The Frozen Desert by Moein Mansoori Fard (free e books to read online TXT) 📕

the waiter told me before. People shake their head to show their discontent and turn their back on me. I find the reason without thinking. They are upset because I accepted that man’s help. I stand few seconds behind the door. I look at myself maybe I can make my appearance a little better. The only thing I can do is to clean my mouth and shake the crumbs out of my clothes. Then I take a deep breath and knock on the door. A voice replies:

Come in.

I can guess who is in the room. Rakovan is sitting behind his desk, while has inserted his fingers into each other and put them under his chin as a pillar. He beats a rhythm with his foot while is thinking and is await. I enter the room and try to smile:

Hello!

Rakovan doesn’t bother to raise his head. Just, while he put his hands on the desk, lifts his eyebrows a little to be able to see me. From his look I realize that he hasn’t seen me yet. With a poker face, and as if I am not his addressee, Rakovan says:

I’m the doctor of the shelter. It’s good that…

Suddenly he cuts his word. His eyes survey me from head to toes and finally stop on my face. His face changes: it becomes exactly the same look of few minutes ago. Time passes in silence for a while. I can see he is struggling with himself to find out or remember something. But his face doesn’t change any more and he looks at me calmly and a little amazed like before. Once in a while, his eyes looks at me like a dead man, and then ponder again. It seems he wants to adjust my face to his own thoughts. His eyes is still zoomed on me. It is like he has forgotten that I am here. It seems time is frozen and the only thing that moves are my eyes which are trying to avoid direct looking to his eyes. He seems wants to place my face. His heavy looks press on me like two walls. I say:

I have some problem with my legs.

Then he looks at my feet. He lower his head with me like a robot from behind the desk and looks at my legs. After a few second, it seems he has found something and while his look is toward another side, says impatiently:

Please come and sit on that couch and extend your feet so I have a look on them. Your feet have problem, am I right?

Then he shows me with his eyebrows a bed which is in the left side of me. Since I was waiting for this moment, go toward the bed fast, sit on it and extend my feet. He unweaves the wrinkles on his face and stands near the bed while looks at me suspiciously. Before he comes toward me, he takes a key from the drawer of the desk and goes toward a big case on the wall with a pale plus sign on it. He opens it, picks up some band, disinfectant agent, fiber and needle for stitch, and put them on a table near the bed. He takes his medical gloves out of his pocket and pulls them on. Suddenly, as if he remembered something, scowls and says:

Ah, damn!

Then looks at me and says:

May you do me a favor? I forgot that to pull off your shoes. You have to do it yourself over there.

He waits for my reply. I pull them off immediately and put them near the bed. Now, he doesn’t show anymore the anger which he demonstrated when encountered with the red-eyed, as though he has forgotten that thoroughly, or as if it didn’t happen to him at all. He thanks me with a winkle and engages in examining my wounds.

His eyes still have the same strange figure and although his eyes are brown, it seems to me that it is the first time I see them. He has a clean appearance almost like Karisan, and has combed his hair upward. As he keeps his face, says:

Perhaps you’ve seen my name on the card attached to my clothes; however, I’m Rakovan. It seems that you haven’t lost so much blood, but too many wounds have covered your feet. You may feel ache a little, because we haven’t too much numbing agents and we should use them just for the patients whose conditions are critical. You cannot help but tolerate the pain.

Then, before he begin his work, stare at a point and says:

You like to show heroics, ha?

I was more anxious about myself than to be a hero.

He shows his seeming approval by raising his eyebrows. He engages in stitching. I gnash my teeth and close my eyes each time he infixes the needle into my body. He says:

You didn’t choose a proper time to do that.

I couldn’t choose but doing that. I did something that seemed to me right.

A bitter smile appears on his lips and says:

Right thing?

I shake my head:

I think so.

He thinks for a while:

If you did wait, you could see the right thing.

Do you mean hurting the women and children? Or even death of some people?

Maybe!

Maybe?

Maybe yea! The disaster which is to be happen to us in future.

I lower my head and think. Rakovan says:

No need to think. The reality is clearer than needs to think about.

I agree with him. I smell the trouble:

Maybe you are taking it too serious. They can’t do anything.

I try to convince him and myself as well. His lips take a figure of smile, and he says:

For this I say that you acted heroics uncaused. We lost a good chance. Few minutes ago, they couldn’t do anything as well, but they were doing.

You mean that the war would be begun?

He shrugs and says:

I hope it would be just this.

It is possible to prevent it.

Nothing can prevent it. It would be an all-out war.

He stops working, and then, after a pause continues stitching. I say:

Why war? Is there still any reason for it in the world?

There is always a reason for it, even now that the world is destroyed.

