Adem tried to answer. Words had to push through thorns in his throat, it felt like. "I can't. Can't."
"I get it. Don't worry about it. You did alright, kid. That'll be enough. We can take it to our grave." Laughed a little. Weak, coughing, but still a laugh.
Adem fought it, but couldn't help it. Laughing and crying. Sniffing. Jibriil, helpless, unable to pull the trigger. Then he dropped the rifle. Walked in little circles. Then nearly fell. The closest soldier helped him to sit on the ground. Cross legged, still looking up at Adem with wrinkled anger and saying, "You motherfucker. You fucking…mother fucker, you."
A faint noise. Shifting gears. Whining engine. Adem turned, trying to find where it was coming from. Then his dad's phone rang.
A bunch of guns came up, aimed at his dad. He held up one hand, surrender palm, slipped the other in his pocket and pulled out the phone. Slid it open, held it to his ear. "Yeah?"
Listened. Listened. Mm hm. Mm hm. Then, "Yeah, you found us. That's us."
Adem saw it at the back of the mob, a dust cloud rising. Engine whine, louder. The ruckus from the crowd rising. Bursts of automatic rifle fire. Soldiers scattering. Then the grill appearing as the crowd cleared. The Rover. Chi behind the wheel. And he had help-at least six, seven, maybe eight men, all with rifles, hanging off the runners, the back bumper. Older men, business owners and fathers and grandfathers, all of whom hadn't left, sick of what the boys were doing to their city. Anyone who tried to pull them off got shot. Chi waved wildly. Get in! Get in!
Revved the engine. The soldiers kept a careful distance but they were starting to get antsy. A few fired back, shattered a window, put holes in the side, felled a man. Chi hunched, kept waving.
Dad took up Bleeker again, still leaning on Adem. Started towards the Rover, Dawit covering them, then going ahead, opened the back door for them. More potshots. No one ready to massacre them. Maybe because they still weren't sure where Mr. Mohammed stood. He brought down Jibriil but didn't kill him. Was he taking over? Was he against them?
Bleeker stopped mid-stride. Shook his head. "No, go on. Just go on."
"Into the truck, Ray."
"No, you guys need to go. Let me go. Really, let me go."
"Not gonna happen."
"Goddamn it, let me go. " He pushed off Dad, let go of Adem, stood on his own. He took a step backwards. Wobbly, but he didn't fall. He made a face and reached for his back, arched it. Pain all over his face. Trembling. But Bleeker let out a breath and looked at Adem.
Pointed at Jibriil's hand in the dirt. "Get me that gun."
Adem didn't move. The fighting by the Rover was getting worse, and Dawit was yelling at them. Dad yelled back. Chi waving madly now. Bulletholes in every window.
"Come on. The pistol. Give it to me." Bleeker, his hand out.
Adem didn't move. "What do you want with it? What are you doing?"
It took a few more labored breaths for Bleeker to say it. "I'm…listen, I'm giving them a reason not to follow you, okay? I'll keep them busy."
"You can't hold off the whole army."
A wink. "I don't plan on it. Get me that gun."
Adem walked over to the hand, lifted the gun by the barrel. The fingers didn't come loose. Adem tried to pry them off. It took a little effort. The fingers already felt fake, like a Halloween prop. But he finally got them off, carefully pulling the index finger from the trigger guard, the thumb off the opposite side. Ducked and ran back to Bleeker, put it in his hand.
Bleeker hefted it, dropped the clip into his other hand, checked that it still had some ammo. Then he slid it back, not hard, pressed until it clicked. Grinned at Adem as he did it.
Said, "Now get the hell out of here. Keep your dad alive. He deserves a parade for what he's done for you."
Silly to talk him out of it. Adem knew what was next. As much as he wanted to tell him not to, they were all way beyond that. Jibriil had made his choice. Made it a long time ago. How was saving his life going to make anything better ever again?
"Can you walk?"
Bleeker nodded. "I've got a few steps left in me. Go on, dumbass, get in the car."
He backed away, needing to say Thank you but it didn't feel right. Not at all. Still eye to eye until Bleeker turned and began walking towards Jibriil, still sitting on the ground. Jibriil lifted his face to Bleeker. Other soldiers noticed. Began yelling. The helper stepped between Jibriil and Bleeker. The cop shot him in the chest three times, pushed him to the side before he fell. Now inches from Jibriil. Gun in his face, lingering. The same pose Jibriil was in before he shot that woman, watching her on the ground before taking her life. Jibriil, eyes up, mouth open just so, shrugged.
Bleeker shot him. Jibriil recoiled. A piece of his skull flew off. Blood, brain. Fell onto his back, his legs still crossed in front of him.
His dad grabbed Adem from behind. Drug him to the Rover, covering him with his bulk as the gunfire ramped up. "Into the truck! Now! Get in!"
Dawit, already in, grabbed Adem, held his head down at Dawit's knees. He had the window down, firing at the soldiers. Another two volunteers had fallen. Dad crunched inside with them, slammed the door. "Go! Go! Go!"
Chi threw it into gear and spun the tires. They caught, and he rocketed away, a hail of bullets following.
Adem lifted his head so he could see out. Saw Bleeker still standing there, smiling, as the horde overtook him from all directions.
Faster, faster. Farther and farther from the crowd. Harder to tell where Bleeker was in all of that. All of them except Chi watching through the back windows. The chase died down. The bullets stopped plinging against the back of the Rover. Dad rubbed his hand across the top of Adem's scalp.
Adem couldn't help but tremble. He was too stunned to cry. As the dust clouds kicked up by the Rover grew thicker, harder to see through, Adem righted himself in his seat, fell against his father, and noticed that Chi's shoulder was bleeding. His face had been peppered with glass and was running blood. He wiped it with his sleeve and said, "I'm fine. We'll be fine. We're going to be fine."
Hundreds of miles to go before they were safe. Plenty of patrols to outrun. Borders to cross. Lies to tell. But despite all of that, Adem believed him. Yeah, they were all going to be just fine.
THIRTY-FIVE
The shrug. He didn't get that. Was the bastard just resigned to it? Thought he deserved it? All out of fight? Or had he lost too much blood? Why only a shrug?
He didn't have much time to think about it, though. Once he shot the guard, he knew it had to go quickly. So Jibriil shrugged and Bleeker blew his brains out and it was done. The kid and Mustafa were in the Rover, on their way out of camp. Maybe some of the soldiers would mount up in a truck and chase them, but Bleeker hoped he would prove to be too irresistible a target-a white American to string up. Their mighty leader's assassin, even. The perfect star for their little movies.
He saw the truck hightailing it out of camp. Adam peeking through the window at him. He felt pretty good. And then they attacked. Pulled both arms out of socket. Hit him with rocks and rifle butts and fists and boots. Grabbed his hair. Knives sliced him all over. One slit right across his eye. His lips. Blood in his mouth. By the time one held his forehead and ripped the blade across his throat, he was mostly beyond feeling. He smelled the body odor around him, his own blood, felt the heat, and saw an army of hands all wanting to take their turn with him, but none of it hurt. Knew his lips were curled into a grin. It was natural, dying and grinning. They went hand in hand. But Bleeker knew it was more than that. He had beat them. No matter what they did to him next, he wasn't feeling it anyway.