ainjim
12-25-2009, 01:41 AM
The angel with the blue wings
Although it was foggy that morning, yet he turned a cautious look around him before he took another step out of the low reed hut. The wet heavy air, the calmness of the moor and the muddy earth increased his feeling of isolation and loneliness. He closed his military furred coat well, overturned its collar, holding it tightly to his neck, and took his automatic rifle on his shoulder.
His first idea was that he ought to take a walk around the place before he could be sure of his safety. So he went wandering between bunches of reed and high wild herbs that covered the whole area around the moor. After a long route, which took him to the edge of the salted wide area that separates the moor from the still far away high road, he decided to stay there for a while. So he took a cover behind a bunch of high reeds and lay on the decayed herbs and weeds, watching any moving object around him.
An hour had elapsed, and the low fog had vanished revealing a clear vision to the scene in front of him. There was not much he could tell. The only think that attracted his attention was two trucks passed the high way, which looks like a dark thread on the horizon. He presumed that they were carrying some people. But it wasn’t clear whether those people were ordinary civilians or pro Iranian militia who emerged during the last few weeks. At any rate it was dangerous to take chances.
He turned his face toward the sky. The dark grey clouds seem to become so near to the earth. "It is a bad sign" he told himself," I have better to return to the hut before it pours its heavy weight of water."
As he was sneaking through the high reeds, he heard the thunder. He stopped for a while "it is a queer sound. Thunder hasn’t had such a thumping sound," he thought, nevertheless he went on. Few seconds later he heard another queer sound. This time it sounds like an exploding bomb with a continuous hum. He turned a careless searching look toward the sky. In a sudden moment he felt his heart jumped into his chest. Between the clouds, he thought he saw what looks like a parachute. It had passed between two huge dark clouds in a fragment of a second before it had disappeared. Although the still high fog makes a misty seen of the whole screen above him, yet he had a glimpse of the figure. Now he was sure it was a. "It couldn't be anything else," he said to himself. He tried hard to have another glimpse of it.
Few minutes had passed without seeing anything; he started to doubt his previous vision and led his way towards the hut. But, with unconvincing move, he turned his head toward the sky. The navy blue parachute was there again stretching its two sides in the sky like a huge peacock. Now it became so clear and so near that he found himself running towards it without knowing why he was doing that.
The high dried reed hindered him from moving fast. To avoid the thick spots he had to bend while he was running. He was conscious to keep the same direction. Whenever he reaches an open area he would stop to cast a searching look before he resumed his run.
After running for ten minutes he felt tired. He stopped for a while to think it over again... It comes to his mind that the pilot must be an American, while their fighters and bombers are the only planes who are roaming the sky. He began to argue the matter logically. Suppose he found him, what is he going to do with him? Shoot him? Why? What's the use of killing him? Taking him prisoner? Where to? He himself is a fugitive. And besides, if the pro -Iranian militia had noticed the parachute they certainly will be now on their way to fetch for it. That means he himself may fall in their hands. What is he going to do then? To face those ignorant sectarian fanatics means committing suicide. He hasn't got more than thirty shots in his rifle. Surrender to them is the same. They are going to kill him at any way.
He thought it would be better to go back to his hide and leave the American pilot to his destiny.
*******
The early morning sun started to rise over the horizon. His half body, which emerged from the upper opening of the moving tank, was shaking with its fast movement. He lifted his left hand to protect his eyes from the piercing rays, while his other hand was helping him to keep still. He welcomed its faint heat in this February cold morning in spite of the dust that aroused by the long rattle of tanks in front of him.
He had to keep his position watching the sky. The day before, they had heavy casualties by the American raiding fighters. He can't understand why they had been attacked. Two days ago they received orders to withdraw from Kuwait and the southern borders. Isn't that what the American wanted all the time? Do they just do that to satisfy the corrupted Sheiks of Kuwait? What a filthy task when a powerful country behaves as a hired killer?
