Tariq

By Kenny Ferguson

In many ways, Tariq Karim is an average teenager. Fourteen can a confusing age for a boy on the verge of becoming a man, as changes morph his body and mind into something even he doesnt recognize. Tariqs experience, however, is very different from his friends. Along with the many physical changes hes going through, hes also discovering that he has some strange, new abilitiesand hes got good reason to keep these abilities a secret.

He and his widowed mother are on the run, hiding from enemies he cant really understand or predict. Tariq and his mom have finally found what they hope is a safe haven in a small, quiet town. His mother has even found romance and a great new teaching job. Things seem to be settling down, but then Tariq starts getting premonitions and warnings that frighten him.

One day, one such premonition impels him to stop his friends father from crossing the train tracks at precisely the right momentsaving his life. Tariqs secret is out, and his life will never be the same. So begins his fascinating and frightening journey to purpose. And suddenly, the quiet and anonymous life he and his mother were building come crashing to an end as their enemies find them again.

For a young man who wants to find his place in the world, are these gifts a blessing or a curse?

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Aug 29, 2012
• ISBN: 9781462066216

Kenny Ferguson

Kenny Ferguson served in the United States Air Force and worked for the New York City Police Department. He is director of security for a large building materials company in New York and lives in Metuchen, New Jersey, with this wife. He is the author of Shades of Blue, The Balkan Photo, Tariq, and The Lost Lamb.

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TARIQ

KENNY FERGUSON

iUniverse, Inc.

Bloomington

TARIQ

Copyright © 2012 by Kenny Ferguson.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

iUniverse books may be ordered through booksellers or by contacting:

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Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

ISBN: 978-1-4620-6622-3 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4620-6620-9 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4620-6621-6 (ebk)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2012909438

iUniverse rev. date: 08/15/2012

Contents

The Railroad Crossing

The Barbecue

The Poker Game

The Rich Bitch

The Shakedown

A Visit To The Doctor

The Filthy Bitch

The Goon Squad

Dark Shadows

Hands On Therapy

On The Cul-De-Sac

The Queen Of Spades

The Lunch Room

An Italian Dinner

The Thin Man

A Night At The Races

Mister Malik

The Halloween Party

The Lab Report

The Ice Cream Parlor

Let’s Make A Deal

The Orphanage

The Locksmith’s Shop

The Excavation…

Tariq & Gabrielle

The Dig

Home Improvement

Mirror, Mirror On The Wall

Missing Persons

The Huanted Mansion

Steinbeck’s Tunnel

A Roman Visit

Captured

The Rescue

The Awakening

Other Books by Kenny Ferguson

THE LOST LAMB

To my grandson, Tariq,

Who inspired me to write this story

about an exceptionally gifted and talented teenager.

THE RAILROAD

CROSSING

Fourteen-year-old Tariq Karim stopped chasing his friend, Felix Atkinson, to watch a group of honey bees building a new home on the crossroad control box of the Northeast Corridor Railroad. The metal box resisted the bee invasion with puffs of white smoke and several arcs of electricity. As the wounded bees began falling to the ground, Felix ran by again and Tariq took up the chase.

A few miles away, Dan Atkinson was driving his 1994 Buick sedan along the two-lane road that hugs the Amboy River. He lowered the car’s windows, slipped a newly purchased Andre Bocelli disc into the disc player and turned up the volume. Orange and yellow September leaves were falling on both sides of the snakelike railroad tracks. They covered the road and the tracks with a colorful summer ending blanket. Dan had promised his son, Felix, that he would watch today’s Little League practice and left work with plenty of time to spare. It was a beautiful day in New Jersey and Dan relaxed by mimicking the tenor’s voice with his lips as he drove. He waved at a strange woman working in her garden and she waved back. The river and the railroad tracks paralleled the road for about two miles before they intersected at the railroad crossing at Metuchen’s three-ton bridge. Dan recognized his son’s bicycle on the side of the road and stopped his car.

Felix saw his father stop and left Tariq to scurry around a haphazard pile of bicycles to reach the passenger side of his father’s car. Hi, Dad. Felix squared the baseball cap on his head and smiled. We’re picking some flowers for old lady Pretzel.

