Another soldier passed over the passports, the press cards, and the plastic folder of letters and permits. In the stress of being dragged out of the car, John hadn’t even realized he had left them behind on the seat. The commander looked through them, holding them up and checking the photos against their faces. He leafed through the passports, examining their visas, and John held his breath, hoping that Ramesh’s forgery was good enough to pass this inspection.
He handed the documents back to the soldier and stood, staring at them one by one. His eyes stopped on John and seemed to hold his gaze for longer than necessary. John’s heart stopped, and he waited for the command that would send bullets tearing through them. The commander said something and turned away to walk back to the armored truck. A soldier shouted something in Arabic—the only word John understood was Yalla.
Ferhad and Mansur got to their feet, and John looked nervously at Steve.
“It’s okay, we can go,” Mansur explained, turning to face them.
John let out an enormous sigh of relief and got to his feet. He reached down for his backpack as Steve did the same.
The soldier handed the documents to Mansur, and they all climbed into the car as the soldiers turned their attention to the vehicle behind them. Ferhad started the engine, slipped the car in gear, and pulled away. John scanned his body, releasing all the tension, body part by body part. He could hear Steve muttering under his breath, repeating the same word over and over again. It sounded like “fuck, fuck, fuck.” John glanced toward the armored vehicle as they eased past and saw the officer talking to a man in a different uniform. He was watching them, his eyes locking with John’s as they passed. John wasn’t sure but thought he saw the red white and blue of the Russian flag on a badge on the man’s shoulder.
60
Out of sight of the checkpoint, Ferhad pulled over, switched off the engine, and climbed out of the car. He walked to the front and rested his butt on the hood, removing a crumpled pack of cigarettes from the breast pocket of his shirt.
John looked across at Steve, shrugged, and they both opened their doors and climbed out, followed by Mansur.
Ferhad cupped the flame of his lighter in his hands and lit a cigarette, then offered the packet to the others before stuffing it back into his pocket.
He took a long drag and blew the smoke up into the air, watching as it was snatched away by the breeze.
John twisted his body, then bent forward, stretching out his back. It was good to get out of the little car, and the stretching helped to burn off the excess adrenaline pumping through his veins. Steve watched him, then, catching his eye, gave a shake of his head.
“Fuck me, I almost shat myself.”
“Me too.” John nodded. “For a moment, I thought it was all going to end there.”
“Look at my hand.” Steve held up his hand, and John could see it shaking. “What a shit hole. Imagine dealing with this every day?”
John stood with his hands on his hips, looking back down the road in the direction of the checkpoint. A car moved toward them, the driver raising a hand, and giving a thumbs-up, and John nodded back. He had been behind them in the queue and seen what they had gone through.
“Yeah, we take so much in our lives for granted.”
“I hope we don’t have many more of these to go through before we get to Idlib,” Steve commented. “I don’t think my heart can take it.”
“I’ll find out.” John walked to the front of the car and nodded at Ferhad.
“Is he okay?” John asked Mansur.
“Yes.” Mansur smiled. “He’s just angry. He says they didn’t need to treat you like this. You aren’t dangerous to them.” He paused, listening to Ferhad, then translated. “He says he is sorry you are experiencing this in his country.”
John nodded, his eyes on Ferhad’s face. The man looked genuinely upset.
“Why did they pull us out of the car? I thought he said they all knew him?”
Mansur asked, and Ferhad threw his cigarette butt on the ground and trod it into the dirt with his toe.
Looking up, he spoke to Mansur. Mansur listened then turned to John.
“He says this is a new commander, and he’s probably trying to impress his bosses. He asked if you saw the Russian officer?”
“I did.”
“He says they need to show the Russians how good they are; otherwise, their funding will be cut off.”
“So, it was just a random stop for us?”
“He thinks so, yes.”
John nodded thoughtfully. “Good.” He exhaled, feeling a little more relaxed. “Ask him how many more checkpoints before
