Zughaib and Zaid walked through the dimly lit parking lot, their footsteps echoing in the nearly empty basement level of the mall. The night air had cooled down, but the lingering scent of grease and fried food still clung to their clothes after dinner at Broasters dine in. Zaid yawned, stretching his arms as they approached the so-called SUV.
"Man, I'm wiped," Zaid muttered, rubbing his eyes. "All that fried chicken is sitting like a rock in my stomach. You mind driving? I'm beat."
Zughaib glanced at his brother and nodded silently. He had been lost in his own thoughts during dinner, the memo from the Cleaner still weighing on him. With a quiet sigh, he walked around to the driver's side of the SUV, his fingers brushing against the cold metal of the handle. It wasn't his ride, and it felt foreign, but he was used to taking over when necessary.
Zaid slid into the passenger seat, his head already leaning back against the headrest, eyelids heavy. "Thanks, bro," he mumbled, half-asleep before Zughaib even started the engine.
Zughaib settled into the driver's seat, feeling the weight of the vehicle around him. The SUV felt more like a compact crossover, but it was manageable. He started the engine with a soft growl, the dashboard lighting up in a pale blue glow. As soon as the car lurched forward, Zaid stirred, startled for a moment by the sudden movement. But then, realizing it was just his brother behind the wheel, he let out a sigh and closed his eyes again, drifting back into sleep.
The streets were quiet, the late-night crowd thinning as the city prepared for sleep. Zughaib drove through the rain-slicked streets, the headlights cutting through the misty darkness. His mind wandered, thoughts drifting between the mundane and the dangerous.
When they reached Zaid's complex, Zughaib gently rolled the SUV to a stop in front of the building. The streetlights flickered above, casting an eerie glow over the old apartment complex. Zaid stirred again, yawning as he unbuckled his seatbelt.
"Thanks for driving," Zaid said groggily, stepping out of the car. "I'm heading up. Can you park it in the open lot next to the building? Just don't take too long, alright? I'm probably gonna crash as soon as I hit the bed."
Zughaib gave a small nod, watching as Zaid stumbled toward the entrance, his footsteps slow and unsteady with exhaustion. He knew Zaid wouldn't wait up for him—he never asked questions when Zughaib left in the middle of the night before, even though the tension was always there, unspoken.
Once Zaid disappeared into the building, Zughaib shifted the SUV back into gear, the engine humming softly as he turned away from the complex. Instead of heading to the lot, he drove off into the night, his hands steady on the wheel as the streets passed by in a blur of muted lights and empty sidewalks. He needed to clear his head before meeting the Cleaner.
After a few minutes of driving aimlessly, he stopped at a gas station on the outskirts of Asiaville. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, illuminating the mostly deserted pumps. Zughaib filled up the gas tank, watching the numbers climb on the meter as his mind wandered. He wasn't sure how much longer he could keep this up—balancing the life he had with Zaid and the dangerous errands that kept pulling him deeper into the city's underworld.
Once the tank was full, Zughaib grabbed an energy drink from the gas station convenience store. He cracked it open, taking a long sip, feeling the artificial boost kick in almost immediately. As he walked back to the SUV, something caught his eye—a figure standing near the air pump, barely visible in the shadow of the station's overhead lights.
Zughaib's instincts flared for a moment, but he pushed it aside. It was probably just some drifter or someone waiting for a late-night ride. He finished the drink and tossed the can in a nearby trash bin before getting back into the SUV and driving off, the silhouette fading into the background as the city swallowed him once again.
---
Zughaib's destination wasn't far. Broasters, the fast food joint where he first committedhis first errand for the Cleaner, came into view as he drove through the night. He slowed down as he passed the brightly lit building, glancing in his rearview mirror. There, parked a few spaces away, was the familiar black hearse. The Cleaner was always easy to spot, even when he tried to blend in.
Zughaib tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, waiting for a signal. Moments later, the hearse's engine roared to life, and the taillights flickered as the car pulled out of the parking lot. Zughaib followed without hesitation, the SUV trailing the hearse as they weaved through the city streets.
The drive was silent, both vehicles moving with purpose toward a familiar destination—the morgue. It wasn't long before they reached the cemetery grounds, the iron gates creaking open as the hearse led the way. Zughaib parked the SUV in a shadowed corner of the lot, stepping out into the cold night air. The rain had stopped, but the chill remained, clinging to the air like an unwelcome guest.
