Moroccan Rhapsody Ch 5

Michelle and Shelly were wandering around the other areas of the mosque, which included a spa, a gym, a library and even a kitchen.  
"I'm not trying to be rude, I'm not," Shelly said.  "I can't help it."
"Yes you can."  Michelle reached for a book on the shelf that had only Arabic text.  "I wonder if this is one reason why the Islamic community doesn't care for Americans."
"They don't?  Why?" Shelly asked.
"Probably something political... maybe Israel has something to do with it."  Michelle paged through the book which had several pictures of devoted parishiners in prayer.  "Either way, it's very disrespectful to keep talking loudly and questioning their religous methods.  Hasn't Greg told you about life over here?"
"We might've mentioned it a little."  Shelly picked up a book on Moroccan art.  "I need to continue my studies."
"Why not go school?  Take a few geography or anthropology courses?"  Michelle closed the lid of the book.  "You could even go for a basic communications degree or something.  That'd only be two years."
"Maybe..." Shelly trailed off.  "What if I got wet?"
Michelle shrugged.  "What if?  I went to school.  I had a few issues too, but nothing that kept me too far from the action."
Shelly giggled.  "I guess." She paused to glance around the room to ensure they were alone except for the library attendant on the far end of the hall.  "I guess if you can deal with Summer, sprouting fins isn't all that much of a hassle."
"It's like I keep telling you, Shelly, you can't let little things like that keep you down."  Michelle crossed the room, passing by a window that let in a lot of sunlight.  The warmth affected her, and suddenly she began to worry.  "Mmm... man... Anabelle might've stressed the truth."
"Everything okay?" Shelly asked.
Michelle picked up the book she was reading and put it back onto the shelf.  She was suddenly more worried and sullen.
"Should we go?" Shelly asked.
Michelle nodded.  "Come on."
They made their way outside, putting on their shoes.  Michelle didn't take off her burka right away, however, and once beyond the door, began looking for a private alcove.  She began by walking briskly towards the crepe stand across the road, but that was too public.
Shelly returned the burka and looked around to find where Michelle had gone.   After leaving a five dollar bill for the mosque in return for the burkas, Shelly started in the direction of the crepe stand.
Michelle, meanwhile, was well ahead and beginning to feel sweat below the black fabric.  She had little time and few options.  Her fingers beginning to experience cold chills, she found a back alleyway that opened up to a larger area, but had ran out of time.  
Pushing her way past a few Moroccan men who were on their way to the mosque, she bumped past and headed into the alleyway.
"Sorry!  Excuse me!"
"Stupid American!"
They glanced down the alleyway to see something strange.  Her feet changed first - all the running had made them sweat beyond their limits, and soon Michelle was leaning against a brick wall.
"Dammit... now I'm in for it."  She pressed the wall with her hands, spreading out her fingers in a vain attempt to stem the shift as her fingers bulged and morphed into tires.  
"Dammit... there's no room here... unngh!"
The men turned the corner and hesitated at the sight.
The American woman was widening and breathing heavily as the loose burka she wore was shredded when her torso expanded, though the rest of her clothing was absorbed.  From the waist down had already been replaced by fenders, and soon the rest of her body began to widen and shape itself outward into the rest of the car form.  
Each man was instantly beside himself, and one of them even bowed in prayer, mesmirized by the sight.
Summer had never managed to avoid leaving the wall, and even now fully transformed was surrounded by the shreds of her burka and propped up at a eighty degree angle in the narrow alleyway, unable to back up and drive away.
"Shelly... go get Greg... where are you?"
"It spoke...?  Did it speak?"  
Summer became suddenly silent as the men entered the alleyway.  She could see them through her mirrors, but only just.  They couldn't have missed her, but did they see her change as well?
The men began speaking in Arabic.  Roughly translated, I could guess they were saying stuff like this.
"The car... a woman that spoke, didn't it?"
"How incredible!  A woman who could do such a thing would be useful!"
Summer didn't know what to do next.  What were they saying?  Would they try to capture her?  And if they did, how would they do it?
"Keep watch over her.  I'll go find a flatbed!"
"Block the alley so we can guard her!"
"Okay!  What about a crane?  Do we need a crane?"
"None of us can lift a car by ourselves!"
"Perhaps a crane, okay!"  He hesitated and wracked his brain.  "Where am I to find a crane?"
