“I’m sorry,” she said tearfully. “I totally went off on you. This is the first time I have the heart to hope.”
I got it.
“It’s fine.” I returned the passport to her and then opened my backpack. “Next question. How the hell have you stayed hidden in this country for six months?” I hauled out my mattress, then my sleeping bag, followed by a couple protein bars and my canteen.
Kiera released a breath. “That’s a longer story. Are you ready?”
I quirked a brow at her.
“That was my attempt to lighten the tension,” she told me.
Get on with it.
I suppressed a sigh and handed her the mattress. Goodbye, flexibility. I was gonna wake up stiff as a board tomorrow.
“Tough crowd,” she mumbled. “I kept to myself for a couple of days, and then I reached out to the woman we were supposed to deliver schoolbooks to the day after the ambush. She took me in. She kept me hidden in a small side building behind her house, where she secretly teaches her daughters to read.”
We hadn’t reached the juicy bits of the story yet. I was waiting to find out how she knew about the helicopter.
“I’m guessing they’re in Kabul.” I tossed her one of the meal bars.
“Thank you—uh, yes. She lives there with her husband, their three daughters, her brother, and their parents.”
Interesting. The resistance force was quiet but large, but to include the whole family seemed risky.
“You met them all?” I questioned.
“Not Noura’s parents,” she replied. “They were very careful about how much I could…you know, hear. Noura was the only one who introduced herself. I don’t know the husband’s name, the brother’s name, or two of the daughters.” She smiled faintly. “The youngest daughter slipped when she and I were alone. We decided it was a secret between us.”
That made more sense.
“Do they speak Dari or Pashto?” I wondered.
“Pashto.”
“And you?”
She flushed in the firelight. “I can get by, but nothing more. The youngest daughter taught me a little. She said she wants to become a teacher when she grows up.” She was fond of that girl—and sad about the unlikelihood of that dream becoming reality.
I nodded with a dip of my chin and bit into my meal bar. It was gonna have to suffice for now. I’d go fishing tomorrow. Maybe set up traps to catch a rabbit or two.
“Did Noura help you contact your old man?” I asked.
She nodded, nibbling on the bar. “Yeah, she brought me to a bazaar where I could make a quick phone call. But it was too dangerous to go again. There was an actual poster in the market with a bad sketch of my face on it. Those rebels or whoever the hell they are—they’re still looking for me.”
No surprise. She was American.
“I wouldn’t come here again if I were you,” I said. “How long have you been an aid worker?”
She squinted. “Almost eight years.”
That was impressive. “Is this your first trip to Afghanistan?”
“Second, but the first one was six years ago. A lot has changed.” Understatement. “My true passion is being a nurse, so I do that when I’m home. But I just had this need to…I don’t know, do something bigger than everything I was used to…” She trailed off for a beat. “I bargained with my dad. He wasnothappy about my new dream—but I decided, four months of the year, I wanted to dedicate to this. I’ve been to Syria, Somalia, Djibouti, Iraq, Afghanistan, and Ukraine.”
Definitely impressive. The girl had courage.
“You’re close with your old man,” I stated.
