At this height the winds were blowing pretty strongly. Malik, never one for cold temperatures no matter how much time he’s spent in Canada, immediately rubbed his arms. It was definitely nothing like the extreme temperatures in Montreal, but he simply disliked cold. He’s always been much fonder of warm and hot temperatures for some reason.
He looked to one side and then the other, finally spotting the man he was looking for. He was sitting on the protective barrier, lazily swinging one foot back and forth. Is he mad? This is the 25th floor!, he nearly screamed, but decided against it. Like hell he would babysit a grown man and if he fell, well, all the better.
Clearing his throat, he approached, hiding his hands in his pockets. Altaïr turned his face in his direction, looked him up and down, and arranged himself so he was fully turned to him. Still, he didn’t say anything, just kept staring.
After a few seconds Malik grew irritated and started tapping his foot. When even that didn’t make the man speak, he gave up.
“Well? I don’t have all night.”
No response.
“Fine, if you’ve nothing to say, I’m leaving.” Malik threw his hands in the air, incredibly angry and embarrassed for actually taking him seriously and turned around.
“I’m thinking.”
He sighed and turned again. “Think faster, I really don’t have all night.”
“Shut up, you have an entire week here.”
Malik blinked confused. “How do you know about that?” Had Altaïr been stalking him? “Look, just...” He shook his head. “Before we even start, you have to promise that this will be the last time I’ll ever see you again.”
“What?”
“I’m tired of running into you. I want nothing to do with you. Just say what you have to say and leave me alone, or this conversation won’t even start.”
“Fine.”
Malik seemed content with the reply, but was bothered by how fast it came. Weeks of being plagued by this man and he won’t even put up a fight to try and make him stay? It made it seem like those past weeks were for nothing. Although, that also meant tonight would be the last time he would have anything to do with him. That was a good thing, he should be celebrating.
“How much do you know anyway?” Altaïr’s voice was firm and cold, it sent a shiver up his spine.
“You mean about the dreams.” He paused, thinking back on them. “I guess not much, only that they are the reason I’ve been having trouble sleeping lately.” It’s not like he was going to say everyone kept telling him they were memories from his past life. He was sure the other man would laugh so hard he would fall over and Malik didn’t want to be blamed for killing him.
“No, I mean, what do you dream of often?”
“Hm... my brother most of the times.” Kadar was definitely seen often. Sometimes, other robbed figures, but mostly his brother. When he was small, when he got his own robe, when he died. There was also that one quick memory from yesterday’s dream where he treated a man that he was almost sure was Altaïr, but he was definitely not saying it. If anything he would think Malik was a freak.
“What?” Altaïr grimaced. “This is wrong, you should’ve been dreaming about me.”
Malik scoffed at the response. “Not everything revolves around you, get off your high horse.” But he felt kind of embarrassed because he had dreamt of him before, he simply wouldn’t admit it. But it was definitely not as often as his brother showing up in his dreams.
If Altaïr was offended by his comment, he didn’t show it. Instead, he calmly placed his hands in the pocket of his hoodie and looked straight at him. Malik felt his breath get caught in his lungs and straightened up, listening intently.
“This is difficult to explain. I expected you to have started yours dreams sooner, but no matter. I’m sure you realize this by now, but they’re far from normal dreams. They’re memories from a distant time, another life in which you, your brother and I lived together. I can’t explain to you why you have the dreams, but I can explain how.”
Malik wanted to ask if by can’t explain he meant he didn’t know it or if he meant he knew and just couldn’t talk about it, but refrained. He would let Altaïr explain and then he would ask his questions.
“It’s a curse that happens to certain people. It’s not just you and me. It happened to Ezio as well, as you probably already know. His friend Leonardo as well and some other people you have yet to meet. We don’t know much about it other than it happens.”
“And how do I stop them?”
“You don’t. It will stop automatically over time. It’s a progression - once it starts showing you your old memories it will only stop once it has finished showing it all. Or all the important parts, at least.”
“You expect me to believe I lived another life before? Reincarnation, is that it?” He scoffed again at the story, but deep down he was even more surprised at the fact that he didn’t find it so surprising. Probably because everyone’s been talking about it - Anne, Kadar, Sofia... it just wasn’t such a shocking matter anymore.
“Believe it or not, I don’t care. Fact is, the dreams won’t stop. The more you fight against them, the tougher they will be. But here’s the catch, we have found a way to accelerate the process. Make the dreams come faster and they’ll stop sooner than expected.”
