Time passed, with the men in conversation and Yasmina in torment. Hussein wanted to look around out in the alley, but Karim opposed the idea; someone might see him and get suspicious. Zaki wondered whether Rifaa’s house had been attacked, and Rifaa pointed out that all they could hear was the lament of the rebec and the cheering of the street boys. The alley was leading its usual life, and there was no sign that any crime was being planned. Yasmina’s mind was such a whirlpool of worry that she was afraid her eyes would give her away. She wanted her torment to end any way possible and at any cost; she wanted to fill her belly with wine until she no longer knew what was happening around her. She said to herself that she was not the first woman in Bayoumi’s life and she would not be the last; that stray dogs always collected around piles of garbage; only let this torment end at any cost. With the passage of time, silence slowly overcame the racket, and the voice of the children and cries of the peddlers died down, leaving only the lament of the rebec. A sudden revulsion at these men seized her, for no other reason than that, in a way, it was they who tormented her.
“Should I prepare the pipe?” asked Karim.
“We need clear heads!” said Rifaa firmly.
“I thought it would help us pass the time.”
“You’re too afraid.”
“It looks like there’s no need to be afraid at all,” Karim protested.
Yes, there had been no incidents, and Rifaa’s house had not been attacked. The melodies had fallen silent and the poets had gone home. They could hear the sounds of doors slamming, the conversations of people going back to their houses, laughter and coughing, and then nothing. They continued to wait and watch until the first cock crowed. Zaki got up and went to the window to see the street, then turned to them.
“Quiet and emptiness. The alley is just the way it was the day Idris was kicked out.”
“We should go,” said Karim.
Yasmina was overcome with anguish, wondering what would become of her if Bayoumi was late for the appointment, or had changed his mind. The men got up, each carrying a bundle.
“Farewell, hellish alley,” said Hussein, leading the way out. Rifaa gently guided Yasmina ahead of him, and followed with his hand on her shoulder, as if afraid of losing her in the darkness. Then came Karim, Hussein and Zaki. They slipped out of the apartment door one by one, and ascended the stairs, using the railing as a guide in the total blackness. The darkness on the roof seemed less intense, though not a single star could be seen. A cloud absorbed all the light of the moon concealed behind it, and its surface reflected the scudding clouds.
“The walls of the roofs almost touch,” said Ali. “We can give the lady help if she needs it.”
They followed, and as Zaki—coming last—arrived, he felt a movement behind him and turned to the door of the roof, where he detected four phantoms. “Who is there?” he asked in alarm.
They all halted and turned around.
“Stop, you bastards,” said Bayoumi’s voice.
Gaber, Khalid and Handusa fanned out from his right and left, and Yasmina gasped. She slipped away from Rifaa’s hand and moved toward the door of the roof. None of the gangsters stopped her.
“The woman has betrayed you,” said Ali dazedly to Rifaa.
In a moment they were surrounded. Bayoumi began to examine them at close range, one by one, asking, “Who’s the exorcist?”
When he found him, he grabbed him by the shoulder with an iron hand and sneered. “The demon’s companion! Where did you think you were going?”
“You don’t want us here,” said Rifaa indignantly. “We’re leaving.”
After a brief sarcastic laugh, Bayoumi turned to Karim. “You—what good did it do, hiding them in your house?”
Karim gulped with a dry mouth, and his muscles trembled. “I didn’t know of any trouble between you and them!”
Bayoumi struck him in the face with his free hand, and he fell to the ground, but quickly jumped up again and ran, terrified, toward the adjacent roof. Suddenly Hussein and Ali ran after him, but Handusa pounced on Ali and kicked him in the stomach. He fell down, groaning from his depths. At the same time, Gaber and Khalid went after the others, but Bayoumi said contemptuously, “There’s nothing to fear from them. Neither of them will say a single word, and if they do they’re dead.”
Rifaa, whose head was bent toward Bayoumi’s fist by the terrible grip, said, “They have done nothing to deserve punishment.”
Bayoumi slapped him and taunted, “Tell me, didn’t they hear from Gabalawi the way you did?” He pushed Rifaa in front of him and said, “Walk in front of me and don’t open your mouth.”
He walked, resigned to his fate. He descended the dark stairs carefully, and the heavy footfalls followed him. He was so overcome by the darkness, confusion and evil that threatened him that he could scarcely think of those who had fled or betrayed him. A profound and absolute sadness seized him, eclipsing even his fears. It seemed to him the darkness would prevail over the earth. They came out into the alley and crossed the neighborhood, in which, thanks to him, no sickness remained. Handusa went before them to the Al Gabal neighborhood, and they passed under the closed-up House of Triumph, until he imagined that he could hear his parents’ hesitant breaths. He wondered for a moment about them, and imagined that he heard Abda crying in the quiet night, but he was speedily brought back to the darkness, confusion and evil that threatened him. The Al Gabal neighborhood seemed like a collection of colossal phantom hulks shrouded in darkness; how intense the darkness was, how deep its sleep. The footfalls of the executioners in the pitch-blackness and the creaking of their sandals were like the laughter of devils playing in the night. Handusa turned toward the desert, opposite the mansion wall, and Rifaa raised his eyes to the mansion, but it was as dark as the sky. There was a figure at the end of the wall.
“Khunfis?” asked Handusa.
“Yes,” said the man.
He joined the men wordlessly. Rifaa’s eyes were still raised to the mansion. Didn’t his ancestor know his situation? One word from him could save him from the claws of these monsters and spare him from their plot. He was capable of making them hear his voice, just as he had made Rifaa hear it in this place. Gabal had been in a predicament like this, and he had been delivered, and triumphed. But Rifaa passed the wall and heard nothing but the footfalls of these evil men, and their regular breathing. They pressed on into the desert, where the sand made their steps heavy. Rifaa had a feeling of banishment in this desert as he thought back on how the woman had betrayed him and how his friends had sought refuge in flight. He wanted to turn back to the mansion, but abruptly Bayoumi’s hand shoved at his back and he fell on his face.
“Khunfis?” called Bayoumi, lifting his club.
“With you to the end, sir,” said Khunfis, also lifting his club.
“Why do you want to kill me?” Rifaa asked despairingly.
Bayoumi slammed his club down on his head, and Rifaa cried out, then called out from the depths of his soul, “Gabalawi!”
In the next instant, Khunfis’ club came down on his neck, and then the clubs took turns.
Then there was silence, broken only by his death rattle.
Their hands began to dig furiously in the sand in the dark.