JAMES BROWN 23

 

JAMES BROWN 23

 

1

Necdet woke up at the break of dawn. Sleeping, waking up, and eating under a tree in the countryside felt wonderful. As a child, he and his friends used to practice doing exactly this.

Feeling bursting with energy, he grabbed a tree branch and did a few pull-ups. He couldn't manage many, so he lit a cigarette instead. He walked down to the creek to relieve himself, where he had set up a secluded spot. On his way back, he fetched a jerry can of water. While rummaging through the plastic bags for food, he stumbled upon some tea, sugar, and a bit of stale bread. He was thrilled; he had completely forgotten he left them there. He brewed some tea, dipped the bread into it, and ate.

Once the day fully brightened, he headed down to the town. While sipping a cup of tea treated by an acquaintance, he happened to overhear a conversation. He learned that Uncle Hayri and his wife, whom he had known for ages, needed some help. The place they lived was a long way from the village.

It took him hours to reach the mountain peak. He occasionally came across tractors and private vehicles along the way, but he walked most of the distance.

Hayri was a robust eighty-year-old man with a bald head, a snow-white beard, and a permanent skullcap. He was a devout man, and his wife was a sweet old lady. It was this man who had taught Necdet how to fish in the creek back when Hayri was still young. He was a hardworking and honest man. Despite the hardships, he raised four children and made a living through livestock and farming. He welcomed Necdet with great warmth, and they drank tea in the garden. The barn roof and walls needed repairing, fertilizer had to be hauled into the garden, and winter firewood needed chopping. A truckload of logs, timber, and branches, brought from somewhere, lay dumped by one side of the house. The old house required repairs as well.

The chicken coop was in terrible shape; a new one had to be built.

That very day, Necdet began his work there, which would last for days. There was a very old storehouse about the size of an average living room; he slept on the sofa bed there that night. As soon as daylight broke, he set to work, focusing on the tasks in order of priority. Lumber was needed for the barn repairs. Hayri pulled back a tarp to show him some timber he had salvaged from an old house a year ago; there was enough material here to get the job done, as well as the necessary boards for the chicken coop. The only thing missing was nails of various sizes. He noted down the required materials and moved on to another chore. Later in the day, he headed down to town and bought the necessary supplies: chicken wire, hinges, padlocks, nails, and four pieces of three-meter corrugated metal sheets. He happened to run into a tractor transporting goods to the village and loaded his supplies onto it.

His work there lasted a week.

He left the place and headed back to his own spot. No one was around; since he hadn't been seen for days, his friends had stopped dropping by. As he approached Muharrem’s house, he heard Muharrem's wife shouting curses. Muharrem was trying to pacify her, saying, "Calm down, woman." A moment later, Muharrem dashed out of the house barefoot, with his wife hot on his heels, a meat cleaver in her hand.

Necdet motioned to him from behind the tree where he was hiding, and Muharrem walked over to him.

"What's going on?"

"Just women being women, my friend, you know how it is. She just keeps barking." He lit a cigarette. "You've been gone for days, where did you disappear to?"

"I had some work up in the mountains."

"I heard. This woman is suffocating me. I’m going out of town to clear my head. Want to come with?"

"Could be..."

Necdet was about to ask, "What did you do with the watch? Did you hide it well?" He was worried it might get lost, but he decided there was no need to ask. Muharrem was a man of his word.

They walked down to the front of the house.

Muharrem pointed to the old red vehicle: "Hop in."

 

2

 "Where did you pick up this piece of junk?"

Muharrem used to do construction work too, but he had been out of work for a long time. He liked being lazy, drinking, and just doing whatever he pleased. Yet, he had five children; his wife’s fury stemmed precisely from this laziness of his.

"The guy I did a job for gave it to me to settle his debt. It looks old, but it runs great."

Night had fallen. Necdet went into his house, stuffed a few belongings into a sports bag, and slipped out like a ghost. He got into the red car waiting for him down the road. The car sped off.

"Man, you smell like a barn. You could've at least changed your clothes," Muharrem said.

"Oh, drop it. Is there any smell better than a barn? I finished up the work at your granddad's barn. But then, while showing him what I’d done, I noticed a mistake. I was too lazy to change out of my work clothes, so I just fixed the mistake, and the smell stuck to me." He laughed. "These are my favorite shirt and pants. I’m not changing them."

Muharrem had also loaded a suitcase full of clothes into the trunk. As the car rolled gently down the village road, Muharrem cranked up the music. They were talking at the top of their lungs, just like teenagers. They kept laughing and joking around.

They were heading out of town for a one-week vacation. It was something they had never done in their entire lives, because even on holidays, they would usually be working in the vineyards or orchards.

The car was cruising down the intercity highway in the cool summer night when they ran into a traffic checkpoint. That particular spot on the pitch-black road was lit up by the flashing lights of traffic and police vehicles. There were three motorcycle units, two unmarked police cars, three marked police cars, one gendarmerie vehicle, and four gendarmes. Twelve police officers in total.

A police officer signaled with his hand, directing them to pull over to the shoulder. Their driver's licenses and registration were checked, and the trunk was searched. Then, both of them were ordered out of the vehicle. In the trunk lay a variety of items used in construction: a sledgehammer, a crowbar, an adze, a flashlight, a screwdriver, a few knives, pincers, and pliers, as well as an angle grinder and a rotary hammer.

The police officer asked, "What are these?"

"I’m a builder. These are the tools I use for construction work."

These were the exact types of tools thieves used to break into houses or crack safes. The police had caught many burglars on their way to a job, and similar tools were always found in their vehicles.

"Where are you heading?"

"On vacation," Muharrem said, smiling in a loose, relaxed manner.

The officer looked at their appearance with a stone-cold face and probing eyes.

Their shirt collars were unbuttoned, revealing their white undershirts. Both wore mustaches. However, Muharrem’s mustache was hefty, and he had a formidable beard to match, along with a sizable belly. They did not look like the type of people who went on vacation.

"Where are you going to holiday?"

Muharrem named the tourist town.

The other cop was older and heavy-set. In a mocking tone thick with a peasant accent, he said, "What, are you going to pester Russian or German tourists? You’re grown men. Don't you guys have wives, jobs, or anything better to do, damn it!"

