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Pritchard’s head bows. “Well, apparently some of them thought that removing the Qurans meant sending them to the incinerator, not just taking them out of circulation and sending them up the line of command.”
I frown. “Okay.”
Pritchard finally turns and looks at me. “You don’t get it. Burning a holy book is enough to start a jihad over there.”
Oh no. My stomach sinks. I’m starting to get where this is going.
“Some Afghan workers on base saw the Qurans in the incinerator pile and pulled them out, half-burned.” He closes his eyes. “They told the Afghan guard and went to the press. The entire country started rioting. The airbase itself was taking a constant barrage of petrol bombs and stones. One of the Afghan soldiers the Americans were training within the gates started shooting American soldiers before being shot down. Another threw open the gates to the rioters. Seven American soldiers died at that site alone. Some of the other rioters had bottles of acid.”
I step back, a fist to my mouth, but Pritchard’s not done.
“Xavier shouldn’t have even been there.” He shakes his head, devastated eyes beseeching mine. “He was stationed inside the detention facility. But as soon as he realized what had happened and that the facility was surrounded by protestors and rioters, he immediately went to the front lines of the air base’s defenses.”
He drinks down the rest of his water like it’s a shot glass. “Damn fool.”
I look toward the door. “Hero,” I whisper. Then I look back up at him. “But none of it was his fault.”
His father laughs darkly. “Try telling him that. He blames himself for not stressing to those under his command how holy documents should be treated. For not walking the Qurans personally to HQ after he discovered them.” He gestures toward the door. “For living when other men died. You heard him.”
I look out the window. It’s raining even harder now and lightning flashes, illuminating the dark sky. It should only be near twilight, but with the storm, it looks to be full dark.
Where is Xavier?
Is he having trouble with the horses?
I cross my arms and then stop and look down, surprised like I am all the time by my suddenly larger stomach.
Oh, sweet little baby. What hell did your father live through? And what torment does he still go through daily, blaming himself for things he had no control over?
I go to the window and look out, trying to see if I can get a glimpse of Xavier between the flashes of lightning that are coming at regular intervals. Thunder cracks almost as quickly.
God, the storm must be right on top of us.
But it’s not so loud that when the gunshot rings out, both Pritchard and I don’t know it for exactly what it is.
Chapter 20
“Oh my God!” I shout and throw open the door.
Pritchard is on my heels but I don’t wait for him as I sprint into the darkness. Mud sucks at my boots with every step I take but I press on.
What the hell was that? Who would have a gun out here?
Xavier. Xavier has a gun.
Did a wolf or bear get close to one of the horses? But I would have thought in a storm they’d hole up, not come near a house. Unless they got their directions all screwed up and—
As I get closer to the stable, I hear the most bone-chilling noise.
It’s a scream, but not human.
It’s a horse.
I run even faster. I throw open the barn door. The lights are on and all the horses are stomping madly, but Xavier’s not there. The opposite door is open, though, and slanting sheets of rain pour into the stable.
I sprint through the barn, the light making me squint after the darkness, wiping water off my forehead. Only to hit the wall of water once I burst out the other side.
The horrible horse scream greets me again once I exit the stable, and that’s when I see a sight that will forever haunt me.
