The War Within

by Rosanne Hawke

  Jasper watched him in growing horror. No one had ever spoken to him like this. Everyone at school had known he was grieving and had treated him with kid gloves, giving him time to work through it. Yet, he had let the feelings fester and grow into what had become a cancer. Slowly he began to see himself in a different light, and it wasn’t pretty. Sohail was right: he was angry. He hated even the idea of God. He had let his dad die, and there hadn’t even been a funeral. Always the regret that he should have been there, and wasn’t.

  Then he couldn’t help it: sobs jumped out like the breaths of a drowned man given mouth-to-mouth. He hadn’t cried before, not for his dad. For the first time, he realised there was nothing he could have done, and he was so sorry. Sorry that he had turned his back on all that his father had lived for and believed in; sorry that in an attempt to make everything right again, he’d almost caused the girls’ deaths. Jasper never noticed Sohail leave, but as he glanced around, he realised he was alone in the night. Yet, he felt less alone than he had since word had first come about his dad’s disappearance.

  Sohail returned, their turbans in his hand and Jasper stood facing him in the moon’s light. Slowly, Jasper held out his hand. The young Pakhtun smiled and stepped forward to embrace him in a hug.

  ‘Now I see we are truly brothers. The peace of Khuda is in you.’

  Jasper nodded and heaved a shuddering sigh.

  Sohail took his arm. ‘Now we must go, and quickly. A party of men are out from the fort. We have to get the girls to safety. Sonya must not go back to the village but now it is too dangerous on the road. I know a place. Raza!’

  22

  Jasper

  Sohail had left his horse tethered over the other side of the gully and as he and Jasper skidded up to it, he pulled his Kalashnikov from the saddle, threw himself down and lay as if in an ambush behind a fallen log. Jasper dropped down beside him.

  ‘Sorry I have no gun for you, my friend.’ Sohail had sounded especially concerned about that, but Jasper wasn’t used to guns, certainly not automatic assault rifles.

  Soon they saw the dark shapes coming up over the ridge, the guns and turbans silhouetted against the night sky behind them.

  ‘Are they guerrillas?’

  ‘Ji,’ Sohail’s voice was tense and strangely sad too. ‘They call themselves mujahideen—fighters for freedom like my people—except these ones are terrorists only. They say Islam calls for violence to make our country an Islamic state, but this is not the Islam my father follows. It is a pity they fight and kill innocent people—there are more important things in our country to do.’ He let loose the safety-catch on the AK 47.

  ‘Isn’t there a better way than fighting back? Someone could get killed.’

  Sohail must have heard the desperate note in Jasper’s voice—or did he recognise the fear? ‘Not with these people, my friend,’ he said. ‘They understand no other way. There is no time to get the girls to safety—the men are too close. We must fight.’

  Jasper could feel the sweat on his lip as he saw Sohail’s finger tremble on the trigger. They both jumped involuntarily as a stream of slugs from a machine gun ripped a line of holes across the log. The horse shied and whinnied as Sohail’s AK 47 rattled in return fire. Jasper ducked, nervous, as a tracer sang past his ear. One of the shots tore a harmless path through his coat sleeve and he wondered if they should change their position. He watched Sohail changing the magazine. In the lull, a voice boomed from the darkness in guttural Pakhtu.

  ‘Surrender. We know you are but a boy. You have no hope.’

  ‘Nay!’ Sohail shouted and underlined his answer with a barrage of bullets.

  The resulting cry of pain brought a satisfied mutter from Sohail. The guys squinted into the clearing ahead of them. The bright flashes drew closer and there were many pockets of darkness to serve as hiding places. Jasper couldn’t imagine how Sohail would keep the whole group at bay, especially when he’d wounded only one.

  Just then, their hiding place was shredded by a storm of bullets from the side. Jasper grunted as he was flung backwards. Something slammed into his shoulder like a fourth of July rocket. He gingerly touched his arm and found it wet and sticky.

  ‘Sohail, I’m hit. They’re closing in. If you get shot too, what will happen to the girls? They can’t hope to escape. We have to surrender. It would be different if it were only us, but we must protect them. Sohail! Are you listening?’