Shelly watched one of the men run by, raving something.  Quickly, she picked up her cellphone and gave me a call.
"Greg?  I need you outside, now.  Summer's in trouble.  Hurry!"

Hawkeye and had just left the imam's office when my phone began to vibrate in my pocket.  
I had no sooner answered when Shelly began ranting about Summer being in trouble.  "Hang on, what?  Summer..."
Hawkeye gave me a look.  He adjusted a ring on his finger.
"Where?"
"Outside?" Hawkeye asked.
I nodded.  Though it was disrespectful to run in a mosque, we picked up our pace as best we could.  
"Keep the lightning to a minimum, Greg."  Hawkeye took the point.  "Only one of you need give up a secret."
"All right."  I gave a nod and kept up.

Outside, Shelly watched as a man drove up and blocked the alley with his car, a Toyota of some kind.  He then left the car across the alleyway enterance and ran off.  
"She's completely exposed in there... surrounded by men..." Shelly gritted her teeth as Hawkeye and I caught up to her.
"Shelly?  What happened?" I asked.
"Summer is in that alleyway... I can't see, but I know she changed.  They blocked the front and one of them ran off to get something... I thought I heard them say something about a flatbed."
"A flatbed?"  Hawkeye gave me a nod.  "Let's go."
We both headed into the space and made it around the corner when one of them pushed into me.  "Hey!  Stay away!"
"Nothing to see here, get gone!"
"Oh really?" I asked.
"Let us in there!" Hawkeye cried.
The men pushed us back.  
Shelly watched, but realized that I wasn't zapping anyone.  Hence, she came up with a distraction of her own.
"Oh boys?  There's a woman out here dressing risky!"  She unfurled her shoulders and revealled a bit of her cleavage, prominently displaying her swimsuit bikini top.
The men gasped, and that was just enough of a distraction.  Crude as it was, it was enough for Hawkeye and I to push the men out of our way and let me in close to Summer.  
"Greg!  About time!" Summer cried.
Hawkeye went to work pushing the men away from the scene, drawing a gun to do so.  "Clear out!  I mean it!"
I put my hand onto Summer's fender.  "The burka?"
"The burka," she replied.  "Get me out of here."
Soon, the cold sensations brought her temperature down, and soon she began to shrink.  The car features vanished, and though there was still a bit of black cowl covering her head, once her hands returned she pulled the fabric free and added it to the pile on the ground at her feet.
"Let's go!" She went behind me and pushed the way past Hawkeye.
One of the men grabbed Michelle, holding her tightly.  Big mistake.
"Get off!" Michelle shrugged him off, but I punched him and broke her free. Michelle and I then ran around the building onto the street and towards the next block over, where Shelly caught up with us.
Hawkeye might've taken on the three men by himself, but a moment or two later he was following us.  "Take the next right!  There's a different alleyway which you can drive out of."
Michelle was beginning to sweat again, and no sooner did she take the corner her hands began to bulge again.  She turned about and faced the street before kneeling, putting all fours on the ground as her feet turned into tires.  "Cover me!"
"How?  You're going to outgrow me," I said.
"Just block the alleyway.  There's nobody behind me?"
"You're all clear."  I gave a nod as, indeed, she was clear.  The alleyway was short, and ended in a dumpster and fire exit of sorts.  Her hips began to expand and form into fenders, and Shelly came up to me as I stood outside the alleyway.
"She's in there?" Shelly asked.
"Button up your blouse," I suggested.
Shelly smiled and did her top button.  A moment later I heard Summer's engine start.
"Okay!  Get in!"
Hawkeye came up to the enterance to the alleyway.  "Where are the girls?"
"Inside the mosque.  Shall I call them?" Shelly asked.
"Get in and then call!" Summer said.
We all climbed in, and Summer pulled ahead and went towards the left as a Toyota came up the street and spun around quickly, filled with the three men who had spotted her earlier.
"They're not answering!" Shelly turned aside from the phone.
"Pull up to the mosque.  I'll go in."  Hawkeye held onto the dash, as Summer hadn't yet had a chance to buckle him in.
"Hang on!  I'll get you close as I can."  
Summer pulled up to the sidewalk, and no sooner did she stop, Hawkeye jumped out and jogged up the walk before going in slowly.  A moment later, he emerged with Jeanette and Anabelle, who had came around the far side.
