Operation: Dard and Devotion

31 | Fratricide & Familiarize

*Refresher: Murtaza is Ahsan's companion who made an appearance in Chapter 7 | Persistence & Prayers, as well as in Chapter 16 | Baffled & Bitter.

Murtaza

Around two dozen children, trembling and fearful, were lined up against the mossy and grimy wall on one side of the courtyard as they waited for something to happen with bated breath under the dark sky.

Faizan lit up a cigarette - the fifth one he had this evening - as he leaned back in one chair while his legs were propped up on another. He watched the smoke linger until the wisps disappeared in the air before turning to one of the men. He was going to put on a show.

"Rafiq, work on your aim," Faizan commanded in Arabic, lazily eyeing the kids, and blew out another intricate smoke ring. Rafiq, a fellow militant, nodded once while pulling the safety trigger of his rifle and aiming in between the heads of the first two children in line. The kids held their breath and gaped at the beginning of the line.

The shot fired accurately where it was expected, not physically harming anyone, but that did not prevent the children from shrieking and staggering away from the wall. Faizan ripped his gaze at the sky when he heard the sound of small footsteps and shot the kids a murderous glare. Knowing very well that Faizan meant business, the children unwillingly went back to their positions.

Sometimes, I hated being here and wished I could just leave - especially in recent times, thanks to Ahsan and his stupid philosophical thoughts.

But, I couldn't afford to do that, literally.

Who else would be able to send money back home in Pakistan, considering I had elderly parents who could no longer work and three younger sisters who needed to be educated and married off?

As far as they were aware, their eldest child and older brother, respectively, had a well-paying job in the luxurious comforts of Dubai.

Only difference was, I was not in the 'luxurious comforts' of Dubai at all. But I still had the money and with each outgoing phone call, I assured them I was fine but was extremely busy with hardly enough time to visit. And each time, I had to burn the SIM card and the actual phone. Faizan informed me it was a waste, so even my calls became less frequent. It was pretty much evident to me that I'd never be able to go back - even in death, my body would not even be sent back home. However, there was still a financial exchange from my side and it made me feel slightly better that because of all this, at least my family was presently debt-free and benefited from this. But, there was still a strange feeling within my ribs whenever I had to kill somebody. It slowly decimated over time, though.

I leaned against one of the courtyard columns, slightly relieved that my frown could not be seen beneath my balaclava, which only revealed my eyes. Rafiq could have practiced his aim by shooting at targets that the rest of us could have set up. But using kids?

Rafiq continued successfully until he reached the last two kids, and there was something seemingly unnatural about the second to last kid, a boy. Faizan must have noticed, too, because he held up his hand, signaling Rafiq to stop.

"You," Faizan said, pointing to the odd boy. "Come here."

That boy had kept a straight face throughout the entire shooting ordeal and had not flinched even once. Weird.

"Are you not scared?" Faizan asked, unusually poised, as he placed a gentle hand on the boy's shoulder.

I wonder what sort of happy drug he had taken this morning...

"What if he misses his target and shoots your head instead? Doesn't that scare you?"

The kid, who barely seemed older than twelve, gave Faizan a deadpan look - one that nearly resembled the expression Faizan himself would give us. That look made everyone cringe, and it was exceptionally unsettling to see the same on a young boy. "If my death is fated to be in this manner, then I shall welcome it."