THE TUNNEL

[Dusak]

''How does the digging go my friend?'' Muklis asked Jamal.

''Slow, but we're getting there.'' His friend replied.

''Muklis, do you think we are doing right by this? If we are discovered it will lead to the death of us both.''

''My friend, we are dead anyway. Keep the tunneling going. How long do you think until we reach the end?''

''Two, maybe three days. The problem is the soil. We have to be careful how we dispose of it. And the noise. When the pick hits a large stone I fear that it can be heard in the street above.''

Muklis could detect the slight tremor of fear on his friends voice. He was young, just turned twenty, against that of Muklis's fifty years. His mind wandered back in time for a moment when he had attempted this tunneling at a similar age to Jamel's. The tunnel had collapsed and his friend Roshan had become entombed beneath many tonnes of earth. He had had to leave his friend buried, fearing the severe reprisals if anyone had discovered his connection with the tunnel. It would of brought death upon him.

''Do you need water Jamel?''

''No thank you. I will dig a little longer, then rest.''

Two days later Jamel and Muklis reached the point were they had to start digging the vertical shaft at the end of the tunnel. But first they had to complete the shoring out of the tunnel with timber and props to make it safe, not only for them, but for the items they would need to move through the tunnel to complete their planed task. They sat together as they broke fast, sipping the cool sweet water that Muklis had provided. Jamel spoke.

''I thought that we had been found out yesterday Muklis. My father was impatient for the bathroom while I was showering. He came in, seeing all the muck and grime on the floor that had washed from my body. He'd demanded to know what I had been doing to get so filthy. A collage boy, he'd stated, does not attract so much muck like I was as a magnet to iron fillings.''

''What did you tell him?'' Muklis asked, a piece of bread poised at his lips.

''A simple half truth. That I had come across a man that had needed help digging himself out of a problem.'' Jamal smiled. ''A man that had got his cart stuck in the mud, not a tunnel to freedom.''

''Did he accept your story?''

''He was unconcerned about the reasons, being more concerned about all the muck blocking his drains. He muttered that it will be better when I returned to collage and things would get back to normal.''

They both laughed at this predictable response from Mazin, Jamal's father who was a well known moaner about everything normal. But Muklis's laughter had a slight edge of relief to it that went unnoticed by Jamal.

''Muklis, why do you think that my father hates you so much? No one even dares to mention your name within earshot of him. You never talk about it much.''

''And you have asked that same question many times since I've know you Jamal and I always give the same reply. I just don't know.''

''I think that he sees you as a threat Muklis. An unknown quantity that is not to be trusted. An anarchist.'' Jamal laughed.

''An anarchist! That's a first for me. I've been called many things in my life, but never one of those. These people of the village are stuck in time. They live by the holy book, blind to the changes that are happening all over Egypt. I see those changes and embrace them willingly. But not all changes can be embraced in the open. What we do here, is one of those examples. But people will soon come to realize that they have to make changes and we two, you and I, will become the pioneers of those changes.'' Muklis stood, stretching his tired and stiff muscles loose. ''Now, I have to remove those old bones you came across while tunneling to freedom. I'll dump them in the canal tonight under the cover of darkness.''

''Who do you think they belong to?'' Jamal asked as his friend placed them carefully inside an old flour sack. He still felt a little queezey as he remembered the crunch sound as the end of his pick had hit the skull.

''Who knows but the Gods. They are very old Jamal, could even be a Gods bones.'' Muklis teased his young friend.

''I think that the bones should be given to the earth Muklis, in the Muslim tradition. As a show of respect.'' Jamal stated quietly.

''So at this point in time you decide that we should show respect by doing things the Muslim way Jamal? A little late for that I think, don't you? Look, a mans words and actions tell others of his faith, his beliefs. Old bones can not speak. He could of been Christian or Muslim. Or even without faith. His sole would of made its journey in the direction it was destined to travel. But, if it makes you feel any better I will bury the remains beneath the land and offer a few words of common pray.''

''Yes. I think that would be good Muklis. Thank you.''

''So.'' Muklis stated in a cheerful voice, attempting to lift Jamal's gloom. ''It's only the exit shaft and the cover flap that needs to be constructed then we will be finished. This is the dangerous part Jamal, are you certain you still want to carry on? It is not to late to end it before damage is done.''

''No. We will complete our mission. I was destined to receive this freedom, be it still partially controlled by others. By this time next week we will both be liberated from the shackles that bind us.''

''Well said Jamal, well said.''

Muklis gathered the old bones up and left Jamal to finish the task. He had reached the tunnels halfway point, dragging behind him the tools he required to begin cutting through the section of concrete floor in one of the unused small basement rooms in the building opposite their starting point. He was saturated in sweat, continually having to stop as he attempted to keep the salty liquid from stinging his eyes. On this occasion Jamal had to rub twice as hard as his cleared focus noticed what he thought to be a dim light approaching his position. His heart began to beet fast as he saw the sweat blurred outline of a figure crawling towards him. He had been discovered.
''Father? is that you...

When the collapse happened, it happened quickly. Jamal was killed near instantaneously as he was buried under tonnes of earth. His diminishing breath had only time to utter the final words of comfort. ''Allah ackbaar.''

