Kismet: A Thriller by Amina Akhtar

The sound of the shovel hitting yet another rock made her shudder. She hated that noise, like nails on a chalkboard but worse. Like the ground was screaming at her for what she’d done. Every time she hit a stone, she winced. Killer! Murderer!

“Shut up,” she muttered.

Sweat dripped down her face, and she wondered for a moment if anyone could get DNA from it. They could get DNA from anything on TV shows, but out here, they probably wouldn’t bother. Her sweat was mixing into the red earth—how would they even know to test it? They wouldn’t; she was being paranoid, right? What else was new.

It was night out, and she should have been shivering, but digging was hard work. That, and the slightly cool December night should have been below freezing. But it was warm, too warm for this time of year. Too warm, too dry, and every living plant and tree and brush would soon be kindling for wildfires. She knew why. People had ruined this place. She hated them for that. She didn’t even need long sleeves. Sweat dripped down, and she muttered a curse.

“Dammit! I hate sweating!”

Two ravens flew overhead, circling her. She heard them before she saw them. The swoop-swoop of their wings was hard to ignore. She was certain they were the largest ravens anywhere. Everything was different as if she’d stepped into some bizarro world instead of the desert. The spiders were massive and hairy, the hawks would try to attack small dogs, and the larger animals, well, they were big enough to keep you inside.

But the ravens she liked. They knew why this had to be done. They’d told her, in her dreams, in those moments they’d accepted food from her. They looked to her for help. She had to do this. The ravens just wanted to save their home. Every year more houses crept into the wilderness, more people set up their houses, not realizing someone already lived there. Or not caring. And the animals that transgressed on the humans’ land, the animals who used old migration patterns that came from their ancestors, were killed.

This was their land. The animals’ land. They were here before humans; they’d be here after. Not all of them, but the ones smart enough to adapt, to take what they needed. Like the ravens.

The birds called out, and she nodded at them. Her arms ached, and her hair was pulled into a sweaty ponytail. She wanted this to be over, to finish this. To finally end what she had started. She knew this had to be done. She’d chosen this. She’d chosen to kill, and now she had to bury her victim. Bury this body so deep that no one, not even the snakes and scorpions, would find it. Bury it so that the earth would accept it as its own. Bury it so she could forget her own betrayal.

“I did this. I killed you,” she said softly as she worked. The birds cawed in response. They knew why she’d done this: it was for them.

It took another hour of filling before she was satisfied, and then she added rocks on top, not as a marker, but to look less like a grave.

This body would get no gravestone.

“I had to do it,” she said. And then got up, wiping the dust off her hands.

She had killed someone. And now the desert held her secret.

April

“Ooof!” Ronnie Khan stumbled, her hands landing hard on the dirt. The tiny rocks dug into her palms, and she knew that despite her jeans, her knees were going to be scraped. She hated this. Absolutely hated everything about this. Hiking was not her thing. How did anyone enjoy this? There were bugs everywhere and sharp, pointy plants whose only purpose was to maim careless humans like her.

“You okay?” Marley Dewhurst leaned over her, her face full of concern.

“Yeah, but wow, that’s gonna leave a mark.” Ronnie laughed to show she was okay. That she was willing to do this. Because you didn’t change without making an effort. Real, honest-to-god change took work.

Marley held her hand out and yanked her up. “Whoa, a few inches more and you’d have landed on that.” She pointed to a scorpion that had been disturbed. It was sitting next to two discarded water bottles and some granola bar wrappers.

Ronnie shrieked, jumping back. “I can do this. I can do this. I can do this,” she said through gritted teeth. She was terrified of the desert. Why had she moved here? There were so many ways the desert could kill you. Every new step into the wilderness (or a well-worn trail that was packed with people most days) meant more chances to die.

“You can! You’re amazing! You are doing it!” Marley cheered her on.

“Maybe your next project can have better motor skills,” Ronnie joked.

“Oh, that’s not fair! You’re being way too hard on yourself. We’ve been here for three weeks, and this is the third hike you’ve been on. That’s huge! And you’re more than a project to me—you know that.”

Huge. Yes it was. Ronnie had moved to Sedona, Arizona, with her friend and wellness fanatic on a whim. And now she was doing what people did out here: hiking. Lots and lots of hiking. Interspersed with yoga. She was doing everything the opposite way the old Ronnie would do things. She was saying yes to life, taking leaps of faith, and trying to be happy. To be well. She hated it.

