Chapter Eleven
We were in our usual spot by that wall, and this time Nikolai was with us. We were silent, having already exchanged some words and talked briefly about how we ended up in this place. Boris had shared with us the story of his disagreement with his father, how he left school and then joined the Liberation Army after the northern uprising began. What struck me as odd was that Nikolai and Boris had similar reasons for volunteering. Nikolai came from a regular but religious family, while Boris joined because he was a fervent nationalist at the time. That was before he met Razil, though. As for Nikolai, like me, he didn't provide many details. And since no one asked me why I joined, I remained silent.
Meanwhile, Corporal Makar was walking with his head down, hands behind his back. He had short, shiny black hair, a reddish clean-shaven face, and seemed deep in thought. The moment he saw us, we feared a reprimand and quickly stood up, saluting from a distance. He nodded with a smile, stopped and looked at us briefly, then left. We sat back down, and Nikolai, leaning his elbows on his knees and bending forward, spoke up, "Sobakar plans to meet the chief of Garg village."
Boris looked at him, puzzled. "Garg? Has he lost his mind?"
"Yes. He plans to meet their chief, despite Garg being a village that opposes any military presence in the country, even more than Kraden village... I don't know if Sobakar is planning to commit suicide."
"Screw him! If he wants to die, he can do it on his own, away from us."
I chimed in, "Is it really that dangerous?"
Boris responded, "Garg means 'wolf' in the language of these people, and it's one of the most dangerous areas in the Kiftar hills. If Kiftar means 'hyena,' then Garg is its wolf."
Then Boris, realizing something, turned and asked, "How did you know?"
Nikolai looked at him, then back at the ground before standing up. "I just heard it."
Boris scowled, stood up, and said, "You and your damn sources... When will you learn that we're comrades on the same side? Stop treating us like spies. You're just a rookie who's been here a few months."
Nikolai turned to him and replied, "Living in the dark for ages doesn't mean you know anything about the light."
"Really? How about I put out the light in one of your eyes?" Boris said, stepping forward aggressively.
Nikolai retorted, "Why don't you try?"
I quickly stood up, stepping between them, placing a hand on each of their chests to keep them apart. "Hold on, hold on, comrades. Let's not jump to violence."
Nikolai glanced aside, exhaled deeply, and walked away, while Boris glared at him angrily.
"Boris, look at me. There's no need for this. He must have his reasons."
"Adam, why don't you stop being naive and pay attention to how he treats us? That bastard acts as if he's some kind of military general who knows all the secrets of the world, but he's just a volunteer who's never even been in a fight."
"I understand what you mean, but it's better not to jump to conclusions, alright? I'll talk to him about it."
"What makes you so confident? Do you even think that guy considers you a friend?" His words silenced me, making me lower my head, cutting off what I intended to say.
Noticing this, Boris sighed and corrected himself as he sat back down, "Look, I don't mean to insult you. I don't know how close you two are, but don't you see how he behaves?"
I sighed and nodded, agreeing, "I know... In fact, I know he wasn't like this when I first met him."
After a moment, as I was about to leave, he asked, "How did he know Sobakar was planning to go to Garg?"
"Honestly, I don't know... Maybe he overheard it from some recruits."
"I haven't even heard about that. All those guys care about is going back, eating, and drinking as much as they can, like pigs."
I stayed silent, knowing he was right, but Boris's tendency towards anger often kept me quiet.
The next day, the same armored vehicles and Gagani personnel who had accompanied us and Sobakar to Kraden village arrived. This time, we weren't randomly selected based on name lists. Instead, Sobakar walked in front of us as we stood in formation, scanning us like he was handpicking soldiers. He chose Nikolai, then Boris, followed by a few others. When he saw me, he didn't initially choose me but then changed his mind and called out, "You!" He would point at those selected, instructing them to stand aside. Maybe it was because he often saw us together around the camp. I stood behind Boris, with Nikolai on my side as they continued selecting volunteers. In total, including the Gagani, there were 43 of us, and the rest would follow later in patrol vehicles.
