Allure of Deceit

by Susan Froetschel

  They planned to walk until the sun came up, and the two did not talk so that they would hear other passersby well in advance, separate, and move off the trail. They didn’t want to run into anyone near the village of Laashekoh. The snow kept falling, the trail was empty, and Saddiq delayed signaling a stop while the weather cooperated. He moved southwest toward the highway, in a direction slightly off from their ultimate destination to keep anyone from guessing that the two were headed to Kandahar. The area was unfamiliar, and he prayed for more snow, at least until they reached the highway.

  Thara seemed relieved to keep moving, and so was he. The search for her had been intense, and Saddiq didn’t want to think about how his parents would panic once they discovered that he was missing. He had to keep moving and couldn’t sit, sleep, or think too hard. Guilt clutched at his throat and chest, and it hurt to breathe. He wasn’t sure what was worse—his parents’ grief since the death of his oldest brother and their fears that Saddiq had met a similar fate, or the suspicion that he and Thara had left together.

  Saddiq pushed on. Allah blessed those who moved, and they had gone too far to stop. He had brought a few rags to wrap around their hands, but cold pierced the night and his fingers.

  Thara’s speed and ability surprised him, and she forced him to keep a brisk pace. When he came into view, she issued a sharp call of panicked laughter, chee-ee-ee. The night was not anything like he had imagined early on, walking far from Laashekoh, holding Thara’s hand to guide her along the rough terrain.

  The two had agreed beforehand. Constant separation meant they were not traveling together.

  The trail to the highway took them away from the mountains. By early morning, the snow was light, and by midday it had stopped. Wind swept across the barren landscape, pushing wisps of the dry snow around rocks and brush, weaving it with dirt and sand. The ground was hard, and Saddiq no longer worried about leaving tracks. Before long, they could hear a rumble of traffic on the highway.

  Saddiq ran ahead toward a small crest overlooking the massive road, wide open with no barriers. Except for racing vehicles, no one was in sight.

  Saddiq was not ready to be seen, and he directed Thara to hide in a rocky section to the east. “We must see others before they see us,” he cautioned. He had heard too many stories about bandits and militants along the highway.

  Worried about leaving her alone, he looked back and ensured she was out of sight. Saddiq continued southwest for a ways before shifting direction and running eastward, parallel to the highway, just out of the drivers’ sight. He studied the traffic and hoped that highway patrols were irregular.

  As he passed the rock outcrop, he whistled for Thara to join him.

  But she did not respond. Nervous, he waited a few moments before heading up the slight incline, and there, nestled in a sandy place among the rocks, he found her fast asleep. Suddenly, he was exhausted, too.

  There was time for rest. They needed to stay sharp looking for rides along the highway, and the rocks offered shelter from the biting wind, a good place to hide and rest. He doubted that a search by villagers would extend as far away as the highway, at least not for a day or two.

  Long ago, his father had talked with Saddiq about travel to the cities. Many pickup trucks used the highway, and drivers often offered rides. His father warned his sons against accepting help from groups of young men. “Accept rides from families,” the man advised. “But as you grow older, remember that the families will be wary of you.”

  Saddiq was ready for sleep. In a few hours, he would move closer to the road and observe its ways.

  He emptied his pack and covered Thara with his portion of the blanket. Then he found another sandy patch, curled up tight, and pressed close to a large rock that shielded him from the wind.

  CHAPTER 18

  Parsaa woke up before dawn, anxious to resume searching for the missing girl. Other villagers were less eager.

  Most were sure the girl had run away. Parsaa and Ahmed planned to hunt until they found a sign that that was true. Yes, the girl was unhappy, Ahmed had confided, understandable with a mother and sister in prison. Karimah was strict. Village families had hesitated to open their homes to the girls, fearing an evil influence over their own children. Karimah and Ahmed had helped immensely by taking in Thara, the oldest of the sisters, the one deemed most likely to cause trouble and follow Leila’s ways.