What he feared had happened, tens of bombers and fighters were roaming the clear sky fetching for preys. He slipped down inside his tank and the long rattle of tanks had spread left and right while the anti aircraft mortars started to shoot at the raiding planes. But the result was obvious. Most of the tanks were hit.
After burying their martyrs, they had to leave their vehicles and go walking separately in the desert to avoid the causalities of the raids. When he and other soldiers reached the suburbs of counties they found the worst. The Iranians, whom the war with them was still fresh in their memory, found the opportunity to revenge. They had encouraged and lead a militia of the ignorant peasants who believe that they are fighting the government of Baghdad and not their own people. One of their orders was to find the retreating soldiers and kill them. The second, as it was became well known after their flight to Iran, is to destroy anything belongs to the government including schools and hospitals. The irony was that both Iran and the “big Satan” were fighting side by side this wounded country. What a filthy hand driving them to do so!
He and others had to hide here and there until they can reach the big cities where they can find safety. In the moors that covers huge area in south of Iraq he found the hide he was seeking. He decided to stay there till he finds the means and the opportunity to go to Nasiriah City, which he guessed, was near. When he had reached the moor three days ago he noticed a militia base nearby. He hardly avoided them and went behind unnoticed.
****
The vision of the American air raids against the retreated army in the desert was still vivid in his mind and he decided to abandon the idea of rescuing the American pilot.
Instead of moving back, he found himself walking forward. He couldn't find any logic in his act. Few minutes later he stopped again and started to think. "The militiamen are not going to kill a good hunt like an American pilot, that was for sure," he told himself. "They may insult him. They certainly will strip him of everything he possessed. They will mock him, and have a good laugh at him". He felt angry for these thoughts and determined not to give them the pleasure to do so. True that the Americans were his enemy but he hates those who betrayed their country more. He must find the pilot before they do.
He was walking unconsciously absorbing with these thoughts when he stopped suddenly. He thought he heard some noises. When he took few steps more, he found himself at the edge of an open area that covered with weeds and dried meadow plants. A beam of sunshine succeeded to find its way through the clouds and casts its brightness over the spot.
In the middle of the place, which was not more than seventy meters far from where he stands, was the pilot bending over the bag that contains his parachute. Fortunately it happened that he came from behind of the pilot who was busy now with what it seems a problem with his right foot, for he saw the pilots shoe beside him. He came very quietly close enough to order the busy pilot with a firm authoritative voice to freeze and then to put his hands up. The pilot who was taken in surprise did not move for few seconds, and then he put his hands up.
His rifle in his hand ready to shoot he came around to face the still bending pilot. Few tensed seconds passed before the pilot started to raise his head slowly. The sunshine that was falling gradually over the forehead, the eyebrow, the cheeks, and the whole face revealed the most beautiful face of a young woman he has ever seen.
He was stunned when his eyes met the frightened wide blue green eyes, and the blond pale face with tightened thin lips. He kept for a while looking at her. Few minutes had passed without uttering any word. Then he noticed that the look of fear, which was facing him, started to vanish and a wondering look took its place, or so he felt. Her cheek became rosy. And he noticed, what seems to him, a shadow of a faint smile over her lips. He wondered what feelings his face had revealed to create such an effect upon her. He cast a sudden look at his right hand and found that his automatic gun which was pointing at her, without being aware of it, was laid down alongside him. He was looking at it while a wandering smile crept over his face. In a slow action he lifted his finger from its position on the trigger to the automatic knob and closed it off, and then he turned his face towards her again. She was now, on her ease. With a playful gesture she extended her hands over her head to their full length, looking up at them at the same time. She wanted to attract his attention to her tiresome posture. With a slow gesture of his hand she lowered her hands down. Ignoring his presence she bent down without saying a word and resumed what she was doing before his coming
He walked towards her. She stood up looking at him suspiciously.
"What's the trouble?" he asked.