Sergeant Makar Midon addressed us after those not chosen had left: "Today, we're heading to Garg village. It's not a safe area, so you'll need to be extra vigilant. Stay sharp, eyes and ears open for anything unusual. Remember, losing focus or losing control won't just put your life in danger, it'll endanger the lives of all your comrades... Understood?"
"Understood!" we shouted in the at-ease stance.
We collected our weapons, and Boris was given a PKM as one of the machine gunners. Three other vehicles were prepared. It was the largest force I had seen leave the camp since my arrival. I climbed in with Nikolai, along with two others, in the back of the same four-wheel-drive vehicle as Makar Midon, who was behind the jeep carrying Sobakar, which followed directly behind the three armored vehicles, with two more vehicles behind us. I cut the black cotton scarf that Reem had sewn for me, using it as a mask to shield myself from the dust. It pained me to do so, but I had no other choice.
We headed northeast from the camp towards the Hyena Hills. After less than an hour, we crossed the small valley where we'd previously been ambushed, passing the security checkpoint at the start of the valley. Seeing one of the burned-out vehicles on the roadside brought back a bad memory I had been trying hard to forget or ignore. Before reaching the road to Kraden, we turned right onto another dirt road.
Corporal Shakrov shouted, "Stay alert to the terrain around you." And indeed, some of us, myself included, pointed our rifles to monitor the steep terrain on either side as we passed, just in case. The road was rough, dusty, and full of bumps and jolts.
After about an hour of constant vigilance and red-eyed focus, we reached the outskirts of another mud-brick village. Its scattered homes seemed oblivious to the terrain, with some perched on steep slopes, and even a few built atop the small hill, about fifty meters high. It was like a village hidden from time, nestled in the embrace of those rugged hills.
The armored vehicles came to a stop, followed by us, and within seconds, the dust began to settle as we dismounted. We regrouped as Sobakar and Makar stood with hands on their hips. Sobakar said, "Half of you stay here, the rest come with us." He also said something in Gagani, which they understood. I intended to stay with Boris as I had before, but they moved with Makar and Sobakar, so I had no choice but to follow.
As we moved deeper into the village, which seemed to be from a bygone era, we noticed the absence of passersby, and there were no women in sight (naturally, it was Boris who pointed that out).
"Where are their women?" Boris asked.
"Maybe they ate them out of hunger," one of the volunteers joked, and some of them laughed.
Boris replied, "Even if you saw some of them, they'd be nothing but ghosts wrapped in cloth."
"I agree... God help them in this heat."
"You mean, God help their husbands with the smell."
"Haha, no problem. He can just hold his nose and endure it."
"Boris, you're such a bastard, haha."
"Silence!" Sergeant Makar interrupted our laughter. Boris responded, "Sir, they don't understand our language."
Sobakar added, "Yes, but seeing you laughing in their homes is more than enough reason for them to kill you."
Boris fell silent, and Makar continued, "Now, you can find that out for yourself."
By then, we had ventured deeper into the village, and suddenly we found ourselves surrounded. Men stood on every rooftop, some with thick black beards and menacing glares, wearing blue turbans and Pashtun caps. Many of them had their faces covered with scarves, leaving only their hostile eyes visible, forcing you to instinctively avoid making eye contact, as if doing so could spell your doom. You could immediately sense the danger that these people posed. They were all armed, carrying rocket launchers, bazookas, various old machine guns, hunting rifles, and a range of old semi-automatic rifles of different origins.
We arrived at a house among the huts, the largest one, with armed men standing guard at its entrance. I felt my anxiety rising. You could see the fear on every one of our faces. The guards at the door parted, and out stepped a man in a short vest, wide white pants, and a gray Pashtun cap. With a coal-black beard tinged with the redness of henna at its edges, the man in his thirties exuded an aura of strength and firmness from the very first glance. His wide eyes, almost kohl-lined, were marked by an eerie coldness and stillness. He looked at us and then smiled, saying as he opened his arms slightly, as if welcoming Sobaker:
"Sobakerina... What brings you to our village?"
I had expected that when he opened his mouth, he would babble some incomprehensible Gagani words. But to all of our surprise, he spoke good Roshkani. Since we speak a language close to it, we could understand most of what he said. However, neither Sobaker nor Makar showed any surprise. Sobaker stepped toward him, hands behind his back, and said, "Jashmet Khakir... I hope you know why I'm here." I noticed that Jashmet was exceptionally tall, possibly the tallest among us, which I found intimidating.
