Beirut Hurt by David F. Berens

Author:David F. Berens [Berens, David F.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-01-04T00:00:00+00:00

DAYLIGHT HAD long since faded when Chris and Ned entered Denwaar, a place where hope was also long gone. The once bustling district was now reduced to a shadow of its former glory. Night’s inky shadow cast a mournful spell over the scarred landscape, where skeletal structures of abandoned buildings, towering high above the streets, formed a haunting skyline, a testament to the transience of prosperity.

Window panes were shattered or boarded up haphazardly, their hollowed-out sockets overlooking the streets below like desolate, lifeless eyes. Graffiti, the defiant voice of the unheard, was splashed across the worn-down walls.

Clusters of men hung around on dimly lit street corners, their bodies bathed in the soft, flickering glow of the few street lamps that still worked. Their gazes were suspicious, their bodies twitching with nervous energy. Occasionally, a sliver of light would cut through the gloom as someone lit a cigarette, the ember briefly illuminating hardened faces with a feral glint in the eyes.

From high-rise buildings came the sound of two screaming arguments competing for noise space; the sharp, shrill words slicing through the air like shards of glass. The cacophony of domestic disputes ricocheted off the walls, a haunting echo of anger and frustration. Competing with the outbursts was the pulsating beat of music breaking out from other buildings, an escape from reality for those trying to drown out their thoughts. The deep throb of bass was a counterpoint to the sharp cries.

It was the kind of place most people never hoped to go in their lives, but the groups of huddled men were just the kind of people Chris was looking for. With Ned following behind, he strode confidently over to the first group he saw. They turned to face him. Immediately, he tapped the inside of his arm with two fingers in the exact spot where Ned had seen blood on Ziad’s sleeve. One of the men shook his head, and his three companions kept their eyes fixed on Chris and Ned as they walked away.

The two outsiders rounded another corner and found a fire that was giving off acrid smoke, the flames just left to burn on the street. As Ned watched on, Chris walked over to the unattended fire. He crouched down and wafted some of the awful smoke into his face. He then clawed up some of the dirt and ash from the floor and smeared it across his hair and skin. Standing again, he turned to Ned, and saw confusion turn to a smile on his friend’s face as Ned realized the intention.

By the time he approached another group of huddled men, Chris’s eyes were bloodshot from whatever chemicals someone had left burning. He made the same gesture on his arm. After a second of hesitation, one of the men pulled out a phone and made a call. He then pointed over to what appeared to be a closed-down textile store.

Chris and Ned made their way over and waited. They waited for twenty minutes in the still night air.

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