"I hurt my foot" she answered with a week voice, Suspitously looking
at him
"Let me see that" and he suddenly bend down. She took a fast step back and her hand went to her pocket to come with what looked like a pistol. But his reaction was immediate. He just had time to hit the threatening hand from beneath and a sound of a shot was heard. He smelt a strange odour. Holding his breath, he bent further down to the earth. The girl, whom the gas shot, was near her face, crumbled down over him unconscious.
Few minutes had passed before he could recover from the shock. He dragged himself away and sat beside her, looking sadly at her crumpled body.
The first think he could think of was to leave the place as fast as possible. If there were any enemy near the moor, they would have heard the shot by now. Staying in that open area was dangerous.
Another thought occurred to him. If he leaves her in the spot, they will easily find her. But if he is going to take her with him, they will keep looking for her and he may encounter with them.
He stood up. Overwhelmed by these thoughts, he had a long look at her, and then he shocks his head disapprovingly for what he is going to do. He bent down, picked her up, and put her over his shoulder, the way he was trained to do with a wounded soldier. Next he picked up the parachute bag, her shoe, and the gas pistol. Before leaving he had a searching look all over the place. He was keen not to leave any clue behind.
***
The small hut of reed was dim and cold. When she began to recover from the coma caused by the gas pistol and opened her heavy eyes, he was sitting with his back to the thick bunch of reed that frame the low entrance. He was fixing a careless look at her. She closed her eyes again and moaned. The other moment the vision was clear to her. Looking around, she found herself lying inside a small reedy cottage covered by his long furry military coat. The cottage warmed by a small fire. The still burning wood cast its light upon the place creating dancing shadows. Her eyes met his, and a sudden thought horrified her. Her hand went fast underneath the furry coat to check bottoms and zips of her pilot dress. With a sigh of relief she looked at him again.
“How do you feel now?” his soothing words came sad and quite.
“Miserable” her answer was angry. He didn’t miss the accusing tune of her answer....’
“You didn’t have to use your gas pistol. I didn’t mean to harm you”
“You rushed towards me. I was frightened"
Her hand went to her neck .she noticed that her scarf was missing. When she was turning her accusing glance at him, her look fell upon her foot to find that he bandaged it with the scarf. His wit picked up what her look meant. A sad smile was his answer.
"Where am I? What did you bring me here for?" she asked with pretended anger.
Although he was aware that the question was her way to avoid embarrassment nevertheless he answered carelessly "It is my hiding place” her wide open wondering eyes were seeking more information.
The slowly moving minutes of that night were creeping heavily through darkness. Slumber succeeded now and then to reach her eyelids. But she couldn’t convince herself that she had a real sleep. Her thoughts were confused. She wasn’t sure of what had happened few hours ago. Everything to her seems to be a vague dream.
The rough cold rug under her ribs was torturing here. And any slight stir of that stranger who lay beside her was alarming. She raised her head slowly to have another examining look at the place. The hut was not more than four square meters width with a low ceiling. The darkness was heavy in spite of the glowing wood beside her
He has told her that local hunters build these small huts on the shore of the moor to hide when they hunt wild ducks. It is hardly enough to give cover for two persons. The fire on the side of the space leaves a tight area for them to lie down. They have to lie close to each other. She noticed that he was extended in the opposite direction to hers and was giving her his back. His head was near to her feet close to the entrance of the hut. “Did he lie in this way just to show me his good manners and well intentions?” She wondered.
He had told her that he was lucky to find such a hiding place. And that he intended to stay her for four or five days until he finds proper circumstances to flee towards the capital. But now he has to change his priorities after he met her. He warned her that the area was not safe. The pro Iranian militia is roaming the suburbs of the moor which extends to the Iranian boarders. They have to be very careful. Indeed they need a miracle to escape.
“But let it be the militia or the Iranian or what so ever, what is that to do with me?” She whispered with a strangled voice. Then she was aware that she made a mistake. She lifted up her head to see if her voice awakened him. Her wide open eyes sank in the darkness of the place.
“If he is afraid of them because their countries were in war, it is his own problems not mine” she thought with satisfaction.
