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Reshmina ran to look over the edge of the mountain where Pasoon had aimed his rifle, and she pulled back in surprise. The American camp, the one Pasoon had shot at years ago, was abandoned now. The Taliban had torn down the tin roofs and painted insults on the rock barriers, but nobody was there. The Americans had packed up and left. The ANA still had bases in the province, but not the Americans. Not anymore.
“Ha!” Reshmina said. “Look! All that shooting, all that fighting, and for what? Neither side won anything, and neither side lost anything—except lives.”
“We won,” Pasoon told her. “We drove them out.”
“Out of what? Why? Nobody lives here!” Reshmina cried. “We’re in the middle of nowhere! There’s no water, no food, nothing for animals to graze on. Nobody really wants this place—not the Americans, and not the Taliban either. They just wanted to fight. It’s like it’s all some big game.”
Pasoon aimed the rifle at the old camp and pulled the trigger.
PAKOW!
Reshmina put her hands over her ears. “Pasoon, what are you—?”
Pasoon fired again. PAKOW!
What was he doing? There was nobody down there!
PAKOW! The old Soviet rifle echoed down through the valley.
Suddenly Reshmina understood. I’m going to call the Taliban, Pasoon had said. Which was silly, because neither of them had a phone. But if Pasoon couldn’t call the Taliban on the phone, he could call them with a rifle.
He’d make them come to see who was shooting.
Reshmina grabbed the rifle and tried to pull it from Pasoon’s hands.
“Pasoon, don’t!” Reshmina pleaded. “You don’t know what you’re doing!”
“I do too,” Pasoon said as they tussled. “I’m doing what you and Baba should have done in the first place! I’m going to tell the Taliban there’s an American soldier in our house!”
Pasoon was too strong for her. He wasn’t going to give up the gun. Reshmina tucked a foot around his leg and tripped him, and they fell to the ground with a thud. The rifle slipped from Pasoon’s fingers and they fought for it, kicking and shoving and wrestling each other. And not in the playful way they had that morning. This was desperate. Vicious. Reshmina felt like she was fighting for her life.
Pasoon pushed her away with his foot and got enough separation from her to stand. He held the gun to one side, barrel pointed at the ground, and panted to catch his breath. His eyes were wide and wild, and his chest heaved.
“You’re so stupid, Pasoon!” Reshmina told him. She pulled herself to her feet. “You’re like a worm who crawls into a snake’s nest and says, ‘Hey, what are we snakes going to do today?’ You’re just a little baby playing at being a grown- up!”
Pasoon hit her hard on the side of her face with his open palm. The blow was so sudden, so brutal, it sent Reshmina to her hand and knees. Rocks cut into her palms, but she didn’t move. Reshmina tasted blood where she’d bitten her own tongue, and her face burned from the sting of Pasoon’s hand. But what made her cry was the awful, shocking savagery of it. Reshmina and her twin brother had played rough since they were babies, pushing and poking and yanking at each other whenever they squabbled. But Pasoon had never hit her. Not like this. Not with such venom.
The worm was a snake after all.
Reshmina dragged her sleeve across her eyes, but stayed on her hands and knees.
“Pasoon—” she began, but her brother cut her off.
“I may be your twin brother, Reshmina, but this is still Afghanistan. I am still a man, and you are still a woman, and you can’t speak to me like that.”
Reshmina kept her eyes on the ground. “Pasoon, you know what the Taliban does to anyone who helps the Americans. If you tell them we’re hiding an American soldier in our house, they will kill us all when they come for him. Everyone you love will die. Anaa. Mor. Baba. Marzia and Zahir. Me.”
Pasoon’s voice wavered as he answered. “Baba made his decision. He’s the one who sided with the infidels.”
“They will kill everyone in the village just to teach us a lesson, Pasoon. You’ve seen them do it. The Taliban will kill us all. You’ll kill us all.”
Reshmina heard Pasoon sniff like he was crying, but she still didn’t look up. Wouldn’t.
“So be it,” Pasoon told her. “Whatever happens to our family, it’s Baba’s fault. And yours,” he added.
Pasoon slid the bolt back and forth on the rifle and fired again—PAKOW!—into the air. Reshmina shrank from the
noise.
He did it again. PAKOW!
Reshmina kept her head down and closed her eyes, waiting for another shot. When nothing came, she looked up again.
Three Taliban fighters were coming along the path toward them.
“Pasoon—” Reshmina pleaded. “Pasoon, I still have your toy,” she said, digging it out of her tunic to show to him.
“Keep it,” Pasoon told her. “Toys are for babies. I’m a man now.”
Reshmina got to her feet. She saw now there was no stopping Pasoon from telling the Taliban about Taz. And as soon as he did, the Taliban would come to their village. They would kill Taz, and they would kill the rest of them for giving him refuge.
The only thing she could do was get back to her village first. She had to warn her family and everyone else.
Reshmina turned and ran down the steep hillside, tumbling and falling and hitting every rock and bush along the way. She slid to a stop in a narrow ravine, but could still see the Taliban up above. They were almost to her brother. Reshmina wrapped her scarf around her head and stumbled away, sobbing. All she wanted to do was sit down and cry, but she had to hurry.
She hurt all over from her rough descent, and her face still burned where Pasoon had struck her. But it was the loss of her brother that hurt worse than anything. Everything they had ever had, everything they had shared as twins, as close as two people could perhaps ever be in this world, was gone forever.
Reshmina glanced over her shoulder one last time. Pasoon was talking animatedly with the Taliban and pointing back in the direction of their village.
Reshmina ran faster.
