They were leaving. I could hardly believe it. I gripped my rifle, ignoring the pain and feeling grateful that I’d had the patience not to shoot. Now, it looked like I might have an out.
As the kids watched the men get into the truck and drive off, the look on the little girl's face remained defiant, though I had seen fear cross her face.
Those men were not relatives. And I needed to go before they came back. I wouldn’t shoot the little girl, and I would shoot the boy only if he tried to stop me from escaping. After this visit, I didn't think they would try to stop me.
The kids returned to the house. The boy walked in first. When he saw that I had my rifle in hand, he tensed, gripping his more tightly. I put up one of my hands, as if to show him I meant him no harm. Trust was hard to come by in these parts. I could understand why.
His sister came in and smacked him in the back of the head. I would have laughed, but my side was aching and I didn't want to strain it. They began to argue in earnest, both pointing at me. I guess I was the subject. I couldn't make out much, but I guessed that the girl was yelling at him for bringing me here.
Not that I blamed her. I had this bad feeling that those men had been looking for me. The strange man had almost entered the house. I had come within inches of shooting him out of fear that I wouldn't get the chance if he walked in. Only a phone call had saved me.
Oh yes. The phone. I reached into my pocket to pull out Captain Andrews’ phone. Please let it still work. The kids were still arguing and were not paying me any attention. I turned on the phone. There was a signal. Yes! One bar wasn't much, but it was something.
I hoped like hell that someone would have had the foresight to program some numbers into the thing. Sure enough, there were two numbers on speed-dial. I dialed the first number. It rang five times before I got the pre-recorded Afghan message. Dammit.
I tried the second number.
The line rang once.
Twice.
Three times.
On the fourth ring, just as my hopes started to plummet, someone picked up.
"Hello," said the voice.
"Who is this?” I asked.
"Who are you?"
"My name is HM3 Lena Jacobs. I'm lost out here. Who are you?"
"Lena? It's me, Maria Safi. Your translator. Thank God you are alive!"
"Maria. Oh thank God. I am so happy to hear your voice. Where are you?"
"I'm in a little village. I escaped with the wife. I called for help and the Marines are coming to get me."
"That's awesome. Do you think you could help them find me?"
"Yes, tell me where you are."
"I don't know. I got out of the house and then I fell. I woke up in the desert. I'm injured, but I can walk."
"Oh God. OK, what do you see now? Maybe I can use that to help figure out where you are?"
"I don't know. I'm at this house with these two kids. They are really little, but they've been helping me."
"Can you put one of them on the phone? Maybe I can talk to them to find out where you are?"
"Yes, hold on."
The boy and girl had stopped arguing and were looking at me. The girl seemed curious. The boy looked angry.
"Can you talk into this? Listen," I said, trying to hand the phone to the little girl.
The boy yelled something and pulled his sister away. She wriggled free and looked back at me. The boy began yelling again and trying to get in front of her.
"I just need help," I said, trying to hand her the phone.
The girl started to look worried and did not stick out her hand to take it.
"Maria,” I said, putting the phone to my ear again, “they won't take the phone. I can't get them to listen to it.”
"Can you put it on speaker?"
"You’re a genius!" I fiddled around with the phone for a moment, wondering how to make that feature work. “I don’t know if this phone has that function.”
"Press 1 and the Send button at the same time."
I did it. A little speaker symbol appeared in the screen. It worked!
"OK, Maria, you’re on speaker." I held out the phone
"OK."
"As-salamu alaykum..." Maria started saying words that I didn't understand. I watched the faces of the children, hoping that this would help bridge our language gap.
The girl moved closer after hearing the first few words. She looked at me, and then her brother. Then she spoke tentatively into the phone.
Maria and the girl spoke to one another, and the boy looked on, distressed.
"Maria," I interrupted. "What are you saying?"
"I'm telling them that you are a friend and that you won't hurt them, and that they need to help you to get back to the military base."
"Can you tell them to let me go?"
"I did. The girl says you are free to leave anytime."
I looked at the girl. "What's her name?" I asked Maria.
More words came through the phone that I didn't understand.
"Khalesia," said the girl.
"And the boy?" I asked Maria.
She spoke, and Khalesia answered, "Musa."
OK. So now I knew their names.
Khalesia looked worried.
"Maria, when the Marines come to get you, you have to tell them that I am still alive. Especially Corporal Cooper. He must be going crazy."
"I’ll tell them. The kids told me which town you are near. I'd suggest rather than leaving, you remain in position and let the Marines come get you."
"I don't think I can do that. Two men came here. They didn’t see me, but who knows if they are coming back? I didn't know whether or not they were relatives of the kids. But if these kids are caught helping me, I don't think it's going to go down well for any of us."
"I understand. But don't go far. I'm expecting extraction soon. Don't worry, we'll come get you."