You mean Mrs. Pretsfelder? Dan lowered the volume on his radio.

Right, Dad.

Who’s the kid with the guitar?

He’s my new friend, Tariq. He’s pretty good, want to hear him play?

Dan had to make another stop before the practice game but turned in his seat when he heard a distant train whistle. He glanced fifty yards ahead at the quiet railroad crossing and warned his son to stay clear of the tracks.

Right, Dad.

Ready to leave, Dan stepped on the brake pedal and shifted his transmission into drive—

Wait! Tariq Karim called loudly then lowered his voice. Tell your father to wait, Felix.

Dan heard what the boy said and shifted his transmission back into park.

Felix’s new friend inched his way to the car holding an assortment of foxgloves and daises. Tariq glanced at the railroad crossing, then at Felix and the other boys before handing the bouquet of flowers to Dan. Perhaps Mrs. Atkinson would like these pretty flowers, Sir.

Thank you very much, son. I’m sure Mrs. Atkinson will be very happy to know that her son has such thoughtful friends.

The two boys grinned at each other.

Dan laid the flowers on the seat next to him and once again put his car into gear. I’ll see you guys at the practice field.

All of a sudden, a southbound passenger train appeared from nowhere and blasted through the railroad crossing in front of them at high speed. All eyes turned to watch the prodigious train. When half of the passenger train had crossed the road, a northbound freight train roared through in the opposite direction. The force of the two trains passing each other stirred up several small twisters and bent some of the young trees near the tracks like reeds of straw. Both trains vanished as suddenly as they appeared and the swirling leaves settle back to the ground and all went quiet again. Then the railroad crossing barriers began to drop. Dan Atkinson focused on the flashing red lights and the ding-ding-ding of the warning device. He shifted his transmission back into parking gear and stepped out of the car. Hey! Dan glanced at the boys, who already began playing a type of grab and run game. He returned his attention to the empty crossing. Something is very wrong here.

Thirty minutes later, a fire engine, three police cars and a railroad maintenance vehicle were at the crossing. Police Officer, Joe Pfeifer, who lives in the same cul-de-sac as Dan, made his way to Dan’s Buick. Thank God you saw this, Dan. Pfeifer glanced at his son, Joseph, who was playing with the other kids. There could have been a terrible disaster here.

I was lucky, Joe. Dan cuddled his son. If these boys hadn’t stopped to pick flowers for Mrs. Pretsfelder, I’d be under those two trains.

Later that day, after the baseball practice, Dan sat on his wraparound porch sipping his third vodka martini. He could see Felix and his friends shooting hoops in Bobby Pfeifer’s driveway further down the street. Dan could almost see all of the 40 one-family-homes in the development.

Karen Atkinson emptied the remaining vodka from the pitcher in her hands into the stemmed glass in her husband’s hand then sat down next to him. You all right, Dan?

Dan leaned back in the wicker rocking chair he bought at last year’s community garage sale. I still can’t believe what happened out there today.

Lots of people have close calls, honey. She patted his head. You’re just a lucky guy.

I never thought about death before, Karen. You know, really thought about it?

I know. She lifted his hand, the one holding the martini glass and took a sip from his glass. Felix was out there with you.

I know. They better do something about that crossing.

Well, you’re a reporter—report it.

I’m not a reporter, sweetheart; I’m just a bookend who works for a newspaper. I read books and watch movies and plays and write my opinion.

Can’t you give the story to one of your buddies?

He shrugged. I guess I could.

Tom and Pam are coming to the barbecue on Sunday. He’s a beat reporter, isn’t he? Give it to him.

Good idea, sweetheart. Dan stood up. And let’s invite all the kids who were with Felix at the railroad crossing to the barbecue and their parents. I want to thank all those kids for saving my life. And you’re right, I should be the one to write this story.

THE BARBECUE

Dan Atkinson tried to divert the heavy smoke coming from his two barbecue grills by rapidly waving his long spatula at them but he still had to back away from the intense smoke. He waited for smoke to clear then rushed in to flip the hamburgers and chicken pieces for the last time. He carefully placed a slice of cheese on each burger, lifted all the chicken pieces and all the cheeseburgers to separate warming trays. Then he reloaded the big grill with fresh burgers and chicken breasts and the small grill with hotdogs. Dan spotted his neighbor, George Tyndall between clouds of smoke and called to him. George, can you watch this stuff for a few minutes? I have to get some more ice for the bar.