That seemed to catch his attention. The sooner he could get rid of them, the better. Raising an eyebrow, he nodded and motioned for Altaïr to continue.
For once, Altaïr was the one sighing. He shifted in his place and gestured with his hands. “This curse binds together people who have lived during the same time period. For Ezio it was him, his uncle and his friend Leonardo. For other members of our group as well. And so on.” He paused for a second and Malik noticed that for the first time in the entire night he seemed tired and his eyes moved somewhere else, not looking straight at him anymore. What was that supposed to mean? “You and I come from the same time period so it binds us together. If we want to finish this, we need to do it together or we’ll suffer through it alone.”
“How?” He took a deep breath.
Altaïr’s eyes were back on his as if he had never faltered in the first place. “When we stay away from each other they get rougher. The closer we are to each other, the easier it will be to deal with them. It’s not a hundred percent functional, but it works most of the time. That’s why I moved to Canada, if you want to know.” He shrugged. “But our brotherhood is getting weak, so I had to come back.”
Malik let the information sink in and pinched his nose. What a headache. What exactly did that mean, he would have to stay close to Altaïr? How close? Just living in the same country? Same state? Did they have to be neighbors? And more importantly, were the nightmares so unbearable that he would agree to this? How far could he go with the panic attacks? While thinking about all that, he decide to ask more about the last part.
“Brotherhood?” Didn’t Ezio say something the day before? Something about how they were losing some war. Maybe it wasn’t the same thing, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that they were related. What kind of war was it anyway?
Altaïr was pensive again. He stroked his chin, and stared at Malik as if contemplating whether or not to indulge information.
“How much do you know about secret organizations?
“What kind?”
Altaïr sighed. “Okay, look, this may sound crazy, I don’t care if you believe in this or not, just make sure you don’t open your mouth about it. There is this war going on, control versus freedom. There are people who want to control humanity, so they forge our path - they make politics, economics, everything work the way they want. It’s a worldwide war that has been fought since humanity began. Our organization fights for humanity’s freedom.”
Malik resisted the urge to laugh. Part of him felt it was a joke, the other part wanted to hear more.
“You mean like... Anonymous?”
“Hmpf.” he snorted. “Not like them. We are them. Or rather, they’re part of us, except in a much smaller scale. They started on their own at first. They were lead by Rebecca and Shaun, two of our best members, but when they got bigger we absorbed them and now they’re one of our most important factions. We can’t fight everything at once, so we have segments. Anonymous for digital freedom, Gulabi gang against women oppression in India, and so on. They’re all part of us.”
His breath was caught again and his eyes widened. Was he serious? How big was this group of his? And why was he sharing such an important information with him? What did he, a tiny teacher from Montreal, have anything to do with this? A curse? Secret organizations? No, this was too much for him.”
“That’s... quite a story.”
He thought Altaïr would get angry at him for not believing, but instead the hooded man grinned.
“I know. It gets betters. I could tell you more, but then you’d have to join us. Actually I would like that.”
Something about the way he said it with that stupid smile made him incredibly angry.
“That’s your own damn problem, novice.”
Altaïr’s grin widened. Malik blinked. What. What, what? Wait, did he just say something that he shouldn’t?
He didn’t have time to think about it because in a second Altaïr jumped down from the fence and was in front of him, trapping his face between his hands.
“Yes! Exactly! See? You remember me.”
“I have no idea what you are talking about!” He batted his hands away. Altaïr didn’t seem happy because his smile was gone instantly.
“This is wrong. Stop dreaming about your brother and start remembering me already, dammit.” Malik made to answer with an angry reply, but Altaïr beat him to it. “Whatever, I can wait. Just hurry up, I need you to join us already.”
“It seems you’ve forgotten about our deal. I listened to you, now I have nothing to do with you anymore. Too bad.”
“No, our deal was for me to leave you alone.” He grabbed a cell phone from the pocket in his jeans and started messing with it. “And I’m going to keep my end of the bargain.”
Instantly his own phone vibrated in his back pocket. Grabbing it, he quickly typed the code to unlock the screen. It was a message from an unknown number.
“That’s my number. I’m not going to seek you out anymore, but I can’t promise the contrary won’t happen. Should the dreams get too unbearable, call me.”