Neither of them could say a word; they just looked down in shame.

"I doubt your monthly income is enough for a vacation. And are you even aware that you smell like a barn, or like socks with a dead rat inside?"

"We don't have the money to stay at a hotel, boss. Even if we did, we wouldn't pay—what are we, suckers? We're going to buy a tent and pitch it. You're right in whatever you say. Things aren't good with my wife either. We're just going to clear our heads."

To say that the police instantly fall in love with people who take a submissive tone might be wrong and an exaggeration. Let me put it this way: submissive words punch holes straight through their rigid, impenetrable wall of authority. They deeply enjoy receiving respect and deference.

The car was old and wretched.

The young cop took their IDs and walked away. He went to consult with the chief and ran a background check on them in the police information system. They were not wanted men.

3

"What seems to be the problem, officer?" Muharrem asked.

The chief had a bad gut feeling about them. "Then why are you going on vacation with tools used for construction work?"

"We left in a hurry."

"Get out of here; get out of my sight! You knuckleheads!" their chief barked.

As the car drove away, the chief turned to the young cop and said, "A thief looks like the devil himself; I can spot one at a glance. One is fat and the other is a skinny, tall guy—these two could never be thieves, son. With years of experience, you learn to read people by their appearance. You can tell in a single look. These are just two poor, naive peasants who have lost their way and are having trouble with their wives. It’s obvious from their smell, the smell inside the car, and their belongings."

The young police officer was completely astonished by how much the chief had noticed in such a short time.

Muharrem was beaming with joy. "I hope we find some nice foreign girlfriends, what do you say?" he said, glancing at Necdet.

Necdet shot him a stern look. "Stop filling your head with nonsense."

"And why is that?"

"Your wife and kids are waiting for you at home."

"Please don't remind me of my troubles. We came here to clear our heads. Look, we’re just going to hang out. There's no need to be so serious. Sometimes a man needs to dream impossible dreams. Where's the harm in that? Maybe I’m just taking the piss."

"You have a point, brother."

"Maybe a foreign girl would like to have some fun with me."

Necdet felt a pang of pity for him; he had seen him in all kinds of states. He looked at him with a brotherly smile. "I think you should shave that beard."

"Why?"

"It’s intimidating. Shave it, you’ll look much better."

He laughed with delight. "No way, man! My friends say it suits me. They say I look like a mobster. What was his name? They say I look exactly like a character from one of those TV shows."

"Just drive properly."

"The road is completely empty."

"A car could appear out of nowhere; keep your eyes on the road."

"Oh, for God's sake, drop it! What's wrong with you, my friend? You act like you're at a funeral."

Meanwhile, Necdet was thinking about Jale, a thoughts that burned inside him like a smoldering fire. The breakup pained him deeply; he wanted so badly to see her just one more time.

Muharrem was driving fast. He either didn't realize it or didn't care; the road was empty.

"Slow this thing down!"

"Don't worry, my friend. I've been driving for years. Trust me."

"I don't want us to end up in the depths of hell while trying to clear our heads."

"Don't lose sleep over it."

About ten or fifteen minutes later, Muharrem took a different turn at an intersection. He drove down a secondary road and veered onto a path leading toward a village.

"We're going the wrong way."

"Let's climb up this mountain a bit. There’s great spring water up there; we can use it to make tea."

"Oh, forget it. Turn back."

"We're already here," Muharrem laughed.

Necdet resigned himself to the situation, but he felt uneasy.

"You’re driving too close to the edge. We’re going to roll down the cliff, brother. Stay in the middle of the road."

"That side is rough. Look, stop meddling in my business. You've been acting strange since we started. Please stop finding fault with my driving. We’re cruising along just fine, don't ruin my mood, bless your soul."

"It's fine and thrilling, brother, but I have a bad feeling. I feel like you're going to crash this piece of junk."

"Oh, so now my car is a piece of junk? It’s getting you where you need to go, isn't it? You broke my heart... Let me pull off a masterful U-turn right here. Watch me closely. And... up we go!"

"You're taking it too wide, or we’ll roll down the cliff!"

 4

 "Save your breath; I know exactly what I'm doing!"

The car began to slide toward the edge. The driver tried to correct the steering and pull it back onto the road, but the vehicle had already lost its grip. He stepped on the gas but panicked, and the car started rolling down the cliff.

Both of them lost their voices, paralyzed by the sheer terror of death. As the thought that these were their final moments flashed through their minds, a wave of bitter dread and an agonizing ache gripped their hearts.

The cliff was about a hundred meters deep. First, Muharrem tumbled over toward Necdet, then Necdet rolled over toward him; they collided. As the car rolled down through wild trees, shrubs, thickets, and thorns, it was crushed and twisted into a piece of junk. The windows shattered. First, Necdet was thrown out of the opening door and hit the ground; he kept rolling and flipping down the slope until he slammed painfully against the trunk of a tree.

He heard the sound of the car crashing down. He managed to pull himself up with great difficulty, his face and body covered in bruises and a small cut on his head. "Idiot!" he muttered to himself. He reached for a cigarette, and a moment later, a groaning sound reached his ears. It was Muharrem. "Are you alive, you son of a bitch?"

"Yeah."

"Don't move; you might have a fracture. I'll climb up to the road, find some help, and come back."

"Stop meddling in my business, will you!"

Muharrem scrambled up the slope and reached the road with great effort.

Necdet followed him up. "I thought you were going to bring help? You're just crouching here like a turtle."

Necdet was feeling pain and aches all over his body. "I sat down when I heard you coming. I'm spent; I feel like I've taken a massive beating."

"Me too. Just shock. Thank God we didn't die. Get up, let's go."

"We should go to a hospital. What if there's internal bleeding?"

"Oh, we're fine; just walk. If there's nausea or dizziness, then it's internal bleeding."

"You really are a moron. I warned you!"

"How was I supposed to know? I kept my foot down and stayed careful, but the car just slid and spun out. Pull yourself together. Beautiful, blonde foreign girls are waiting for us." Muharrem laughed.

"You must be out of your mind."

"Brother Necdet, we set our minds to this, I have a dream. Pull yourself together and let's get going."