"I won't. Be safe, Maria."
"When they are coming, I will have them use this cell phone to call you, OK?"
"OK. I have to turn mine off, but I'll try to turn it on once every two hours, starting now. The battery is pretty low and I can't afford to have it go out on me."
"Got it. Be brave, Lena."
"Be brave, Maria."
We hung up.
Now I had some choices to make. Would I be better off staying there with the kids and waiting for an extraction? Maria said she was getting picked up soon. If I stayed put, I might be out of there within the next few hours. But what if those men came back? I should have had Maria ask the kids about those two. But whether or not those men were relatives, it was clear that the kids were hiding me. And that meant I was a risk to them.
These people had already suffered enough from this war. I didn't want to be responsible for two kids getting into trouble. I decided I had better go. I’d find somewhere to hide, and call Maria when I get there, hoping to god I could get a signal wherever I ended up.
I slung my rifle on my back and motioned to the kids that I was leaving. Musa looked relieved. I didn't blame him. He probably was worried that I was going to do something bad to them. Khalesia however, looked disappointed.
I didn’t know what to do to make her understand that this was for the best, that I needed to go so that she could be safe. I went to walk for the door, but she reached out and grabbed my hand. I turned around, kneeling down despite the ache in my side.
“It’s better this way,” I said. I knew she didn’t understand but I felt like I needed to say something, to try to make her see that none of us was safe if we stayed.
“Tashakor.” Thank you. It was one of the only few words I knew in Pashto.
She let go of my hand and walked over to the corner.
She came back and handed me a piece of bread, probably their dinner. I shook my head and tried to give it back, but she kept pushing it into my hands.
Finally, Musa took her hand and pulled her away but she slapped him away again. She wasn’t going to let me leave until I took that piece of bread. So I put it in my pocket as I stood up. Finally she stepped back.
I couldn’t help it, but part of me wanted to stay just to make sure they were going to be all right. Those men could come back and do something to them. But I could barely take care of myself. I would just be a burden to them. And I needed to put distance between them and me so they wouldn’t be accused of helping me. I knew from reports that things went badly for people caught helping us.
As I walked out the door, my side still ached, but I felt hopeful. I had gotten ahold of Maria. The Marines would know I was alive and they would come for me. All I needed to do was make it for a few more hours and Maria would tell the guys where I was. I could possibly have hot food, painkillers, and a nice shower before nightfall.
#
"Where are they?" Amir asked Asa as they got out of the SUV. The whole ride over, he had fantasized about pulling Resa's spine through his throat, and had even smiled at him once, in satisfaction at how well his fantasy was going. Resa had smiled back, completely oblivious.
"At the end of the road. My spy has told me that the wife and the translator are hiding in a concealed room at the back of the house. They think they are safe there, but the master of the house has no idea that his secret room has been compromised."
"Who is the person that is hiding the wife?"
"Lmar Gul. He is an American sympathizer. His son was one of my soldiers and now the man blames me for his death. Idiot. An American Marine killed his son. It wasn’t us. As if we haven't all lost sons to this occupier."
Amir knew what Asa was alluding to; Asa’s son had been murdered by American infidels.
"How long until the Americans come?"
"They are on their way now. We need to get them and get out."
"Then what are we waiting for? I'm here now, let's get started."
"We can't simply just storm Lmar's house. He has armed guards. We will need something more sophisticated."
"Of course,” murmured Amir.
He considered his options. It wasn't a large house, but it was big enough to cause a problem if Lmar's guards proved to be good shots. It wasn’t likely, as most hired Afghan guards were lazy and couldn't see very well. At least not compared to Amir's superior training.
But if there were enough of them, they would cause a problem, and most of these Taliban men were nervous goats that ran at the first sign of danger.
"Do you know how many guards this dog has?" Amir said, looking over at Asa.
"Five. Six, if Temor is there. His father was sick, so I think he had to return home. Temor is their best shooter. He usually organizes the guards."
"Not a problem. We'll smoke them out and then, amidst the confusion, go in and seize the compound."
"Why not just a bomb?"
"Because," Amir said, trying not to roll his eyes, “we don't want to kill the women. We need them alive."
"I thought you were going to kill them anyway. What difference does it make if we kill them sooner?"
Was Asa serious? Amir looked at him hard for a moment.
Sometimes Amir felt like he was the only one here who really understood what war was about. Asa was simply playing at this. He didn't deserve to be in charge of these men.
"We need to interrogate them,” Amir said. “Find out what they know. Then make an example for the rest of the countryside. Do you really want all of these American sympathizers to think we are soft? That helping Americans is acceptable? I mean really, Asa, why fight at all? I could go home, back to my wife, my child. You could stop fighting, and go home to your family. Not worry about this anymore.
