“Fight like a man; die like a man!”
As Rebecca passed, Ismail gave her a wave and continued talking to an elderly gentleman she guessed must be a career guidance counselor. Ismail was helping the careers and employment section of the fair and from the looks of it, was getting some serious work accomplished.
Admiring him for his ability, Rebecca hobbled on, shifting her weight on her crutches, still sore but wanting to see as much as she could. In another half hour, she needed to head back to her healthcare booth. One more place to look at was the food stalls where Safia had wanted her to visit.
The child was dragged by Qasim, who held the little hand tight from the moment they entered the grounds.
“What’s your name, Baiti? I must write it on your ticket; a big prize for the winning number!” Rafiq asked as he took the entrance fee.
“Ahm…!” the child started spontaneously, but the man cuffed him and said, “Amina; her name is Amina!”
The child’s veil slipped, and there was eye contact before the man quickly pulled the veil back, covering the child’s face. Rafiq scribbled the name on the ticket and handed it to the man.
“Amina Baiti, you may win the special prize!” Rafiq said merrily. “Don’t lose your ticket!”
“You just keep your mouth shut, you idiot!” Qasim hissed as the man waved them through. “You could have got us into a lot of trouble back there!”
They had made it through the security entrance. Ahmad’s heart was beating fast as he made his way through the beeping gates. He felt guilty though he did not know why. What would they do to him if they found out that he was a boy?
“He said I might win a prize!” the child blurted excitedly. “I wonder what it will be!”
“Don’t listen to his nonsense,” Qasim snarled. “Your prize will be granted in Heaven today when you meet your mother and father!”
As soon as they passed, Rafiq called the chief and announced, “I believe your son is on the premises dressed as a girl. I saw his face; I saw his eyes! A man wearing a blue turban is with him!” With that, he sent a picture of the man and the disguised boy over his phone.
Ahmad could not understand why he had to wear a girl’s dress. It was challenging to see through the abaya. He sensed the excitement of the fair with so many people. He saw the giant wheel turning and the flailing hands and joyful shouts of kids sitting on it. He had never been to a fair before; this looked like such fun, and he longed to look around and join in the festivities.
“Can I take my headcover off?” he ventured as he passed some singing on what looked like a stage. He had never heard such melodious music or Pasto singing before and was enthralled.
“No!” was the curt response.
Ahmad frowned, glad that the veil masked his angry expression. He wished Abdullah had brought him here and not Qasim. This man was mean and never listened. He was a brute and preferred to use his fists instead of words. Ahmad feared him and followed obediently.
Ahmad could feel the enthusiastic mood of the fair all around. He envied the kids screaming from the merry-go-round and standing around the games arcade; what Ahmad wanted to try the most was the target practice rifle range. He looked at it longingly as he passed it.
Rebecca could see the animals colorfully decked out, already taking the kids for rides around the huge, fenced space behind the stalls.
There were so many food stalls; it seemed this was a perfect venue for the women to display their cooking skills and earn a bit of money too. Plus, there were competitions with prizes galore.
The ladies were busily scuttling around the booths, setting up the signs for the food items and prices. There was another table where the women were cutting vegetables.
“What do you think, Becca?” Safia asked, hoping for her approval.
“It’s wonderful! You’ve done a splendid job!” Rebecca meant every word. “There’s everything here that makes a fair fun!”
Of course, there was the aspect that certainly took the fun out of this event. The fair was the target for the terrorists to take out as many people as possible, particularly those responsible for holding it since they were the ones who were trying to bring progress and prosperity to the community. They could have canceled the fair, and yet they risked everything to draw the radicals in; to clear the area of this pestilence in one clean swoop.
Their plan was robust, and they were ready, but as Naseer Husain said, “Plans could go awry; the day could end in the biggest disaster to ever befall the region.”
Slowly Rebecca made her way through the crowds. The fair was a special occasion for the people who had never seen such entertainment and had come to enjoy the day. Families were already thronging the lanes of the stands.
She could feel the heat emanating from the food stalls that were serving freshly made delicacies of the region. As Rebecca perused and sniffed her way around, out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a couple of people arguing on the right. She recognized the face of one of the men, and Rebecca’s face turned white.
It could not be. Was it him?
