“Salam alekum,” muttered a man slumped up against one of the tractor’s giant tyres. He had a light-brown complexion and dressed in Middle-Eastern clothing. Hannah wanted to describe him as Arabic but was unsure whether it was an appropriate way to label someone—he could just as easily be Indian or Turkish or Tunisian. Then she realised such things probably didn’t matter anymore.
She pointed her rifle at the man’s face. “Who are you?”
“My name…” The man took a breath, visibly exhausted. “My name is Aymun, and I am looking for my friend.”
“Who?”
“He is a young man who goes by the name of Vamps. Not his true name, but the only one of which I know.”
Hannah tried not to show any recognition at the name. She didn’t know this man from Adam and wouldn’t share information freely until she got a read on him. “Stupid name. What is this Vamps guy to you?”
“As I say, he is just a friend.” The man shifted position and winced in pain. “He is in much trouble and I am hoping to help him.”
“Well, not sure I can be of help to you there. Do you need aid? I have water.”
The man sighed and looked down at the grass. “No, thank you. My challenges are great it seems. I travelled many miles, and yet nothing do I find. Are you alone, kind soldier?”
“Haven’t seen another person in weeks, pet.” She worried she might have lied a little too eagerly.
“A dire reality in which we find ourselves, indeed.” The strange man grunted and pushed himself to his feet, using the giant tyre at his back.
Hannah shook her rifle at him. “Easy there!”
Aymun smiled, subtle amusement in his eyes. “Surely, you would not shoot a man for getting to his feet? Now, I do not know you, woman, for you have not shown me the politeness of sharing your name. Yet, I know you are not alone in this world. Your pack is empty. If you are a lone traveller, as you say, then where is your blanket? Where are your food supplies? No, your pack is empty because you are looking for resources to bring back to your camp.”
“Yes, but the camp is just me.”
“No. A camp of one is not a camp. You are clean, fed, and your eyes lack the desperation of a lonely traveller. You are not alone.”
She moved her rifle’s muzzle closer to his face. “If I shoot you in the face, I’ll be alone again. We don’t know each other, so dial back the familiarity.”
“Have you seen my friend? That is all I ask.”
“What do you want with this Vamps guy, anyway? You said he’s in trouble?”
“He is. Great danger surrounds him.”
“What danger?”
Aymun smiled and placed his hands out in a gesture of defeat. “Alas, you claim not to know this man, so I shall share no more.”
“Then I wish you the best of luck, pet. Hope you find him.” She stepped back, keeping her rifle raised so he couldn’t get a jump on her. She didn’t trust this man with the strange accent and odd clothes, but she hoped it wasn’t old prejudices making her feel that way. The world had moved on, for better or worse. No, she just got a bad feeling, that was all.
“What is it you seek, woman? What supplies does your camp need?”
Hannah stopped retreating and shoved her muzzle closer to the man’s face again. “Call me woman one more time. I dare you.”
Aymun chuckled. Then he moved like a whipped vine, grabbing her rifle strap and twisting it around her neck until it was squeezing her throat shut. Before she could fight back, he kicked her legs out from under her and put her on her back. The pommel of her stowed sword butted the base of her skull and sent stars through her vision.
Aymun grabbed her rifle and twisted it, tightening the strap around her neck. The more he twisted, the more the strap tightened. He glared into her face, long nose touching hers. “I call you woman because you continue to show rudeness by refusing to offer your name. Now you have a choice. Unclip your rifle, and the strap around your throat will loosen. Or continue to fight and strangulate to death. Fight or think. Up to you, woman.”
Hannah gritted her teeth and tried to throw the man off her, tried to force her rifle around to shoot him. She could do neither. Reluctantly, and angrily, she reached for the clips on the rifle straps and thumbed them open. A solider giving up her weapon was no soldier. Her second failure of the day.
Aymun snatched the rifle and pointed it at her chest. “You may stand.”
Hannah did so gingerly, brushing dirt off her butt and rubbing at her sore throat. Yet another wound to add to the list. As she stood, her damaged ankle buckled and reminded her that this was not her first failure of the day. “What do you want?” she demanded, glaring at the son-of-a-bitch. “I knew you were bad news.”
“I only wish to hear your name.”
“Hannah.” She growled. “My name is Hannah, okay?”
“You are a rude woman, Hannah.” He glared at her a moment, then altered his expression and smiled. “But I am most happy to meet you. Forgive my direct way of doing things. I have had a most difficult journey, and it has been many months since I saw my homeland. I miss it greatly.”
“And where is that exactly?”
“I am from Syria. Damascus. A most ancient and illustrious city. It was in ruins even before the damned got there. I fear for it greatly now.”
“Syria? How did you get here?”
“I went through Hell.”
She rolled her eyes. Had this guy and Vamps worked on a story together or something? “Look, just let me go or shoot me. I’m sorry I took a hard line with you, but I’ve had a pretty miserable
