The Blizzard

ASIF was cleaning filters. It was dull work but a moment’s lost concentration would mean a broken membrane, allowing dust and sand to flood those houses fortunate enough to afford the finished air control. For three hours he had been sat in the lobby of Khalid’s workshop hotel, balancing the heavy motor on his knees.

  Intent on the mechanics of this task, his inner mind was free to wander. What food would his boss buy from the market? Would they eat well tonight? What changes might he make to this workshop if he, Asif, were the owner instead? Hands thick with black grease worked out the fine grains from the rotor. As Jack and Zarius opened the door, searing sunlight pooled into the workshop, causing him to squint and cover his face, leaving a smear on his brow.

  Both men were arguing and had obviously been doing so for some time, despite the midday heat from which they had just stepped out of.

  “No, you must stay,” said the strange, fat one to the boy. “They know we are in Sanaam. Please trust me that it is safer this way.”

  The older man wanted to go somewhere on his own without Jack. Could they really be cousins? His eyes still half-closed, Asif could almost see a resemblance – not the noses, one of which was bulbous, the other aquiline, nor the eyes that were different hues and shapes. There was something hard and immovable about the jaw line of both men, although one was thickly covered in flesh.

  However, the light was still pounding his eyes and Asif couldn’t be sure.