I could just see Daru above me, outlined against the sky. He was hauling himself over a black buttress, the last sheer climb before the slope to the summit, when he lost his footing and slipped sideways. He crashed against a rock and I heard the grunt as the air was forced from his lungs. I let out a groan of my own as I saw the Kalashnikov slip from his shoulders. It fell and lodged for a moment against the rocks, then slithered down, spinning end over end, before dropping into the darkness far below.
I climbed the few yards to join him. ‘My rifle,’ he said. ‘Don’t worry about that; let’s get to the top.’
He didn’t move. ‘My father gave me that rifle. He killed a Soviet commander with it.’
‘We can’t go back for it, Daru; we must go on. Are you hurt?’
He shook his head. ‘Bruised, that’s all.’
‘Then come on, we must reach the ridge.’
He winced as he took his weight on his right arm, but began to climb again. I stayed close behind him, shepherding him over the buttress.
‘Take my rifle,’ I said. ‘Watch the ridge while I help Amica. Don’t shoot unless you’re sure of a hit.’
Amica was at the foot of the buttress, her head slumped forward on her chest. ‘I can’t do it,’ she said. ‘It’s too steep.’
‘I’ll help you. Don’t stop now.’
‘The frontier?’
‘It’s not far.’ I took her arm and guided it to a handhold, then pushed and pulled her up and over the buttress. She crawled to the top and collapsed.
I waited as my own breathing calmed, peering into the darkness, watching and listening. I heard a faint clink and clatter of rock.
We were on the edge of a long, sloping plateau. There was no moon, but the sky above us was brilliant with stars and the line of the track showed faintly against the rock.
The wind cut across the plateau, knifing through me. I put my mouth close to Daru’s ear to make myself heard above it. ‘I’m going to try and put a shot into those guys on the ridge. Give me my rifle back; you can take Amica’s. Walk a thousand paces, then find cover and wait. You’ll have to help her; she’s very tired.
‘The wind’s blowing from me to you, so you should hear me coming. I’ll call your name every few yards. If you hear someone coming and there’s no other sound, it won’t be me. Wait until they’re close and then shoot them.’
I watched them walk away, Daru supporting Amica with an arm around her waist, then I moved back a couple of metres to drop below the skyline. Leaving just a chink for my eyes, I wound my turban even tighter around my face to keep out the cold wind and to hide the white of my face from the enemy.
I lay flat, my Kalashnikov trained along the ridge. There was no sound or movement from the track up the mountainside. If the other Taliban soldiers were still climbing in the darkness, they were well below.
As the minutes ticked by, doubt began to gnaw at me. What if they’d seen us cross the ridgeline, or had found another way down and were lying in ambush further along the trail? I was on the brink of turning and running to catch up with Amica and Daru, but there was no way down from the ridge except the track – or at least no way that a man could take in pitch darkness. I knew that if we turned and ran, the Taliban – fresher, stronger and more acclimatised to the terrain – would overhaul us before we could reach Salan.
I saw a trace of movement in the darkness – or thought I did. I strained my eyes and at last the shape moved again. I made out the curve of a head and the glint of a gun barrel. Somehow the lead man had crept to within ten metres, without me even seeing a trace of him.
I slid off the safety catch, scared of the noise it made even though I knew the wind would snatch it away, then aimed, took a deep breath to steady myself, and gave the trigger a slow squeeze.
As the shot echoed in my ears I threw myself sideways and rolled down the slope a few metres. I saw two muzzle flashes and heard rounds rattle from the rocks where I had been lying. I fired another burst at the muzzle flashes, then rolled again. Once more two rifles replied.
I waited a minute for my ears to stop ringing, my eyes scouring the darkness for movement. I picked up a fist-sized rock and hurled it towards their last position. Even over the wind I heard the crack as it hit the ground.
Again there were two bursts, this time separated by twenty metres. Even in the darkness, the left-hand man was trying to work his way down the ridge to cut me off. I fired at him, rolled sideways, then ran down the track at a crouch, counting off the paces as I went. No firing pursued me.