Muharrem was a few years younger than Necdet and would occasionally call him “abi” (brother) to get his way.

They hit the road.

They passed the intersection and reached the asphalt highway.

Muharrem looked down the road. "Damn it! We missed that car. We have no choice but to hitchhike. I hope a vehicle passes by soon and picks us up."

Necdet lit a cigarette. He was annoyed. His face was pale.

He handed Muharrem a smoke too.

"Are you alright, Brother Necdet? We're not holding a grudge, are we?"

"We just cheated death, that's all."

"If we hadn't been thrown out of the car, we'd definitely be dead down there."

Muharrem had once gone to a city on the Black Sea coast for a construction job. He was heading toward the city center; it was a summer day. He had run into an elderly British tourist woman and her young lover. The young man, who was dark-skinned with dark eyebrows and eyes, was asking him for directions to the city center. Muharrem had chatted with them. A blonde, bob-haired elderly woman and a young man. He had been astonished by the duo.

Muharrem said, "He was taking his old lover out for a stroll. You could tell he was a good kid. Of course, the woman has money. I felt sorry for the young guy. I thought to myself, 'What are you doing with this old hag, young man?' Maybe he's bleeding her dry. But I felt like he was a good person. Look, Brother Necdet, even if we can't find young, attractive foreign girls, I think retired foreign broads in their 60s or 70s would do just fine. We can hang out."

Necdet laughed. "Man, are you a pervert or what?"

Muharrem smirked. He was talking just to amuse him; he often said childish things and made jokes, but Necdet usually thought he was being serious.

 5

 They hitched rides with a few trucks and made significant headway. Finally, they arrived at the tourist resort town in a truck driven by a skinny, short old man wearing a flat cap. They waved from the back to a truck carrying vegetables. It was two in the morning, and they headed toward the beach. The shore, wrapped in a blanket of darkness, was completely deserted except for a few stray dogs. They took shelter under one of the trees near the sand. The heat was stifling; they could barely breathe. Dead tired from the lack of sleep, they lay down side by side on the grass.

An hour later, two men carrying beer bottles showed up, settled down just ten yards away, and started chatting loudly. Necdet woke up. Extremely annoyed by the noise, he shouted at the duo, "We're sleeping here! Keep it down and move along!"

"You don't own this place! Go sleep at home, brother, this is public property!"

They laughed among themselves. "Nice comeback, man." "He didn't even chirp. Hahaha!"

Hearing this drove Necdet across the line; normally, he would never lose his temper. "Watch your mouth, or things will get ugly!"

Muharrem barked, "If I have to get up, I’ll shove that public property right down your throats! Get the hell out of here right now, or I will wreck you!"

Ignoring his words entirely, the duo kept laughing loudly and carried on with their conversation.

Without a sound, Muharrem quietly slipped away, intending to sneak up on them from behind.

"Forget it," Necdet said. "Let's not get into trouble."

"No way," he replied. "They're asking for it. I have to teach them a lesson."

"Then just give them a tongue-lashing and come back; don't you dare get into a fistfight."

Muharrem crept up right behind the two men like a thief and slapped both of them across the back of their necks simultaneously with both hands.

The men cried out in sharp pain.

"Hey, what the hell, brother? Are you crazy?!" said the one who had been acting tough.

The other man was slouched on the ground, practically losing consciousness from the pain. "Don't, brother, I'm sorry!" he whimpered.

The tough one scrambled to his feet. "I'm going to teach you a lesson now!" he snapped and lunged forward. The fight was over in a flash; Muharrem landed a single punch, and the man collapsed to the ground. His nose was bleeding, and he was crying.

Yıldıray was a tall, heavily built man. He was bald, sixty-five years old, and suffered from multiple illnesses. He had six children. His wife had kicked him out of the house. Nursing his aching nose, he wept as he rattled off his miseries. He had been living on the streets for three years. The other man, Salim, was sixty years old and had been homeless for six months. He walked with a limp in his right foot. He was fat and bald. His newlywed son had kicked him out too, pushed by his own wife. His son had said, "Let's go for a little drive," and then abandoned him like a stray puppy at a spot outside the city, using the excuse, "I'm going to buy you some cigarettes." It was on the intercity highway, right near a gas station. When Salim realized he had been abandoned, he wept for hours. He could never shake off that trauma; it felt as if a massive bullet was permanently lodged in his brain, causing constant agony. He had loved his son and daughter-in-law dearly. He had been overjoyed when he learned they were expecting a baby girl, and he had even bought and saved some baby clothes for his future granddaughter. He had bought them their new house, combining the money from selling his own home with all his savings.

Yıldıray groaned, "I'm going to go straight to the police and report you!"

Driven not by fear but by remorse and guilt, Muharrem said, "I'm sorry, Uncle. But you lunged at me. I wasn't going to hit you. I'm not a violent man. Come on, let us take you to a doctor."

"I don't want it. Get the hell away from me!"

"But you said some nasty things to my brother. You have to admit your mistake too, Uncle."

"Oh, we were just messing around. We're wasted."

Necdet walked over as well. He shot Muharrem a sharp, disapproving look, knelt down beside the injured man, and touched his shoulder. "Are you alright, Uncle? I'm sorry. We didn't want it to end up like this. Forgive us."

Muharrem picked up some old pieces of newspaper from the ground and handed them over for him to press against his bleeding nose. As Muharrem kept apologizing to make amends for his mistake, Yıldıray began to soften. Necdet offered him and the other man a cigarette, lighting them with his lighter.

The four of them struck up a conversation.

"Are you guys hungry?" Muharrem asked. "If there were an open market, we could go grab something to eat." 

6

"Wait here," Salim said. He had hidden some food he scavenged from the trash earlier that day in a secure spot. After a long while, he returned, clutching plastic bags packed with vegetables. There were also five loaves of bread, alongside tomatoes, peppers, cucumbers, cheese, olives, and salami. He had gathered all of these from supermarket dumpsters. They ate together. Later, as they sat chatting, they fell asleep one by one, finally succumbing to their exhaustion.

By the time they woke up, the sun was already high in the sky. The place was swarming with foreign tourists heading into the sea. As the tourists walked past, they stared down at them as if looking at disgusting insects. The four of them felt deeply unsettled and uncomfortable under those gazes.