  ‘You do not understand,’ Sohail growled. ‘We never give up.’

  Jasper did understand. He knew the code of honour of Pakhtuns, but he also knew that the girls would be hopeless without help. There was no doubt the men would find them. What did Sohail think the two of them could do? For once, Jasper wanted to make the right decision.

  It was over in a matter of minutes. Sohail shouted in Pakhtu and threw his rifle into the darkness. As he pulled Jasper up beside him, the men from the fort urged their mounts nearer. It was obvious, even in the pale light, that they recognised Sohail and were surprised to see him there.

  ‘So, a prize!’ A huge burly man with ammunition straddling his chest dismounted and moved so close to the boys that Jasper could smell the garlic on his breath. ‘My father will be pleased to see you, son of the khan.’ He spat the last word out as though there was no such title, and laughed like a jackal, the men with him echoing the evil sound.

  At that moment, Jasper knew Sohail had been right; falling alive into the hands of men like these was a terrible mistake. Mr Kumar had been a mujahid and so was Sohail. Stupidly, he’d thought all militants would be like them, keeping the Pakhtunwali, the ancient code of honour.

  23

  Jaime

  It wasn’t long before Liana was bending over and groaning. She had no time to explain, and with sharp signals that she needed a bush, she hurried out of sight. I hoped she’d be better soon. That was when I thought I could hear banging like fireworks. It was hard to distinguish one sound from another in the wind near the waterfall. I moved down a little and then I heard another noise: shouts and what sounded like gunfire.

  Something was wrong. From where Sonya and I were, I couldn’t hear much except the firing, then came a lull. After that, the snort of a horse, close by. I was so relieved they’d returned that I forgot Jasper’s instruction to stay hidden until I heard his voice, and rushed out to meet them. I even had the veil of the burqa flung back.

  Sonya tried to hold my horse by the bridle, but it didn’t stop me. The bawdy shouts and whoops that met me as I emerged from behind the cover did though. The men didn’t seem surprised we were there, just obscenely pleased that they’d found us—with a lot of help from me, I was horrified to realise. I expected Sonya to tell me what she thought of me, but she was silent. At least Liana was safely hidden behind a bush.

  When we were led into the circle of militants and forced off our mounts so that two men without horses could ride, I felt as if I’d been told to swim across a shark-infested estuary. Life to that point had just been a practice; this was the reality. Men like these would behead the boys without thinking about it and make us girls their war wives. Life and death hung in the balance, and I didn’t like the odds. I could tell Jasper didn’t either. He stood crookedly, looking dazed. He couldn’t even hold himself up. Sohail was studying Sonya and me in our burqas, as if he had Superman’s x-ray vision and didn’t like what he saw.

  Suddenly, Sohail spoke to the largest of the men. He sounded arrogant, just like the day he warned us by emptying the magazine in the valley. Yet, this time I knew it was aggression born of fear. From the men’s glances at us, I could tell he was talking about us. Probably warning them that we were his sisters. No doubt saving our virtue would be more important to Sohail than telling the truth. But from the sneers in the men’s voices, I knew they wouldn’t take notice of Sohail.

  We were forced to walk then. Afghanistan can be a rocky place and that night, I
felt we’d found the most barren part of all. Even the moon didn’t help. I’d heard stories of freedom fighters covering forty kilometres a day; they had a rolling way of walking that enabled them to handle the rocky terrain, but I just kept tripping. Walking in a long burqa was so confining. How did the women here cope with wearing them all the time? I tried to keep close to Jasper; I didn’t want any of those cutthroats getting near me, and besides, he was stumbling even more than I was. Sohail fell back in step beside him and I overheard his strange query. ‘Can you hold on a little longer, my friend?’

  Jasper must have nodded for I heard nothing again, except his harsh breathing until he asked, ‘Sohail?’

  ‘Ji?’

  He continued in Urdu. ‘Why did you say you were betrothed to one of the girls? Just to save them?’

  ‘Nay, because it is true,’ came the simple answer. ‘It is not yet made known.’

  ‘You can’t mean Jaime or Liana?’

