Page 81 of What Remains

Still splayed over the boy, she turned her head, craned over her left shoulder. Flowers and Meeks had hit the deck. She was in time to see Shahida suddenly yank her hands straight up. Her ropes fell away and then Shahida was moving, swinging off theyak’s back and snatching Amu’s rifle from its scabbard. At the same moment, the bundle over the yak’s flanks heaved; the skins fell away; and then a man rolled out. The yak snorted as Driver landed in a crouch. Pulling a shotgun from a back scabbard, he scuttled to the two clansmen crouched in a protective huddle.

But where was Sarbaz? Had he already?—

She felt a sudden pain in her scalp and then Sarbaz, snarling, his head turtled between his shoulders and weapon drawn, was hauling her up, dragging her off the boy by her hair. She didn’t weigh much anymore, and in another second, he’d heaved her aside as easily as if she were nothing more than a child’s discarded rag doll. Off-balance, she flailed, tried catching herself, failed, and tripped over Flowers, still prone on the rock. Crying out, she got an arm up and came down hard on her shoulder and in a mucky mess of brains and blood next to a dead guard—and there was the man’s rifle lying right there in front of her. Snatching the weapon, she twisted into a sit and spun to bring herself around to where she knew Sarbaz still stood.

And froze.

“Don’t!” Crouching, a fist knotted in the boy’s hair, Sarbaz was crabbing backward, using the boy as a shield. The muzzle of his pistol was jammed against the boy’s right ear. “Don’t!”

For a breathless moment, no one moved.

He sawRoni drop and even though he couldn’t hear her shout, Flowers was going to ground and so was Meeks, and then he stopped watching them and instead drew his beads and squeezed off his shots.

Four shots in three seconds. Not bad. In fact, excellent…but the fifth was the hardest and he knew it and now Sarbaz had the boy.

Damn.

He could kill Sarbaz. He was also the only one who might because as good as Roni was, even she needed to aim. Same with Shahida and Driver. There was no way any of them would get Sarbaz sighted in quickly enough for an accurate shot.

He had an advantage over them all but couldn’t take the shot either. He bet Sarbaz knew that.

The problem was simple biology. Ask any shooter. For that matter, ask any farmer who’s ever butchered a pig or goose or cow. Nearly every animal twitches when it dies because all muscles, astheydie from lack of oxygen, become hyperexcitable. This means they fire at random intervals. Some muscles twitch for a very long time. It’s not called running around like a headless chicken for nothing, because that’s what headless chickens can and often do.

The same happens with people. Not all the time but often. Drop somebody with a shot—and the chances are excellent that the guy with the muzzle of his weapon pressed into a kid’s ear? Well, that trigger finger just might twitch. Which defeats the purpose of dropping the guy to begin with.

He had no crystal ball. But John had thought ahead. He’d planned contingencies.

Which was why he’d given Amu the two money bags which Ustinov said was tamper-resistant and fitted with an incendiary. Davila’s was already unzipped, the better for Sarbaz to see all that cash. Amu had done his job, too. Both money bags were on the ground now, very close to Sarbaz’s feet.

And another contingency: tying Poya’s wrists with a quick-release knot. Then he’d said, “Listen, very carefully. This is important, Poya. You can’t let Sarbaz see your face until the last possible second. Then, if something happens, if the shooting stops, but Sarbaz is still standing…”

In the twominutes before the shooting started.

“And how did you come by him again?” Sarbaz asked.

“Sarhad,” Amu said. “I bought him for twenty good sheep.”

John.Ears burning with shame, Poya kept his eyes on the ground. His vision blurred and he blinked against tears.John, John, do something. Where are you?

“Did you now?” Sarbaz snapped his fingers in front of Poya’s nose. “Look at me, boy.”

Should he? No, best not to. John said not to do what Sarbaz said, at least not right away. John said distraction was best and nothing made someone more distracted than anger. On the other hand, if Sarbaz got a look at his face, his ghost eye, would he remember? Maybe Sarbaz wouldn’t see. It was already too dim in here, too dark for Sarbaz to see his eye clearly. It might still be all right?—

“What, are you deaf as well as stupid? Look at me!” Two fingers clamped onto his chin and then Poya’s head was wrenched up by the man’s grip. There was a second’s silence and enough light for Poya to see Sarbaz’s dark eyes thin to slits and then his face cleared.

His eyes were out, so his ghost eye was clearly visible. Unlike Amu, Sarbaz didn’t scream either because, of course?—

“I know you,” Sarbaz said. “You’re the boy who ran, the one Zahid spat on. The boy whose mother ran away.” Then, Sarbaz crouched and whispered into Poya’s ear, “And do you know something else, boy? I had your mother.”

At first and for only a split second, Poya had no idea what Sarbaz meant. Then, the knowledge flooded him with a surge of heat and rage and grief.

“Yes.” Sarbaz’s breath was hot and stank of rotted meat and decay. “I had her and do you know why? Because she was going to Kabul whileIwas coming to Sarhad, and there she was, trudging down the road, a woman without a mahram, and so Iknew that taking her,enjoyingher, and then putting her out of this life would be doing the work of the?—”

That was when the woman-doctor had shouted something and barreled into Sarbaz, knocking him aside and bearing Poya to the ground. He had lain there, barely hearing the hollow explosions of men’s skulls because of the blood roaring in his ears.

Mami, Mami, Mami.No wonder she had never returned. This man had taken Mami and her honor and then her life.

Now this same man, this devil, this evil man hadhim,was going to usehim,would killhim…

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