(End or part one)
The next morning was rainy. It is good news because he can make a good fire inside his hut without being discovered. But the bad news is that he had forgotten to gather big pile of dried wood inside the hut. Nevertheless what he had now is enough to keep them warm till midday. He returned to the hut quickly after he had washed for the morning pray (al fajr).inside the hut there was hardly enough space for him to pray. To push her aside a little is out of his mind. He hurled himself beside her extended body and began to pray. When he was prostrating, she moved a little and was waking up to find his head near her face but his face was toward the earth. She looked at him and smiled. When he finished praying, and sat down beside her, he found her still smiling to him and he returned her smile.
-“So you are a strict Muslim” She asked with a wide smile and open eyes.
- “yes I am” he answered .and with a short laugh he added “disappointed?”
“No, of course not,” was her obvious answer then she exclaimed “why should I?” she became aware that he was teasing her. “What do mean?” she asked in an artificial anger to mute a laugh when she figured out the hidden meaning of his question.
“My intentions were innocent; I did not mean bad ideas as you have been thinking?” he said
“No, I didn’t think of any bad ideas. Your question suggested such bad ideas. You asked it on purpose. Do not deny that.” While she was excitedly speaking, she was threatening him by her finger. She expected to receive a rival response and prepared herself to react back, but he had just turned his head taking a quick look to her and smiled.
How old is she? He wondered. She can’t be more than twenty. But to be a pilot in the USA air force needs to be older than that age, he guessed. Some people you cannot easily judge their ages. She may be a little more than that but the certain thing that her behavior suggests that she is younger than her true age.
His contemplations had taken him to their first meeting. “Her behavior was more of a young playful girl than a soldier“he told himself. He wondered whether she was aware of her difficult situation then. He gave a sigh and felt that he might misjudge her. To avoid giving a hasty opinion, he started to recall in details the events of the day before. At first moments she was frightened but when she noticed the rifle was appointed down, she became on her ease. He smiled when he recalled these moments which became vivid in his memory. She was teasing, mischievous and sweet!!
When she noticed that he was absorbed by his thoughts, she preferred to be silent as well and busied herself with the Parachute bag. In one of its pockets she found a box of chocolates and she drew it happily. She opened the box of chocolates while she was looking at him, and throw two pieces of chocolate in her mouth to provoke him. Then she took another tow and began to count the pieces.
“Nobody is going to take them from you!” he said “I advise you to keep them as long as you can. You cannot afford such a delicate breakfast as this every morning. What we are going to consume her is what we can catch or hunt.” he then said “I don’t know how many days we are going to stay here till we have the opportunity to leave these moors to the city. “
“And what kind of (preys!) you are going to catch or hunt?”
“Anything, can be cached; birds, fishes, rats, rabbits, or even snakes. A food of any forlorn soldier can afford. You are a soldier aren’t you?”
“Well. When my super delicate breakfast finished in a day or two, I‘ll find a way to leave the moor. And..
“Do not think of that” he interrupted her
“Why not, “she said seriously. “Do you consider me your war prisoner?”
“Did you feel that I treated you like that?”He said smoothly.
“Then I will go whenever I want” she insisted
“But I cannot let you leave. The moor is surrounded by the filthiest people on earth; the pro-Iranian militia. If they catch you, and certainly they will do, only God knows what you are going to suffer. And I cannot help you. I cannot encounter them with this rile and the only thirty shots.
“You don’t have to defend me or encounter them for my sake, do you?”
She said carelessly. She was looking to him from the sides of her eyes. She thought she had caught him in a corner.
Her question stunned him; to avoid embarrassment it occurred to him just to say softly “I feel a kind of responsibility towards you”
Few minutes had been passed in quite silence.
She was looking to him all the time with a faint smile on her rosy lips. Her golden hair was revolting violently over her forehead and shoulders. He was struggling to avoid her looks, when his try failed she caught him gazing at her tenderly.
