Chapter Twelve
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Arastoo Mazanderani worried his lower lip with his teeth. Panic hovered just beneath the surface of his fanatic mind.
Silent, his burner cellphone lay before him. For three days, he awaited a call from Kasra Anvari.
Following his sister's arrival in San Francisco, Kasra discreetly shadowed BahAr. The only news Arastoo received from the outside came from Kasra. He frequently reported on her progress. She successfully distributed the plague virus.
Each day, a text message arrived from Kasra depicting the situation. Although his friend praised his sister’s ability to spread the fleas, he voiced doubts about her behavior. The removal of her hijab distressed him. Her lewd behavior sent him into a fury. Arastoo ordered Kasra to remain close to her. If she continued her abominable behavior, he demanded a swift punishment. Still, he expected his plan to move forward.
Following the San Francisco spread, BahAr should have gotten on a plane for New Orleans, Louisiana. A package containing colorful hijabs awaited her. Concealed inside lay an additional ten vials of plague-infested fleas. However, all communications with Kasra Anvari abruptly ceased.
Shut off in the Iranian Takht-e-Soleiman range, Arastoo could not acquire firsthand information. The occurrences of the outside world eluded him. Therefore, he believed his plan to destroy the San Franciscan LBGTQ community succeeded. Moving forward, he depended upon the same results in New Orleans. He did not realize how quickly the pandemic spread. If he had known, the furtherance of his plan would have been unnecessary.
The plague swiftly traveled from California to the remainder of the United States. Europe, Asia, Africa, South America, and Australia declared total shut down areas. In Tehran, the first cases began to emerge.
Throughout his life, everyone treated Arastoo Mazanderani as though he were a genius. Chemistry excited him, and he excelled in it. However, fanaticism drove him to ignorance. He could not see the world outside his comprehension. Shades of grey did not exist in his limited world. Right was right, and wrong was wrong. There was nothing else.
“Death to America,” Arastoo muttered, glaring at the mobile phone. Absently, he spun it with his finger. Then, he lifted it to check for messages. Nothing appeared.
Angrily, he slammed it down onto the table. The glass screen cracked, furthering his fury. Arastoo Mazanderani glared at it.
"Allahu Akbar," Zeeba Bahrami exclaimed, entering the cave that held their chemistry laboratory. She slept later than she intended. Donning her lab coat, she sat down in front of a microscope.
"Allahu Akbar," her companion responded less enthusiastically.
“Still no word?” Zeeba asked, ogling Arastoo from behind her thick glasses.
“No.” The response sounded snappish.
Zeeba longed to approach Arastoo. She wished to put her arms around him to comfort him. Her love for him grew stronger, day by day. At night she dreamed of sliding into bed next to him. Wild images of lovemaking filled her fantasies. Soon, she knew she would approach him, make him her own. She could not contain herself if they remained hidden in solitude for much longer.
Unaccustomed to male attention, Zeeba frustrated herself with lewd dreams. Then, she prostrated herself before Allah for being weak-minded. Depression weighed heavily upon her heart.
For a moment, she hesitated. She plugged her eye against the microscope's lens. Her attention riveted onto the specimen entrapped in the glass. The new plague strain appeared more viral than the initial one.
Tentatively, Zeeba glanced at her companion again. Without consideration, she slid off her stool and stood behind him. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and tenderly bent to kiss his shiny black hair. Her hand slid between the buttons of his white shirt. She caressed his smooth chest. Then, she unzipped his black pants and slipped her fingers inside.
“Do not touch me, woman,” Arastoo hissed, releasing himself from her embrace. “One hundred lashes for initiating unmarried sex according to Sharia Law.”
Furiously, Arastoo Mazanderani backhanded Zeeba. Clutching her swollen cheek, she backed away from her lab partner. Angrily, he struck her again. The weight of the blow caused her glasses to sail off her nose. They crunched beneath the fanatic’s advancing feet. Blinded, she stumbled and fell.
A whip cracked in the air. Again, it hissed and struck. Its heavy weight fell upon the sightless woman. Like a venomous snake, it bit into her skin. Her white blouse tore, and blood stained it.
Madness overcame Arastoo as he continuously struck. Unleashed, he vented his frustrations upon Zeeba. Hugely, he stood above the quavering women.
Sweat beads flew from Arastoo’s forehead as he wielded his weapon. Furiously, he snapped the whip. Flinging it over his shoulder, he utilized his muscular arm to crack it forward. The whip hissed through the stillness of the laboratory cave.
The form crouched on the floor lost its human structure. For Arastoo, it became little more than a vile object.
Zeeba whimpered. She crawled toward the cavern's entranceway, raising her hands and knees. Survival strengthened her. Despite the leather whip's cutting bark, she pulled herself onward. A trail of blood followed her, illuminating her path.
Arastoo continued to strike. Lossing count, he surpassed the hundred lashes subscribed by Sharia Law. Frantically, he continued to beat his lab partner.
Finally, Zeeba collapsed near the entrance. Her body quivered, then stilled. Her ragged breathing ceased.
Standing above her, Arastoo prodded her with the toe of his black shoe. Then, using his foot, he rolled her over. Her eyes fixed on him, then glazed. His partner of three years stared blankly up at him.
“Women,” Arastoo Mazanderani muttered, turning away.
He chastised himself for choosing Zeeba Bahrami as his assistant. However, he never actually viewed her as a woman. To him, she was only a chemist. He decided to overlook the obvious. Attracted by her genius, he drew closer to her. Their conversations brightened his day, although they only discussed chemistry.
Zeeba did not attract him. Yasmina, his wife, did not entirely seduce him. The homosexual men he discovered in London did. During the overnight hours, his dreams took him back to Soho. Closing his eyes, he reobserved the street scene, the nightclubs, and bars packed with lewd men and women. The desire to join them grew stronger each time he went there.
Zeeba’s grasping touch threw Arastoo into a panic. His strong reaction destroyed her. It destroyed Arastoo. He did not beat her because of Sharia Law; he beat her because her woman’s touch offended him. Admittedly, Arastoo Mazanderani admired men over women.
Wildly, the chemist ran his hands through his hair until it stood on end. His primeval scream echoed back through the winding cave system. His master plan to destroy the LBGTQ community pushed him to the edge of insanity. If he demolished the source of his temptation, he would free himself of his evil thoughts.
Falling to his knees, Arastoo prostrated himself before Allah.
"If you love Allah, follow me, Allah will love you and forgive you your sins. Allah is forgiving, merciful," the prostrate fanatic quoted from the Quran. (Quran 3:31)
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After a while, Arastoo rose. Averting his eyes from his partner's body, he returned to his work. He placed his eye against the microscope Zeeba had studied earlier. The slide showed a more viral strain of plague than he'd previously concocted. Grinning widely, he believed Allah answered his prayers.
“Paris,” he gleefully stated, rubbing his hands together.
Delighted in his plans, Arastoo lifted his cellphone and checked his messages. No new texts arrived from Kasra Anvari. However, he sent one demanding a response.
In his mind, he imagined his sister and friend had changed locations. Perhaps Kasra had trouble reconnecting. The channels of communication remained faulty. Arastoo felt sure he would have news soon. Once they completed their task in New Orleans, they could move on to Paris to spread the newest strain.
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Meanwhile, in San Francisco, Kasra Anvari lay in his hotel room. The maid discovered him when she entered to clean. Hastily, the manager phoned the EMTs, who swiftly removed the body. Another victim of the plague entered the death records.
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