“You can’t,” she says. “Mateen’s sick. He’s going to need fluids during the trip. I can take care of him. What do you think will happen if you bring Faruk his son…dead?”
He punches her in the face. The move is so quick, his arm is nothing but a blur.
“Dr. Joey!” Mateen tries to get up, but Zaman shoves him back into the chair.
“Do not touch him!” I scream, but the words are muffled by the gag. I throw myself at Zaman. My nails rake down his cheek, leaving my fingers slick with blood.
“Bitch!” He picks me up and tosses me back into the van. I land on my bad shoulder with a sharp cry.
Joey struggles to her feet, fire in her eyes.
“Get the boy into the van,” Zaman orders. “Now.”
She glares, but does what he asks, picking up Mateen and setting him next to me. His tiny hand flutters along my cheek. “Mama?”
I want to put my arms around him and sing his favorite lullaby, but all I can do is hold his gaze and touch my forehead to his.
Metal clatters. Shots break the silence, and I push up on an elbow.
Blood spurts from Zaman’s shoulder. The gun clatters to the concrete a few feet away. Joey leaps for it, but Zaman lands on top of her.
“Joey! Fight, baby!” Ford shouts.
The sound of his voice gives me hope. Until more shots come from a different direction. Angry shouts in Pashto, English, even Dari. Faruk’s men.
“Please…I can’t,” Joey whimpers. “Don’t hurt me. Don’t…put me in there…” Her voice sounds different, and her eyes are glassed over. Like she is somewhere else. Trapped in her memories.
Yanking her by the hair, Zaman drags her toward the van. I can see Ford now. He’s on his knees, Nasir’s arm around his neck. He starts to twitch, all color draining from his face.
Joey screams. Something snaps, and she drives a blade into Zaman’s leg. The two struggle, but no matter how much she twists, he will not fall.
Get up. Do something!
I scoot closer to the edge of the van and pull the gag from my mouth. “Stay down, Mateen.”
A tire iron rests behind the front seat. It is so heavy, and my hands shake. Joey grabs the gun and slams it into Zaman’s head. But he is so much taller than she is, the blow glances off his cheek.
I swing with everything I have. Impact sings up my arms. With a sharp cry, I rear back, ready to try again, but Zaman collapses onto the concrete and doesn’t move.
Heavy footsteps approach. Joey whirls around. Another one of Faruk’s men races for us, a large rifle in his hands.
We are dead. All of us. Mateen will never get his transplant. Joey will live as long as Mateen does, but then she will die too. Faruk will blame her. And me…? He will make my last days so terrible, I will pray for the end long before it comes.
A shot rings out from the elevator. The rifle clatters to the ground. Half of the man’s face is…gone.
“Ford. Get…to…Ford…” Nomar wheezes, stumbling toward us.
Joey takes off at a run. I drop the tire iron and pull Mateen against me so he cannot see Zaman or the dead man only a few feet away. “I love you,mon bèbè.Eyes closed now.”
“Lisette… Hold on to him.” Nomar drops to his knees, pulls the knife from Zaman’s leg, and shoves the man onto his side. “Don’t…look.”
I turn away. A slick sound is quickly followed by weak gurgles. Then Nomar’s groan as he collapses next to me. The plastic tie around my wrists snaps in two. He’s folding a pocket knife against his thigh when I wriggle back around to face him.
I peer over his shoulder, then quickly avert my gaze. A pool of blood spreads out from Zaman’s neck. His eyes are open and staring up at nothing.
My son cries softly, his little arms tight around my waist.
“Is Mateen…hurt?” Nomar asks.