She looked at him with a wide brighten enquiring smile. He blushed when he recognized that his countenance had betrayed his feelings.
to be continued
*****
Although it was foggy that morning, yet he turned a cautious look around him before he took another step out of the low reed hut. The wet heavy air, the calmness of the moor and the muddy earth increased his feeling of isolation and loneliness. He closed his military furred coat well, overturned its collar, holding it tightly to his neck, and took his automatic rifle on his shoulder.
His first idea was that he ought to take a walk around the place before he could be sure of his safety. So he went wandering between bunches of reed and high wild herbs that covered the whole area around the moor. After a long route, which took him to the edge of the salted wide area that separates the moor from the still far away high road, he decided to stay there for a while. So he took a cover behind a bunch of high reeds and lay on the decayed herbs and weeds, watching any moving object around him.
An hour had elapsed, and the low fog had vanished revealing a clear vision to the scene in front of him. There was not much he could tell. The only think that attracted his attention was two trucks passed the high way, which looks like a dark thread on the horizon. He presumed that they were carrying some people. But it wasn’t clear whether those people were ordinary civilians or pro Iranian militia who emerged during the last few weeks. At any rate it was dangerous to take chances.
He turned his face toward the sky. The dark grey clouds seem to become so near to the earth. "It is a bad sign" he told himself," I have better to return to the hut before it pours its heavy weight of water."
As he was sneaking through the high reeds, he heard the thunder. He stopped for a while "it is a queer sound. Thunder hasn’t had such a thumping sound," he thought, nevertheless he went on. Few seconds later he heard another queer sound. This time it sounds like an exploding bomb with a continuous hum. He turned a careless searching look toward the sky. In a sudden moment he felt his heart jumped into his chest. Between the clouds, he thought he saw what looks like a parachute. It had passed between two huge dark clouds in a fragment of a second before it had disappeared. Although the still high fog makes a misty seen of the whole screen above him, yet he had a glimpse of the figure. Now he was sure it was a. "It couldn't be anything else," he said to himself. He tried hard to have another glimpse of it.
Few minutes had passed without seeing anything; he started to doubt his previous vision and led his way towards the hut. But, with unconvincing move, he turned his head toward the sky. The navy blue parachute was there again stretching its two sides in the sky like a huge peacock. Now it became so clear and so near that he found himself running towards it without knowing why he was doing that.
The high dried reed hindered him from moving fast. To avoid the thick spots he had to bend while he was running. He was conscious to keep the same direction. Whenever he reaches an open area he would stop to cast a searching look before he resumed his run.
After running for ten minutes he felt tired. He stopped for a while to think it over again... It comes to his mind that the pilot must be an American, while their fighters and bombers are the only planes who are roaming the sky. He began to argue the matter logically. Suppose he found him, what is he going to do with him? Shoot him? Why? What's the use of killing him? Taking him prisoner? Where to? He himself is a fugitive. And besides, if the pro -Iranian militia had noticed the parachute they certainly will be now on their way to fetch for it. That means he himself may fall in their hands. What is he going to do then? To face those ignorant sectarian fanatics means committing suicide. He hasn't got more than thirty shots in his rifle. Surrender to them is the same. They are going to kill him at any way.
He thought it would be better to go back to his hide and leave the American pilot to his destiny.
*******
The early morning sun started to rise over the horizon. His half body, which emerged from the upper opening of the moving tank, was shaking with its fast movement. He lifted his left hand to protect his eyes from the piercing rays, while his other hand was helping him to keep still. He welcomed its faint heat in this February cold morning in spite of the dust that aroused by the long rattle of tanks in front of him.
He had to keep his position watching the sky. The day before, they had heavy casualties by the American raiding fighters. He can't understand why they had been attacked. Two days ago they received orders to withdraw from Kuwait and the southern borders. Isn't that what the American wanted all the time? Do they just do that to satisfy the corrupted Sheiks of Kuwait? What a filthy task when a powerful country behaves as a hired killer?
