by Atia Abawi
“We’re fine, thank you,” I finally say.
“Okay, if that is what you want. But be careful out there.” Commander Ahmadi winks at me and then puts a hand over his heart. “Thank you for the delicious dates. Khuda hafiz.”
“Good-bye,” I say, putting my hand over my heart as well.
I walk him to the end of the cave and watch him as he starts down the hill. I make sure he is far enough away before running over to Fatima.
“Are you okay?” I ask as I lift up her chadari. I see her tearstained face. She’s gripping tightly on to the knife from the plastic box Walid left us. “Fatima, it’s okay now.”
“I . . . I . . . didn’t speak . . . My accent . . . They will know . . . I’m Hazara, you’re Pashtun,” she manages to say, through more tears. “Mullah . . . Sarwar . . . was killed.” Her wet eyes look as big as I’ve ever seen them as she stares at me, still frightened. I loosen her grip on the knife, throwing it to the dirt floor. I pull her close for a hug, and her arms wrap around my back, pressing me in. I kiss the top of her head.
“I know. I’m sorry,” I say feeling a tear fall from my eye and roll down the side of my face. I feel the guilt taking over. Even if I wasn’t the one who pulled the trigger, I am Mullah Sarwar’s murderer. It is because of me he died and because of me that his family will suffer.
“I love you,” I whisper as I kiss Fatima’s head again, trying to comfort her.
“I love you too,” she says through her whimpers. And as much as my heart is breaking right now, her words seem to help.
Twenty-eight
RASHID
We are eating our kabobs in Latif’s villa, but I can barely take a bite without thinking of the trail of blood and turmoil we left behind. I’m disgusted, but I can’t show it. I’m afraid that if I do, I’ll be next or my family will pay the price . . . again. The same family I have already betrayed and left behind to be here with these heathens. I don’t know how God will ever forgive me. I pray he never forgives them.
“Here.” Zaman passes me some bread. “You have to eat more, or they’ll know that you’re weak.”
“I’m not weak,” I say, grabbing the bread.
“To them,” he says, looking up, “being different is weak. You must act as though none of this has bothered you.”
“He killed a mullah last night, and now he’s here laughing like nothing happened,” I say, holding in my true fury. I look up and see Latif joking with one of the other men, who is basking in the attention. The sight adds fuel to my rage. I don’t even know why I’m so angry. I just met Mullah Sarwar. I threatened him myself. But the old man had made me believe I could be absolved of my sins. That I could be forgiven by my living family, by my dead family and, most important, by God.
“No—he’s there laughing like it did happen. He’s proud,” Zaman says, ripping into a piece of bread. “This has just made him mightier. He killed a mullah. A mullah he will say was teaching heresy.”
Latif catches my eye and walks over to sit down in front of us. “How is your lunch?”
“It’s delicious,” I say, faking a smile.
“Juicy meat,” Zaman adds as he continues to chew.
“Good,” Latif says, looking around. “We should stay in the villa today and head back out tomorrow. I got a call saying they’ve sent police around in different parts of the province to look for that mullah’s killer. They won’t dare send anyone here—they’re too scared.” He grunts.
“Okay,” I say, taking a bite in order to prevent any further conversation. I’m worried the words that will come out won’t be to his liking. Latif starts picking at my kabob with his grimy hands until he finds a perfect, juicy square of lamb with traces of tender fat. He pops it into his mouth and starts chomping like a cow. He smiles at me, exposing his crooked, turmeric-colored teeth. I can see strings of meat stuck in between them.
“Killing a baby and an old man all in one day—I can’t say it’s my first time.” His snicker makes my body tighten in anger. “Snapping that little girl’s neck was as easy as snapping a little chicken’s.” Sick son of a bitch.
“Latif! Latif!” One of the men runs to him. It’s Fawad, a barrel-bellied mess whom I would consider amusing if the circumstances weren’t so atrocious.