Malik glared the number with fury. What a pretentious prick! What made him think Malik would just give him a call and come back running to him? Because that’s exactly what he had just insinuated. He should probably delete the message, probably delete the number from memory too. No, he was never going to call him.
But when Malik looked in front of him to say what he thought about all of this, he was gone. Just like that, Altaïr simply disappeared. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he opened the message that read a single line:
so call me maybe
He nearly tossed his phone over.
----------
At the very least Altaïr was a man of his word. For the rest of the week he didn't hear or see the hooded man. Ezio mentioned him a couple of times - asking how their meeting had been - but he couldn’t exactly blame the professor for reminding him of the freak.
Instead, he focused on sightseeing. The night prior to his last day in New York he attended another lecture and was glad Altaïr didn’t show up. Still, curiosity got the best of him and when Ezio drove him home, he quietly asked why he wasn’t there. His response was that he had been busy with the brotherhood and thus couldn’t come. There was that as well. The only reason why he hadn't completely disregarded the entire story was because Ezio was in it as well and he trusted the professor. If the professor believed in Altaïr, then perhaps he could take his word to heart. But still, many doubts surrounding their so called brotherhood remained. Were they like masons? Illuminatti? What were they?
And so, on his last day, he thanked Ezio and Sofia both for the stay and safely returned home. No more Altaïr, ever. This time it was forever. He let out a sigh of relief.
Kadar was kind enough to pick him up. He asked about the trip, the lecture, the stay, even about Altaïr (he told his brother he met the man in New York, but didn’t say anything about the magical stuff of rights and freedoms and such nonsense). It felt good to be home.
The dreams persisted for another week, but none so bad he couldn’t take. Until they gradually started getting worse.
First he dreamed of cutting someone’s hand off. A wounded man with a broken hand, in a shape so bad it was beyond repair, so Malik, with his one arm, cut it out, just like they had sawed his arm before.
Then he dreamt of a badly injured Altaïr. They were in the castle, one he had seen in his visions before. A funeral had been going on when a sparkle lit up the sky, something so bright he fell to his knees. Altaïr, who had been by his side, ran. He climbed a tower just outside and did something he couldn’t see, but the bright light stopped and he got up again. He thought everything was over when they were attacked. A lot of soldiers came in from the unguarded gate killing everyone they saw in their way. Before he knew what was going on, someone shot Altaïr with an arrow and he fell. From the tower. It was probably over 65 feet tall. He only remembered rushing to the man and seeing blood, so much blood, and there was something in his hand, a golden object.
But the third time was the charm. He was taking care of a young man. He wasn’t in the same room he had been before, the one with the orange glow and cushions, taking care of maps. No, now he was proud and tall inside the castle and he was personally taking care of a young man that, for some reason, Malik felt a lot of affection for, like he was his own son or nephew. (Could it have been because he had lost Kadar in this universe? Because he saw his brother in him?) He doesn’t remember seeing this man a lot, but he knew he cared deeply for him and something made him want to protect the lad with everything he got.
A few days later another man came in his room with his head scalped and bloodied in hand, blaming him for killing this young man, this person he cared like he did a son. He was jailed, the head thrown in by his side for three days before the smell got the best of the guards and they finally decided to take it out. He could pray they buried the lad, though he doubted it.
Malik woke up. He didn’t scream, he didn’t panic. He just ran to the bathroom as fast as possible and vomited his dinner.
No, no. This was becoming nonsense. It had to stop.
Not even thinking twice about it, he returned to his room and grabbed the cell phone. It was still 1am, but he didn’t care if he woke Altaïr up - he messaged him. If Altaïr could make this stop, if he had to put up with Altaïr’s presence just to stop this, he would. No more panic attacks, no more throwing up.
Minutes passed, and no response. Sighing, Malik lied down again. He had been a fool to trust Altaïr, he shouldn’t have--
The screen brightened in the dark room and the cell phone vibrated against the night stand. Moving as slowly as possible, he reached the device. It came from Altaïr, but it didn’t say anything, just an address in New York. What was that supposed to mean?
Not even two seconds later and another message. It was a ticket to New York, a plane leaving in exactly two hours. He raised a brow at it. A third message and like before, it only read a single line.
im waiting for you
Normally Malik would have shrugged it off and returned to sleep. But this was far from a normal situation, so without even thinking about it, he packed up a backpack with a few clothes, a toothbrush and the charger for his phone.
