4. CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FOUR
More than once, it felt as though I were hurtling toward my open grave.
After touching down in Sarajevo, I boarded the bus bound for Mostar. “Bus” was generous. Rather, it was a cramped shuttle van in desperate need of repair. I squeezed into a seat near the rear, my stomach rolling through white-knuckle sharp turns and the occasional slam of brakes as sheep blocked the road on blind curves. Steep ravines stretched below, not a safety rail in sight as the van rocked in high winds. As if my anxiety needed any more of a boost.
At one point, two passengers made their way to the front and began arguing animatedly with the driver. Worn down, he shrugged, spun the bus in the opposite direction, and headed on to what I guessed was an unscheduled and possibly bribed stop.
I glimpsed road signs for Mostar through chaotic flashes of headlights in the pitch-blackness. We were beyond late for our scheduled arrival, and my stress skyrocketed every time I dared to check the time. Upon entering the city limits, we wove through narrow streets spotted with graffiti before pulling up to a deserted bus stop. At least the extended time off my feet meant my ankle had gone from puffy down to a fairly normal size.
That being said, my legs were like I’d been aboard a ship, wobbling beneath me as I disembarked from the godforsaken bus. My eagerness to be rid of it evaporated at the sight of the station, the ticket window dark, a lonely yellowed light covered in cobwebs the sole beacon of hope. It flickered miserably. I searched around me, but my fellow riders had vanished into the night.
This couldn’t be right.
I swiped open my phone, switching on roaming. The bars flashed, searching for a few moments, before giving up.
“No.” My heartbeat ratcheted up a notch.
So much for saving my data. When I needed it, it didn’t even matter. I shoved the useless thing into a pocket and hauled Bertha onto my tight shoulders. I made my way toward the dark alleys, choosing one with the smallest hint of life.
I passed by shuttered windows and heavy wooden doors, a lone cat roaming the street my only companion. At last, up ahead, I sighed in relief as the cold, sharp light of a grocery store seared my retinas. I hung outside, wondering if anyone might speak English. The solo teller chatted with a woman as she paid, and I waited until they finished to approach.
I caught his eye immediately. “Hello,” I said. “English?”
He shook his head as he helped another shopper.
I bit my lip and brought the screenshot of the map showing my hotel up, then pitifully held out my phone toward him. I pointed at it as he glanced at me again from his register. Feeling like a complete fool, I raised my hands in a universal sign for “clueless” and offered a sheepish grin.
He held back a chuckle as the next customer stepped forward. He let out a thoughtful “Hmm,” before motioning for my phone again. Then he brought his current customer, a man perhaps in his early thirties, if I had to guess, into the conversation. They spoke quickly, taking it in turns to zoom in on my map .
I waited patiently, embarrassment churning my stomach. After a few moments, the teller gave a nod and turned to me. He motioned toward the man he’d been conferring with, then to me, before laying one hand flat and walking two fingers across it, then pointing out the door.
The message was clear enough.I nodded fervently, my mimed gratitude completely overdone.
I waited for the man to pay, then he gestured for me to go ahead. He watched me with curious hazel eyes and pushed a shock of dark, curly hair from his forehead. Nervously, I shot a shy smile back as I followed him out of the store, doing my best to avoid limping despite my still tender ankle. He moved right, and I adjusted course, mirroring his steps across a small, black square with a gnarled tree sprouting from cobbled stone. On the other side lay a very dark, very narrow alley.
My feet froze.
He’d reached the entrance before noticing I wasn’t by his side and turned to find me. The crease between his brows deepened before he once more gestured down the alley.
Blood pounded in my ears.
Stupid. Imbecile. Death trap. Suicide.
I couldn’t pick. They all seemed equally applicable.
How the hell had I gotten myself into this position again ?
At first, he waited stoically. Finally, he gave a resigned little shrug, then took a few steps into the mouth of the alley, hesitating to check if I was following him.
I weighed my options at supersonic speed. The risks were obvious, but what was my alternative? To roam, lost, through countless other streets and never find my way? At least I knew someone was waiting in the shadows and was prepared for it. Plus, I’d sought out this someone, not the other way around. My heart banged wildly in my chest. Feeling on the verge of a panic attack, somehow my feet moved forward in a pathetic shuffle.
The man seemed satisfied, though his eyes tightened as he appeared to notice my uneven gait. His gaze dropped, and he turned his back on me, keeping a slow and steady pace ahead. The walls surrounded me like a tomb, muffling out all sounds of life…
No, don’t think about it, just keep moving.
Forward. Forward was the way out. And at least all this stone would carry a good, healthy scream if necessary.
He walked farther in the gloom as he peeked over his shoulder. I’d caught up close enough to him as to not be impolite. Still out of arm’s reach, but near enough to make out the concerned lines framing his mouth, which was twisted into a frown.
Of course. Because he wasn’t some monster in the dark. He was a human being helping me.
Get a grip, Mallory!
I gave what I hoped was a normal smile. His eyes warmed before he faced forward, crossing the last few strides to the end of the alley.
He stepped into the warm glow first. I practically lurched into it, so eager to exit the claustrophobia. I sucked in a breath as I looked around and nearly laughed with relief.
This street was packed with people. Soft music whined from an old radio perched next to a group of men. They clustered together on stairs leading to an open door, a welcoming, soft light bathing them from inside. From there, I scanned up the stone path.
