Thread: Beneath the Sands

??God?damn it?? Adrian huffed from exertion and wiped the beads of sweat that had collected on his forehead with his arm. Cracking his stiff back, he reached down and grabbed the sledgehammer??s worn handle once again. Hefting the tool up over his head, he swung it down and knocked another thick chunk off the concrete slab he was gradually breaking apart. He reached down and lifted the chunk from the ground, dropping it into a flimsy metal wheelbarrow, nearly filled with chunks of masonry. The skinny, tired looking man pushing it wheeled it away, carrying it off to be dumped somewhere else. The air surrounding the demolition site was choked with a thick cloud of grey dust that covered everything, making the numerous workers appear like dirty phantoms. Adrian coughed, wiping his eyes and looking out towards the crowds that bustled in the neighboring streets. The former US infantryman had been living in Cairo for several months, taking whatever jobs that he could to keep himself fed and off the streets. There wasn??t much else that he could do, he could never return to the States again, not if he didn??t want to end up with a lethal injection with his name on it. He still had nightmares of the things he had seen, things that nobody but him believed they saw. According to those who judged him, he was a traitor, a man who had turned against his fellow soldiers, he was beyond saving. Adrian had known that a firing squad would have awaited him if he had allowed himself to remain in captivity at the base, so he ran. He had spent months running, hitching rides from Afghanistan all the way to Egypt, running as far away as he could. He pounded another chunk of concrete away, and lifted it into a waiting wheelbarrow, again and again, running on a personal autopilot. It was backbreaking labor, and he got crap wages for it, but he could live off of it? He heard a shrill whistle rise up over the noise of jackhammers and breaking concrete, and he dropped the heavy sledgehammer, feeling his arms and back aching. Lunch break. Finally. He slapped his dirty hands on his pants, trying to clean as much of the thick dust away before wandering off. He hopped over a half-demolished wall and into the street beyond, slipping into the crowd on the way to the Bazaar. He reached into his pocket, holding onto his wallet so it didn??t get swiped by some punks. He didn??t have much on him, but it would be enough to get a sandwich and a cool drink into his stomach, and that was enough for him. The city of eight million was the largest and most advanced city in Africa, but it was also one of the worst polluted and most crowded. The skyline was blurred with thick smog that only seemed to trap the heat of the day, making it feel almost hard to breathe at times. He had gotten somewhat used to it after living here, but it was something he didn??t think he would ever fully get used to it. He was just glad he was working in the older parts of the city, away from the blinding skyscrapers and traffic-clogged streets. The Khan el-Khalili Bazaar was one of older locations in the city, built sometime back in the 1300s, but it was still a popular location for tourists and locals. In the distance, he could hear the call from the al-Hussein Mosque, announcing the preparation for noontime prayer. Stopping at one of the market kiosks, he calmly ordered a sandwich, paying the vendor and walking over to lean against one of the walls. The bricks were hot against his back, but it wasn??t unbearable. He bit into the sandwich, chewing appreciatively as he looked at the people walking about the market. So many of them tourists. He shook his head and finished his sandwich, checking his wallet quickly to see if he would have enough to get a beer before heading back to the demolition site. He had just enough? Crumpling the paper wrapping for his sandwich into a ball, he dropped it into a trash can and shoved his hands in his pockets as he walked.