A quick message to Kadar and he was off. He was at the address specified in the messaged at five o’clock. It was a small apartment, 8th floor.
Dream Catcher - Part 4b
He looked to one side and then the other, finally spotting the man he was looking for. He was sitting on the protective barrier, lazily swinging one foot back and forth. Is he mad? This is the 25th floor!, he nearly screamed, but decided against it. Like hell he would babysit a grown man and if he fell, well, all the better.
Clearing his throat, he approached, hiding his hands in his pockets. Altaïr turned his face in his direction, looked him up and down, and arranged himself so he was fully turned to him. Still, he didn’t say anything, just kept staring.
After a few seconds Malik grew irritated and started tapping his foot. When even that didn’t make the man speak, he gave up.
“Well? I don’t have all night.”
No response.
“Fine, if you’ve nothing to say, I’m leaving.” Malik threw his hands in the air, incredibly angry and embarrassed for actually taking him seriously and turned around.
“I’m thinking.”
He sighed and turned again. “Think faster, I really don’t have all night.”
“Shut up, you have an entire week here.”
Malik blinked confused. “How do you know about that?” Had Altaïr been stalking him? “Look, just...” He shook his head. “Before we even start, you have to promise that this will be the last time I’ll ever see you again.”
“What?”
“I’m tired of running into you. I want nothing to do with you. Just say what you have to say and leave me alone, or this conversation won’t even start.”
“Fine.”
Malik seemed content with the reply, but was bothered by how fast it came. Weeks of being plagued by this man and he won’t even put up a fight to try and make him stay? It made it seem like those past weeks were for nothing. Although, that also meant tonight would be the last time he would have anything to do with him. That was a good thing, he should be celebrating.
“How much do you know anyway?” Altaïr’s voice was firm and cold, it sent a shiver up his spine.
“You mean about the dreams.” He paused, thinking back on them. “I guess not much, only that they are the reason I’ve been having trouble sleeping lately.” It’s not like he was going to say everyone kept telling him they were memories from his past life. He was sure the other man would laugh so hard he would fall over and Malik didn’t want to be blamed for killing him.
“No, I mean, what do you dream of often?”
“Hm... my brother most of the times.” Kadar was definitely seen often. Sometimes, other robbed figures, but mostly his brother. When he was small, when he got his own robe, when he died. There was also that one quick memory from yesterday’s dream where he treated a man that he was almost sure was Altaïr, but he was definitely not saying it. If anything he would think Malik was a freak.
“What?” Altaïr grimaced. “This is wrong, you should’ve been dreaming about me.”
Malik scoffed at the response. “Not everything revolves around you, get off your high horse.” But he felt kind of embarrassed because he had dreamt of him before, he simply wouldn’t admit it. But it was definitely not as often as his brother showing up in his dreams.
If Altaïr was offended by his comment, he didn’t show it. Instead, he calmly placed his hands in the pocket of his hoodie and looked straight at him. Malik felt his breath get caught in his lungs and straightened up, listening intently.
“This is difficult to explain. I expected you to have started yours dreams sooner, but no matter. I’m sure you realize this by now, but they’re far from normal dreams. They’re memories from a distant time, another life in which you, your brother and I lived together. I can’t explain to you why you have the dreams, but I can explain how.”
Malik wanted to ask if by can’t explain he meant he didn’t know it or if he meant he knew and just couldn’t talk about it, but refrained. He would let Altaïr explain and then he would ask his questions.
“It’s a curse that happens to certain people. It’s not just you and me. It happened to Ezio as well, as you probably already know. His friend Leonardo as well and some other people you have yet to meet. We don’t know much about it other than it happens.”
“And how do I stop them?”
“You don’t. It will stop automatically over time. It’s a progression - once it starts showing you your old memories it will only stop once it has finished showing it all. Or all the important parts, at least.”
“You expect me to believe I lived another life before? Reincarnation, is that it?” He scoffed again at the story, but deep down he was even more surprised at the fact that he didn’t find it so surprising. Probably because everyone’s been talking about it - Anne, Kadar, Sofia... it just wasn’t such a shocking matter anymore.
“Believe it or not, I don’t care. Fact is, the dreams won’t stop. The more you fight against them, the tougher they will be. But here’s the catch, we have found a way to accelerate the process. Make the dreams come faster and they’ll stop sooner than expected.”