I slowed to a fast walk as I reached the area where Daru and Amica should have been waiting. I called Daru s name, moved ten paces and called again. I did it over and over, counting off another two hundred paces.
I hesitated, uncertain whether I had passed them in the darkness or whether they were still ahead, then moved forward again, called and advanced once more. Then I heard the clatter of a rock and saw a shape holding a rifle rise out of the darkness ahead. I was swinging my rifle up when Daru’s voice hissed, ‘It’s me – Daru.’
‘Jesus,’ I said. ‘I nearly shot you. Cover me while I reload.’
I crouched down, put the last clip on to the rifle and threw the empty one away. Amica was sitting behind a rock at the side of the track. I stooped down and took her hand. ‘Are you all right?’ I felt a slight answering pressure on my fingers. She raised her head and gave me a weary smile.
‘It isn’t much further,’ I said. We both knew it was a lie. ‘We’ll give it an hour, then loop the track to see if anybody’s following us.’
We moved on, shambling through the darkness across the rising plateau. Every step we took up the slope seemed to increase the intensity of the wind. I walked with my shoulders hunched, my gloved hands thrust deep into my pockets, but still my fingers were numb with cold. The track curved further to the east and the wind came straight at us, cutting into my face. We paused in the minimal shelter offered by a low outcrop of rock and shared out the last of our rations. There was no point in keeping them now.
I tried to drink some water but it had frozen in the canteen. I scraped up a few handfuls of gritty snow instead and sucked them for the moisture. ‘Are you all right?’ I asked again.
Daru nodded, but I had to repeat the question to Amica.
‘Can we stop for a little?’ she said, every word slow and slurred, her voice fading.
I stood in front of her, shielding her body from the wind with mine. ‘No. The flight takes off at dawn; that’s only a couple of hours away. We must keep moving.’
I rubbed her arms and back as hard as I could through her clothes, then we stumbled on again. Amica was moving slower and slower.
I looked back along the track and caught a hint of movement in the distance. I held Amica for a moment, crushing her to my chest, then took Daru to one side. ‘Take her on ahead. Look after her. Don’t let her stop or sit down. If she does, she’ll die. I’m going to loop back and try to ambush them. Don’t wait for me, keep moving. I’ll catch you up.’
I swung round behind the rocks, crouched down and eased the safety catch off the rifle. My right hand was so cold that I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to feel the trigger. I eased off my glove and thrust my hand down towards the warmth of my groin. I left it there for a minute, feeling the temperature rise a little, then I pulled my glove back on and cradled the rifle in my arm.
The Taliban were moving with more caution now, making use of what cover there was on the windswept plateau. I saw them pause as they made out the dark shape of the rocks where I was hiding. Then they must have caught sight of Amica and Daru outlined against the sky, and they began to advance again.
I let them come closer – fifteen metres, ten, five – and even closer still. The leader was no more than three metres from me when I fired. I cut them down like a scythe – three of them crumpled and fell before I heard a click as the magazine emptied. Muzzle flashes lit up the darkness and fire riddled the rocks around my hiding place, but I was al
ready up and running.
I sprinted on, my lungs tearing with the effort. I ran for perhaps two hundred yards, then had to slow to a walk, unable to drag enough oxygen from the thin air. I stumbled on, chest heaving, tasting blood in my mouth. I crossed a low ridge and saw Amica and Daru. They had reached the edge of the snowfield and were moving with painful slowness up the slope.
I shambled towards them. Alongside their tracks I saw other, older marks, half-filled with new snow. Salan and his men had come this way, not more than an hour before us.
I drove myself on, but beneath the frozen crust was a deep layer of powder, and at every step I plunged into it up to my knees. Several times I fell full length and had to haul myself upright, my face frozen, my beard and hair matted with snow and ice.
Slow though my own progress was, I soon overtook Daru and Amica. I took her other arm.
‘How many did you kill?’ Daru said.
‘Two, perhaps three,’ I said. ‘There are still others on our trail.’