  The girl was not allowed to talk, eat, or pray with other family members. She was expected to work nonstop, making baskets and saving for her dowry. Such discipline protected the village and reminded other children to behave, though Parsaa’s wife kept hoping that as years passed other villagers would soften and forget the crimes of the children’s parents. Sofi could not be harsh with Komal. Parsaa had suggested the restrictions would ease once Thara left the village for marriage and discouraged criticism of anyone caring for the girls, especially Karimah. “No one can agree how to raise a difficult child,” he noted. “Everyone knows best, and nobody knows. Thara is older, and Komal is the youngest. Different approaches for each can succeed.”

  For most villagers, the girls were a scourge. Karimah and others had tried to convince Parsaa to find marriage partners—any partners—quickly. Relatives should care for the sisters and make decisions, but in the absence of aunts and uncles, Laashekoh was responsible for the girls.

  Losing Thara, failing to provide proper care for her, reflected poorly on the entire village. Parsaa was disturbed that Thara had left no hint or trail, and he wanted his sons to hurry to join the search. Entering the bedroom where the boys slept, he immediately noticed that Saddiq was up and gone. Parsaa couldn’t ignore the memories of another morning, when his oldest son was supposed to leave for school.

  Another son, Hassan, sat up, and Parsaa asked about Saddiq. “He didn’t wait for us.” The younger boy rubbed his eyes. “He had an idea about where Thara might be, and he has already dressed and left.”

  Annoyed, Parsaa wanted an organized search, and did not want to waste valuable time. “Did he say where? Which direction did he take?”

  But Hassan didn’t know and suggested his father should not be surprised. “Saddiq no longer wants to talk with me,” he grumbled. “He prefers going off alone to work.”

  Worry swept over Parsaa. His mouth was dry, with a horrible taste, as if he had just swallowed milk before realizing it had gone sour. Saddiq likely knew where Thara went, or he helped her leave the village. Parsaa hoped it was not true, but either way, the two children could be in grave danger.

  The village would not tolerate such a transgression. Young couples had been beaten and stoned for less-serious offenses. The women had warned of trouble and would demand harsh punishment.

  Unless no one else in Laashekoh made the connection. Parsaa cut the boy off abruptly. “No. Saddiq is on an errand for me and will be away for a few days.”

  The boy gave his father a puzzled look. “You forgot this?”

  Parsaa ignored the question and urged the boy to hurry for the search.

  Hassan frowned. “So you know where he is at?”

  “He is all right, Allah willing.” Parsaa spoke softly. “He is not searching for Thara.”

  “But we must search for Thara, and Saddiq does not?” the boy pressed, with a hint of defiance.

  Parsaa lowered his voice, giving his son a hard look that registered disappointment and a lack of trust. “Unless you want to feel my wrath, and Saddiq’s, too, do not ever say his name and Thara’s together with the same breath.

  Parsaa was quiet and distracted as the boys prepared for the search, and Sofi worked in the kitchen, making extra meals. She asked her sons about Saddiq, and Hassan immediately spoke up: “He is away for a few days on an errand for father. I have taken over his duties.”

  Sofi gave her husband a worried glance but asked no more questions. As Parsaa donned his shoes, Sofi told the boys to wait outside. She clutched at her husband’s wool chapan. “Tell me Saddiq is safe?”

&nbs
p; Parsaa touched his chin to the top of her head, and spoke gently. “He is smart. We cannot show worry about Saddiq.”

  She took a sudden breath. “He cared too much about Thara and her sisters. We can’t bear to lose him. Could she have . . .”

  Parsaa could not lie to her. He put his hand to her mouth and whispered, “We cannot speak of them together.” His wife closed her eyes at the confirmation of her worst fears.

  The villagers widened the perimeter for their search and found no sign of the missing girl. Heavy snowfall had obliterated all signs of anyone entering or leaving the village in recent days. The only visible tracks were from the search parties.