Suddenly, a few municipal police officers appeared out of nowhere. "Get the hell out of here right now! It's forbidden!" one barked.

Muharrem sprang to his feet instantly. He shot a menacing glare at the officer, his fists clenched tight. The officer quickly averted his eyes, grabbed his partner, and backed away. Necdet linked his arm through Muharrem’s to keep him from starting a brawl, whispering something into his ear to calm him down.

Yıldıray spoke up: "Come with me, boys. I know a place where nobody will bother us."

As they walked, the two old men checked inside the trash containers, rummaging through them to pick out anything useful and stuffing the items into bags and sacks they had found in the garbage.

They veered off toward the countryside, walking for a good while. Eventually, they reached a wooded area. An outdoor-blue tent stood pitched there. Salim looked around, instantly taking a liking to the spot.

A week earlier, while Yıldıray and Salim were shifting through the trash outside a villa, the homeowner had asked them to help move some old belongings down to the dumpster. There was an old television, some sofas that still looked brand new, coffee tables, and a display cabinet. The woman also handed them an old, large aluminum pot and a bit of cash. That massive pot—the kind used to cook large meals at weddings—became the source of a fierce argument between them. They just couldn't agree on how to share it. Yıldıray wanted to give the pot to a woman who had once done them a kindness, whereas Salim wanted to sell it to a scrap dealer and split the cash.

Yıldıray insisted, "Let's not let it go to waste as scrap."

Driven mad with frustration, Salim began to batter the pot with a heavy stone. With just a few savage blows, the pot was ruined, left completely twisted and dented. Dumbfounded, Yıldıray watched him as if frozen in place. "Go shove it up your ass then!" he snapped. "Don't you ever speak to me again, brother." And with that, he walked away.

That night, as Yıldıray wandered aimlessly, feeling utterly miserable and broken, he spotted a tent inside its carrying bag left right next to a dumpster, along with some food. The very next day, he left the city center behind. He pitched the tent in the woods and carved out a sanctuary for himself. He had been living there for a week; whenever his food ran out, he would head into town to scavenge from the trash, and he fetched his water from a nearby creek.

Most of the discarded food consisted of packaged items, as supermarkets throw away products that are expired or unsold. They were still perfectly edible. Bread was always abundant; even if it was slightly stale, people threw it out. Sometimes, someone would hang a bag of bread on the edge of a dumpster, a tree branch, or the iron fence at an apartment entrance, hoping someone else might take it.

Yet, throughout those long nights, Yıldıray's heart had constantly ached with worry for his friend Salim. Salim was neither aggressive nor sharp; he was passive, shy, incredibly quiet, and fearful. Even if delinquent teenagers beat him up, he wouldn't utter a sound; he would just try to run away. On a few occasions, he had taken a severe beating from teenagers for absolutely no reason at all.

"How is he doing? Did he find anything to eat? Is he cold?" Yıldıray would wonder. "With his limp, he can't wander too far anyway; he gets tired easily." As the days crawled by, he missed his friend more and more. He shared so many memories with him; he felt that his very existence, his sense of meaning in life, was tied to Salim. This had been their first bitter disagreement, their first real clash.

And yet, under normal circumstances, they were ready to die for each other at a moment's notice.

During the freezing winter nights, the suffocating summer heat, or when autumn held the city captive, they possessed no jewels, no treasures other than the deep bond of their friendship. Without it, they were nothing more than living fossils. They always shared their burdens, serving as each other's anchor. Because of this, they never truly felt abandoned by the world. Joking around and teasing each other brought them a childlike happiness; they would constantly needle one another.

Sitting back-to-back, they had survived the harshest of nights by talking, sharing whatever food, money, or cigarettes they found, and offering each other comfort. The fact that they had drifted apart over a stupid pot now struck him as an absolute absurdity, a total disgrace. He had searched every nook and cranny, every literal rat hole in the city, desperate to find him. Ultimately, he tracked him down at the beach.

Salim had left for a district outside the resort town on the morning of their fight, driven by sheer grief. While he was asleep, someone had stolen the pot anyway. On the exact day Yıldıray found him on the beach, Salim had just returned to the city center, clinging to the hope of crossing paths with his old friend. And when they finally found each other, their joy—

 7

 While strolling along the beach, they stumbled upon some unopened bottles of beer left under a tree. They started drinking them, even though they normally never drank at all.

The buddies built a fire in front of the tent and huddled around it. They chatted at length for hours until they finally grew drowsy. In the end, all four of them headed inside the tent.

As Necdet was about to drift off to sleep, he whispered, "So, any news on those beautiful foreign girls?" He laughed. "We went out looking for them and ended up with two smelly old men instead, great job. Which one do you want?"

Muharrem laughed in return. "Look at it this way, Brother Necdet—we've gained two wonderful friends. What advantage do girls have anyway? Two precious but deeply aching men... a true friend is better than anything."

It was the next day. They had eaten what was left over from yesterday's food.

"A cup of tea would hit the spot. We need a teapot, a frying pan, some olive oil... we could fry up some potatoes and peppers over the fire. My wife makes a delicious fry-up," Muharrem said.

Necdet added, "We're out of cigarettes too."

Yıldıray sighed, "You can't do without cigarettes. If I had just a single smoke right now, I'd feel like I've gone straight to heaven."

Salim rummaged through his pockets. "I had five cigarettes on me, but I can't find them; I guess we smoked them all last night. You can't do without money. But you absolutely cannot do without cigarettes. We need to find some cash."

"There must be some work I can do around here," Muharrem suggested.

Yıldıray countered, "You'd definitely end up in a fight. You just stay put; we'll find the money somehow."

"Oh, come on, brother, why would I fight? Maybe I can find work as a waiter, a mover, or doing some garden cleanups. But if you guys applied for a job, the boss would take one look at your faces and definitely think, 'This geezer doesn't have the strength to do any real work.'"

Salim snapped back, "Kiss my ass."

Everyone burst out laughing.

Muharrem walked a short distance away from them. He had stripped off his top, wearing nothing but his red underwear. Dripping with sweat, he was doing push-ups on the ground. "I need to lose weight; I've got to get rid of this belly," he was muttering to himself.