The Cleaner was already waiting by the morgue's side entrance, his usual calm demeanor in place as he glanced at Zughaib.
"Good, you're here," the Cleaner said, his voice smooth and measured. "I've got a simple task for you tonight. Nothing too messy."
Zughaib raised an eyebrow but said nothing. He had learned that "simple" wasn't always what it seemed when it came to the Cleaner's errands.
"There's been some... activity at the cemetery," the Cleaner continued, gesturing toward the sprawling graveyard that stretched out beyond the morgue. "Graverobbers. Scum looking to loot fresh graves, take what they can, and lord knows what unspeakable things they commit to a buried corpse. I need you to keep an eye on the place tonight. If you see them, don't engage. Just take photos with this."
The Cleaner pulled out a small digital camera from his coat and handed it to Zughaib. "No need for violence. We're gathering information on them. I'll deal with them when the time is right."
Zughaib's expression remained neutral, but inwardly, he was already growing frustrated. He didn't mind the dirty work, but sitting around taking pictures of graverobbers felt like a waste of his time; that to in the middle of the night.
The Cleaner seemed to sense his hesitation. "This isn't a request," he added coolly. "Do the job, and do it right. No killing this time. Just observe."
Zughaib sighed, taking the camera from the Cleaner's outstretched hand, sliding the camera into his pocket.
The Cleaner's lips curved into a faint smile. "Good. I knew I could count on you."
With that, the Cleaner turned and walked back toward the hearse, leaving Zughaib standing at the edge of the cemetery, the darkness of the night pressing in on him. The graves stretched out before him, rows of headstones and monuments casting long shadows in the dim moonlight. The place was silent, save for the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind.
Zughaib walked deeper into the cemetery, his eyes scanning the area as he moved between the gravestones. His senses were on high alert, every sound amplified by the quiet of the night. He found a secluded spot near the back entrance of the morgue; a tall oak tree, its branches twisting overhead like skeletal fingers. From here, he had a clear view of the newer graves, the ones that would attract thieves looking for freshly buried valuables.
The minutes stretched into hours, and Zughaib's patience began to wear thin. He had never been one for waiting, and the silence of the cemetery only made the job more tedious. But he stayed vigilant, the camera resting in his lap as he kept watch for any sign of movement.
Finally, near midnight as the rain slowly diminished, he noticed movements in the shadow.
Three figures, two were stealthily walking between the gravestones while one of the figure looked odd; it was walking aimlessly as the two other figures followed 'it'. The two figures were dressed in dark clothing with balaclava masks, while the other figure had no mask on but was wearing shabby clothing and had some weird red streaks on its ragged face. Zughaib tensed, but he remembered the Cleaner's instructions. No killing. Just photos.
He raised the camera, zooming in as the figures began to dig into the grave. The soft click of the shutter was the only sound as he snapped photo after photo, capturing their every movement. The graverobbers worked quickly, their hands dirty with soil as they unearthed the coffin beneath.
Zughaib kept his distance, watching through the lens as they pried open the coffin lid. But instead of stealing the precious valuables of the corpse, they took the fresh corpse along with them while they placed a decoy figurine back into the coffin...
When they were finished, they quietly filled the grave back in and disappeared into the night, leaving no trace of their crime except the disturbed earth. Zughaib lowered the camera, his jaw tight with frustration. He had done his job, but the urge to confront them had been almost overwhelming.
He checked the photos one last time, making sure they were clear. He was satisfied with the pictures taken; suprised about the quality of the camera; he checked upon photos with and without flash. Suddenly, a slight chill settled upon Zughaib's spine; he zoomed over one of the pictures. While the two figures were robbing the grave, one other figure was aimlessly standing... a camera flash directed to its face, the figure was no ordinary grave robber. Aside from the shabby attire and the barbaric streaks on the face - the figure's eyes were soulless, no pupils were present; their were yellow but thorny - worst of all, the figure was looking at the direction of the camera. It was a cold sweat at sight; the camera flash was merely an illusion of a lightning by the two figures... but it wasn't for the other. Zughaib quickly went back to the morgue and locked the doors.
The Cleaner would be pleased. But Zughaib? He felt nothing but a growing sense of detachment and chills, as if the more he worked for the Cleaner, the further he drifted from any sense of who he used to be.