He gazes into my eyes:

To be alive!

Silence reigns for a while. The scene of dispute in few minutes ago is displayed in front of my eyes. Rakovan’s words correspond entirely with the event that was going to happen. I feel that the death angel is awakened by Rakovan’s words.

I look around. The color of the room has turned into gray and black, and the dust on the wall can be seen. Here are two medical couch that I am sitting on one of them, and some picture frames on the wall, and also dusty walls and the frames which their pictures are faded because of this dust.

Where do you come from that your feet become like this?

From “Life” shelter.

Now his stitching job is nearly finished.

For sure, there isn’t any place for the people, because where ever you look, you see the red-eyed.

“Life” shelter is the last shelter, but, on the other side, is the first shelter for the red-eyed who arrive there. Food is a serious problem for the people there. There’s been a big increase in population, and if things has been continued like before up to now, they’ve faced with a big problem. Two shelters were built there, but they couldn’t solve the problem. Although the stores were filled with the foodstuffs and are supplied every two days, it’s not enough.

Haven’t it arranged that their chief establishes the relief camp before they get here?

Yeah, it was coordinated for that but nothing was done. As a result, their people put the blame on us.

Did any skirmish happen for that?

I take a deep breath:

Unfortunately, yes. They found us guilty of the death of their dear ones. Too many people died. We hadn’t foodstuffs and medical equipment.

What was the result of the skirmishes?

The rebels even advanced toward the chief’s office but fortunately there didn’t happen something bad and we could control the situation.

One of Rakovan’s eyebrow goes up, and he stops stitching:

You could or they gave up?

I may say they come to terms with the situation.

He smiles and continues his work:

I know the reason why.

This time, it is me that elevates one of my eyebrows.

He says:

The people of that shelter are rallying and without any trouble. What’s better than this? They just recede and look until the circumstance matches by itself. Just there remains the base.

I agree with him entirely, but he is like a viper in one’s bosom.

Everywhere is full of red-eyed.

Exactly! Heretofore the number of the people of the shelter was less than twenty, but now there are at least over three hundred persons in the shelter, and we manage the shelter just by ten persons.

The sound of displacing the tables and the chairs can be heard from outside. He pours disinfectant agent on my leg. It is a little cold. With this, I realize that the stitching has finished. He enwinds the band around my leg slowly.

I say:

We can’t do anything.

We can: war.

But we are already in war. Another war means…

He cuts my words:

Means world destruction.

And stares at me:

Your face needs stitching.

Then hesitates for a while and says:

I’m sorry. Its scar remains on your face forever.

I rub my hand on it. Irritates. I say:

We can’t help it.

He begins his job with smile. I close my eyes and gulp my saliva whenever the needle pierces my skin.

Finished.

Suddenly someone knock on the door and he turns his head.

You can go. If you have problem again or your feet bleed, be sure to call on me.

He gives me a smile, goes to the door and talks to the man behind the door. Takes something from him, raise his hand and shows me a pair of shoes. Their color has changed and are dusty. The color of the margin around each one differs.

He says:

We couldn’t find better than this!

I thanks him and wear them promptly. Then, I go toward the door slowly. My feet still ache a little. Suddenly I stop by Rakovan’s voice. While something has spring to his mind, says:

If you can do something for us, call on Karisan. We need someone who is competent to do things. Here, no one is professional nor knows something special.

I shake my head and smile. Before I go out, I stop spontaneously and say:

Always best things happen in the worst conditions.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 5

 

 

The nomads

 

 

 

I see Karisan standing on a chair and is calming the crowd with his hands. Here, the crowd is doubled. Some people have come down from the first floor to hear the Karisan’s words.

There is no sign of the tables and chairs. People of the shelter are standing in disorderly rows in front of Karisan, so that they reach at the half a meter distance from him. Even, some people are sitting on the counter to be able to see him.

The steps that lead to the first floor are not exception to this condition. Some are sitting on the banisters, some are stooped and has brought their heads out of the crowd. They are waiting for Karisan’s speech. A tumult spreads among the crowd. You can only hear near voices. Expectation, stress, thoughtlessness, and even fear can be seen in all faces which are saying ‘what do you think, what has happened?’ Karisan’s colleagues are trying to quiet the crowd.

I am just behind Karisan, at the 1.5 meter distance from him. I go toward the row which is next to him. I stand between the crowd and his colleagues so that I can see his face. When I walk, my feet ache a little. The pain of my feet is being forgotten gradually like a smell that after a while becomes normal to us.

Finally, by beginning of the speech, the people become quiet. Karisan takes a paper out of his pocket and looks at it before talking. Then he gulps down his saliva and says loudly:

Quiet! Please be