Some few hours later Muklis had entered the room that had been the starting point of their combined mission in life. He knew, without having to check the tunnel, what had happened. He could taste the dust on the air that had been forced out of the tunnels entrance, and he could see the mound of debris that now blocked the tunnels entrance at the bottom of the three meter deep shaft. His shoulders heaved involuntary as he attempted to stifle a cry. The tears ran unabated and freely down his whiskered cheeks as he mourned his friends death. He turned and attempted to leave, but had to seek support from the doors jamb as his legs refused to support the terrible weight of his loss.

''Mazin! Mazin you old goat, answer the door will you, I'm busy cooking.'' Tameemah, Mazim's wife, called out.

Mazin, as was usual for him, mumbled and moaned as he approached the door, complaining that yet again his day of doing nothing had been disturbed. He returned to the kitchen, holding a note.

''So, who was it that dared disturb your laziness you old goat?'' She asked as her hands continued to knead the doe.

''A young street kid delivered a note from that dog Muklis across the street. He says that he needs to see me.''
Mazin tore the paper into pieces and scattered it onto the floor in an obvious act of disgust.

''I don't know why you hate that man so much Mazin. He hasn't spoken above three sentences since he's lived opposite us all these years.''

''Don't concern yourself with village politics woman. This is mans business. I know what I know and that's good enough for the likes of you. He's a radical thinker and not a man to trust.''

''For the likes of me you say! Cheeky old goat. Your problem is, is that you think to much. Thinking you know is more like it. It could be important. Go and see him. If you don't like what he has to say, do as you do to me. Turn your back on him and walk away. Anyway, I need some more flour and if you see Jamal outside, tell him I need his help laying out this doe. And stop your muttering you old goat.''

Mazin stood before the slightly ajar door of Muklis's home. He pondered a while. Should he show respect and knock first? But Mazin had no likes towards this infidel as he referred to Muklis. So no respect was warranted to his mind. But, he continued to think, if he was to enter without knocking, this Muklis could hit him over the head with a stick, telling everyone that he'd thought that Mazin had been a clefty that had attempted to steel his money. Mazin knocked loudly, receiving no invite to enter. Mazin gently eased the door open with his toe until it stood wide open. There was no sign of his imaginary antagonist as he once again called out. The room was empty. As his eyes became accustomed to the dim light, Mazin could see that the room was very nicely furnished in brightly coloured fabrics, with walls painted in a very pale green and orange. Not to his taste he muttered, and a discovery that only enhanced his distrust towards the man. No sane person uses so much colour when blue everything was just as good. And cheaper. He took note of a rise of stairs that was in the far corner and another doorway on the opposite wall. He made his way towards this and entered. He immediately saw the deep shaft. It now became obvious to Mazin why this meeting was requested. Muklis had been digging for past treasures and had obviously discovered something of worth. He had also obviously heard the silly, untrue rumours that he, Mazin, could sell them on. But Mazin wasn't a man to hold grudges for to long where money was concerned, so he started to clime the staircase, humming instead of complaining this time.

Mazin stood stock still as he stopped breathing mid hum as he viewed the rooms contents. Lay on the bed was Muklis. He was dead as dead could be. He had slit his wrist which now hung over the edge of the bed, lifeless as the rest of the corpse. A bucket had been placed on the floor to catch the stream of blood. Fly's had began to cover both body and bucket. But it was what lay on the bed next to Muklis that was the bigger shock. The near perfect full skeleton of a man. The skull, he could see, had a large hole in the top. Muklis's other hand was draped across the skeletal one in a grotesque show of love. On Muklis's chest lay a letter with his name on it. Mazin reached towards it with a shaky hand, gagging at the smell, irritated by the buzzing fly's. He reached slowly, avoiding the buckets contents and grabbed at the letter and once it was in his grasp, stepped backwards quickly to escape this perimeter of stench and death. Mazin sat on a small stool next to the door he had entered, but not far enough to leave the taste in his mouth behind. He unfolded the letter and began to read it, holding it slightly angled towards the small window so his poor eyesight could make out the small script.

''Mazin, the bones that you see laying next to me are those of you first born, your son Roshan. The one that you and the rest of the village assumed had ran away in shame those long years ago. But he had rested beneath your feet all these years. Roshan and I had been lovers, and a love that in your eyes and those of others, had been the most terrible of sins, punishable by death. We had kept our secrete but we always suspected that some began to take note of his comings and goings from my home at night. So we devised a plan, and that plan was to dig a tunnel from here to your unused basement. This would of given us unlimited visits, to enjoy each other as is natural with people that are in love with each other. But tragedy stuck, the tunnel collapsed killing Roshan. Then, some twenty years later Jamal had been born. I watched as his early years changed into teenage ones, then into manhood. I tried to keep my sight turned in the opposite direction, but he looked so much like his brother I failed, as Jamal did towards me. Once again I felt the passion rise and Jamal reciprocated that love. So I decided to re-dig the tunnel, to reclaim Roshan's mortal remains, so the three of us could be together. I don't think that you could ever be forgiven from hiding the existence of Roshan from Jamal, I can only think that you all suspected what he was and covered it up to the point of pretending that he never existed, wiping all evidence of him into the dust, to be blown away for ever. But know this, now the three of us are together for eternity, while you are alone.'' Muklis.

Mazin clutched his old heart as he slumped to the floor uttering the name of his first born.

[Ruby Slippers]

I think I'm fast becoming your no.1 literary fan, Dusak!