“What!” Latif rolls his eyes as he continues to gnaw on my kabob.
“I got a call from my brother.” Fawad makes it to Latif’s side. His scurry has left him out of breath. He rests his hand on the table, pushing it downward and lifting our end into the air. Both Zaman and I swiftly shove the plastic board down to keep it from flipping.
“You fat-assed fool!” Latif barks at him. “Be careful!”
“I’m so sorry, Commander!” Fawad straightens up, still taking deep breaths. “But I got a call from my brother. The officer. They have been on patrol all day, and he thinks he saw the boy and the girl.” Fawad pauses to smile, obviously proud of the news he has just given Latif. “He was searching with his captain and found a young couple hiding in a cave not far from the village we were in yesterday.”
Could this be true? Has he found Sami and Fatima? But why would they be so close? Why didn’t the idiots keep traveling? They had so much time. Now they’re bound to be caught by Latif! Sami, you fool!
“What?” Latif gets up from his chair. “What else did he say?”
“Fahim told me that it was a Pashtun boy, wearing a light-colored payron tombon and a pakol, and a girl covered in a chadari hiding in a cave. He couldn’t figure out her accent because she didn’t speak much. They had a bicycle and a little food,” Fawad continues. “They managed to convince the captain that they were a married couple passing through, trying to find a hospital. And you won’t believe it.” Fawad smiles. “The boy was holding flowers when he walked into the cave.”
Latif laughs. “Did you hear that, Rashid? Your cousin is a romantic!” He looks at me, and I force a smile. Sami used to pick flowers for Fatima and his mother when we were young. But how could he be so stupid, picking flowers now, when he should be running. Running from us.
“The police commander told them about the mullah’s murder, but they said they didn’t know him,” Fawad says as his gluttonous eyes alight on our food.
“See!” Latif slaps his hand on the table and looks at me. “We were right. That old man did know where they were. Why else would they be hiding in a cave near his town?”
“Yes, you were right.” It is all I can say to Latif as I try to figure out a way to stop us from finding them. As angry as I have been with my cousin, Mullah Sarwar’s words have been running through my head since last night. And for the first time in a long time, everything makes sense to me:
Your rage is not because of Sami or that poor girl. The anger is a part of the darkness you are holding inside yourself. It’s a darkness you must let go. No one can fix your heart but you. . . . If you don’t fix it, your suffering will only increase as your sins grow in number.
I don’t want my sins to grow any more than they have. My father told me as a child that my soul was as clean as a glistening white shirt, but even one small spot on that shirt could ruin the entire cloth. I had to work on being a righteous, moral and God-loving man to keep the outfit stainless. Right now, I feel as though I have soiled my soul with deep stains that may never come out. But I must try.
What my cousin did was wrong, but I don’t think he should die for it. And as for Fatima, I can’t expect forgiveness for what I have done to her. She must not even know that her little sister has been killed. I tried to make myself believe it was justified, but I can’t pretend anymore. The guilt has been growing since last night and is festering in my soul. God must be so angry with me for using his name to rationalize murder—the way these thugs do. God, please forgive me.
I need absolution and will start by helping Sami and Fatima. Mullah Sarwar said it’s possible, but I have to prove
my sincerity. I’m ready to prove it now.
“I’ll go and find them,” I say to Latif.
He stares at me. “We’ll all go.”
“But isn’t it risky?” I look at him and then Fawad. “You said yourself there are too many police in the province looking for criminals. Besides, I can trick them into coming back with me. They don’t know I’m with you.”
Latif stares at me with skepticism. “Why should I trust you?” he says. “You couldn’t even get the old man to talk last night. You were too soft.”
“I’ve learned from my mistakes. And you can trust me. I brought them to you,” I say. “I can go ahead and give you a call if the routes are clear. I care about this more than anyone here!”
Latif contemplates my offer. “Fine,” he agrees. “But you have to go with Fawad.” The pudgy man droops at the mention of his name.