"Quickly, quickly..." Summer watched behind her as the men in the Toyota had spun around and were coming about.
"What do they want with you?" Shelly asked.
"Something about a flatbed?" I asked.
"Maybe they could use a woman with automotive tendancies," Summer muttered.
Once they were closer, Anabelle, Jeanette and Hawkeye ran and climbed into Summer as best they could, stuffing themselves into the back.
"Close the door!" Summer gasped.
The Toyota was closing quickly.  Once the doors closed, Summer quickly strapped everyone's seat belt and hit the accelerator, flooring it and speeding away from the men, who continued to chase.  
"Lose 'em, Summer!  Go towards the right!"
"Why the right?" Summer asked.
"Trust me!"
Summer did so, following the road that went past the mosque and towards a more industrial area.  Ahead was a busier road that ran alongside a commuter rail line.
"Go straight, Summer.  You know what to do."
"There's a railway..." Shelly began.
"I know."  Summer pushed her accelerator to the floor.
"Hold on tight!"  I held onto the seat, not wanting to risk touching the steering wheel and distracting Summer.
She continued to speed, and the stoplight ahead began to glow yellow.  Then it turned red.
Summer didn't stop.  Instead, she hit a short rise in the street and fired the Turbo Thrust, sailing over the berm of the rail line and onto a service road on the far side.  She swerved a bit before regaining control and stopped at the next corner, which was another busy street.
We all turned around and looked at the rail line, spotting the train that had been approaching.  A moment later, and we might've been hit by it, even a few inches above the tracks.
"Are they back there?" Jeanette asked.  "Who's chasing us?"
"Who cares?  They're behind us... where to now, gentlemen?" Summer asked.
"Take a left.  We're going to find the motorway and head to the Bouskaran Forest."
"Bouskaran Forest?" Anabelle shook her head.
"Does that place sound familiar?" Jeanette asked.
Anabelle suddenly held her head and leaned back into the seat.  "I feel strange...."
"Something is blocking her memory," Jeanette replied.  "You can feel it, can't you, Anabelle?  Like there's a road block in your mind?"
"I don't know what a road block is... but yes," Anabelle replied.
"Let's just head down there now.  It might be an hour's drive... you up for it, Summer?" Hawkeye asked.
"Of course.  Tell me where to go."  The light changed and she turned left.

Our hourlong drive through Casablanca and the greater Moroccan farmyards proved that there was more to this desert jewel than sand and camels.  Grapevines, dates, yams and corn all seemed to be growing along the motorway southwest of town.  The flats of the farmland and irragated waterways soon gave way to hills and trees, however, and soon we were going south along a heavily wooded area that we couldn't see through.
"Is this the forest, Hawkeye?" Jeanette asked.
"Yes, I'm sure of it.  Watch for a steel camel along the road," he replied.
"Steel camel?" Shelly asked.
Hawkeye nodded.  "A sculpture of sorts.  When we see it, we'll want to take the next left turn onto a narrow tracked road."
"I'm no off road specialist, but I'll do my best," Summer replied.
All of us watched carefully for the sculpture, and about ten minutes later there it was on the side of the road atop a hill.  I was reminded of a drive to North Dakota where the placement of an old threshing machine upon a hill was the sign for the turn towards my grandparent's farm.
"Is that it?" Anabelle asked.  "Hawkeye?"
"Yes, that's it.  Slow down, Summer."
Summer had already done so and was signaling left.  "Right here?  Is that a road?"
The road that she had spotted was very much something out of North Dakota, except there were actual roads back home.  Here, the road was two tire ruts in the tall grass with wildflowers trailing into the woods.
"Trust me, that's it."  Hawkeye leaned back into the seat.  "No need to rush."
"Agreed.  I hope I don't have to pick anything out of my fingernails."  Summer waited for traffic on the far side of the road, and when it was clear she made the turn.  
Summer carefully navigated the narrow trail, all the while puffing and gasping as the tall grass tickled her bumper along the way.
"Pfft... when I find out how, I'm going to get someone for this."
"You're doing great, Summer, if you get us there I'll give you a wash personally," Hawkeye said.
"There's something weird about that," Shelly said.
"Only if you use hot water," Summer replied.  "Ooph!"
"What was that?" I asked.
"A thistle!  Ungh!"