That seemed to catch his attention. The sooner he could get rid of them, the better. Raising an eyebrow, he nodded and motioned for Altaïr to continue.
For once, Altaïr was the one sighing. He shifted in his place and gestured with his hands. “This curse binds together people who have lived during the same time period. For Ezio it was him, his uncle and his friend Leonardo. For other members of our group as well. And so on.” He paused for a second and Malik noticed that for the first time in the entire night he seemed tired and his eyes moved somewhere else, not looking straight at him anymore. What was that supposed to mean? “You and I come from the same time period so it binds us together. If we want to finish this, we need to do it together or we’ll suffer through it alone.”
“How?” He took a deep breath.
Altaïr’s eyes were back on his as if he had never faltered in the first place. “When we stay away from each other they get rougher. The closer we are to each other, the easier it will be to deal with them. It’s not a hundred percent functional, but it works most of the time. That’s why I moved to Canada, if you want to know.” He shrugged. “But our brotherhood is getting weak, so I had to come back.”
Malik let the information sink in and pinched his nose. What a headache. What exactly did that mean, he would have to stay close to Altaïr? How close? Just living in the same country? Same state? Did they have to be neighbors? And more importantly, were the nightmares so unbearable that he would agree to this? How far could he go with the panic attacks? While thinking about all that, he decide to ask more about the last part.
“Brotherhood?” Didn’t Ezio say something the day before? Something about how they were losing some war. Maybe it wasn’t the same thing, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that they were related. What kind of war was it anyway?
Altaïr was pensive again. He stroked his chin, and stared at Malik as if contemplating whether or not to indulge information.
“How much do you know about secret organizations?
“What kind?”
Altaïr sighed. “Okay, look, this may sound crazy, I don’t care if you believe in this or not, just make sure you don’t open your mouth about it. There is this war going on, control versus freedom. There are people who want to control humanity, so they forge our path - they make politics, economics, everything work the way they want. It’s a worldwide war that has been fought since humanity began. Our organization fights for humanity’s freedom.”
Malik resisted the urge to laugh. Part of him felt it was a joke, the other part wanted to hear more.
“You mean like... Anonymous?”
“Hmpf.” he snorted. “Not like them. We are them. Or rather, they’re part of us, except in a much smaller scale. They started on their own at first. They were lead by Rebecca and Shaun, two of our best members, but when they got bigger we absorbed them and now they’re one of our most important factions. We can’t fight everything at once, so we have segments. Anonymous for digital freedom, Gulabi gang against women oppression in India, and so on. They’re all part of us.”
His breath was caught again and his eyes widened. Was he serious? How big was this group of his? And why was he sharing such an important information with him? What did he, a tiny teacher from Montreal, have anything to do with this? A curse? Secret organizations? No, this was too much for him.”
“That’s... quite a story.”
He thought Altaïr would get angry at him for not believing, but instead the hooded man grinned.
“I know. It gets betters. I could tell you more, but then you’d have to join us. Actually I would like that.”
Something about the way he said it with that stupid smile made him incredibly angry.
“That’s your own damn problem, novice.”
Altaïr’s grin widened. Malik blinked. What. What, what? Wait, did he just say something that he shouldn’t?
He didn’t have time to think about it because in a second Altaïr jumped down from the fence and was in front of him, trapping his face between his hands.
“Yes! Exactly! See? You remember me.”
“I have no idea what you are talking about!” He batted his hands away. Altaïr didn’t seem happy because his smile was gone instantly.
“This is wrong. Stop dreaming about your brother and start remembering me already, dammit.” Malik made to answer with an angry reply, but Altaïr beat him to it. “Whatever, I can wait. Just hurry up, I need you to join us already.”
“It seems you’ve forgotten about our deal. I listened to you, now I have nothing to do with you anymore. Too bad.”
“No, our deal was for me to leave you alone.” He grabbed a cell phone from the pocket in his jeans and started messing with it. “And I’m going to keep my end of the bargain.”
Instantly his own phone vibrated in his back pocket. Grabbing it, he quickly typed the code to unlock the screen. It was a message from an unknown number.
“That’s my number. I’m not going to seek you out anymore, but I can’t promise the contrary won’t happen. Should the dreams get too unbearable, call me.”
Malik glared the number with fury. What a pretentious prick! What made him think Malik would just give him a call and come back running to him? Because that’s exactly what he had just insinuated. He should probably delete the message, probably delete the number from memory too. No, he was never going to call him.