She recognized him as a villain from camp; what was his name? Yes, it was that fiend Qasim! The last time she had seen him was when he held her leg for Mullah Shaheen to smash it! He had uncovered his face while talking, and Rebecca was sure it was him. Right now, he was holding the hand of a small girl who was wearing a hijab. Who was she? She tried to remember all the girls at the camp.
A sudden fear went through her, and she looked around to see if there were any other familiar faces around. Back of her mind, she was expecting them, as was everyone else, but it was still a shock to see that one of them had arrived! She had to find Chief Naseer and warn him. She saw Safia arranging sweets and hoped her husband was nearby.
She found Chief Naseer sitting under a colorful tent, with five elders near the food stalls on the right.
Rebecca hurried as fast as she could toward Chief Naseer. She had to let him know about the potential danger lurking around and was relieved when he looked up. He immediately excused himself when he saw the look on her face.
“What’s the matter?” Chief Naseer inquired.
“Chief, I just saw a man from Talib-e-Azad camp.”
Chief Naseer nodded. He stayed calm, which helped Rebecca get control of herself.
“Did he see you?” was his first question.
“No. Not yet,” Rebecca admitted, as images of all the times she was trying to forget came flooding back, making her panic. She could barely breathe or speak.
The chief spoke to the men he was with and excused himself.
“Show me,” he told Rebecca.
She led him; the crowds seemed to have doubled in size as they jostled towards the spot where she saw Qasim. It was hard to see. How could she find one man among so many people? She tried to remember exactly where she saw him before. Her eyes darted from stall to stall, and then she remembered. The blue turban! She made her way through the crowd, and there he was. He had moved behind the booth and was having a heated conversation, now with two others.
“There he is; the man with a blue turban!” Rebecca identified. “I don’t recognize the little girl with him. Isn’t that Iqbal’s uncle, Afzal Rehman, that he’s talking to?”
Chief Naseer nodded but did not show any sign of emotion.
“You go to your health clinic, Rebecca. Let me find out what’s going on,” he directed and got on his phone.
Rebecca obliged and made her way to the clinic with her heart beating faster than ever.
“Where’s Ahmad? Is he going to be used as the bomber? Has he been replaced with a little girl? These people had never used a girl before; who’s she?” the questions that ran through Rebecca’s mind gave her no peace.
It was when she reached her health camp that the thought that the girl could have been Ahmad entered her mind. But she knew she had left the matters into good hands.
The chief knew more than he was letting on and hadn’t let the others in on the details. When Rebecca saw Clooney walk in with Fiaz-ul-Muhabat, an army general and the chief of police, she realized they had the matter in hand. Two trucks full of soldiers and police officers swarmed the grounds to secure the place. She prayed this day would end without bloodshed but knew this was next to impossible.
How bold these evil men are! she thought angrily. They’re already here, setting the stage for murder and mayhem, despite all the security arrangements. The whole setup proves that this is a suicide mission; they don’t care who lives or dies as long as their mission is a success!
The man and the little girl made their way through the different food stalls where all kinds of delicious aromas filled the air; yummy, mouthwatering smells. Ahmad’s eyes fell on a sweet stall where a woman with her back to him was arranging the sweets on large circular trays, tilted to lure customers. The child was tempted and could not take his eyes off the delicacies.
While Qasim spoke to a man who walked up to him, Ahmad’s eyes wandered back to the woman. He was not sure what it was, but he could not take his eyes off her. At the same time, something made the woman turn around. She faced Ahmad and saw his eyes through the veil of the abaya.
“Hello,” she greeted, and the boy saw the surprised look on her face. She moved toward him, but Qasim pulled Ahmad away, slapping him on the head.
“Ah, Bhai Sahib, don’t beat her; she’s only a child!” the woman looked at him. “Here, take this, Baiti; a nice sugary date for you!”
Qasim yanked the child away before he could take the proffered sweet. As they disappeared behind a tent, he looked back and saw the woman watching him. He hoped she would not follow him.
“Take your abaya off,” Qasim ordered, and the boy gladly obliged. It felt good to see everything clearly for a change; besides, he’d been hot wearing two pairs of clothes. They were alone.
Qasim removed stones from a pile near the animal shed and looked around furtively. Like the well-behaved child he was, Ahmad helped remove the rocks. He could see a bag hidden under the rocks, which Qasim pulled out quickly. The man shook the dust off and opened it. There was a vest stuffed inside, and Ahmad realized it was for him. He was, after all, familiar with this sort of thing; he had worn it before. He stood in front of Qasim and allowed him to strap it around him.