Suddenly, a ball flew out of nowhere and struck Muharrem right on the head. It came to a halt right there, and Muharrem caught it where it landed. A girl about thirteen years old came over to retrieve her runaway ball. Muharrem contorted his face into a monstrous grimace, barked, "Come and get the ball," and waved his hand for her to come closer. He was only joking. The girl bolted like lightning, vanishing among the trees.

But just a few minutes later, three men and five young guys came charging toward him like stampeding horses. The thirteen-year-old girl belonged to one of the families who had come out for a picnic. The girl's relatives immediately set upon Muharrem. His friends tried to rush in and break it up, but they couldn't make it in time. The men had arrived like a flash of lightning, delivered a lightning-fast beating, and vanished just as quickly.

Shortly after, the grandfather of one of the men walked over with a look of sorrow and asked, "How are you holding up, young man? Do you need an ambulance?"

Muharrem laughed. "Your boys have a heavy hand, old man. I feel like I've just taken twenty years' worth of beatings all at once. If someone tries to rough me up now, I won't feel a thing. Because I've just taken a proper thrashing, father. Bless your people, they did a good job."

The old man smiled.

Then, Muharrem began to speak with a sorrowful tone, on the verge of tears. "It’s not the beating that hurts, but what they accused me of deeply wounds me. I'm a good person; I would never do anything bad to little girls," he kept saying, desperately trying to explain that he was a man of honor.

"You terrified the girl. You shouldn't make jokes like that with a girl you don't know. The poor thing went into shock from fear; she's been crying non-stop."

"I have four daughters of my own. My youngest is thirteen. I only joked with her because she reminded me of my own girl."

"I apologize on behalf of our boys. Forgive us our transgression."

"It's no problem, Uncle, the fault is mine. I shouldn't have played that joke."

The old man walked away and returned a short while later. He extended his hand, offering some cash to Muharrem. "Everyone feels terrible about this. We pooled this money among ourselves. Please, accept it."

Muharrem replied, "I wouldn't normally take the money, but then the beating would have gone to waste. If I take the cash, justice will have been served."

The old man patted his shoulder and walked away.

The money he had given was no small amount.

 8 

Muharrem’s face was covered in cuts and bruises, and his back was aching.

Salim noted, "Well, we’ve got the money for tea, a frying pan, a pot, potatoes, peppers, olive oil, and cigarettes now."

An air of joy spread among them; they were absolutely thrilled. They wouldn’t have to suffer through deprivation, at least for a while. Muharrem forgot all his aches in an instant. That bright spark of relief kept passing from one heart to the next.

It was noon when the forest rangers came by on patrol. They approached the tent immediately and politely explained that due to the fire hazard, entering the forest was strictly prohibited until autumn, and lighting fires was absolutely forbidden.

They packed up the tent and left the woods. Once night fell, they wandered through the city and eventually went down to the beach to pitch their tent. However, the place was too noisy. Police officers or night watchmen would constantly show up, demanding to know who they were and asking for their IDs. On top of that, delinquents were drinking, shouting, and causing a ruckus; there was simply no peace there. Was there anywhere they could live without being disturbed?

"I know a much better place," Yıldıray said. Guiding them with his flashlight, he brought them to the most remote corner of the forest, where they pitched the tent. Reaching this spot on foot was incredibly difficult; one had to cross several creeks. Normally, an ordinary person would easily lose their way here and die of hunger and thirst. But Yıldıray knew these woods inside out. It had taken them three hours to get there.

They gathered dry wood and kindling from the surroundings and lit a fire. A heated conversation began among them as they shared their grievances, debating what they should do next and what they needed to survive. Most of them were skeptical; would it really be safe to live out here?

Necdet and Muharrem found themselves in an environment they could never have dreamed of, having now formed a real team with the other two men. At first, their time was mostly spent listening to the troubles and painful pasts of their two new friends. Later, they listened to their tactics on how to survive and find food in the city and the woods. They began hauling food back to the campsite as if stockpiling supplies for a frontline military campaign.

Salim said, "This is madness. This food is going to rot. The best thing we can do is turn it all into canned goods. They’ll never spoil. We just need a large pot and a good fire."

Yıldıray countered, "Then they’ll spot us in a heartbeat, my friend. They’ll look at that damn smoke and think a forest fire broke out. A ton of men will swarm this place, won't they? They'll completely screw us over."

"It’s a remote area; how are they going to notice? We’ll do the canning at night. Smoke isn't noticeable in the dark."

"He’s right," Necdet agreed.

Using the last remaining portion of the money, Muharrem bought a second-hand cauldron. Someone had most likely used it to boil dirty laundry; the outside of the pitch-black cauldron smelled exactly like it.

They found discarded jars in the trash and scavenged bruised fruits and vegetables from the marketplace. Thanks to the beating marks still visible on his face, Muharrem managed to land a job as a bouncer at a local bar. With his wages, they began purchasing the fruits and vegetables from the markets instead. Muharrem would drop by the campsite occasionally; he mostly slept at the bar or in its storage room. When he wasn't working his bouncer shifts, he spent his time hauling food and drinks into the bar's warehouse.

One day, Salim found a book in the trash. As he read it, he began to change and act bizarrely. He started talking about strange things, his eyes flashing with a devilish light as he occasionally shouted, "The end of the world is coming! We will all perish in a nuclear war! We must be prepared for this. We need to build a proper bunker right here!" He kept rambling on with things like that.

"He’s lost his mind," Necdet said. "Look, Yıldıray, the old man is turning schizophrenic. We need to get him to a doctor."

"If I can just find that damn book he’s reading, I’m going to burn it! He started talking complete nonsense because of that book."

They made up a lie to get rid of Salim for a while, sending him off to the city with Muharrem. They told him, "An elderly woman who used to know you and helped you out many times has passed away. She left you a large sum of money. You need to go to the bank and withdraw it."

 9

Necdet and Yıldıray began searching for the book with a manic desperation. Hours of hunting turned up nothing, leaving them both angry and frustrated. Yet, Yıldıray refused to back down; he kept digging. Necdet, on the other hand, crawled to his spot and drifted off to sleep.