  Early in the day, the other villagers did not seem to notice Saddiq’s absence. As the day dragged on with no questions, Parsaa worried that the other villagers carried their own dark ideas. He refused to raise the issue but became more uncomfortable with every encounter and no mention of Saddiq. By the day’s end, as the group returned to ­Laashekoh, Ahmed quietly questioned where Saddiq had searched.

  “He’s away from the village on an errand,” Parsaa replied, and Ahmed assumed the boy was at the compound.

  One question. Parsaa could only hope that it was inconceivable that Saddiq, the most cautious of his sons, had left the village with Thara.

  The boy was too caring. Saddiq would not leave the village and panic his parents without good reason. Parsaa refused to accept that another son would repeat the mistakes that Ali had made with Leila. Perhaps Saddiq had found the girl’s trail, but the other villagers did not need to know.

  He doubted that the two children had headed for neighboring villages where their parents were well known. The two wouldn’t last long in the winter weather without shelter or food. Parsaa was grateful for the snowfall covering the tracks and hoped the boy had enough sense to avoid returning to the village with the girl.

  Other villagers might not see it the same way. Some could look for sinful behavior and a chance to prove their own piety. If caught together, Saddiq and Thara could be banished from the village or, worse, ordered to collect the stones for others to heave as punishment. A father could not help but imagine the worst. Thara could have tricked the boy into an escape. They may have traveled to a nearby city and tried to blend in. They might pretend to be already married with their parents’ blessing.

  Parsaa was determined to find his son before anyone else did. He would track them down, scold them, and beat sense into them. He would hide that the two had been together.

  Or, he could trust that Allah approved of whatever Saddiq had set out to do. Regardless, the family could not talk about Saddiq or ask questions.

  A whisper woke Saddiq. He shivered uncontrollably in the dark. He had slept much longer than intended. Thara crouched next to him and arranged the blanket over his body. “Do you know which way to go?”

  That was easy. He nodded, and pointed east. “Have you heard anyone?” he whispered.

  She shook her head. “We should still leave.”

  He agreed, although he was stiff and cold, more nervous with every step away from Laashekoh. Darkness allowed them to approach the highway’s edge. He became accustomed to the roar of trucks rumbling past. Harsh headlights turned the dust into a hypnotic glow.

  Thara wasn’t used to the noise and speed, and at last took his hand. As they walked quickly, she asked how long it would take to reach the city. “Not long at all if we can catch a ride,” he said. “But we should walk until we find a place where the vehicles pull off.”

  They were about a hundred kilometers away from Kandahar. She had no idea about the length of a kilometer, and that troubled her.

  “How do you know such facts?” Thara asked, but he could not answer. He imagined that parents conversed more broadly with sons than with daughters.

  She also fretted that someone might recognize the pair and report their whereabouts to his parents in Laashekoh. He tried to explain that Laashekoh was small. Most drivers on the highway had never heard of the village and didn’t care, but she was near tears about getting caught. “Tell me we are near Kandahar,” she pleaded.

  He did not want to lie to her and stopped. “Are you sure that you want to leave?”

  She didn’t answer right away, then nodded. When she did speak, her voice was firm. “I cannot go back.”

  As she walked more swiftly, Thara explained that her biggest fear was getting caught. “But it’s wonderful to think of living in a place where others do not know my family and I’d never have to hear another word of judgment.”

  “Then we must move along, one step at a time,” he said.

  With their sling packs secure, they walked for hours. Fast-changing clouds in shades of copper, rose, lavender, and then pure fiery gold stretched across the horizon, the colors beckoning them. The sun rose directly over where the highway met the sky, and the beauty gave Saddiq confidence.

  Daylight hours were dangerous. Others could see them. Saddiq shifted direction away from the road and moved toward uneven terrain, just out of sight of the highway. The landscape was flat, dry, nothing like the fields and woods sustained by the river near Laashekoh. Rocks and lumpy sand reduced their pace and failed to provide adequate cover.

