Kim watched frozen as two gunmen in the back bed of the red Toyota pickup unloaded with their AK-47s on the BMW below. Given the mayhem of the firefight, the shooters had not seen nor heard her and Faraz pull up in their Nissan. Before she could even suggest it, Faraz threw the car in reverse, jammed his foot on the gas, and backed behind the building for cover.
He pointed to a side door of the structure. “Can you get to Bayat through there?”
“Think so.” Kim eyed the dark opening for a couple of seconds, trying to remember if their SUV was parked close enough to reach him without getting shot. “What’s your plan?”
“I’ll come in from behind. Distract them. While you get him out of there.”
“And when they turn their guns on you?” Kim asked. “Then what?”
“I don’t know.” Faraz kept his gaze straight ahead. “But I’ll think of something.”
It was a horrible idea, but Kim didn’t have a better one. “Okay, just be careful.”
Without waiting for a reply, Kim flew out of the door and ducked into the building without even so much as a quick peek before going inside. She widened her eyes to utilize any light from a couple of broken windows. Navigating around some old equipment, she saw the plastic bucket about a half-second too late, tripped over it, and crashed to the floor.
Scrambling to her feet with a bloody knee, Kim dashed to the side door, discovering that two gunmen in the back bed of the Toyota were shooting almost straight down at Bayat. He returned fire from behind the BMW’s hood with his submachine gun and caught one of them in the chest.
He shifted his aim on the next guy, but his UZI had coughed out its last round. With Bayat now defenseless, Kim stepped outside, picked up a rock, and hurled it at the gunman with hasty aim. It didn’t connect, but it got his attention. He turned left and set his sights on her.
Kim hit the ground and covered her head with her arms as a flurry of rounds thunked into the wall. She was expecting the bullets to follow and braced for impact when a car horn sounded off, an engine roared, which was followed by a bang and a crunch. Looking up, Kim saw the smoking engine of their hoodless white Nissan crumpled beneath the back end of the red Toyota.
Sprinting to the BMW, she stopped at the back bumper and eased to the corner. Suspecting Bayat was out of ammo, but not knowing for sure, she didn’t want to take the chance of falling victim to friendly fire. She dropped to a knee, eased up to the taillight, and whispered to Bayat.
“Hey, it’s me!” She waited a couple of seconds and tried again: “Move this way if you can!”
After a few seconds of silence, Kim took a gamble, glanced around, and then withdrew immediately at the horrible sight. Not even bothering to stand, she clawed around the corner on all fours and collapsed atop Bayat. She didn’t need to check his vitals, given the bullet hole, which was just slightly to the left of his sternum. Not unfamiliar with violent death, Kim was certain that given the placement of the round, so close to the heart, it was a near-instant death.
Reaching up to his face, Kim gently touched his eyelids and dragged them shut. She stifled a sob, remembering back on his earlier words: “Let’s not go quietly,” he’d said. “Let’s make them earn it.” True to his word, he’d done just that. Reza Bayat had fought like a lion to the very end.
Faraz walked up, his eyes fixed on Bayat, and said in a way that was oddly casual. “All the others are dead.”
It took a second for Kim to notice the bloodied rock in his hand. It looked exactly like the one she’d thrown just moments before, but it could’ve been any of the dozens that were scattered around. Faraz was in a daze, no doubt a result of having just bashed in a man’s skull.
Kim felt she should address it but didn’t have the strength. “Can you help me with him?”
Faraz looked at her coldly. “Help you do what?”
It was a reasonable question. And it was one for which she had no answer. “We can’t just leave him here like this. Out in the open.”
Faraz dropped the rock in his bloody grip and it thudded onto the ground. He walked over, kneeled beside Bayat, and then reached out to Kim. “Can I have your scarf?”
Kim removed the material, which had gathered around her neck, and handed it over. Faraz took the covering and gently placed it over Bayat’s face. Seemingly without effort, he scooped up the slight body and walked inside the repair shop, mumbling a prayer in Farsi that carried on the breeze. She tried to rise to follow, but her knees buckled, and she slumped against the car.
Kim gazed out at the horizon, thinking through one defeat after the next. This was supposed to be her do-over—a chance to make amends. She was going to leave this time having done something right for the people, the country, and God willing herself. But Afghanistan wasn’t just the graveyard of empires. It was a place where any hope of redemption goes to die.