The break of dawn was just beginning to show. Necdet heard someone muttering to themselves, but he paid no attention; clearly, Yıldıray was ticked off about something. Just as he was about to fall back into a sweet, deep slumber, Yıldıray shook him violently by the shoulder, waking him up. "Wake up, Necdet, there's a highly critical matter we need to discuss."

"Get your hands off me right now, or things are going to get ugly."

Terrified, Yıldıray pulled his hand back. "Look, brother, the world is truly doomed. Nuclear bombs are going to detonate. Even if billions of people aren't poisoned, they will die of hunger and thirst. We must build a bunker as soon as possible. If Russia launches a nuke, we're finished. America launches one, this country launches one, that country launches one... and if that doesn't happen, solar flares will strike. Failing that, a city-sized meteor will crash into Earth. The world is going bankrupt. We must take immediate precautions."

"Why the hell are you spouting complete nonsense at the crack of dawn, just like Salim?"

"Salim hasn't lost his mind. The man is absolutely right. I've awakened. You need to wake up too."

Necdet's sleep vanished instantly. He stared intently into Yıldıray's eyes—they were flashing with that same devilish light. "Did you... did you find that book and read it?"

"Yes."

"Give me that damn book right now, Yıldıray!"

"I'd rather die than give it to you!"

Necdet lunged forward and grabbed him by the collar. But Yıldıray wouldn't back down. Finally, Necdet let him go.

Toward evening, Salim and Muharrem returned. Their backpacks were stuffed to the brim, and they were clutching bags full of provisions. Muharrem's face was covered in fresh cuts and bruises. They all gathered around the fire.

Necdet asked, "What happened to you this time?"

"I roughed someone up a bit."

"Looks to me like you took a severe beating."

"You should see the other guys. There were five of them."

Meanwhile, Salim and Yıldıray were inside the tent, organizing the food.

As the tea was boiling over the fire, Necdet leaned toward Muharrem and said in a hushed tone, "We searched everywhere for the book but couldn't find it. Whatever is written in that text, or whatever kind of energy it holds, it spreads the thing like a virus. Yıldıray found the book, read it, and now he's spouting the exact same nonsense as Salim. I'm utterly dumbfounded. Yıldıray used to have a sensible head on his shoulders; how he got brainwashed and lost his mind is beyond me."

"Are you serious? You've got to be kidding me!"

"I'm not. Go talk to him yourself; Yıldıray has turned schizophrenic too. Look, we should take them to a doctor, but they'll never agree to go. The best thing we can do is tie them both up and call the gendarmerie. We'll tell them they've occupied the forest, that they're going to start a wildfire, and we'll lay out all their madness. Just act natural, don't give it away."

The other two came over and joined them by the fire. The tea was ready, and everyone poured themselves a glass.

Salim spoke up: "Trudging all the way up here is pure torture. We should buy a motorcycle and clear a path wide enough for it to pass. We'll need to cut down some trees, so a chainsaw is a must."

"Good idea," Yıldıray agreed.

Muharrem chimed in, "I know of a dirt bike I could go and steal, and I know where a chainsaw is too—I can pinch that one as well, no problem. I saw them at one of the villas. Don't sweat it. Leave this to me."

While Necdet and Muharrem stared at each other in sheer disbelief, Yıldıray burst out 

10

Salim snapped, "What are you laughing at? What's so funny about this, you moron?!"

Muharrem lit a cigarette and walked away from the campsite with Yıldıray by his side. They were chatting until Yıldıray said, "I'm getting sleepy, I'm heading to bed," and went to his spot. Necdet appeared beside Muharrem right after.

Muharrem said, "Man, this guy has completely lost his mind. How does this even happen? Yıldıray is spouting pure madness. He keeps saying we need to get bows and guns because people will come to steal our food. He says he wouldn't hesitate for a second to shoot and kill anyone who steals a single kilo of his potatoes. He thinks a famine is coming. Look at this idiot. If you shoot someone over a kilo of potatoes, and if there are no potatoes left either, you'll probably shoot me, cook me, and eat me next."

Necdet laughed. "Before these guys become seriously dangerous, let's slip away from here quietly around dawn."

"No way, brother. This is hilarious. It means the real fun is just beginning. No backing out just yet. They can't lay a finger on us; I'll cut their throats while they're asleep anyway. I think we should find the book and burn it. Maybe then they'll snap out of it. But if you're the one to find the book, don't you dare read it. Not even a single sentence. I told Yıldıray not to read it if he found it; he didn't listen to me and went completely nuts. Do not read that book!"

"I'd never read it, brother. The moment I find it, I'm burning it."

Everyone had fallen asleep on their mats around the tent.

A few hours later, Muharrem woke Necdet up. "Brother Necdet, get up. Wake up. The end of the world is coming; building a bunker is absolutely the right call. I've finally seen the light. I must share this insight, this crazy energy I feel inside, with you. I'm bursting with excitement; you need to taste and experience this too. I'm as joyful as a pilgrim who has just returned from Mecca."

Necdet got up slowly without looking at him and sat cross-legged on his mat. He turned his head gently and stared at him with a deeply troubled expression. After a very long, silent gaze, he asked, "What is wrong with you? Did you read the book too?"

"Brother, I was going to burn it, but suddenly curiosity got the better of me. I opened it and took a look. I got completely sucked in. An hour passed just like that; the book just carried me away."

"What did you do with it?"

"I hid it. My wife, my kids, and your wife and kids—they all need to read this book."

"Tell me where it is right now! That book spreads a plague; it must be destroyed."

"I won't tell you. You're completely wrong about this."

"Then I'll choke the life out of you!"

Necdet was throttling him with all his might. Yıldıray was dripping with sweat, his face turning blue from asphyxiation.

Suddenly, Necdet gasped and woke up. It was all a dream.

He scrambled to his feet, walked over to where Muharrem was sleeping, and checked on him. He was perfectly fine. He looked at the others too, staring at them as if looking at the devil himself. He picked up a heavy piece of wood, brought it back to his mat, and lay back down.

As dawn was breaking, Necdet—having barely slept a wink—lit the fire and placed the tea water over the revived flames. Muharrem woke up, lit a cigarette, and joined him by the fire. A cicada was chirping, and the forest birds were starting to stir, twittering joyfully as they hopped from branch to branch. The weary cry of an owl echoed in the distance, followed by the howl of a jackal.