“He will slow me down.” Fawad barely looks offended by my comment. In fact he seems pleased. “How about Zaman?” I offer before Latif can think of other options.
“Fine, but you must take only one motorbike,” he says. “And keep calling with updates!”
“Whenever we can get service on our phones, we’ll call,” I say, feeling relieved as I look down at an annoyed Zaman.
“Give him your weapon,” Latif says to Fawad, whose eyes bulge at the command. But he doesn’t dare disobey; he takes the strap of his assault rifle off his shoulder and hands it to me. I strap it around my body so it hangs down my back.
“Let’s go,” I say to Zaman, who rolls his eyes before picking up his own rifle, still chewing on his last bite of kabob.
As Zaman and I load ourselves onto his motorbike, Latif yells out to us, “You better not kill them without me!” His menacing grin gives us another glimpse of his rotting teeth.
• • •
We enter a valley. This is the third that we have tried. Fat Fawad gave us a secondhand description of where his charsy brother found the pair hiding. He did warn us that his brother’s description wasn’t great because the drugs tended to cloud his memory, but this is ridiculous! What a useless bloodline. This valley is farther away from the main dirt road but still parallel in direction. As we enter, I can see the tracks of a truck—maybe the one that belonged to the police. I tap Zaman’s shoulder and point up to a cave on our left.
Zaman stops the motorbike, and I jump off onto the gravel.
“You check, and I’ll have a cigarette,” Zaman says as he uses his foot to thrust the kickstand to the ground. “Shout if they’re in there.”
I climb the short hill up and make it to the cave. It’s dark and empty inside. This is the fourth cave I’ve looked in. I’m about to turn around again when I see writing on the wall. I walk into the cave to look closer and step over a pile of wildflowers lying on the dirt floor. They have to be the flowers Sami gave to Fatima. They were here! I run out and look around the valley, but I don’t see anyone except Zaman.
“Another empty one?” Zaman says, throwing his cigarette to the ground and pressing it into the earth with his boot.
I ignore his words as I run down the hill. My feet slide on the gravel, but I don’t fall. I look around for more clues and spot footprints in the dirt.
“What are you doing, laywanay?” Zaman says. I can’t blame him for his words. I must actually look crazy right now.
“Get on fast,” I say running back to him. “Go that way!” I point straight ahead. Zaman huffs and gets on the motorbike. I jump on behind him and hold on tight. “Hurry!”
He revs the engine, and we fly forward. At the edge of every mountain, I search through the passes for Sami or Fatima. But as we speed along, I don’t see anything. Not even any birds. The place looks deserted.
But as we pass a towering mountain to the right, I notice a passage below. It’s so narrow our motorbike wouldn’t be able to squeeze through. If I were trying to hide, I would go that way.
I tap Zaman again and point back. He turns the motorbike sharply, leaning at such a steep angle I think we’re both about to fall off before he straightens back up. We slow down as we make it to the opening. I jump off, peek inside and decide to climb through. There are bulky stones on the ground, making it difficult to walk in sandals. I slither and slide with each step. I notice an opening ahead. It looks like a patch of empty land entrapped by mountainous walls. I walk through, making my way into the clearing.
As soon as I step inside the opening, a creature pounces on me. It throws me to the ground, and I fear being gnawed to death. I start to fight, swinging my fists, when I realize it is not a wild beast. It’s Sami.
“Sami! Sami!” I yell, but he keeps throwing punches. “It’s me, Rashid!” He stops pounding his fist when he hears my name.
“Rashid?” he says as we lie there.
“Yes, it’s me.”
I notice him look up ahead. I follow his eyes and see her too, wearing a chadari to disguise herself. As I look back, Sami starts to strike at me again.
“Enough!” I say. “Stop! I’m not here to hurt you. I swear! So don’t force me to!” Sami hesitantly stops his beating but is not letting down his guard. “I’m here to help you.”