What he feared had happened, tens of bombers and fighters were roaming the clear sky fetching for preys. He slipped down inside his tank and the long rattle of tanks had spread left and right while the anti aircraft mortars started to shoot at the raiding planes. But the result was obvious. Most of the tanks were hit.
After burying their martyrs, they had to leave their vehicles and go walking separately in the desert to avoid the causalities of the raids. When he and other soldiers reached the suburbs of counties they found the worst. The Iranians, whom the war with them was still fresh in their memory, found the opportunity to revenge. They had encouraged and lead a militia of the ignorant peasants who believe that they are fighting the government of Baghdad and not their own people. One of their orders was to find the retreating soldiers and kill them. The second, as it was became well known after their flight to Iran, is to destroy anything belongs to the government including schools and hospitals. The irony was that both Iran and the “big Satan” were fighting side by side this wounded country. What a filthy hand driving them to do so!
He and others had to hide here and there until they can reach the big cities where they can find safety. In the moors that covers huge area in south of Iraq he found the hide he was seeking. He decided to stay there till he finds the means and the opportunity to go to Nasiriah City, which he guessed, was near. When he had reached the moor three days ago he noticed a militia base nearby. He hardly avoided them and went behind unnoticed.
****
The vision of the American air raids against the retreated army in the desert was still vivid in his mind and he decided to abandon the idea of rescuing the American pilot.
Instead of moving back, he found himself walking forward. He couldn't find any logic in his act. Few minutes later he stopped again and started to think. "The militiamen are not going to kill a good hunt like an American pilot, that was for sure," he told himself. "They may insult him. They certainly will strip him of everything he possessed. They will mock him, and have a good laugh at him". He felt angry for these thoughts and determined not to give them the pleasure to do so. True that the Americans were his enemy but he hates those who betrayed their country more. He must find the pilot before they do.
He was walking unconsciously absorbing with these thoughts when he stopped suddenly. He thought he heard some noises. When he took few steps more, he found himself at the edge of an open area that covered with weeds and dried meadow plants. A beam of sunshine succeeded to find its way through the clouds and casts its brightness over the spot.
In the middle of the place, which was not more than seventy meters far from where he stands, was the pilot bending over the bag that contains his parachute. Fortunately it happened that he came from behind of the pilot who was busy now with what it seems a problem with his right foot, for he saw the pilots shoe beside him. He came very quietly close enough to order the busy pilot with a firm authoritative voice to freeze and then to put his hands up. The pilot who was taken in surprise did not move for few seconds, and then he put his hands up.
His rifle in his hand ready to shoot he came around to face the still bending pilot. Few tensed seconds passed before the pilot started to raise his head slowly. The sunshine that was falling gradually over the forehead, the eyebrow, the cheeks, and the whole face revealed the most beautiful face of a young woman he has ever seen.
He was stunned when his eyes met the frightened wide blue green eyes, and the blond pale face with tightened thin lips. He kept for a while looking at her. Few minutes had passed without uttering any word. Then he noticed that the look of fear, which was facing him, started to vanish and a wondering look took its place, or so he felt. Her cheek became rosy. And he noticed, what seems to him, a shadow of a faint smile over her lips. He wondered what feelings his face had revealed to create such an effect upon her. He cast a sudden look at his right hand and found that his automatic gun which was pointing at her, without being aware of it, was laid down alongside him. He was looking at it while a wandering smile crept over his face. In a slow action he lifted his finger from its position on the trigger to the automatic knob and closed it off, and then he turned his face towards her again. She was now, on her ease. With a playful gesture she extended her hands over her head to their full length, looking up at them at the same time. She wanted to attract his attention to her tiresome posture. With a slow gesture of his hand she lowered her hands down. Ignoring his presence she bent down without saying a word and resumed what she was doing before his coming
He walked towards her. She stood up looking at him suspiciously.
"What's the trouble?" he asked.