Ahmad was the first to see the young man with the green eyes, who quietly appeared in front of him. Qasim was busy with the vest and was not aware of the intruder. Ahmad sensed that something was happening that was not expected. He tapped Qasim on his shoulder to warn him.
“What?” he snarled, irritated at being disturbed just as he fastened the belt loops. When Ahmad didn’t reply, he looked up and saw him staring ahead. He looked in the direction of Ahmad’s gaze and realized their predicament.
“Let my brother go, you bastard!” Shahzad roared, much to Ahmad’s astonishment.
“Stop, or I’ll kill him,” Qasim threatened, grabbing Ahmad in a stranglehold, protecting himself.
Ahmad saw more people filling in the tiny area. There were men in uniforms carrying guns aimed at the two of them. He had never seen Qasim so alarmed, and the frightened boy clung to his captor.
“Why is he putting a knife under my chin” Ahmad gasped in fear. “Doesn’t he know he’s drawing blood from my neck?”
Now more scared of Qasim than the armed men surrounding them, Ahmad tried to get away, but a tight grip trapped him as the knife drew more blood.
“Let my son go,” a sharp voice demanded. Ahmad managed to look up to see a turbaned man with a scar on the side of his face. The colors on the turban were very bright and made him look aristocratic. He had a sharp nose and eyes that stared at him strangely.
“No! Don’t come near, or I swear I’ll kill him,” Qasim shouted, and Ahmad tried again to get out of his clutches. But it only made Qasim handle him more roughly with another stab in his neck.
“Ahmad! Ahmad, my son!” he heard his name shouted, and next to the turbaned man, he saw the lady from the sweet counter. She had tears in her eyes.
“What’s going on?” Ahmad’s mind reeled in confusion. “Brother? Son? Mother? Who are these strange people who are claiming me? I have no family! I’ll meet them in Heaven today! Am I dead already?”
Now, Qasim had a gun in his other hand, and he was shooting in the air to frighten people away, to allow him some escape room. Dragging Ahmad by the knife on his neck, the desperado charged into the space created by those fearful of being shot. One person refused to move and blocked his path.
Qasim didn’t recognize her immediately, but Ahmad saw a face that he least expected. He could not believe his eyes.
“Becca!” he shouted joyously.
“You…!” gasped Qasim, who thought he saw a ghost.
Rebecca’s eyes caught his with a look of defiance, and then, resting on one crutch, she swung the other one at Qasim’s head. He ducked out of the way and then steadied his gun, aiming directly at Rebecca. Time seemed to stand still; then, Ahmad screamed, pushing Qasim’s gun barrel upwards. A shot rang out; it was so close that Rebecca felt the bullet whizzing over her head.
Qasim pushed Ahmad to the ground and aimed his gun again, but someone pushed Rebecca out of the way. Qasim decided that flight was the best option now and charged off between the stalls to get lost in the crowds. He pushed the gun into a pocket of his tunic, dragged Ahmad up by the hair, and pushed the knife into his neck again.
“Ahmad!” screamed Rebecca, getting to her feet. “Don’t let him escape! Someone, please stop him!”
Ahmad could feel Qasim steel himself for the getaway as the knife dug deeper into his flesh. The woman with the green eyes jumped at him, but the turbaned man with the scar held her back, cautioning her that one slip of the knife would be enough to end her son’s life.
The boy could see the blur of faces around him as they hurried through the crowd. He looked for Rebecca, but all he saw on the ground was the trail of blood he was leaving. They were near their truck, and he saw soldiers around. Ahmad wondered what Qasim would do to him now that there was nowhere to go. Maybe he should run; if only Qasim would loosen his grip over him. Ahmad felt faint, and his legs began to buckle. He could feel the knife digging deeper as his head felt lighter and lighter, taking all the pain away. He vaguely remembered a huge man charging towards them. Qasim fired at the giant, and his gun clicked, letting him know he was out of bullets. He saw the huge man lift Qasim off the ground by his neck and slap him across the face repeatedly. Qasim let Ahmad go and tried to save himself as Fiaz-ul-Muhabat laughed loudly and hissed, “Fight like a man; die like a man!”