“Why should we believe you?” Sami says, getting off of me, but making sure he’s standing between me and Fatima. I follow him up and wait for him to start slapping the dirt off his clothing, afraid if I look down, he will catch me defenseless again. We both start hitting our clothes but each keep our eyes on the other.
“I know I’ve given you no reason to believe me. But I’m telling the truth,” I say. “I swear on the Holy Quran!” Sami is still eyeing me with suspicion. “Look, we don’t have much time. You need my help. You’ll die if you don’t take it. And I can’t let you both die because of me.”
We hear noises coming from the narrow path. I put my finger to my lips to stop Sami from speaking. I peek through and see Zaman holding his rifle.
“Don’t worry. Everything’s fine,” I say to Zaman, who keeps walking forward. I know the time has come when I have to tell him my true intentions and hope that he’ll understand. I slowly start moving my rifle from my back to my side. I can feel Sami’s eyes on me. I look at him and blink my eyes slowly in reassurance. “Really, everything is fine.” I direct my words at Zaman.
“Then what were those noises?” he asks as he moves closer. When he finally makes it into the clearing, he sees Sami and lifts his rifle in that direction. Fatima screams at the sight, startling Zaman, who then turns his gun toward her.
“Put your weapon down,” I say to Zaman. “They’re unarmed.”
“No! We’ve found them. Call it in,” he says moving his gun side to side, aiming at both Fatima and Sami, who has already made his way to her and is trying to block her with his body.
“Please, don’t kill my wife. She has done nothing wrong!” Sami screams. “Please! We’ve done nothing wrong. We’re married now. We had a proper nikah. Please don’t hurt her!” Sami’s eyes fill with tears. I can’t begin to make sense of all he just said as I try and focus on Zaman.
“Zaman, please.”
He looks at me without moving his rifle. “But I thought you wanted them to be punished?” He eyes me. “Do you know what will happen to us if we don’t phone Latif? I can’t risk my family’s safety because of this,” Zaman says with fear in his voice.
“I know. I’m sorry I put you in this position. But we can figure something out,” I plead as I move my hand as slowly and discreetly as possible to my firearm. “I wanted them to be punished,” I say avoiding their eyes. “But not like this. They’ve been through enough. They don’t need to die too.”
Zaman pulls out his phone and starts dialing. I have to do it now. I quickly pick up my rifle and point it at him. But he continues to dial. I put my hand on the trigger and realize I’ve never used this rifle—or any weapon—before. But I must do it now, and I have to
do it right.
“Stop!” I yell at Zaman, hoping he will put the phone down. If he does, I won’t have to pull the trigger.
“Latif? Salaam aleykum,” he says, glaring at me. I twitch my finger, and I realize I don’t have it in me. I can’t take his life. I drop to my knees, put the rifle down and drown in my defeat. I look to the blue sky above and ask for God’s forgiveness and for the forgiveness of the innocent souls I have infected with my poison. Tears rush down my face like rainfall from the sky.
I know I can’t kill Zaman in cold blood, but now I am responsible for taking three more lives: Sami’s, Fatima’s and my own.
Twenty-nine
FATIMA
Through my chadari, I grab the back of Sami’s payron, squeezing it. I don’t know what else to do. Just knowing he’s here brings me some comfort. And I know he loves me enough to protect me. I want to ask him to kill me before Latif’s men can touch me. But that may be too much to ask. I could never kill him if he was the one asking. I’ll have to kill myself.
I squeeze the steel handle of the knife in my hand and bring it closer to my body. I just need to know where to stab myself so I’ll bleed out the fastest. Maybe my heart or stomach? I don’t want to be alive for what comes next. Death is a better outcome than being taken by strange men who will rape me until my body is broken and mutilated. I’ve heard stories about Latif’s men. They have no mercy. The blade is sharp enough to pierce through my flesh and rip apart my organs. I’ve decided I will dig it through my heart. It’s a small organ but the most important.