I was doing well. At least, that's what it felt like. Of the few people I had passed, a few of the men had stared at me, but no one had seemed particularly interested in me otherwise. It wasn't that I blended in, but that most of these people had witnessed too much conflict. All they wanted to do was to keep their heads down and avoid trouble.
I passed a group of women scurrying down the street with a young man. The man's gaze lingered on me as I walked past him. I pretended not to have noticed. I began to walk a little bit faster. After a while, I glanced back and I saw that he had broken away from the group and was following me. I picked up the pace. I could feel my heart racing. I could hear his footfalls behind me.
I ducked down a narrow side street and started to trot, looking for a place to hide. When I glanced over my shoulder, I saw that the man was still following me. He was speaking into a phone.
I needed to get off the street and into a hiding place. This was too dangerous. If I could just get away long enough to make another call, maybe I would be able to reach Ben. When I turned onto another street, it turned out to be walled on both sides, without so much as a doorway I could duck into. The man was gaining on me.
Screw this. I started to run. I couldn't tell if he was running after me, but I kept running as fast as I could.
I turned a corner. Coming down the street was a group of men. They shouted at me. Though I had no idea what they were saying, their faces told me all that I needed to know. When they started running towards me, I turned to run back the other way, but the other man was coming from that direction.
I turned and ran as fast as I could down another street. I had no idea where I was and I could hear the men gaining on me, yelling, calling out something over and over.
Then I felt the first bullet whiz by my head.
Time then seem to slow down. I was running, but it felt like it wasn't fast enough. It was difficult because the rifle was slamming against my back at every trot and I was still holding onto my pistol. There was no time to turn around and shoot. And I wasn't that good unless I was at close range or I had my red sight.
I ran for my life.
And I was getting tired, quick.
I heard what must have been bullets being shot. But nothing hit me. I'm not sure why. I just kept running down the street in a zig zag motion. I turned down another corner and kept going.
I couldn't keep this up much longer. I needed a place to hide.
I ran past a garbage heap that was pretty high. A tarp was lying haphazardly over it.
I stopped, gasping for air.
There was no where else to hide. I needed to regroup.
If I kept running, soon I would be shot, and that would be it.
I needed to get into this heap.
And I needed to do it now.
A putrid stench burned my nostrils and I struggled not to gag as I climbed onto the heap, lay down and covered myself with the tarp. Something wet and cold was pressed into my cheek. And it was moving. I clamped my mouth shut, covered my nose and laid as still as I could. A few seconds later, I heard running and shouting.
Then for awhile nothing. I laid there for as long as I could, not moving, trying to not breathe or throw up.
And I thought. What could I do to get out of here?
###
Ben kept his face and his mouth covered as he drove the bike into the city. Chaos was occurring in the streets. He didn't know why but he knew that every mile he went, he was digging himself into deeper trouble. But he wouldn't let himself consider that. He kept his mind focused.
If he was being honest with himself, this was a stupid plan at best. He had no idea if Lena would have even made it this far. She could be still at the place where he last talked with her.
But he knew that if she had made it, she would have to pass through the road that went by this city. It was the one weak point of the base. Which is why most times, only small convoy's would pass through and only at night. Even the Taliban didn't like to fight in the dark unless they had too.
Still if was heading east like he told her to, then she would be somewhere on this road.
So going through the city was the only option he had.
With his face wrapped in an Afghani scarf, he did as much as he could to not look like a Marine. The key was speed. If he just moved fast on the bike, people might not have enough time to process who or what he really was.
He zoomed down the road.
Rockets were firing throughout the city. People were running but also some were just standing around like nothing was happening. It was amazing to sometimes watch how people reacted to war. On one street there might be a gun battle, on the next, a woman buying tomatoes from the market. War was such a fact a life for many that some citizens just acted like nothing was going on.
But the majority were scouring, looking for a place to hide. The were men and women in long blue burka's carrying what looked like their life positions in their hands, in bags as they ran for their lives. w5=
It was making maneuvering the bike difficult. After a few moments, he had no choice but to divert the bike and try to take a path down a side street.
He kept moving, and while there were less people on the street, it was smaller and it was hard trying not to knock anyone around yet at the same time trying to get through the crowd.
As he slowed the bike, he started getting funny looks from some of the men, but he pretended to ignore it and kept his head forward and his face covered with the scarf.
Seconds later he heard gunfire down the street and then another rocket launch.
People started stampeding. The crowd instantly thickened with people spilling out of buildings. Ben tried hard to keep control of the bike, but people were running right in front of him, knocking him on the side and screaming as he rode by. A man fell in front of him and Ben tried to divert the bike, but instead was knocked off. He tried to get up again and recover but a sea of people were rushing over him. He rolled over to a free space, barely avoiding being trampled to death by a horse.
He got up and looked down the street.
He needed to get the bike.
But in the few seconds that he had turned his head, a younger man jumped on the bike took off.
Ben's first reaction was to shoot at the bike, but he resisted. That would make him a target. And furthermore, it wasn't worth killing someone over. He would just have to find another way to move around.