Every single stoop and step were similarly occupied with people enjoying their evening—chatting, playing cards, or being ushered in for dinner. The rattle of doors locking as stores closed for the night melded with the steady rush of the river I knew ran in front of us, but was too dark and low to see. To my left, the arched Stari Most bridge hung elegantly over the cavern, a perfect replica of the photograph from the guidebook that had first introduced me to this place.
Everything emanated calm, peace, and comfort. I spun back to the man, who stood watching me take it all in before he tilted his head, indicating for me to follow him. I was walking closer now and accidentally ran into him when he stopped without warning to join one of the countless doorstep groups.
“Sorry!” I said, pushing away from his muscular torso.
Understanding lit his features before he said in heavily accented English, “It’s fine.” He pointed ahead once again and added, “Just a few more blocks, then on your left. It’s a tall, yellow building.”
“Thank you,” I breathed. “I really appreciate it. Good night.” I looked at his friends. All of them were biting back shit-eating grins while smirking at my guide. When their gaze darted to me, I felt my ears redden.
“You’re welcome,” he said, drawing my attention to him once more. I gave a little curtsy out of embarrassment, which only made me feel even more ridiculous, and shook my head as I hurried off.
It wasn’t long before I heard boisterous laughter and the slap of hands, and I spied the group discreetly over my shoulder. The man was pushing his friends away as they whooped and patted him on the back, obviously giving him a hard time. He ducked to hide his shy smile.
My heart gave a small flutter as I turned with a smile of my own.
But I was alone again and, though this friendly street was not the same as those I’d fled through in Marseille, they were not dissimilar, either. My eyes pierced through the gloom, searching the unlit house numbers.
Finally, there! Just as the man had said, it was tall and yellow, a stark, utilitarian building with a set of metal staircases winding up the center. I wandered up the walkway, noticing a young man with a pleasant face sitting on the steps leading to the entrance.
I retrieved the screenshot of my reservation before approaching him.
“Are you Ivan?”
He rose, smiling. “Yes.”
“I’m so sorry I’m late,” I apologized. “I got lost coming from the station.”
“Ah, not to worry!” he said with a wave of his hand. “I’m glad you found us. This way.”
He led me upstairs to the fourth floor, and I couldn’t help keeping half a staircase between us. When he led me inside, it was to a simple room—modest, clean, and comfortable. A narrow bed against the wall was adorned with a cheerful floral duvet. Beyond a glass door was a concrete deck overlooking the city below.
“I’ll just need you to sign these,” Ivan said, shuffling through his papers to the correct page. After I did, he straightened them. “I’ll be right back.”
“All right.” My gaze darted about the room until I heard his returning steps.
“A little something to welcome you to Mostar,” he said, holding up a massive slice of fluffy white cake.
“Oh, how sweet of you, thank you!” My stomach rumbled its appreciation as well. It seemed like days since I’d last eaten.
“I also brought you a map of the city and circled a few of the most popular spots, as well as a few I’d recommend. Did you have any questions?”
I hesitated. What was there to ask? I had nothing to go on, no agenda.
“No, this is all wonderful. Thank you so much. And sorry again about being so late.”
He waved his hand once more. “Not at all. Thank you for staying with us. Please let me know if I can help and have a good night.”
He shut the door quietly, and I slid the dead bolt before flopping onto the bed with a grateful sigh. My body was dead weight, drained from the break-neck journey at every turn and lack of sleep. And then there were the other worries, the memories I’d been trying to quarantine to the background all the while.
I sat up, my head pounding from the sudden movement. For a while, I perused the map, my finger following the path of the Neretva River to Stari Most bridge, which Ivan had circled. My mind wandered aimlessly, and I gave up on the map, succumbing to the soft mattress instead. I hadn’t noticed the time when Ivan had gone, so when I did roll over to look at my phone, I was surprised by how late it was. The noises from the people surrounding the apartment building had barely dulled.
The bed creaked as I pushed off it, turning the doorknob to go out onto the balcony. Wind blasted me, grit catching in my eyelashes. I closed the door behind me, tears streaming to clear my vision as the gusts died for a moment. I leaned against the chilled railing, breathing deeply as I spotted the Big Dipper peeking out between spots of clouds. The moon shone down across the undulating waters on my left. The peaceful setting sent a stream of calm through me, and my body finally relaxed.
Sleep eventually found me, but it was fitful and restless. It felt as though I’d been asleep for a nanosecond when I bolted upright. Hair stuck to my skin. The room was stifling, even after having propped the balcony door open. But that wasn’t what had woken me.
The last image from my nightmare was of two shadowy eyes watching me through the night. They reflected back at me still, like the flash of a bulb in the darkness. I blinked them away, remembering where I was, the rest of my senses slowly returning to reality.
Music wafted in from somewhere outside. No, not merely music, a haunting voice. As I listened, I remembered the photographs from the travel book at the airport, including images of the pointed tips of the mosques that bordered the river. My pulse slowed as I took several deep breaths. As I lay down listening to the call to prayer, I squinted at the clock.
It was 3:23 a.m.
I sighed, willing myself to go back to sleep. But the call resonated through my bones, the man’s soulful voice echoing through the small canyon carved by the river. I was almost sad when he grew quiet, but his soothing tones lulled me into a deeper, dreamless sleep.
When I awoke once more with the sunlight glowing through the curtains, it was as if I’d never slept. I felt drained, my eyes burning and scratchy. My body protested sluggishly at the prospect of leaving the comfort and safety of bed.
Still, the promise of a new day dawned. Either I could lie here like a lump or go make something of it.
I flopped an arm over my face and groaned.