This was freedom.
Chapter 9
Hud didn’t join the celebration at the lakeside.
A strange feeling had settled in the pit of his stomach as he watched Layah exchange embraces with the others. It wasn’t jealousy. It was aversion. He stood at a safe distance, his heart pounding with trepidation. Although no one tried to hug him, the very idea caused him to break out in a cold sweat.
He knew the symptoms of PTSD. He’d been trained to recognize the warning signs, and prisoners of war rarely escaped unscathed. But his recovery had been easier than expected so far. He hadn’t suffered from nightmares, mood swings or delusions. His encounters with Layah hadn’t triggered him. Her touch had a soothing effect, in fact. He’d convinced himself that he was strong enough to avoid the affliction.
His current reaction told him otherwise. He swallowed hard, struck by a wave of bad memories. During the first few weeks in his cell, he’d been forced to stay awake. He’d been kicked and punched and doused with water. Whenever he let his guard down and surrendered to exhaustion, he got punished.
Then the torture sessions stopped, and he missed them. He missed his captors. He couldn’t stand the isolation. He’d craved human contact. One day, when a guard had been standing over him with a rifle, he’d bear-hugged the man around the ankles just to touch someone.
It was the same guard he’d killed, too. He felt more shame and guilt about hugging him than killing him.
Yeah. That was pretty twisted.
Now he felt like throwing up because people were embracing in his presence. His next psych eval was going to be fun. He could withstand waterboarding and dead bodies and sleep deprivation and extreme ops, but not hugging. Hugging was too much.
He staggered away from the joyful scene and disappeared in the trees. He walked until he couldn’t hear happy voices anymore. He walked until he was alone, and he could breathe again. Then his shoulder muscles relaxed and his anxiety eased.
Wiping a hand down his sweaty face, he shook off the dregs of the episode. Then he approached the shoreline for a drink. He wouldn’t normally take the risk, but a glacier-fed lake in a remote location was about as clean as you could get. He made a cup with his hands and drank straight from the source.
He spotted a set of deer tracks when he lifted his head. He crouched down to touch the soft mud, glancing into the trees. The tracks were fresh. His stomach growled with hunger. Now that his nausea had passed, he was starving again.
His detour into the woods didn’t go unnoticed. Aram and Yusef burst through the trees, their rifles raised. Ashur followed close behind.
Hud stood slowly, raising his palms. He’d never believed Layah’s claim that her cousins meant him no harm. He didn’t trust her, but his desire for her hadn’t waned. Whenever he looked at her, the ugliness of the world faded away, and nothing else mattered.
“Why are you alone?” Ashur asked.
Hud dropped his hands. “I was taking a piss. Maybe your cousins hold each other’s dicks, but I don’t need any help.”
Ashur flushed at this response. He didn’t translate.
“We should hunt,” Hud said, changing the subject. “These are fresh tracks.”
Aram lowered his weapon and studied the prints. He exchanged a few words with Yusef, who shook his head. After a short debate, Yusef gave his rifle to Ashur. The boy accepted it with reverence.
“I will hunt with you,” Ashur said. “They want to stay here.”
Hud shrugged. It wasn’t what he’d expected, after being interrogated at gunpoint, but he didn’t argue.
“Be careful,” Yusef said in stilted English. Then he walked away with Aram.
“Why are they letting me go with you?” Hud asked Ashur.
“They think you are the best shot, and they are tired.”
“Aren’t you tired?”
“Yes, but I want to learn to kill.”
“So you can avenge your father.”
“And my mother.”
Hud crossed his arms over his chest. “The first thing you need to know is that killing and emotions don’t mix. Only a calm man has a steady trigger finger.”
Ashur narrowed his eyes. “I am calm.”
“You’re angry.”
“You are angry also. You insult my cousins and lust for my aunt. Do these feelings make you unable to kill?”
Hud rubbed a hand over his mouth. Ashur was too smart for his own good, and too determined to dissuade. Hud didn’t know why he was trying to talk Ashur out of his revenge fantasy. What did he care if the kid went on a rampage? Hud wanted Layah. Ashur wasn’t his problem. “Have you fired a gun before?”
“Yes. Aram let me shoot at cans once.”
“Give me the rifle. You’re holding it wrong.”
Ashur passed it over. Hud checked the safety before he explained the parts of the rifle and showed Ashur how to handle it correctly. The boy was a quick study. He listened with interest and asked a few questions.
Hud insisted on carrying the rifle through the woods, but he didn’t spot any deer. They lost the trail as soon as they moved away from the muddy shoreline. He continued uphill until they reached a clearing. There was a cluster of rocks to hide behind. It was as good a post as any. He got down on the ground and gave the rifle to Ashur.
“When can I shoot?”
“When you see an animal.”
“You think the deer is here?”
“I have no idea.”
“Where do I shoot it?”
“I’d go for the chest, and you have to wait for the right moment. If it stops to sniff the air, take the shot. Line it up and squeeze the trigger.”
“Okay,” Ashur said.
Ten minutes went by. It was almost sunset, and the temperature had dropped. They hadn’t brought their jackets. Hud rolled over and tucked his hands behind his head, content to let Ashur keep watch. He doubted they’d have any luck.
“Can we make the deer come out?” Ashur asked.
“Not if we don’t know where it is.”
Ashur was quiet for another ten minutes. Then he shifted and flexed his trigger hand. “I do