“But wait. You still have to worry about this. The American occupiers will be here even if you decide to quit. They will still be invading your land, stealing your dignity, accidentally blowing up your family homes.
“What will you say to your children, to your wives? Sorry, the fighting got too hard, so I decided to come home and let the foreign forces rule over us. No, Asa, you are better than that. You would not let that happen. And you would not let your son's murder go unavenged."
There it was. Asa's button. Amir had pushed it, and like a toy, Asa had reacted and regained his fire.
"You're right. Let's smoke them out and grab those donkeys inside."
Amir nodded, pleased. "Get your men ready to throw in some smoke bombs and a flash bomb. This will distract them long enough for us to go inside and kill Lmar and his guards, and snatch the two women. The interpreter is the more important of the two. She will be able to tell us about the American compound. So at all costs, do not kill her and do not allow her to get away. She is vital to our beating these dogs."
"We will not fail," said Asa. Then he turned and walked towards his men.
Amir reached into his pocket to feel the nametape that he held close. He knew his ultimate prize was still out there. And he would find her. But first, he would grab that traitorous wife who had dared to defy the resistance. When he was finished with these people, they would wish they had never laid eyes on an American Marine.
#
Maria felt strange as she sipped the tea Lula had brought into their little room.
Lula’s eyes were red and puffy underneath. She had been crying again. "Do you really think the Americans will protect me?" she asked quietly, tearing off a tiny strip of naan.
Lula had risked her life to give vital intelligence to Maria's team. Now she was in hiding, unsure of where her children were, and scared for her life. Sometimes Maria wished that Lula had never gotten involved at all. Then her family might still be alive, and she might be oblivious to all of this.
Of course, no one was oblivious in Afghanistan. War had ravaged this country for decades. And living under the Taliban was a kind of cold war. Still, Maria couldn't help but feel guilty about the woman's predicament.
Maria wasn't even sure why she herself was in this war. She should be at home in Virginia with her sons, helping them to finish high school, and working in her sister's restaurant. This wasn't her war. She was an American now.
But as kind as her sister's family was, the money from the restaurant wasn't enough. And the chance to return to her homeland, even for just a while, had tugged at Maria. This was why she had snuck out and saw the recruiter who had come to the restaurant. It was why she hadn’t told anyone—not even her sons—until after she had been accepted into the program.
Her sister had been devastated.
"You're going to your death. Afghanistan is not what it used to be."
"Was Afghanistan ever safe? We grew up there. We still have family there. I can't help but want to go back. And the money. It's enough to put Bashir through college."
"If it's money you need, we will scrape it together, like we always do."
"No. You have done more for me than I could ever repay. After Daoud died, you saved us. I can't ask you to do anymore."
"Please don't do this. It's not safe there."
"I will be OK. I will be with soldiers. They will protect me."
"No one is ever safe in a war."
Those words now rang so true in Maria's mind. She tried hard to be brave for Lula, but she was also terrified. They had barely escaped the compound, Lula grabbing her daughter’s and Maria’s hands, and running out of a small door on the side of the compound. When the daughter was shot, it had taken everything Maria had to tear Lula away and to keep running. They had run into the desert until first light and then walked to the compound they were now.
Lmar Gul was an American sympathizer. He hated the Taliban for taking his only son as a recruit. And he liked American money. He was planning to send his daughters to Jordan. It was nice there. They could go to school there.
Now, all Maria could do was to sit and wait for an extraction. By luck, she had been carrying her personal phone. The previous translator had given it to her. "Better to be safe than sorry," she had said.
The Marine at the other end of the line had assured her that they were coming to get her. She tried to take solace in this, but it was hard. Informants and spies for both sides were everywhere. Who knew, one of the guards might already have ratted out Maria and the others to the Taliban. If that happened, she and the others were as good as dead.
She had a small knife in her pocket. She seriously doubted whether it could cause any damage, but it was better than nothing. She wished now she had opted to take a pistol. She didn't like guns, as she found them awkward and heavy to carry, and felt that they limited her ability to talk with the women when she went out on missions. But now, she regretted that decision.
She regretted a lot of things.
But that wouldn't help things now.
Not to mention that she was surprised as hell to hear from Lena. That was absolutely the best news of the day. Lena was alive. Somehow she had made it. Maybe the other women were alive, too.
She hoped so.
Now, all she and Lula could do was to wait. And hope that the Marines would get there soon enough.
She took another sip of tea.
It would be OK. They would come for her.
She smiled at Lula and patted her hand.
That’s when she felt her face slam into the wall next to her as a huge booming sound rang into her ears.
____________________________________________________________
Dear Reader,
I know...it's been forever since I've updated. A lot has happened to me since I first started writing this book. But I owe it to you and myself to finish. Read my profile to see what I'm talking about.
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Nicki