"I hurt my foot" she answered with a week voice, Suspitously looking
at him
"Let me see that" and he suddenly bend down. She took a fast step back and her hand went to her pocket to come with what looked like a pistol. But his reaction was immediate. He just had time to hit the threatening hand from beneath and a sound of a shot was heard. He smelt a strange odour. Holding his breath, he bent further down to the earth. The girl, whom the gas shot, was near her face, crumbled down over him unconscious.
Few minutes had passed before he could recover from the shock. He dragged himself away and sat beside her, looking sadly at her crumpled body.
The first think he could think of was to leave the place as fast as possible. If there were any enemy near the moor, they would have heard the shot by now. Staying in that open area was dangerous.
Another thought occurred to him. If he leaves her in the spot, they will easily find her. But if he is going to take her with him, they will keep looking for her and he may encounter with them.
He stood up. Overwhelmed by these thoughts, he had a long look at her, and then he shocks his head disapprovingly for what he is going to do. He bent down, picked her up, and put her over his shoulder, the way he was trained to do with a wounded soldier. Next he picked up the parachute bag, her shoe, and the gas pistol. Before leaving he had a searching look all over the place. He was keen not to leave any clue behind.
***
The small hut of reed was dim and cold. When she began to recover from the coma caused by the gas pistol and opened her heavy eyes, he was sitting with his back to the thick bunch of reed that frame the low entrance. He was fixing a careless look at her. She closed her eyes again and moaned. The other moment the vision was clear to her. Looking around, she found herself lying inside a small reedy cottage covered by his long furry military coat. The cottage warmed by a small fire. The still burning wood cast its light upon the place creating dancing shadows. Her eyes met his, and a sudden thought horrified her. Her hand went fast underneath the furry coat to check bottoms and zips of her pilot dress. With a sigh of relief she looked at him again.
“How do you feel now?” his soothing words came sad and quite.
“Miserable” her answer was angry. He didn’t miss the accusing tune of her answer....’
“You didn’t have to use your gas pistol. I didn’t mean to harm you”
“You rushed towards me. I was frightened"
Her hand went to her neck .she noticed that her scarf was missing. When she was turning her accusing glance at him, her look fell upon her foot to find that he bandaged it with the scarf. His wit picked up what her look meant. A sad smile was his answer.
"Where am I? What did you bring me here for?" she asked with pretended anger.
Although he was aware that the question was her way to avoid embarrassment nevertheless he answered carelessly "It is my hiding place” her wide open wondering eyes were seeking more information.
The slowly moving minutes of that night were creeping heavily through darkness. Slumber succeeded now and then to reach her eyelids. But she couldn’t convince herself that she had a real sleep. Her thoughts were confused. She wasn’t sure of what had happened few hours ago. Everything to her seems to be a vague dream.
The rough cold rug under her ribs was torturing here. And any slight stir of that stranger who lay beside her was alarming. She raised her head slowly to have another examining look at the place. The hut was not more than four square meters width with a low ceiling. The darkness was heavy in spite of the glowing wood beside her
He has told her that local hunters build these small huts on the shore of the moor to hide when they hunt wild ducks. It is hardly enough to give cover for two persons. The fire on the side of the space leaves a tight area for them to lie down. They have to lie close to each other. She noticed that he was extended in the opposite direction to hers and was giving her his back. His head was near to her feet close to the entrance of the hut. “Did he lie in this way just to show me his good manners and well intentions?” She wondered.
He had told her that he was lucky to find such a hiding place. And that he intended to stay her for four or five days until he finds proper circumstances to flee towards the capital. But now he has to change his priorities after he met her. He warned her that the area was not safe. The pro Iranian militia is roaming the suburbs of the moor which extends to the Iranian boarders. They have to be very careful. Indeed they need a miracle to escape.
“But let it be the militia or the Iranian or what so ever, what is that to do with me?” She whispered with a strangled voice. Then she was aware that she made a mistake. She lifted up her head to see if her voice awakened him. Her wide open eyes sank in the darkness of the place.
“If he is afraid of them because their countries were in war, it is his own problems not mine” she thought with satisfaction.
