Asil just smiles.

Lorrain

Weeks have passed since the refugee camp ordeal. Not long after Asil’s confession, a Turkish politician was arrested and thrown into jail. Apparently, he was the one who was funding it and who was in charge. He wanted to free Turkey from refugees for economic and racist purposes. Toby and I have been spending more time together since. We have cleared out Mum’s house. It is going to be hard to leave behind, whenever it is sold. It is going to be hard to leave the memories of the case behind, whenever it blows over. Right now, I am studying the poison at work. We know that foxglove was in it but there were other components that we can’t identify. And we still do not know where the black blood came from. I am scrolling through some data a co-worker has emailed me, not really reading through it.

Suddenly I hear a shout from the lab next door. Then whoever is working in there calls for me. I swiftly move through the door to see what that commotion is about. My colleague is there looking ecstatic to say the least. She shows me a piece of paper from a freshly opened letter and I read it. And then I understand my co-worker's excitement. We have solved the case. And I ring up Toby.

“Toby?”

“Hi Lorrain. How are you?” “Toby you’ll never guess what I just found out.”

“What is it?” “So you know we still don’t know why the refugees were covered in blood, right?” “Yes …"

“Well now some results have come back. It was so obvious Toby, I don’t know how we didn’t get it. What few things cause vomiting of black blood?” “Lorrain you know I don’t know these things.”

“I was right at the very start. Remember when I found that poison in the very first body. Not the foxglove one but the other one. The faintest of traces?”

“Yes”

“It was arsenic Toby. It was arsenic.”

His confirmations and excitement poured through the line but I am not really listening. Instead, I am looking outside, through the window, and the heavy clouds gathering above. It is going to rain.

By Nia Peiris

14/02/2019

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