He started to walk down another street.
It was fairly empty except for a few people. As he got halfway, two men emerged. They passed him by, but one's gaze lingered on Ben. He just looked straight forward and kept walking, hoping that they would just move on.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that t they had AK-47s.
One said something to the other. Then they seemed like they were talking to him. He wasn't fluent in Pashto, but he had learned a few words.
And one of the words they had said was white.
They knew something was up.
He had to get out of there. These men were likely to be Taliban.
Ben turned and started to walk down another street.
He resisted the urge to look behind him, but he could feel them following him.
Then, on instinct alone he dove into an alley. He could hear gun fire erupt into the place where moments before he had been standing. He yanked his rifle off his back, flicked it to red and waited. He wanted to turn and run...but he could be shot in the back if he did so.
He saw one of the men slowly peek his head around the corner.
That was all he needed. He shot him and down he went.
That left one more.
He waited for a few seconds, wondering if he should risk it and keep moving. The alleyway was long, but it was narrow. If he ran and the other man decided to enter and shoot, he would be dead.
But he couldn't wait here forever. The man could have entered a building and might try to shoot him from the roof. He need to act, now.
If he been wearing body armor, he would have just ran already, risking the shot in the back. Afghans were terrible shots, not because they didn't try, but because so many of them couldn't see very well. Poor nutrition and lack of good health care made good eyesight a luxury.
Indecisiveness is for the weak-minded. Make a move, asshole.
Time to take the attack head on.
He gathered up his courage and ran full speed towards the place where he thought the man was. He was still waiting there but obviously was not expecting Ben to do this. Ben squeezed the trigger and popped off three rounds before the man knew what hit him.
He fell down, and Ben put one more in his head to make sure.
Then he turned back to the alley and ran down the other side.
He was going to have to find another way to get to the main road.
He just hoped that Lena wasn't going into all of this mess.
###
Amir drove towards the house where the kids were. He tried call Resa numerous times, but the man wasn't picking up his phone. Ridiculous!
He was going to kill him too when he got the chance. Fucking imbecile. He had one job to do and he probably hadn't even done that. Amir knew he should have went himself.
No matter. That girl was probably still there waiting. Resa had probably run off and not done anything.
He drove up to the house and as he did he saw a body on the ground.
He got out of the vehicle and turned it over.
It was Resa.
Hmmm. So he did try to come here.
For a moment, he felt bad for Resa. He had come here and done as he was asked. He had probably walked right into a trap. For all Amir knew, the Americans might have found the woman already and she was on her way out of the country. But he didn't think so.
He looked around the area.
His truck was missing. Why would a group of Marines take a truck?
And there were very few footprints. From what he could gather on a few people had been in the area. Furthermore, he saw no other vehicle tracks.
He went inside the house. By now he was certain there was no one in there, but he needed to check.
He looked inside. Nothing but a few meager belongings and a couple of mats.
As he suspect the boy had been lying. He had been mere feet away from the American and he had let her go because of this stupid dead man now lying on the ground outside.
"FUCK!" Amir kicked over a pot.
He sat down on the floor.
Now what. She could be anywhere by now.
Think Amir, think.
But he sensed that it was all over now. Based on his own stupidity of actually believing that these backwards ass goatheards could win anything. Going to that battle had cost him not only his proxy leader, he had also lost any chance to make a difference in his life. In Laila's life. Most importantly, in his son's life. He felt as listless as the water sitting in that pot across from him.
He suspected that upon return to Tehran he would be stripped of his access, clearances. His rank would be reduced, along with his and Laila's privileges. But all of that was trivial. Laila wouldn't care about that. She never did. No, what would kill them both is the sheer level of shame that they would have to live under. He would never be trusted to go into battle again. He would drive a desk and it would kill him, slowly inside. His brother would make sure of it. His father would look at him with disappointment for the rest of his life. His life's purpose, his reason for living, gone.
He would rather be dead.
He took out his pistol and stared at it. Maybe that is what he should do. At least he would spare his family the shame of having to live with a failure for a husband and a father.It was the easy way out of this mess.
No. He was not going to go out like that. He was Amir, a man born to be a true military genius. And geniuses did not eat their own bullets.
Think Amir. Where would this woman go?
On the ground he dried blood, still a little tacky.
Someone was recently injured.
Maybe the girl?
He couldn't be sure. But he suspected it might have been her.
He got up.
Walked back outside, and then noticed something in the dirt. It was in English.
He walked around it, careful not to step on it.
When he read the message, his face lit up into a grim smile.
She was alive. And no one had come for her.
Before him were a set of tire tracks. Which means she probably was in Resa's truck, and had probably taken the kids with her.
This might not be so hard after all.
He got back in his vehicle and started to follow down the road where the tracks led.
He would find her.
He wouldn't rest until he did.
________________________________________________________________________
Hey all,
I'm working on a new story, and hope to start posting next week. I hope you'll check it out if you like this one!
Cheers,
Nicki