‘How many?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe six.’ I looked back into the darkness. ‘We’re sitting targets against the snow.’
Daru nodded. ‘Go on this time with Amica, I’ll cover you until you’re nearly at the ridge. If the Taliban come, I’ll kill them.’
Before I could argue he had turned and was scrambling back. I lost sight of him as he reached the edge of the snowfield.
His words, I knew, had been pure bravado. There were no more than six rounds in the rifle. He might kill one or two, but the others would keep coming.
We crawled on. My lungs were bursting, my head pounded and waves of nausea swept through me. I had lost all sensation in my face, feet and hands.
Amica’s skin was grey, her mouth hung open and her head lolled on her shoulders. ‘Just a few more yards,’ I kept saying as we staggered upwards, sinking to our knees in the snow, but each time somehow summoning the will to rise again. ‘One step at a time, Amica. We’ll make it, we’ll make it.’
She no longer had the strength to reply.
We inched towards the top. Through the scream of the wind, I heard a burst of gunfire behind me. There was a long pause, then more shots. They whipped into the snow around and above us, but I dared not turn my head. I kept crawling upwards as I waited for the impact of a bullet.
The wind howled up another octave, a banshee screech drowning every other noise, and ahead of me I could see a fine spindrift of snow blown from the ridge.
Amica had toppled forward in the snow. I dragged her up and pointed. ‘We’re there, Amica. We’re there. A few more steps – you can see the ridge.’
Her eyes were unfocused and she sagged in my arms. ‘NO!’ I shouted. I slapped her face. Shock showed in her eyes. ‘Move!’ I said. ‘We haven’t come this far to lose you now.’
I seized her by the arm. She winced as my fingers dug into her, but she began to struggle up the slope again. We took a faltering step, then another, and another. I moved alongside her, pushing and dragging her whenever she hesitated, until she toppled forward and rolled through the snow at the top of the ridge.
I left Amica lying there for a moment and scrambled back to peer over the edge. A figure was stumbling up the slope behind us. I pulled the knife from my belt. The steel hilt touched my exposed wrist and froze to it in an instant. I gasped as I pulled it away, tearing a patch of skin with it. Lower on the snowfield I saw other dark shapes and muffled flashes, and I realised that the person just behind us was Daru. I sheathed my knife as he reached us, pulled him over the top, and he rolled down the other side gasping for breath.
Amica still lay where she had fallen. Her eyes were closed. I shouted at her and slapped her face again. Once more her eyes shot open. I almost wept with relief. ‘Come on. We can’t stop here; we’ll die. Don’t give up now. There’s no more climbing. We can see Pakistan.’
I didn’t mention the fact that Salan and his men were lying up somewhere on these slopes and we no longer had a single round to fire at them.
We slid down the slope, pausing every hundred metres to scan the ground ahead of us for any telltale sign.
The snow began to thin and black rocks pierced the frozen surface. Then we were clear of it, stumbling down a scree slope.
Snow still clung to the gullies on either side of us, but ahead the way was clear.
The stars were fading as the sky greyed. There were faint streaks of red in the east. The mountain fell away in a long, unbroken slope. I could see no sign of our quarry, but in the far distance, on a plateau several thousand feet below and to the east of us, I made out a pattern of geometric lines. Beyond it were the clustered buildings of a town. I stared again. ‘That’s the airfield.’
As I spoke I saw a white shape crawling across it. A jet was beginning to taxi towards the end of the runway. I saw it begin to move, accelerating away from us and lifting off into the dawn. It climbed straight at first, trailing plumes of black smoke from its engines, then I saw the sun glint from its wing as it began to bank in a long turn north and west that would bring it down the flank of the mountains.
It was then that I saw Salan. He had risen from the shelter of some rocks less than a hundred metres below us; his men were either side of him, a pace behind, all staring towards the aircraft rising into the sky. I could hear the distant murmur of its engines.
I reached across Amica, grabbed Daru’s arm and pointed. ‘Take the left man. I’ll take the right. Can you use a knife?’
