 |
Reshmina’s eyes flashed back and forth between Pasoon and the Taliban fighters on the ridge. The Taliban had to have seen her brother waving his arms. But they weren’t going to come down the mountain to him. He was going to have to go up to them.
Pasoon put his hands down and started to climb.
“Pasoon, stop!” Reshmina screamed. He was too far away to hear her. Reshmina flew down the hill after him. She was going much faster than he was now, but she still had to cross the ravine at the bottom of the valley and climb the hill on the other side. She was never going to make it.
“Pasoon, you idiot!” Reshmina yelled. “Come back!”
Pasoon ignored her. Up and up he climbed, getting closer to the Taliban.
Reshmina stumbled into the bottom of the ravine. Her brother was already more than halfway up the next hill. He was going to get to the Taliban before Reshmina could catch him.
“Pasoon!” she cried. “Please! Don’t go!”
She looked around desperately, trying to think of anything she could do, anything she could say, to keep her twin brother from joining the Taliban.
Whoomp-whoomp-whoomp-whoomp.
Reshmina felt the vibrations before she heard it—an Apache. The American helicopter thundered over the hill and down the ravine like an angry animal, swooping so low it blew dirt and rocks up in great brown swirls. To Reshmina it looked like a giant metal grasshopper: green all over, with a big nose, long tail, and folded-up wings.
Only, underneath these wings were missiles and machine guns.
Was the helicopter out looking for their missing soldiers?
Fsssssssshoom!
A rocket streaked from one of the Apache’s wings straight toward the ridge where the Taliban had been standing moments before, and—F-THOOM!—the hillside exploded. Boulders broke loose from the mountain and tumbled down toward Reshmina. She dove behind a rock and cowered as the landslide rumbled by, pelting her with dirt and bouncing stones.
The Americans weren’t looking for their soldiers. They were looking for revenge!
Reshmina heard the Taliban firing back, their Soviet-era rifles clanging like metal poles on a corrugated roof. Tung- tung-tung-tung.
When the avalanche settled, Reshmina peeked out from behind her cover. Had her brother been hit by the blast? She couldn’t see him anywhere.
Pasoon! That idiot. If he was dead, Reshmina was going to kill him.
Reshmina watched the Apache spin, its guns never leaving their target at the top of the ridge. White-hot streaks, as bright as the sun, shot out from underneath it
like fireworks. Tracer bullets. They were so fast Reshmina saw them before she heard them. Tat-tat-tat-tat-tat. The helicopter descended, getting closer and closer, and the sound of bullets hitting the hillside got louder and louder. Reshmina put her hands over her ears and winced.
She had to know if Pasoon was all right. If he was hurt, the cowardly worm, she had to help him.
Reshmina stood in a crouch and ran up the hill, hands still covering her ears. The Apache hadn’t seen her. It kept pounding the ridge where the Taliban had been—tat-tat-tat- tat-tat. Reshmina kept her head down, watching her feet on the broken ground as she ran. In a few breathless heartbeats, she was at the last place she had seen her twin brother. Fresh rocks from the explosion littered the ground.
“Pasoon!” she cried. “Pasoon, where are you?”
A hand reached out from behind a rock and yanked her to the ground.
“Get down, you idiot!” her brother yelled.
“Pasoon!” Reshmina cried. Her brother was alive! Reshmina threw her arms around him, then socked him in the arm.
“Ow!” Pasoon cried.
“I can’t believe you really left to join the Taliban! You have water for brains!”
Bullets struck the hillside right above them, and Reshmina and her brother flinched.
“We have to get out of here!” Reshmina cried.
The Apache stopped shooting in their direction and roared off over the top of the hill in pursuit of the Taliban.
Pasoon took Reshmina’s hand and pulled her to her feet. “Come on! Let’s go!” he said.
The way back down into the ravine was too wide open—if the helicopter came back, it would see them, and it was clear the Americans were in a shoot-first, ask-questions-
later kind of mood. Reshmina and her brother ran sideways along the hillside instead, hand in hand, away from the battle.
“You’re not supposed to be here!” Pasoon cried. “Neither are you!” Reshmina yelled back.
Reshmina’s feet slipped and twisted on the uneven ground, and she felt a twinge in her ankle. Her lungs burned and her heart felt like it was going to burst, but she kept moving. They couldn’t stop.
Reshmina glanced back over her shoulder to look for the helicopter. There was still no sign of it.
“Reshmina, watch out!” Pasoon cried, and she faced forward again.
Open sky stretched out in front of Reshmina, and her heart dropped into her stomach. A cliff!
Reshmina tried to turn, to dig her feet in and stop, and she fell down hard on her backside and lost Pasoon’s hand. She’d been running too fast, and her momentum carried her down toward the edge of the cliff. She twisted onto her belly to claw at the ground, but with a strangled scream she felt her feet and then her legs slip over the side. She was going over the cliff!
“Reshmina!” Pasoon cried. He threw himself face-first on the ground and grabbed her hands, halting her before she slid entirely over the edge.
Only Reshmina’s head and shoulders and arms were still on solid ground. The rest of her twisted frantically in the wind.
Reshmina puffed and panted, swallowing a scream. She kicked and churned her feet, but there was nothing under her. Only air. In her mind’s eye, she saw herself losing her grip. Tumbling. Falling. She’d had this nightmare before, tossing and turning under her blanket as she fell through the sky, trying to grab hold of something, anything, as the
ground rushed up to her, jerking awake in a sweat right before she hit.
Only this time waking up wouldn’t save her.
“Pasoon!” Reshmina cried. “Hold on! Don’t let me fall!”
Her twin brother grunted and strained, trying to pull her back up. His eyes were wild with panic. Sweat popped out in beads on his forehead.
Reshmina kept kicking her legs, trying to find something to stand on, to push herself back up.
Then she felt it. Not a rock or a ledge below her, but a vibration. It started in the pit of her stomach and moved up her body. The hair on Reshmina’s arms stood on end, and then, like an eagle riding a thermal, something big and powerful rose up behind her.
WHOMP-WHOMP-WHOMP-WHOMP.
The American helicopter.
The Apache hovered in the air right behind her, so close that when Reshmina turned her head, she could see the pilot through the windshield. A huge machine gun, bigger than Reshmina herself, hung from the bottom of the helicopter. Wherever the pilot’s gaze went, the machine gun followed, as though one was tied to the other.
The pilot looked left, then right. Then the pilot looked at Reshmina, still hanging over the cliff, and the machine gun aimed directly at her.