But when Malik looked in front of him to say what he thought about all of this, he was gone. Just like that, Altaïr simply disappeared. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he opened the message that read a single line:
so call me maybe
He nearly tossed his phone over.
----------
At the very least Altaïr was a man of his word. For the rest of the week he didn't hear or see the hooded man. Ezio mentioned him a couple of times - asking how their meeting had been - but he couldn’t exactly blame the professor for reminding him of the freak.
Instead, he focused on sightseeing. The night prior to his last day in New York he attended another lecture and was glad Altaïr didn’t show up. Still, curiosity got the best of him and when Ezio drove him home, he quietly asked why he wasn’t there. His response was that he had been busy with the brotherhood and thus couldn’t come. There was that as well. The only reason why he hadn't completely disregarded the entire story was because Ezio was in it as well and he trusted the professor. If the professor believed in Altaïr, then perhaps he could take his word to heart. But still, many doubts surrounding their so called brotherhood remained. Were they like masons? Illuminatti? What were they?
And so, on his last day, he thanked Ezio and Sofia both for the stay and safely returned home. No more Altaïr, ever. This time it was forever. He let out a sigh of relief.
Kadar was kind enough to pick him up. He asked about the trip, the lecture, the stay, even about Altaïr (he told his brother he met the man in New York, but didn’t say anything about the magical stuff of rights and freedoms and such nonsense). It felt good to be home.
The dreams persisted for another week, but none so bad he couldn’t take. Until they gradually started getting worse.
First he dreamed of cutting someone’s hand off. A wounded man with a broken hand, in a shape so bad it was beyond repair, so Malik, with his one arm, cut it out, just like they had sawed his arm before.
Then he dreamt of a badly injured Altaïr. They were in the castle, one he had seen in his visions before. A funeral had been going on when a sparkle lit up the sky, something so bright he fell to his knees. Altaïr, who had been by his side, ran. He climbed a tower just outside and did something he couldn’t see, but the bright light stopped and he got up again. He thought everything was over when they were attacked. A lot of soldiers came in from the unguarded gate killing everyone they saw in their way. Before he knew what was going on, someone shot Altaïr with an arrow and he fell. From the tower. It was probably over 65 feet tall. He only remembered rushing to the man and seeing blood, so much blood, and there was something in his hand, a golden object.
But the third time was the charm. He was taking care of a young man. He wasn’t in the same room he had been before, the one with the orange glow and cushions, taking care of maps. No, now he was proud and tall inside the castle and he was personally taking care of a young man that, for some reason, Malik felt a lot of affection for, like he was his own son or nephew. (Could it have been because he had lost Kadar in this universe? Because he saw his brother in him?) He doesn’t remember seeing this man a lot, but he knew he cared deeply for him and something made him want to protect the lad with everything he got.
A few days later another man came in his room with his head scalped and bloodied in hand, blaming him for killing this young man, this person he cared like he did a son. He was jailed, the head thrown in by his side for three days before the smell got the best of the guards and they finally decided to take it out. He could pray they buried the lad, though he doubted it.
Malik woke up. He didn’t scream, he didn’t panic. He just ran to the bathroom as fast as possible and vomited his dinner.
No, no. This was becoming nonsense. It had to stop.
Not even thinking twice about it, he returned to his room and grabbed the cell phone. It was still 1am, but he didn’t care if he woke Altaïr up - he messaged him. If Altaïr could make this stop, if he had to put up with Altaïr’s presence just to stop this, he would. No more panic attacks, no more throwing up.
Minutes passed, and no response. Sighing, Malik lied down again. He had been a fool to trust Altaïr, he shouldn’t have--
The screen brightened in the dark room and the cell phone vibrated against the night stand. Moving as slowly as possible, he reached the device. It came from Altaïr, but it didn’t say anything, just an address in New York. What was that supposed to mean?
Not even two seconds later and another message. It was a ticket to New York, a plane leaving in exactly two hours. He raised a brow at it. A third message and like before, it only read a single line.
im waiting for you
Normally Malik would have shrugged it off and returned to sleep. But this was far from a normal situation, so without even thinking about it, he packed up a backpack with a few clothes, a toothbrush and the charger for his phone.
A quick message to Kadar and he was off. He was at the address specified in the messaged at five o’clock. It was a small apartment, 8th floor.
Taking in a deep breath, he rang the bell.