A young man wakes up in the desert. The wreckage of an ambulance lies smashed against a boulder and charred to a crisp. By the stitches on his head and face, he assumes he was the patient. But why was an ambulance driving through a desert? Where wa...
A soldier left the booth, carrying an AK-47 in his hands but not pointing it at Nadim, judging by his clothes that he was not mujahideen. The lifeless silence of the desert and the breath of the wind blowing towards them allowed for some words to carom off the sand and seams and intersperse in Skyler's ears, both tough native and soft foreign Russian, forcing his mind to unveil the shroud of his forgotten mother tongue.
Nadim pulled out the pictures and handed them over to the guard.
Protected. High-level. Escorting. Too many. Unknown.
The guard remained in silence for a few seconds, staring at the pictures from different angles. He took his other hand to his mouth in what Skyler assumed was a drag from a cigarette too worn out now to be made out from that distance. Then he seemed to let it drop on the dead sand and crush it under his boot. He cocked his head a bit more, held it up against the sun like an X-ray. Then he stared at it straight again.
Bal'shoye spasiba.
Skyler couldn't tell whether the twist in the guard's face came from the heat haze, or if it was an actual honest smile as he raised his standard-issue machine gun disdainfully and pulled the trigger into Nadim's chest.
Time switched course violently.
Nadim dropped instantly to the sand, and yet Skyler saw him on his feet just for a moment, standing his ground, vulnerable. He thought he saw Nadim gaze towards him, locking eyes. Just for a moment.
And then he fell.
Before the sound of the shot itself reached Skyler's eardrums, he rose with the primordial instinct to strip his vocal cords raw in the same exact moment when he heard Seiber call his name. He looked to his side. Conan was over Siraj, choking him with the sleeper hold, Siraj not giving up his deranged voiceless rampage. Unable to give it up. Skyler met Conan's eyes, witnessing completely new features in his countenance. Those of a survivor, one who acknowledges pain. Siraj wanted to do exactly as Skyler was about to. Conan wanted to do it as well. All three wanted to save Nadim. But that would mean their deaths. Just one stepping out of line. Skyler realized Conan had known Nadim for much longer than he, and thus Conan was facing an even more towering effort to master his own torment, as well as use whatever strength he could muster to subdue his friend. But he couldn't overpower both. That was his countenance. That was his gaze. One that acknowledged pain and one that begged for help. Or at least not to make things worse.
Even in that moment of unfathomable agony, Skyler found the space for tenderness towards Conan. For his struggle. For his plight.
So, he just walked away. Back to the grotto. Mind as blank as it could get. Just an equation. The whole world behind him. Anything but looking back.
Then the sound of the second shot waved through the air. He wondered whether Siraj was still conscious to hear it. He wasn't sure he was.
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