  They could not get caught. Saddiq dared not bring up the possibility of gangs wandering along the highway, looking to rob him and do worse to her. He urged her to practice keeping a constant eye out for good cover in the event that they spotted someone and had to hide swiftly.

  As the morning light exploded, Thara let go of his hand and fell behind. He paused so that she could catch up, but she was embarrassed, shaking her head and assuring him that she would follow. She didn’t want to be seen with him.

  Saddiq regretted not having brought along a rifle. But a missing weapon would have alerted his father to an unusual and lengthy absence. Saddiq shook his head, trying not to think about his family, not until he had the infant in hand.

  Once the sun was high, the highway bustled with activity, an unending string of cars and trucks moving and passing in spurts with honking horns and smelly exhaust. Saddiq settled Thara behind a sand mound and told her to rest. Tears mixed with dust as she worried about him leaving her behind.

  “You are tired,” he scolded, explaining that he had to check the people gathered along the roadside. He didn’t want to worry her, but she had to be prepared. “Remember, we could get separated anytime.” Saddiq drilled her on what to do and say if they became separated.

  If he did not return as promised? She would walk toward Kandahar during the hours of darkness. If someone asked who she was? One of two brothers. Their names? Esmat and Yar. Destination? Their father’s home in Kandahar. And what did the father do? A stoneworker who helped construct homes.

  “Good,” he said gruffly. “Do not talk much, because you sound like a girl. Keep your answers short. Direct. And do not be afraid. I won’t leave you. But we must both be prepared if that happens.”

  Before walking toward the highway, he studied the mound and the nearby area. The landscape was so barren compared to that surrounding Laashekoh. Not much cover, but the best they could do. Saddiq urged Thara to rub more dirt on her face and hands and to lay low. He left his pack next to her and stripped away the clothing on the upper part of his body to reveal a folded cloth belt tied tight around his upper chest. Thara covered her eyes. He dressed, removed a few coins from the homemade belt, and directed Thara to strap it underneath her clothing.

  “I have money, too.” She reached deep into the layers of her clothes and extracted a thick pile of bills, both Afghan and foreign currency.

  “How did you get this?” he asked, amazed.

  “Leila hid her money and told me before she left.” Saddiq shook his head, displeased about relying on money from Leila, which was earned by lying to children and sending them off to jobs that did not pay in Pakistan. But Thara was adamant. There was no point in throwing currency away, and someday she would help her younger sisters.

  He doubted wh
ether such money could ever be used for good. “Better you carry it all. If we’re stopped, robbers will assume I’m carrying the money.” Then he suggested that she sleep while he observed the traffic and stopped vehicles. He could be away for a while.

  She asked how long she should wait for him, and he told her until sunrise the next day. “So long!” she protested.

  He ignored the comment. “Do not approach the road or look for me. I will catch up with you.” Then Saddiq took off running, climbing another crest and dropping down in the sand so that he could crawl toward the highway without being seen.

  Two rickety trucks pulled to the side of the road, engines running as the drivers waited in the sandy clearing. One man arranged crates of apples, grapes, and nuts to face the oncoming traffic. The other truck had a large barrel attached to the back and a scrawled sign offering water for sale.

  The two men were setting up shop for the day.

  Saddiq decided that the men were not dangerous. A few vehicles pulled over, and the younger man moved closer to the back of the truck where a rifle waited, ready to ward off gangs, military patrols demanding payments, or other trouble. The two men were nervous, and Saddiq waited for a lull in customers and for both men to move far enough away from the rifle.

  Saddiq stood and called out, “Salaam alaikum.” The men turned in alarm, and one started for the truck.

  It was a new experience for Saddiq to be feared by grown men. Lifting his hands and showing a coin, he asked to purchase fruit. The two men looked at each other and demanded the boy lift the layers of clothing. “Prove you have no explosives!” one shouted.