  Sohail hesitated only a second. ‘My brother, you still have much to learn. Your sisters are my sisters, just as they are yours.’ I didn’t miss the inflection in Sohail’s voice. Jasper must have caught it as well, for he made a small questioning sound.

  ‘Ji, I know they are not your blood relatives. Pembley Sahib never spoke of his daughters. Also I know they are Australian.’

  ‘Why did you allow the pretence … I mean, if you knew?’

  ‘I understood their honour was important to you. It did not need to be forbidden. But do not be concerned, only my father and I know this.’

  ‘Then, who?’

  Yes, I, too, was dying to know who he could possibly be engaged to.

  ‘My betrothed is Sonya.’

  I heard the bewilderment in Jasper’s voice echoing that in my own mind. ‘I never saw you pay her any attention.’

  ‘That is not our custom. It would have been most unseemly and disrespectful to her to do so.’

  ‘But you talked to Jaime.’

  ‘That is different. Jaime could not be my wife. She is as a sister.’

  Jasper was quiet after that; it was enough to keep me thinking for hours. Sonya! I wondered if she knew. Maybe that would explain how her behaviour changed in the village. It was too difficult to think through, especially when I was in danger of crippling myself on the rocks while we were herded up the steep hillside.

  Liana was on my mind all the way up the mountain, hoping she would find Sonya’s mare and return to the village. We’d just spent a lot of trouble getting out of there, thinking we were in danger, but in comparison to these men, Mr Kumar was as benign as Uncle Jon. Mr Kumar was a commander, surely he would organise help if he knew. I prayed Liana was well enough, that she’d manage to tell Mr Kumar and he would believe her.

  I was cold and it felt as if we’d been walking half the night when I looked up and saw dark walls silhouetted against the night sky. It seemed like two! Then I brushed my eyes and focused again; it was the long wall of the fort that we’d seen from the van when we first arrived. We approached a giant wooden gate. The carving on it looked as though it had been crafted hundreds of years ago. It opened slowly like a monster yawning, and I had the uneasy thought that once we walked through, there would be no way out.

  Inside lay a typical mountain village, and we were pushed down a narrow bazaar lane, the horses’ hooves making clip-clopping sounds on the ancient worn stonework. A tower-like structure, which resembled an Afghan version of The Adams Family set, loomed in front of us. I had a strange floating sensation that I might as well be dead. Everyone back home most probably thought I was.

  By that time, I knew there was something desperately wrong with Jasper. Sohail was supporting him as they walked down the lane. I’d been concentrating so hard on getting up the rocky ridge without spraining an ankle that I hadn’t noticed how long Sohail had been helping him. When we stopped at the foot of the tower, it was as though Jasper knew he didn’t have to make the effort any more, for he collapsed on to the ground. Even Sohail couldn’t hold him.

  I stood there staring at his body on the ground and didn’t feel a thing. Through the haze of exhaustion I could have been watching a movie in a theatre, sight and sound echoing from behind the curtains. Soon someone would flick a switch, the lights would come on and I’d be safe at home.

  24

  Jaime

  We were taken first of all to another man, obviously the commander—newspapers back home would have called him a war lord or a terrorist. He was already angry from being woken from his sleep. With him was a guard-type person who stared at us with the vacancy of a lunatic, except when the war lord gave him an order. Then, the man’s eyes took on the fire of a fanatic. My numbness as Jasper fell and was dragged away began to recede and in its place there grew a crawling horror. What would they do to him? So much for the theory of our minds letting us stay in suspended shock at traumatic moments.

  There, in the war lord’s room, I heard the threat in the man’s tone as he spoke and towered over us; I watched his lopsided leer widen as his curved knife came close to Sohail’s neck and drew blood from the finest of cuts. Sohail didn’t flinch as his eyes blazed back into his tormentor’s. At that moment, I felt I’d been right about one thing at least—Sohail was noble, regardless of what Jasper thought. I’d never forget the way he looked right then, like a prince standing in a circle of thieves, knowing they would kill him, but keeping his courage and dignity to the end.

  The war lord leaned in closer, almost like a friend, and spoke in Pakhtu to Sohail. Sonya took in a sudden breath beside me and I wished I knew what he’d said.

