unknown fate

Chapter Seven, Episode Two

Scene 1

Inside the car, Imam sat behind the wheel, his mobile phone placed on the dashboard, eyes locked on the GPS screen with intense focus. He whispered to himself, voice low and tense:

Imam (muttering): “I’ve driven almost five kilometers… and there’s another checkpoint up ahead. But this one looks different—black uniforms, masked faces… and far too many of them. Why so many?”

His breathing quickened slightly as the thought struck him: another confrontation loomed, and he had no idea how it would end.

Minutes later, as he drove along the desolate road flanked by merciless desert on both sides, faint lights appeared on the horizon. As he drew closer, the scene unfolded: another Egyptian checkpoint, larger and far more organized than the previous one. A long line of vehicles waited their turn, soldiers and officers everywhere, their faces sharp, their eyes scrutinizing every movement.

A surge of unease coursed through Imam’s chest, but he steadied himself, controlling his breath as he eased the car forward until he reached the stopping point. The commanding officer cast him a quick glance before approaching his window with a formal smile.

Officer: “Glad to see you safe.”

Imam (forcing a nervous smile): “Thank you, sir.”

Officer: “Where are you headed?”

Imam hesitated for a moment, then replied with calculated steadiness:

Imam: “My father is ill, sir… I’m going to visit him and make sure he’s alright.”

The officer raised his eyebrows slightly, studying him, before asking with a note of suspicion:

Officer: “Do you usually pass this way, or is this your first time?”

Imam swallowed hard and answered quietly, as if sharing an undeniable truth:

Imam: “Honestly, sir… I haven’t taken this road in years. My father was always in good health. He and my mother used to visit me regularly in Cairo. But now… their health can’t take the strain. So I decided to visit them myself. What else can I do? They refuse to leave the place where they were born and come live with me.”

A brief silence followed, as though the officer were weighing every word. Finally, he nodded in acceptance and motioned to the nearby soldier.

Officer: “Open the way for him, son… Go ahead, safe travels.”

The car crept forward slowly, but Imam leaned out of the window for a moment.

Imam: “Excuse me, sir… may I use the restroom before I continue?”

The officer studied him carefully before answering firmly:

Officer: “Park over there… the restroom is on your right.”

Imam pulled the car into the designated spot, stepping out with measured strides, though his heart pounded violently in his chest. He knew every second here was critical. On his way to the restroom, he didn’t reach for his phone as he had done before. Instead, he slipped a small pen from his jacket pocket—no ordinary pen, but a hidden camera. He placed it neatly in his breast pocket, angled just right. Quietly, it recorded every detail of the checkpoint: the soldiers, guard posts, vehicle placements, even the officers’ movements.

Minutes later, Imam emerged from the restroom, his demeanor calmer, as though he had successfully completed his covert task. He returned to the car, settled behind the wheel, and started the engine.

As he rolled past the officer, he offered a faint smile and said:

Imam: “Thank you, sir.”

Officer: “Safe travels.”

The barrier lifted, and the road opened before him. He drove past the second gate, leaving behind the floodlit checkpoint in the middle of the desert night. Ahead of him stretched the dark, enigmatic expanse of Sinai—a vast stage of uncertainty and peril, promising nothing but danger… and a fate unknown.

Scene Two

Imam drove along the road in the heart of Sinai, that radiant desert adorned with golden sands and glittering stars scattered across the clear night sky. He was behind the wheel of his car, the night cloaking everything in a deep veil of mystery. Reaching over, he turned on the cassette player, and Egyptian songs filled the silence through the radio waves of Radio Misr.

After covering a long stretch of the road, a checkpoint finally came into view ahead. The place was swarming with Egyptian army soldiers, their figures standing firm under the dim lights. Just beyond the checkpoint loomed the great crossing gate — Imam’s ultimate target, the critical passage through which he planned to smuggle the weapons into the land of Palestine.

He slowed the car and studied the checkpoint carefully from a distance. His eyes counted the soldiers with precision, searching for weak points, examining the watchtowers, and discreetly raising his phone to capture a few images of their positions. Ahead, other cars began moving forward, one after another, passing through the gate.

Imam’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. His gaze flicked to the rearview mirror, then with a sudden decision, he turned the wheel sharply, veering onto a branching road that disappeared into the desert night.

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