"I miss my wife and kids so much," Muharrem said, his voice thick with a desperate longing. "I'll never upset them again once I get back home. I'm going to turn over a new leaf. I'll focus strictly on earning our bread. I want the kids to get an education and make something of themselves. Coming out here was the best thing we could have done. Getting away from home allowed me to see my life and myself from completely different perspectives. I've been nothing but a piece of trash. I'm going to fix myself."

Necdet whispered in a hushed tone, "These guys have lost their marbles. Let's get out of here. Secretly. They might take us hostage or something. I think our lives are in danger."

11

Muharrem laughed. "Don't be ridiculous, they're true friends."

"I had a terrible nightmare. I think these guys are going to be the end of us."

"Don't worry, I've got your back. Let's just enjoy it a bit longer; we'll leave eventually, don't lose sleep over it."

It was the middle of the night. Necdet woke up suddenly. Because the inside of the tent was stiflingly hot, they had been nesting and sleeping around it like happy, peaceful puppies for quite some time. They had fashioned mats for themselves out of old rugs. Everyone had their designated spot, though the arrangement would shift from time to time. When they felt cold, they would pull a thin cover—resembling a tablecloth—over themselves.

Necdet noticed a dark silhouette. At first, he couldn't make out what it was, and a wave of intense fear gripped him. Then, he recognized the shadow as Salim. Salim was muttering to himself in a hushed tone: "Cut off his head. Cut it off and finish the job!"

The voice belonged to Salim, but not entirely. It sounded like the voice of a ten-year-old boy. It was saying, "He's fast asleep, seize the opportunity. Rid yourself of this devil!"

The child's voice abruptly reverted to Salim's actual voice, which replied, "Why on earth would I do that? A man doesn't use an axe to chop off his true friends' heads. Shut your mouth or get out of my sight!"

At that exact moment, Necdet noticed the axe, which he hadn't seen before. He spotted the small but broad-bladed axe that Salim used to chop firewood and branches, its edge meticulously sharpened to a polished gleam.

"He's sleeping like a baby. Go on, creep up on him. Drive the axe into his throat with all your might. Don't be afraid. It's time to make your move. Go!"

As Salim turned his face toward Necdet, who was watching him in sheer disbelief and terror, Necdet immediately shut his eyes, leaving them only a fraction of an inch open. It was pitch black, yet the faint illumination of the summer night allowed him to make out the surroundings.

"A man doesn't slaughter his friend. Stop pushing me."

"But you were absolutely going to do it just a moment ago. We talked about it. You gave me your word. He doesn't believe the end of the world is near. He's a devil. He thinks you've lost your mind. Slaughter him first. Then you can finish Muharrem off. You can bury them both. Yıldıray is a heavy sleeper. A cannon fire wouldn't wake him. You can bury all their belongings too. You'll just say they abandoned us."

"Fine. I suppose you're right. But not tonight. I'll do it tomorrow. I can't be bothered with hauling and burying corpses right now. I'm exhausted."

He walked over, lay back down in his spot, and let out a loud fart.

Horrified, Necdet scrambled to his feet. He walked a long distance—about fifty yards away, behind the tent, where Muharrem was sleeping because the others' endless chatter had kept him from falling asleep.

"Wake up! We're getting the hell out of here!" He nudged him and repeated his words.

"Brother, I'm sleeping so soundly, don't ruin it, get away from me," Muharrem muttered with great effort.

"Listen to me, you idiot, this man is going to slaughter us! I'm telling you to wake up. We're leaving right now!"

Muharrem muttered a curse. "Who's going to slaughter us?"

"That dog Salim!"

Without even opening his eyes, Muharrem replied, "Nobody can touch us. Relax. Go back to sleep, brother. Please, I beg you."

Utterly frustrated, Necdet walked back to his spot. He sat down and lit a cigarette. Right after, fueled by a sudden surge of anger and adrenaline, he marched over to Salim. Salim was fast asleep, clutching his axe. With a swift movement, Necdet snatched the axe away.

"What... what the hell is going on?! What's wrong with you, Brother Necdet?" Salim gasped, startled awake.

"I will tear your absolute ancestry apart, you piece of shit! Don't you ever come and stand over my head while I'm sleeping again, you twisted pervert!"

"Brother, what on earth are you babbling about? I haven't gotten up once since I lay down. You must have seen a vision or had a nightmare."

"Don't lie to me! I saw you with my own two eyes."

 12

Salim was swearing up and down that he hadn't moved an inch since the moment he lay down. Speaking in a pleading, desperate tone, he maintained his absolute innocence.

Necdet, however, was lost in thought. He couldn't utter a word. His mind was in a whirl. Had he just seen a nightmare? Silently, he walked back to his spot and lay down, clutching the axe in one hand. As the questions kept gnawing at him, he picked up his mat and moved to a remote spot deep in the forest, far from where the others could easily find him. He rolled out his mat, lay down, and smoked a cigarette while watching the stars twinkle through the canopy of tree branches.

It was the next day. Necdet walked back into the campsite. A fire was crackling, with tea water boiling over it, and a melamine plate held diced potatoes.

Necdet poured himself a cup of tea. Muharrem showed up. "Want some fried potatoes, brother?"

"Of course. When we were kids, we used to eat them all the time and never grow tired of it. I just can't seem to find that same taste anymore, though."

"Where are Salim and Yıldıray?"

"They went down to the creek to fetch some water. Hey, did something happen between you two last night? The guy swears he was having a nightmare. He said he was fast asleep, and you marched over, yanked the axe straight out of his hand. He was scared out of his wits, thinking you were going to murder him. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine. But it wasn't a nightmare. He's lying. I barely got a wink of proper sleep. I'm going to lie down over there for a bit. Keep an eye on those two."

"You got it," Muharrem said. "I'll wake you up when the potatoes are ready. Let me hold onto the axe. Just so we don't have any more trouble, brother."

Necdet handed the axe over to him.

Then, Necdet drifted off to sleep.