  The men’s attention quickly turned to Sonya and me. The laughter as our burqas were ripped off was obscene, and that was when Sohail acted. He lunged forward, but two men from the corridor rushed in and held him. One grabbed him under his neck so he couldn’t breathe without turning his face to the ceiling. It was hard to tell what amused the war lord the most—playing with Sonya’s and my fears, or watching Sohail lose his cool.

  There was no doubt what would happen to us and I was glad Liana was safe.

  The man stepped towards Sonya and me then. ‘So, one of you is Ruse, the other Inglestan.’ Then came the words in broken English, ‘Such beauty. More than the telling.’ He laughed, lust making his eyes shine.

  He leaned near to my ear; I recoiled from his evil-smelling breath and the matted remains of dinner on his black beard. ‘How entertaining it will be deciding which is which.’ He lifted up a piece of my hair with his knife and flicked it slightly. I stared, mesmerised as two centimetres of my hair floated to the floor. I couldn’t stop shivering as his laugh filled the room.

  Then his attention was drawn to a scuffle outside the door. I breathed in at the reprieve. But it was short-lived. A man threw in a burqa-clad woman so that she landed on the floor at the war lord’s feet. His barked words sounded like an accusation.

  The war lord still had the knife in one hand as he pulled the woman to her feet. A new, deeper fear gripped me. The woman was the same height as Liana. Surely not. He flicked up the burqa with the knife to show a pale-faced Liana, her dark hair over one cheek, eyes tightly shut. ‘So, another one.’ He spoke in Urdu this time. ‘Why were you out in the night alone? To tell secrets?’

  Liana’s eyes flew open as she shook her head, but she showed no fear other than the widening of her pupils.

  ‘Nay, there is only one reason a woman is out in the dark and that is to meet with men and give herself to them. This is immoral behaviour and needs to be purged, so we can have a pure land. You will be whipped.’

  I gasped and before I could stop myself, I spoke. ‘It’s not true. She is pure, we all are pure.’

  The war lord laughed. ‘How can I believe that? You were in the dark with two young men who are not your husbands. This evil behaviour cannot go unpunished or we will have an immoral nation like the West. We are fighting for
a pure Islamic state and people like you need to be made an example of.’ He barked an order to the vacant-eyed guard, no doubt to take us away.

  The war lord’s insane laughing followed us out of the room. Our hope of rescue was gone.

  n

  It was the early hours of the morning when we were dragged into the tower of the fort and thrown into a room. At least we’d all been imprisoned together. It was unusual but maybe they could spare only one guard. Vacant Eyes gave an order to Sohail then shut the door behind him. Sohail translated when he left. ‘We have to behave ourselves or he’ll be in here to beat us.’

  The first thing I did was hug Liana and garbled out my concerns. ‘Are you well now? I’m sad you were found, I was hoping—’

  She cut in, ‘I think the shock has fixed my sickness. I heard what happened to you, even found the horse, and was on my way to get help. But they must have left a few men to check the area. I’m sorry.’ There was nothing more to say.

  It was a relief to see Jasper lying on the only charpai. He was unconscious. Blood oozed down his arm and dripped onto the floor. I knelt by the bed to touch his forehead. He moved slightly and moaned. The sound encouraged me, and I checked under his vest. It seemed he was only wounded in the shoulder. I hesitated before doing what I did next. It wasn’t easy—I loved that tribal dress—but I couldn’t let Jasper bleed to death. I ripped off a piece of the material from the hem and wrapped it around the top part of his arm. Soon, I was wishing I knew some first aid, as it wasn’t long before the cloth was looking darker, glistening in the early light of the morning.

  He didn’t wake, so I sat on the stone floor next to the charpai. I surveyed the grimy, colourless room we’d been thrown into. It was bare except for the string bed and a clay water jar. Only a bucket stood closed off in a corner. How embarrassing it would be to relieve ourselves, or were we only to be here for a short time before they ‘punished’ us? The walls of our prison were cobwebbed and the dusty floor crawled with scuttling cockroaches. Worse, every time I moved or scratched myself, I saw tiny black things jump. Even the air smelt musty. And it was cold. They sure didn’t roll out the red carpet.