But this was not what she thought enlightenment would be like. Wellness. All of that shit. If someone had warned her she’d have to hike this much, Ronnie may have just kept her brown butt home in Forest Hills, Queens.

“We’re almost done,” Marley said.

“You’re lying, aren’t you?”

“Maybe.” Marley stuck her tongue out at her. “But for real, you’ve got this. You can do it. If you think you can do it, you’ll do it.”

“I can do it,” Ronnie repeated. Like a mantra, like the stupid little engine. She could hike. It was just walking. In the wild. With scary things all around her. But the scariest of all—to Ronnie—were the snakes. Not any snakes, but rattlesnakes. They blended in so well, and it would be so easy to just happen upon one. And then: bam! Life over. How tragic to be out hiking, trying to be well, and then die because of nature.

Ronnie scanned the area around the trail for anything moving. If it moved, it would probably want to kill her. Unless it was a bird. The birds here were something else entirely. Not even remotely related to the pigeons back home. The cardinals were a stunning red, the ravens an inky black. And the size! She’d never seen birds that large just hanging out near humans. They were the third most striking thing about this place. The first two being the red rocks and the color of the sky, respectively. (Fourth was the sheer amount of trash tourists dumped on the trails.)

Overhead, a hawk circled. And larger birds.

“What are those?” She pointed up.

Marley shaded her eyes as she looked. “Huh. Eagles maybe? How cool.”

“Or vultures.”

“Okay, not as cool.” They both laughed. “Ready?”

“Yep! Wait, did I tell you about my dream last night?”

“Let me guess, more ravens?”

Ronnie had been dreaming about the large black birds for weeks, ever since she’d spotted one in Marley’s backyard. She couldn’t help but be fascinated by them. But she hadn’t told Marley exactly what they said to her in her dreams, what they showed her. To be honest, Ronnie didn’t quite get what the dreams meant. She saw pictures of things. She’d long ago decided to ignore her dreams, but it was becoming impossible here. Nightly visions of ravens filled her head.

“Yes! And they were talking to me like we were friends, and I could understand them.” She didn’t say what they talked to her about. The things the dream birds told her made her nervous. They said they’d been waiting for her. And that made her uneasy. She didn’t want Marley to think she was weird or crazy.

“You should be writing your dreams down. Maybe they mean something?” Marley suggested.

“Maybe.”

Ronnie felt a pain in her knee. She was definitely going to be bruised later. But she was alive, she was here, and that counted for something, right?

It was early in the day, not yet eight o’clock. It was the only way to get some peace on the always-packed trails in Sedona. Come eight or eight thirty and you may as well be back on a crowded sidewalk in Manhattan. It was April, and the trails could get hot. Especially right now, with the temperatures warmer than usual. Ronnie felt sweat run down her face. She wished she’d worn a hat to cover her black hair. Her head felt like it was cooking in the bright Arizona sun.

They walked in silence for the next few minutes. Mainly because Ronnie was trying to keep up without panting and Marley was in the zone. That happy wellness zone. Like a runner’s high, only about life. She was the enlightened one. She was the one who’d saved Ronnie, moved her here. Marley was teaching Ronnie to be more empowered. And now she was showing her how to live the perfect, well life. It involved a lot of hikes and smoothies and something called adaptogens. (Ronnie had no idea what adaptogens actually were.)

Just a little more—you can do this. You can!

And then her ankle twisted before she realized it. She went down, again, off to the side of the trail.

“Dammit!” she cursed.

Marley snorted. “You have two left feet today!”

“Ugh, tell me about it.”

“Remember, you’re just starting your journey. Be kind to yourself.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Ronnie rolled her eyes but knew her friend was right. She was comparing herself to Marley in her head, and that was a waste of time. Marley had a head start on being well. Ronnie shook her head when Marley offered to help her up. “I got it.” She took a deep breath and grimaced. “What’s that awful smell?”

“I don’t smell anything?”

“Oh god, it smells like something died. That would explain the vultures.”

Once she lumbered to her feet, Ronnie looked around. “Over there?” About fifteen feet off the trail, a whole lot of birds surrounded some plants, fighting over whatever they were eating. It was like a writhing mass of feathers.

“What the hell?”

“Let me look.” Marley had a hiking stick with her, and she used it to poke the small plants between them and the birds. “What is it?” She leaned forward.

Ronnie scrambled after her. She wasn’t going to let her friend face the pile of birds herself. She stood next to Marley and inched forward. “Let me see the stick.”