Jashmet sighed and moved his head slightly before saying:
"In truth... I don't care why you're here, whatever the reason may be. What I do care about is when you plan to leave."
"We were ambushed a few weeks ago... and I feel you have something to tell us."
Jashmet leaned in and said quietly, "In truth... I am not ashamed to declare this. You could have figured it out yourself—I broke the agreement between us."
"In the Kiftar hills where we were previously attacked several times, there are only two villages: Kardan... and your village. Naturally, I dismissed suspicion about you because of the agreement between us."
"Are you accusing me, Mr. Sobakerina?" He said it in a strange tone, but Sobaker replied firmly:
"I'm not accusing you. I just want to be sure. If I knew who the perpetrator was, I wouldn't be here negotiating... I would be here with my rifle."
Jashmet raised his eyebrows, feigning surprise. Then he looked at Sobaker, then at us, then at his men. He took a deep breath and laughed bitterly.
"Are you threatening me, Mr. Sobakerina? ...You didn't bring your rifle, but you brought a whole convoy."
"Sobaker."
Sobaker corrected him while maintaining the same posture.
We looked at each other, and cold sweat made our faces appear oily. Some of us swallowed nervously, and my hands were sweating on the grip and stock of my weapon. A moment of silence passed, and I was sure that the hearts of those with me, like mine, were pounding heavily.
Jashmet took a breath, straightened his posture, and said arrogantly:
"Do you know what else our village is called?"
"I suggest we talk inside."
"Answer me."
Sobaker remained silent after being interrupted, so Jashmet continued, "It is called the Helicopter Graveyard... Yes, Mr. Sobaker, and I'll remind you if you didn't know... In the heights above this small village, dozens of Roshkani heavy helicopters fell like flies... They plummeted, followed by black smoke as they spun and crashed, becoming flaming scrap metal... At the beginning of the road you came from, dozens of Union military armored vehicles were destroyed, and several tanks burned with their crews inside. If you didn't notice their remnants, then I and my men did."
He kept looking at Sobaker sharply, moving his lips, then said, "Don't even think about threatening me in my own stronghold... for the sake of the safety of those with you."
Sobaker glanced at us and then back at Jashmet:
"I don't make threats, Mr. Jashmet... I don't have helicopters... Those aren't my armored vehicles, and I don't own any tanks..." Then he stepped closer to Jashmet, and again we noticed the difference in height between them.
"But I am sure of one thing... I will take revenge on those who killed my men, and you can be certain of that too."
Sobaker turned around, followed by Makar. We gathered around them, utterly anxious. Jashmet remained standing in his place, staring at us with a cold look filled with a malice that terrified us all. We kept glancing back in case he gave any orders. Our shared fears filled our heads—at any moment, gunfire might open upon us. At any moment, he might give the command that would turn this mission into a massacre. It wasn't just his men we feared; he himself exuded an aura of terror like the scream of a thousand demons.
In an instant, we could be dead. My mind flashed back to the last harsh battle I had fought. We cautiously eyed the men on the rooftops, yet at the same time, we avoided looking directly at them. It was as if we were depending on the sound of gunfire to herald the start of the violence, rather than watching their movements.
We walked quickly with heavy steps. Some of us had overtaken Sobaker and Makar, while they maintained their steady, measured pace. At Sobaker's side were Makar, Nikolai, and Boris, who kept checking behind us at intervals. I found myself on Sobaker's right, and perhaps he realized that we had formed a human shield around him. But he said:
"Don't panic. He won't dare do anything... He wouldn't risk the destruction of his village."
"I hope so," Boris said.
Finally, we exited the village. We were greeted by the rest of the men, some of whom had been sitting in the shade of the vehicles, clearly expecting the worst.
We hurriedly boarded, and I could see the suppressed anger blazing in Sobaker's eyes.
At every moment, you imagine they will fire at your back. At last, we breathed a sigh of relief once we reached a safe distance, far enough from that cursed village.