He slept for a few hours. When he woke up, he couldn't see a soul around. The fire was dying down to a low simmer. He scooped some fried potatoes from the pan, ate them with a bit of bread, and poured himself another cup of tea.

Muharrem emerged from the trees, returning from relieving himself. They had built a makeshift outhouse shack, situated quite a distance away from the campsite. If they didn't know the path inside out, they would easily get lost; to prevent that, they had snapped several twigs and branches along the way and tied strips of cloth to them as trail markers.

"Muharrem, we need to get the hell out of this place."

"Don't rush it, brother. I need to save up some cash for a bus ticket. Besides, I can't return home empty-handed. I absolutely have to buy some small gifts for the kids and the wife. My youngest girl wanted a pair of jeans so badly. I mean, I can't just show up in front of my wife looking like a total bum. She's going to demand answers, asking where the hell I've been and what business I was fooling around with without ever calling."

As evening approached, Muharrem was getting ready to leave the campsite to work his bouncer shift at the bar. He wouldn't be returning here for a few days.

Necdet considered going along with him, but the trail was treacherous. Trudging back and forth was a nightmare.

Muharrem sensed the distress weighing on his face. "Look, I think you really need to clear your head. I don't want you getting into any more tiffs with Salim and the other guy. Come with me if you want. You can hang out at the bar for a bit, then head back."

Necdet decided to go with him. He didn't end up hanging out inside the bar, though; instead, he sat on a bench by the beach, watching the passersby while munching on pumpkin seeds and corn. After a while, he stood up to head back to the campsite. By the time he spent hours navigating his way through the dense forest, he was dripping with sweat. For the first time, a wave of desperate longing for his home and family washed over him.

He was completely broke, without a single penny to his name.

Finally, he approached the campsite.

"Who goes there?!" Yıldıray bellowed from the shadows.

"It's me, it's Necdet."

He walked over and sat down beside them, picking a spot well away from the heat of the fire.

 13

 "Are you hungry? I boiled some potatoes," Salim said.

"Is the end of the world coming? What’s the verdict for tomorrow?" Necdet asked.

"Could be," Salim replied with a laugh.

It was late into the night when Necdet suddenly woke up. Three men were standing over him: Muharrem, Salim, and Yıldıray.

"Wake up, brave man. The time has come," Salim said, taking the axe from Muharrem’s hand. Yıldıray was clutching a large bread knife.

"What is going on, gentlemen?"

"It's time for you to read the book," Yıldıray declared.

Necdet looked at Muharrem. "You too, brother?"

"My dear brother, I read the book. It’s the most beautifully written book in human history. Now, you’re going to read it too. They’re giving you a chance. They said, 'Let’s just slaughter him and finish it. He won't read the book.' I said, 'No, let's give him a chance. If he refuses to read it, then you can chop him up.' I swear, I read it and found salvation. Now it’s your turn, brother."

Salim held out the book. "You'd better start from the very first page."

Necdet was certain that the moment he read a single sentence, he would turn into one of them. If he didn't read it, he would be murdered. He had to make it back to his wife and family. He recited a prayer under his breath to ward off the book's spell—the Ayat al-Kursi.

By the light of a flashlight, he read the first page.

Nothing changed in his mind. This wasn't a book about the apocalypse at all. It was a children's book detailing the nightly wanderings of a hedgehog in the garden of a single-story house.

He lifted his eyes and looked at them.

Salim muttered, "He doesn't look like he’s fallen under the book's spell. A bomb should have gone off in his mind, his eyes should be flashing with light, he should be bursting with excitement. No... something is wrong with this guy."

Necdet realized instantly what he had to do. "Tomorrow, we take the axe into the forest and start chopping down trees for the bunker. We must begin this work immediately. I was so spellbound I couldn't even react. My children must read this book too."

The three men burst out laughing.

Salim said, "This entire horror story was a product of Muharrem's brilliant mind. He said, 'Let’s pull a prank on Brother Necdet that he’ll never forget.' We were just messing with you."

A highly animated and cheerful conversation sparked among them.

Necdet and Muharrem began working on the construction of an extension at the villa belonging to the bar owner’s mother. The job lasted fifteen days. They slept in a shed in the villa's garden and never went back to the forest during that time. Once they received their wages, they returned to the campsite in the woods, bringing a mountain of provisions for their friends Salim and Yıldıray. It was their final night. They stayed up late, drinking tea and coffee while talking at length.

The next day, they were scheduled to board a bus at noon. Waking up early, they went to say their goodbyes to their friends. They held each other in tight embraces and wept as they finally left the forest behind. As they boarded the bus, Muharrem was restless, desperate to reach home as quickly as possible. He had called his wife from the elderly villa owner’s phone and learned that his youngest daughter had fallen off a tractor while heading to work in a neighbor’s field, breaking her leg. His heart was pounding with the sole urge to reunite with his daughter.

The bus pulled out of the terminal.

Necdet asked, "Where did you hide that valuable watch?"

"Don't ask, brother. Let it go. Just forget it!"

"And why the hell should I? What do you mean don't ask? Where is my watch, damn it?!"

"You know that antique piece of junk that rolled down the cliff? I had given the watch to its owner. He said he was going to have it checked to see if it was authentic or not. Turns out he’s fled his home; he’s not even in the village anymore. I spoke with his wife. He sold the watch and blew all the cash on gambling and women. That's what she told me over the phone. That low-down dog conned me, man. He wouldn’t budge on letting me borrow his car at first, but then I mentioned the watch. He said, 'I'll give you the car with a full tank, just let me take the watch to get it checked out, see what it’s worth.' It never crossed my mind that he'd fleece me. He used to be an honest guy... Apparently, he’s staying at some hotel with the last of the money. His wife called him, and some foreign woman answered the phone. In her broken Turkish, she rattled off all the dirty business the guy had been up to. Said they'd been throwing parties non-stop. I’m so sorry, Brother Necdet. There’s nothing we can do about it now. It wasn't a watch earned by the sweat of our brows anyway. Easy come, easy go, as they say."

"I was going to sell that thing and buy so many things for my family."

"Don't lose sleep over it, brother. You’ll get it all eventually. Luck is on your side. Yasin will give you another watch or some other valuable things. Don't you worry about it."

 

Isa Kantarci