The stench of death is overpowering. Time ceases to pass. I don’t dare move from the corner, barely dare to breathe. I don’t know what Rania has planned, but I can’t do anything to help her. Merely breathing is excruciating. If I shift positions, searing pain spreads through every inch of my body. I was starting to heal, starting to have some semblance of mobility, and now it’s gone. I’m back to feeling as bad as the day I was first wounded. Fucking sucks. But at least I know my presence is still a secret. And then, suddenly, I’m not alone. I smell him first. Blood, harsh cleaner, sweat. I grip my KA-BAR in my fist and tense. I have enough strength for one lunge, and I have to get it right. I can’t see anything, not even shapes within shadows. I sense him nearby, gather my legs beneath me, snake-slow motions. His voice is a low rasp. “I would not do that, my friend.” Thickly accented English. “Why are you here?” I don’t know what to say. “Sabah, she—” “You killed Ahmed?”