Tyndall reluctantly accepted the spatula and approached the two smoking barbeque grills with a distrusting awareness.

Dan spread his hands apart as if attempting to fit his words between his palms. If anyone wants a dog or a burger, the rolls and bread are behind you. I’ll be back in a few minutes. Dan twisted his body to look back as he walked away but George Tyndall had already vanished in the smoke filled yard. Dan yelled to George as he moved away from the grills. The burgers and chickens go on the big grill and hot dogs on the small one. Then he navigated a path through the backyard crowd to reach the kitchen door.

Karen Atkinson was filling small baskets with chips and pretzels. I hope we have enough food for this mob?

Food? Dan made a silly face as he opened the freezer door. It’s not the food; it’s the beer and wine that’s disappearing at an astonishing rate. We have plenty of steaks and hotdogs if we need them but it looks like we’re running out of booze.

Mom. Felix and his friend Tariq stood side by side in the open doorway. Can you keep the little kids out of the pool?

Little kids have to have fun too, Felix.

But nobody’s watching them, Mom.

Where are their parents?

Felix turned up his palms.

Dan! Karen gave her husband a concerned look.

Okay, okay. Dan pulled two bags of ice from the freezer. I’ll check out the pool.

Felix, Karen stopped her son before he could dart away. Will you and your friend take these baskets to the big table near the barbecue?

Right, Mom.

Dan divided a bag of ice between the beer and soda coolers and looked up to see three-year-old Rachel Tyndall inching her way towards her father. She seemed to be intrigued by her daddy’s antics and was moving too close to the hot grills. George Tyndall did not see his daughter though the dense smoke. Rachel laughed at her father as he juggled the burgers and dogs on the grill. She seemed to be attracted to the shiny red charcoals and moved even closer to her father to get a better look. Dan called George’s name aloud but George didn’t hear him. Dan panicked, dropped the bag of ice in his hands and began running towards George but he was too late. Little Rachel had reached up and grabbed the edge of the searing hot grill with her tiny hands.

When George finally saw his daughter, he screamed her name. Rachel!

Rachel’s reaction was to pull back. When she did, she fell back, and pulled the hot grill with her. She landed on her back and the hot dogs and hot coals spilled out of the small grill on top of her. Her legs were completely buried under hot coals and ash. Her screams and her father’s screams brought the entire crowd to silence. George Tyndall screamed his daughter’s name again only louder. Rachel!

Nearby, Tariq Karim dropped the bowls of chips he was holding and sprinted about ten feet to reach little Rachel. He pulled her away from the hot coals, scooped her up, and raced another twenty feet to the Atkinson’s small above ground swimming pool. The pool was crowded but he plunged into the cold water with little Rachel in his arms.

George Tyndall ran after them, yelling. Wait! Wait . . . But Tariq held the little girl tightly and kept her head above the water. George Tyndall also jumped into the pool with them and retrieved his daughter. Holding his daughter in his arms, he climbed out of the pool. Call an ambulance, He pleaded, Someone call an ambulance! Then he spotted Doctor Diamond across the cul-de-sac trimming his hedges and bolted towards him.

When John Diamond saw a crazed George Tyndall charging his house with the child in his arms, he dropped his hedge trimmer and ran to meet him.

She’s burned! He cried aloud. She’s burned bad! The hot grill fell on her.

Put her down here. Doctor Diamond dropped to his knees and patted the ground in front of him. His head swiveled as the other neighbors crowded onto his lawn. The doctor pointed at Police Officer, Joe Pfeifer. Joe, keep these people back. Then he looked at Karen Atkinson. Karen, he pointed at her. Go to my house and get my bag from Anna. She’s inside. Hurry! Tell her to call an ambulance and bring some clean towels and cold water to me. Quickly, quickly!

Karen pushed her way towards the doctor’s house and Sharon Tyndall came to the front of