He nodded.
I pulled mine from my belt and gave it to him.
‘But what will you do?’ he asked.
‘I’ll bluff him with the rifle.’
‘And if he doesn’t buy it?’ Amica said.
‘I’ll have to hit him with it.’ I glanced at her and her eyes met mine. ‘You wait here.’ There was much more I wanted to say to her.
We moved down the hillside directly above them. There was bare earth and loose rock underfoot, but we had no time to measure our footfalls. The jet had levelled its wings and was now almost nose-on, speeding towards us, still climbing, as the thunder of its engines rolled around the mountainside.
A stone came loose beneath my feet and clattered away. We sprinted down the slope, abandoning any attempt at concealment. We were almost upon them when one of the soldiers turned, shouted a warning and began to swing up his rifle.
I had mine raised to my shoulder, but he ignored the threat and fired. I felt the bullet pass my head as I swung my rifle at his. It caught him high on his temple and sent him sprawling.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw the other soldier, slower to react, half-turn and then drop as Daru hit him. There was a glint of sunlight on steel as the boy raised the knife and brought it down.
The jet was almost level with us, and no more than two or three thousand feet away. Salan had not moved. The green launcher of the Stinger was pressed into his cheek, and beneath the thunder of the jet engines I heard a faint whine of the heat-seeking head. It was locked on and ready to fire.
The soldier I had hit was struggling back to his feet, but I ignored him and launched myself at Salan as I saw his finger tighten on the trigger. I felt a searing blast across the top of my head as I hit him with my shoulder. He crashed to the ground – but the Stinger was airborne.
I had knocked him sideways and the missile had launched low and wide of its target, but the seeker-head might yet relock on the jet’s engines. I froze as the blinding white trail of flame streaked away and the jet seemed to hang motionless in the air in front of me. Then the Stinger blasted past, its trail buffeted by the jet wash, and disappeared towards the sun. A few seconds later there was an explosion as it self-destructed.
As I dropped my gaze, I saw the face of Salan, contorted with rage. ‘Kafir, I will kill you at least.’ He held a Kalashnikov trained on my heart.
I was still on my knees. Daru and the soldier I had hit were struggling together on the ground. I looked back at Salan and closed my eyes. Then I heard
the roar of a gun.
When I opened my eyes, Salan was on his back, blood trickling from his chest. He was still alive, but his Kalashnikov had spilled from his fingers. Amica was holding the rifle of the soldier Daru had killed. She fired again, shooting the other one as he attempted to kick Daru away from him and scramble for his own weapon. Then she staggered forward and pointed the rifle at Salan’s head, her mouth twisted with hatred.
He stared up at her.
‘Do you remember me?’ she said. ‘How could you? I was only a woman in a burka. Yet I am the woman you raped and tortured the day the Taliban took Kabul. Your men raped me too, and murdered my husband in front of my eyes. Do you remember me now?’
He made an inarticulate, gurgling sound in his throat, his one eye still fixed on her. The rifle was still pointing at his head, but I saw it swing down along his body. I knew what she was going to do before she pulled the trigger. There was the crack of a shot and his groin disintegrated into a bloody pulp. An unearthly high-pitched scream came from his lips.
Still she stood over him. ‘Finish him,’ I said.
She continued to stare down at him, not even turning her head to acknowledge my words, but at last she took aim and fired again at point-blank range, sending another shot upwards through the bridge of his nose. He twitched once and lay still.
A wave of relief flooded over me. Amica swayed and almost fell, and I held her in my arms for a minute before running to help Daru.
He struggled to his feet, his face bloody and bruised, but he gave me a grin of triumph.
Then I saw a movement. My knees buckled as I saw dark figures slithering down the snowfield high above us.
Amica had slumped down, the last of her strength gone. ‘Come on,’ I said, lifting her to her feet. Daru and I took an arm each and stumbled down the track. My legs felt leaden and I tripped constantly over small rocks in our path. Each one sent jolts of pain through my body.
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