"How far must we go?" Jeanette asked Hawkeye.
"It's a few miles.  Hang in there, gang."
The canopy became much heavier above us, and Summer actually turned on her headlights after awhile.  The road neither improved or worsened, and for the next twenty minutes or so Summer carefully navigated our way along the path.  She didn't dare go any faster than five or ten miles per hour, as she didn't want to leave the path or risk getting stuck.  Perhaps she also had our safety in mind, as she avoided the deep ruts that might've given us all quite a bump.
Finally, after nearly a half hour drive from the motorway, we could see a faint clearing up ahead.  However, there was a heavy gate blocking the road within a border of trees and fence posts.  There would be no way around it with a convertible.
"I think we have to walk from here, crew."  Summer put herself into park and opened her doors before releasing everyone from their seatbelts.  "Unless you have a better idea, Hawkeye?"
"No, you're quite right, Summer.  From here we walk."

I changed Michelle back and the six of us climbed over the gate before continuing the road up a hill and into the field.  Scattered with several trees and a few small fields, we ascended a sharp ridge before viewing a lush valley in front of us with a small creek and an assemblance of houses.  The houses were made largely from wood, and were powered by windmills and waterwheels.  No powerlines could be seen, though a few electric motors could be heard in the otherwise broken silence of the wind.  
"A whole village, here, in the middle of this vast forest... largely unknown by the people of Casablanca?" Shelly asked.
"Yes.  An island in the forest." Jeanette waved her hands, much like that woman from The Sound of Music.  "A village of genies, I'm sure."
"Can you tell?" Michelle asked.
Jeanette nodded.  "I can smell the magic of the people.  Anabelle, surely you can also?"
Anabelle nodded.  "Though there is something in my mind telling me otherwise."
"More of the magic block in her mind?" I asked.
Jeanette nodded.   "Perhaps there will be someone here who can help you sort it out."
"Can we do so from out of the sun?  Even genies might not want to watch a woman transform into a car... and I've got enough people chasing me today."  Michelle took the lead into the village, followed closely by Jeanette and Anabelle.
"You okay, Shelly?" I forgot that she was wearing her nicer shoes, which were not known for having good arch supports.  
"Fine," she smiled.  If her feet hurt, she didn't let on.

Though there were people out and about to tend their gardens, or feed and water their livestock, or hanging laundry in the sun, or washing clothes in the cesspools of the creek, people were not anxious to run out and greet us.  The people were mainly dressed in plain tunics and linens, wearing outfits that seemed to be handmade.  A few children pointed at us as we passed by, but were shooed inside by their elders.
We had hardly intended to create such a ruckus, but soon a group of men were following us and watching intently.
The six of us came to a stop near a central square with a large earthen stone well set into the street.  No less than a dozen men were blocking the road that branched to the left and the right of the well, which overlooked the creek and a mill to the east.
"I guess we're the talk of the town," Shelly said.
"Hawkeye, any insight on the language here?" I asked.
"Jeanette... a little insight, please?" Hawkeye asked.
Jeanette shrugged.  "Arabic?"
Hawkeye stood before the group and spoke a few greetings in Arabic.  The crowd seemed to be unmoved.  Some of the men even changed their expressions and seemed to be brandishing farming tools.  One of the women hefted a pitchfork.
"Plan B?" Hawkeye asked.
Michelle stood behind Jeanette.  "I wish we could communicate with them."
Jeanette's hands began to emit burgundy smoke.  "You might wish you didn't say that, Michelle.  But your wish is granted."
The crowd gasped and groaned, some of them appearing quite angry.  One of the elder men stood forward.  "Such people who would come to our village and dare to utter the demands of our race...?  Apologize for such insolence!  Now!"
Michelle didn't stand down, and went up to the man.  "I will not apologize!  We can understand each other now, can't we?"
"Understanding and conversation are two different camels!  Just because you can hear me in your language does not mean we understand one another!  And who are you to demand wishes of an innocent genie that you captured and brought here, hm?"
"Oh, so because I asked my friend Jeanette to grant a wish so you wouldn't kill me, that makes it okay?"
"No, it does not make it okay!  And if you demand another wish of your slave I will slay you where you stand!"  The man drew a knife.
“She’s not a slave!” Michelle held her ground.
