The wreckage is about eight meters high. The last time I climbed something like this, Salman helped pull me up. It’s up to me now. Observing the ascent, I notice plenty of jagged edges and sharp shards of glass sticking out. It’s like a minefield. My heart sinks for a moment. I can’t see any way up without the risk of injuring myself. Even if I don’t fall, I’ll likely cut myself on any of those landmines. Without Fatima, I don’t have any medical supplies or expertise at my side.
Before the thought of turning away and retreading my steps takes root, another enters my mind. It’s what Abbi said to me on the steps of the university: When you take a leap of faith, the question is not whether you’ll fall, Zaid. It’s how high will you soar.
No turning back, Zaid. You took an oath to look after your friends, to keep them safe no matter what. You never go back on your word.
I start looking at all the dirt-covered debris lying on the ground. There’s a can, an empty pack of cigarettes, a broken jar, and—there’s a shirt! Quickly picking it up and dusting it off, I rummage through my sack and pull out a small cutting knife. It should be sharp enough. I hastily cut off a bit of each sleeve, careful to try and tear through the garment in a way that makes them come out as two long and wide strips.
The cloth is pretty sturdy and thick, thicker than the shirt I’m wearing at least. I wrap each strip around either palm, making them go around four times. I double check to make sure that they’re both thick enough. Wearing these will make it harder to hold on to things, but my hands will be safe from anything sharp.
After looking over my makeshift protection one more time, I finally approach the mountain and stop at its base. I reach deep down and muster all the courage I find. Just take it one step at a time. Pretend you’re climbing a tree out in the park.
Finding a place to start, I firmly place my right foot on a small piece of rubble that’s jutting out. I press some weight onto it, making sure it’ll stay steady. It moves a little, but not enough to be alarming. I push off of it as I reach up high to grab a small ledge that’s barely big enough to hold on to. It’s a little sharp, but the cloth covering my palm keeps my hand protected. My right foot is on its toes now, and my left foot hangs off the ground as I stretch to keep my grip on the ledge
I nearly reach out to grab another place with my free hand but stop myself. Foot, hand, foot, hand. That’s the order. My left foot finds a place to settle, only a little higher than my right one. The ground it lands on is a bit shaky, but it holds up. My right hand grabs a ledge as my breaths become a bit quicker.
It’s just like climbing a tree, Zaid. Just a tree that has some really sharp edges. Don’t look directly down and don’t over think. Only look where you’re grabbing and stepping. But, most importantly, don’t stop until you’re at the top.
I move one foot or hand at a time. As I use my injured left hand to tightly grip pieces of rough debris and pull myself up, I feel it putting some strain on the healing cut. The back of my mind starts screaming that I’ll reopen the wound, but I ignore the cries. It doesn’t matter now.
Right foot. Left hand. Left foot. Right hand. I follow that order as if my life depends on it. With each step, I climb higher and higher. I don’t hesitate between each movement, but I don’t move too fast either. Resisting the urge to look down or up, I keep my eyes focused on where I’m grabbing or stepping next. There’s glass everywhere. I feel small pieces of glass cutting into my shoe, pants, or protected hands, but no skin gets sliced open.
Reaching out, I grab ahold of another ledge. As soon as my fingers touch the top of it, I feel them pressing against the flat side of some glass. Longer than any of the others I’ve seen, the shard is set alongside the ridge with its edge sticking out into my palm. With every ounce of pressure I put onto my hand as I bring my foot up, I sense strands of the wrapping’s cloth being cut. Is the glass going to make it to my palm? I hesitate for a moment, but the glass barely cuts into the cloth as I hold on to the ledge. Getting my left foot placed on a ridge, the ground beneath it is too shaky for comfort. Should I move it? No… it’ll hold up.
I’m halfway there now. Something to my left catches my eye. I whip my head in that direction only to see one of the vultures who was following me land on top of the rubble. Its hollow eyes are locked on me, as if it’s waiting for somethi—
No! The debris under my left foot suddenly gives in. In the next instant, the ledge beneath my right foot breaks off.
My body goes lurching downwards. I stop with an abrupt jolt, barely hanging on to the ledges with my hands. My eyes are wide as my legs dangle in the air. Breaths are quick. Heart stopped. The glass at my left hand cuts through more of the cloth. I feel its jagged edge nearly touching my palm. Is it cutting into me? I can’t tell.
Hands trembling and legs flailing, I barely hold myself from falling below. My mind panics. Get a grip, Zaid! How far up am I? Four meters, maybe five. If I let go, that won’t kill me. Wait—why am I thinking like that? A fall from up here will injure my foot. Get ahold of yourself. Find another place to set a foot.
Unable to take my gaze off of my quivering hands, I blindly start running and kicking my feet against the debris, searching for a level place to step on. My fingers are strained as my hands tremble harder and faster with each passing second.
Don’t let go, Zaid. Don’t you dare let go.
I see the vulture through my peripheral vision. It’s—it’s inching closer. And it’s no longer alone. Two more come out of nowhere, landing on either side of the first. They’re waiting for a moment to swoop in and do to me what I saw them do to that body in the middle of the street.
Inhaling a calming breath, I look down at my feet. I see a place to set my foot on. I’ll have to reach, but it’s not too far. I shut my eyes for a moment, trying to regain any composure that I can. Stretching out my right leg, I place my foot on the ridge and press down on it. With the pressure off of my hands, I hastily move my left hand off of the ledge covered with glass and on to a safer one. I tightly grab it before looking down and finding a place to settle my last foot.
I stay there, taking a deep breath and then another. My senses settle down a bit. Shutting my eyes, I lean my forehead against the rigged debris. That was too close. I hold my position until my heart finally accepts that the danger is passed.
Opening my eyes, I turn my gaze towards the three vultures. They’re still looking at me from several feet away. The thought crosses my mind that they could swarm me and try to force me to let go. I’d be helpless against them. However, I don’t have any choice but to keep moving forward.
Looking upwards, I map out my path step-by-step. I should be there in no time. With a clenched jaw, I push forward and yank any fear or hesitation to the back of my mind. My vision tunnels on my destination, my thoughts becoming focused on it.
Right foot. Left hand. Left foot. Right hand. Those are the only words that echo through my mind as I slowly claw my way towards the top of the mountain. Right foot. Left hand. Left foot. Right hand.
It doesn’t take long. Either that or I get too caught up in my movement and lose track of time. Arriving at the top of the summit, I victoriously look ahead as the vultures abruptly leave. But my eyes lose their enthusiasm. Up ahead, there’s another mountain like this one waiting for me to climb.
Chapter 25
Finding the Light
The memory of Nabeel—one of the last times I saw him before he again left for deployment—flashes through my mind.