(End or part one)
The next morning was rainy. It is good news because he can make a good fire inside his hut without being discovered. But the bad news is that he had forgotten to gather big pile of dried wood inside the hut. Nevertheless what he had now is enough to keep them warm till midday. He returned to the hut quickly after he had washed for the morning pray (al fajr).inside the hut there was hardly enough space for him to pray. To push her aside a little is out of his mind. He hurled himself beside her extended body and began to pray. When he was prostrating, she moved a little and was waking up to find his head near her face but his face was toward the earth. She looked at him and smiled. When he finished praying, and sat down beside her, he found her still smiling to him and he returned her smile.
-“So you are a strict Muslim” She asked with a wide smile and open eyes.
- “yes I am” he answered .and with a short laugh he added “disappointed?”
“No, of course not,” was her obvious answer then she exclaimed “why should I?” she became aware that he was teasing her. “What do mean?” she asked in an artificial anger to mute a laugh when she figured out the hidden meaning of his question.
“My intentions were innocent; I did not mean bad ideas as you have been thinking?” he said
“No, I didn’t think of any bad ideas. Your question suggested such bad ideas. You asked it on purpose. Do not deny that.” While she was excitedly speaking, she was threatening him by her finger. She expected to receive a rival response and prepared herself to react back, but he had just turned his head taking a quick look to her and smiled.
How old is she? He wondered. She can’t be more than twenty. But to be a pilot in the USA air force needs to be older than that age, he guessed. Some people you cannot easily judge their ages. She may be a little more than that but the certain thing that her behavior suggests that she is younger than her true age.
His contemplations had taken him to their first meeting. “Her behavior was more of a young playful girl than a soldier“he told himself. He wondered whether she was aware of her difficult situation then. He gave a sigh and felt that he might misjudge her. To avoid giving a hasty opinion, he started to recall in details the events of the day before. At first moments she was frightened but when she noticed the rifle was appointed down, she became on her ease. He smiled when he recalled these moments which became vivid in his memory. She was teasing, mischievous and sweet!!
When she noticed that he was absorbed by his thoughts, she preferred to be silent as well and busied herself with the Parachute bag. In one of its pockets she found a box of chocolates and she drew it happily. She opened the box of chocolates while she was looking at him, and throw two pieces of chocolate in her mouth to provoke him. Then she took another tow and began to count the pieces.
“Nobody is going to take them from you!” he said “I advise you to keep them as long as you can. You cannot afford such a delicate breakfast as this every morning. What we are going to consume her is what we can catch or hunt.” he then said “I don’t know how many days we are going to stay here till we have the opportunity to leave these moors to the city. “
“And what kind of (preys!) you are going to catch or hunt?”
“Anything, can be cached; birds, fishes, rats, rabbits, or even snakes. A food of any forlorn soldier can afford. You are a soldier aren’t you?”
“Well. When my super delicate breakfast finished in a day or two, I‘ll find a way to leave the moor. And..
“Do not think of that” he interrupted her
“Why not, “she said seriously. “Do you consider me your war prisoner?”
“Did you feel that I treated you like that?”He said smoothly.
“Then I will go whenever I want” she insisted
“But I cannot let you leave. The moor is surrounded by the filthiest people on earth; the pro-Iranian militia. If they catch you, and certainly they will do, only God knows what you are going to suffer. And I cannot help you. I cannot encounter them with this rile and the only thirty shots.
“You don’t have to defend me or encounter them for my sake, do you?”
She said carelessly. She was looking to him from the sides of her eyes. She thought she had caught him in a corner.
Her question stunned him; to avoid embarrassment it occurred to him just to say softly “I feel a kind of responsibility towards you”
Few minutes had been passed in quite silence.
She was looking to him all the time with a faint smile on her rosy lips. Her golden hair was revolting violently over her forehead and shoulders. He was struggling to avoid her looks, when his try failed she caught him gazing at her tenderly.
She looked at him with a wide brighten enquiring smile. He blushed when he recognized that his countenance had betrayed his feelings.
to be continued
*****