“Get some rest.” John turned and looked for Mansur and Steve. He needed to explain what they would do next.
86
Hemin stood on the riverbank, watching the murky waters of the Tigris flow past. On the opposite bank, just over a hundred meters away, was Syria.
It had been three days since he had ferried the men across. He had seen a lot of things in his time, but the bravery of the three friends, venturing into a war-torn country, where they knew no-one, couldn’t speak the language, and not knowing whether they could come back alive, all to save a girl and her daughter, was to be admired, and he couldn’t get them out of his mind. Where were they now? Had they succeeded?
The call from Mehmet three days ago had been niggling away in the back of his mind. He hoped Mehmet wasn’t up to his usual tricks. Hemin really wanted the three men to succeed. They had said they would call him when they were on the way back, but until now, he hadn’t heard a thing. He stupidly hadn’t taken their number, so he had no way of checking on them or even warning them Mehmet had called.
He bent down and picked up a flat rock, hefted it in his hand, then sent it skipping across the surface of the slow-moving river. It bounced three, four times before sinking to the bottom, the movement startling a white egret into flight from its perch on the opposite bank. He watched as it sped across the river, just above the surface as it flapped its wings to gain height. Reaching the opposite bank, it slowed and gracefully landed on a rock on the Turkish side of the river. Why couldn’t human beings live like that? In harmony with each other, the freedom to move around whenever and wherever they want.
He gazed back over the river to the fields, stretching away from the riverbanks. The other side looked just like where he was standing yet had seen so much death and destruction. It was all so unnecessary. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He would call Ferhad. Maybe he would have news.
87
The afternoon dragged as they waited for darkness to fall. The countryside had remained quiet, the distant shelling and gunfire from previous days absent.
Fortunately, they were shaded from the harsh sun by the trees, which hopefully also shielded them from any drones patrolling the skies. The women had talked in low tones or dozed while Naeem drifted in and out of consciousness. He wasn’t looking good. The pain must have been immense, and John suspected the wound was getting infected and would need antibiotics soon.
John, Steve, and Mansur had taken turns keeping watch, but John had not been able to rest. Whenever John sat down and tried to relax, his body started trembling, and if he closed his eyes, memories of the gunfight kept flashing before his eyes, so he gave up. He would get through it, he knew that. He’d been under intense stress before, and the trauma would eventually fade, as long as he kept himself busy. The main thing was to get Mia, Malak, and the women to safety. Otherwise, it would all have been for nothing.
John stood and walked over to where Mansur leaned against a tree, eyes on the road, his AK47 cradled in his arms.
“Kaif halek, habibi?” John asked. “How are you, my friend?”
“I’m good, John.” Mansur smiled briefly before his face returned to the sad expression he had when John approached. “I keep thinking about the boy. He should have been in school, not living like this.”
“Yeah,” John sighed. “I know. It’s all so bloody pointless.” He turned to look back at the women. “But his death was not a waste. These women will now have a chance at freedom.”
“Yes.”
John turned to gaze out across the fields. “It looks so peaceful out there.”
“Nature is beautiful, my friend. It’s us who ruin it.”
“Yup.” John smiled. “I still remember that morning vividly, when you took me out to see the sunrise in the dunes. That experience will stay with me forever.”
“You have to come back, John. You and Adriana.”
“I’d like that.”
Mansur shifted his position, adjusting his shoulder against the tree and adjusting the weight of the AK in his arms.
“I plan to spend more time with Warda and the girls. Recently, some days I’ve not seen the girls before they go to bed.” He shook his head. “Not anymore. Life can change in the blink of an eye.” He turned to face John. “Don’t you forget that, John. We have to value every moment we have with the ones we love.”
“I won’t forget.” John smiled. “Why don’t you get some rest? I’ll stand watch for a while.”
Mansur shook his head. “I can’t.”
“No, neither can I.”
“John, there’s something bothering me about Naeem.”
“You, too?”
“Yes.” Mansur looked over John’s shoulder to where Naeem was dozing. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded pile of paper. “Look at this.”
“What is it?” John unfolded it. “It’s in Arabic.”
“It’s some kind of special pass. I took it from the glove box of the pickup when we left. See, that is the official stamp of Hay’at Tahrir Al Sham, and this is his name.” Mansur pointed at a line of script. “It says here that he is to be