"Hold it!  Hold it!"  Hawkeye and I rushed forward.  Michelle suddenly recoiled, kneeling and checking her hands.  Shelly rushed up to her.  
"I'm okay," Michelle replied.
"Jeanette Lamplighter is a friend... she came here of her own free will, yes?" Hawkeye turned to her.  
"And Anabelle Jhos..." the village elder turned to her.  "Did you come here of your own free will as well?"
"You know my name?" Anabelle asked.
"We have heard from the Traders of Mambu of your story.  You have been missing from them for eighteen months, haven't you?"
Anabelle shook her head.  "I cannot remember."
"And now you attempt to bring her here, for judgement!  Foolish!"  The elder waved his hands, and soon all the villagers were surrounding us.  Jeanette and Anabelle were pushed to the side, and for a few moments of chaos, Michelle, Shelly, Hawkeye and myself were all facing the buisness ends of every farm tool you can think of - scythes, hoes, pitchforks and rakes.  
"Hold it!"  Jeanette raised her hands and went up to the elder.  "We're trying to help Anabelle... her son is missing!"
"Yes!  Please listen!  These people have done so much for me thus far... they are not my captors!  They only wish to help!" Anabelle pushed her way in between the mob and me.  "Greg Claxion was my master briefly, yes, but he released me and offered to help me... help me find my son, please!"
Michelle had begun to kneel again as her hands turned into tires.  "Greg, everyone, you might want to give me some room."
A collective gasp passed through the crowd as they noticed Michelle's abnormality.  
"Shall I?" I whispered.
Michelle shook her head and moved to her hands and knees.  Soon, the crowd relaxed and gave us more room as Michelle transformed into a car before the entire village.
"You made an odd wish to flee... yes?  Why not wish to fly away, rather than drive?" the village elder asked.
"No, good sir," Jeanette said.  "Michelle is a friend who drove us here.  She has became the car without the use of a wish.  I have known her for several years, and she was combined with this car at the genetic level, turning into it because of the heat of the sun.  She would never abuse our friendship with errant wishes, I give you my word."
"Agreed, everyone."  Anabelle put her hand onto Summer's hood.  "My friend Michelle, now known as Summer, risked her life to free me from the Emerald Tide... she has refused any wishes that I might grant that would allow her to be free from this curse."
"And she has performed well," Jeanette added.
"Shelly?  May I show them who you are?" Anabelle asked.
Shelly looked around the village, and nodded, removing her shoes.  I picked her up.  
"And Shelly, another friend from the sea, has came here to the desert to offer her services."
"I wish for a glass of water," Shelly said.
Anabelle granted it, creating a glass of water in Shelly’s hand with a puff of blue smoke.  Shelly then poured the water onto her lap, and a moment later I was holding a mermaid.  Again, the crowd reacted with a stunned gasp.
"These friends of mine are extrordinary people, and they come with honorable intentions," Jeanette said.  "I may be a free genie from Seattle, but I know honorable people when I see them.  They are not your enemies!  And Anabelle and I are both free genies... and we come only with a request."
"A request?" The village elder asked.  "You come to enslave us all?"
"No!"  This time I spoke.  "We come to find Anabelle's son, Han.  That is all we wish for.  If you have any information at all, we would be grateful."
"And maybe a towel?" Shelly asked.
The majority of the townspeople seemed to be easing their concerns.  Most of them were no longer pointing their tools at us.  At least a few of them were admiring themselves in Summer's shiny fenders.
"Please believe us," Summer said.
There were a few moments of silence.  Finally, the village elder raised his arms and turned to the people.  "Friends, for now, return to your chores and resume your daily tasks.  I shall meet with these outsiders and deliver my judgement.  That is my order!"
Without any fuss, the crowd began to disperse.  Soon, only the six of us and the village elder were alone in the square.
"Will you come to my home?  I would grant you each a place out of the sun and a bowl from my kitchen, that we may discuss your quest.  If you are willing?"
Hawkeye gave a bow and a nod.  "Yes, we are more than willing.  I am John Carvel."
Those of us who had heads gazed at one another.  Was that his real name?
The village elder shook hands and bowed to Hawkeye.  "Grandell Olan.  I have been appointed by these villagers as chief and supervisor of our town meetings."  He gazed towards Summer.  "Can we gather outside of my house, south of here?"
"We can walk or we can ride, Mr. Olan," Summer replied.