Read Online The Girl in the Road by Monica Byrne - Free Book Online Page A

good. First we have to know you’re not police. Please raise your arm.”
    I take off my jacket and do so. He runs a handheld scanner over my armpit, where my aadhaar is embedded, the little almond under the skin. The scanner beeps green.
    â€œThank you, madam. And thank you, Aunty. Two tiffin for lunch, please.”
    The woman wags her head. To me she says, “Tell Rana to come home.” Then she disappears back into the people soup.
    â€œMy name is Misbah,” the man says. “Please follow me.”
    He leads me down a dark hallway, at the end of which is a door that has three locks, one mechanical and two digital. He unlocks all three and then leads me up a flight of stairs. We climb five stories. On the sixth landing he knocks on a door in a syncopated rhythm. After a minute, it opens. A man who looks just like Misbah, except older, taller, and with a cleft in his chin, lets us in. We’re in a low-ceilinged room packed with six aisles of shelving under fluorescent light. I see glimpses of merchandise: folded cloth, shiny backpacks. I can see the older one’s been watching soap operas in the corner. The holograms are on pause.
    â€œWelcome to the Mart,” says the older man as Misbah disappears behind a curtain. “I am Mehrdad, and that is my brother, and we are the two proprietors of this unique store. We have everything you may need for safe times and a high adventure on the Trail.”
    â€œHave either of you ever been on the Trail?”
    â€œNo.”
    I stare at him for a moment. Then Misbah reappears, bearing a tray of tea glasses. I thank him and take one. It’s cold, strong, and sweet, made with fresh spearmint.
    â€œDo you know anyone who’s gone?”
    â€œOh yes. Several who’ve passed through here.”
    â€œDefine ‘several.’ ”
    Mehrdad glances at Misbah. “You’re the fourth.”
    â€œI see. Anyone who’s come back?”
    â€œNo, no one has come back, not yet,” says Misbah.
    â€œBut give it time! We’ve only been open a few months,” says Mehrdad. “As the illegal sport grows in popularity, business will boom, and then it’ll become legal.”
    â€œSo I’m doing it at the right time.”
    â€œBefore there are backpackers and weekend strollers all across the length of the Arabian Sea, yes.”
    I can’t decide whether they’re visionary or delusional. “I’m guessing all the things I need will cost more than two thousand rupees.”
    Both men laugh loudly.
    â€œYes,” says Mehrdad.
    â€œI have money,” I say. “I just don’t want to be tracked, and two thousand is all I have in cash.”
    â€œWe’re familiar with that situation,” says Mehrdad. “Our customers wish to maintain a low profile. But all of our purchases are routed through our father’s menswear emporium, so you don’t have to worry.”
    â€œBut I don’t even want anyone to know I’m in Mumbai.”
    Mehrdad sucks his breath in through his teeth. “That, we cannot help with, madam.”
    That makes it simple. If I buy supplies here, I signal to the cloud where I am in Mumbai, and Anwar and Lucia and whoever else is involved will know.
    So I’ll have to leave tonight.
    â€œLet’s do it,” I say.
    Mehrdad and Misbah nod to each other.
    They lead me to the shelf at the back of the room and we work our way forward. They explain each item to me as they pull it out. I make a mental sketch of each.
    Two bottle-sized desalinators that, as a bonus, make sea salt in the top chamber.
    A compass.
    A sea anchor.
    Two nylon ropes with hooks.
    All-purpose soap concentrate.
    One hundred compressed gas capsules.
    A toothbrush, toothpaste powder, and a tongue scraper.
    A waterproof, watertight backpack. Color: white. Misbah takes my measurements and then takes it away to make custom adjustments to fit the shape of my back.
    Two