She carefully used it to poke through the feathers even farther. And then she saw it. A glimpse of skin. Human skin.

Ronnie always thought if she found a dead body, she’d scream. Or faint. Or something. But she didn’t say a word. She couldn’t. She opened her mouth, and nothing came out. Until her mouth watered uncontrollably and she turned to the side and vomited. Loudly.

The sound of her retching sent the birds into the air. And now she could fully see what they were feasting on: A head had been placed on an agave plant. Next to it, on a prickly pear cactus, were human hands and feet.

“Holy shit,” Marley whispered, leaning in closer. “Is it real?”

“Don’t get close!” Ronnie rinsed her mouth with her water. “Shit, call 911.”

“My phone doesn’t work out here.” Marley held her phone up to the sky in a vain attempt to get service.

“Fuck.”

“You stay here, and I’ll hike down. It’ll be the fastest way.”

“What?! No, you can’t leave me with that!” She gestured to the head. She was pretty sure it was a man’s head. But she didn’t want to look too closely. The birds wouldn’t let her nearer anyways.

“I can get to someone faster than you.”

Ronnie groaned, but her friend was right. She’d only slow things down.

“I’ll be fast, I promise. You have enough water? Don’t puke anymore, okay?”

Ronnie nodded, miserable. She was going to have to babysit body parts. What stage of enlightenment was this?

She waited for what seemed like hours. Days. “This is hell. Hey, you, shoo!” She tried to keep the birds from feasting on the head but gave up. This was their turf; she had no say. And frankly, she didn’t want to upset them. The way some of them looked at her, like they could see through her, was unnerving. A few of them were investigating her puddle of vomit. Gross.

One black raven—which stood over a foot tall—came near her. It pecked her water bottle with its beak.

“Oh, you want water? Okay, hold on.” Ronnie slowly poured some out for the bird, who drank it gladly. A few others came to her until she had no water left. “Great, now I’m going to die too.” She wasn’t mad, though. She marveled that the birds were smart enough to ask her for water. Or were used to begging from humans.

Her backpack had no more bottles but did have more sunblock. Ronnie sprayed it on herself. The sun was so strong out here. Even ten minutes outside would make her tan, and hours would actually make her burn. She wanted neither thing to happen. She could practically hear her aunt’s voice saying, “Good desi girls don’t get tans.”

At least she had a view of the arch here. That was the big draw of this trail. A sandstone arch called Devil’s Bridge. The name made her shiver. What a place to dump a body. Or part of a body. They weren’t on the arch itself. That was too advanced a hike for Ronnie. But normally, there was a line of people waiting to walk on the thin arch, take photos for their ’Gram.

What if the person who left these is still here?

The thought made her nervous. She looked around for anyone. They had beat the rush on the trail, but any minute now it would be teeming with more people than ants. It was blessedly empty now but not for long. Oh god, what if they’re watching me?

“Over there!” she heard Marley shout. There her friend was, bringing in a couple of park rangers. She ran over and hugged Ronnie. “You okay?”

Ronnie had never been so happy to see anyone in her life. “Just making friends with the birds. You got any water? They drank all mine.”

“Ladies, can you stay back while we investigate?”

“With pleasure,” Ronnie said, walking back to the trail and as far from the head as she could get. She didn’t want to see it. The birds had picked part of the skull clean. At least she didn’t know who it was—they were so new to town that they barely knew anybody. Small favors.

Soon, a crowd had formed: the two park rangers, some state troopers, and a sheriff. (The sheriff badge made Ronnie giggle. She didn’t know anyone still had sheriffs.) They were all white men.

“Looks like someone was eaten,” one of the men said.

Ronnie and Marley stood around, unsure if they could leave.

“Um, excuse me? Do you need us still?” Marley asked. Ronnie was grateful she was there. Her friend knew how to handle things.

“We need a statement from you both.”

“Is there somewhere indoors we can do that? I’m about to burn.” She smiled widely, and the men nodded. No one said no to Marley. It was one of her many talents. They glanced from her to Ronnie and frowned. It was subtle, but Ronnie saw it. She didn’t have Marley’s gifts. Or her blonde hair. In Arizona, blonde was the preferred color.

“You can sit in our car.”

“That’d be lovely, thank you,” Marley purred, and soon they were in an air-conditioned SUV.

Thank god, Ronnie thought. And then felt guilty for being happy. There was a body out there. That was why they were in the car. But whatever, I didn’t know him.