During an earlier trip to market I came across a car which had suffered a hit from a shell. Inside were the remains of a person, flesh from fingers melted to the staring wheel, lips pulled back to reveal paper white teeth, one molar with a gold filling, cloud white bone, freed from the tyranny of flesh and skin. When I first saw this, I vomited but later, hardened by the war, I ran past without thought.
I pushed through the crowd of fearful women trying to find my mother and my sister Maryam but I would not hear my mother’s voice again until days later when I, along with other women, were sold by the Outsiders.
II
The first order of business for the new regime was to make a show of its hard-won authority. They had besieged our town for months, shelling the town center, skirmishing with government soldiers and losing many of their own. With new authority to lord over the people, they made a public show of killing the captive soldiers whom they had driven into town, bound like slaves in a coffle. The government soldiers were herded to town center and a few unlucky ones were chosen to be punished publicly. Several dozen government soldiers were hung, crucified, beheaded, or thrown from buildings. A few were tied down and ground to paste with battle tanks.
The lucky ones were shot.
We were made to witness. We stood hushed. The rest of the soldiers were made to dispose of the bodies of their comrades and were themselves disposed of like rubbish some days later.
The stink of burnt flesh and hair lingered for weeks on the wind as the last of the government soldiers were immolated.
After the government soldiers were slaughtered, they turned their attention to the remaining men and boys over twelve. The men and boys were systematically sorted into groups of ten and shot in the street. The killing lasted less than an hour and their blood thickened to a raspberry jelly, clogging drain pipes before discoloring newly fallen snow.
Next were nursing babies and children under seven who had their heads dashed against stones.
None of the townspeople said or did anything out of fear.
The Outsiders, after their bacchanalia of killing, sorted us by age, beauty, and pregnancy status. The most beautiful young women who were childbearing age but not already pregnant, were most valuable. Women with child waited for midwives to evacuate their wombs to make room for new fetuses. Young girls under childbearing age were sold as house servants. Young boys under twelve were kept aside and handed out as ammunition bearers and could rise beyond their station and become them. Mature women were often seen as not valuable and sold off far from their regions. I was fourteen, pure and suitable for childbearing.
I was bought by a leader who bought three other women that day.
The leader, who was now my owner and would become my husband, tied me to three other women and beat us into a vehicle. We travelled with four other vehicles, each vehicle driven by an Outsider armed with a Machine. We drove quickly and other vehicles on the street parted. During the trip, none of us dared talk. I had never seen this part of the country and though my condition was awful, for a fleeting moment I caught glimpse of a white bird disappearing sideways in a gust of snow.
I began to cry.
Then I felt the blow. A slow burning pain at my temple and thought I had been shot.
Another girl heard me crying and hit me with her forehead. The older girl uttered something unintelligible to me and hit me twice more when I didn’t answer.
I was stunned and ashamed. I quieted my crying and averted my eyes.
We drove for a long time until reaching his home. His home was atop a hill which afforded unobstructed views of the valley for miles. Switchbacks, icy roads, and sheer drops made turning around impossible.
We were unloaded into the house and taken to our rooms where matures stripped us. My room was windowless and small. I could cross it in a dozen strides and standing on my bed, I could touch the ceiling. On my bed, I found linens and near the linens were three thin, dull black dresses. A black sweater and head covering, a few pair of underwear, socks, and a pair of hard, flat, black rubber shoes. A small bureau faced the bed. My room was lit by fluorescent light, which could not be switched off.
My new household was structured around the schedule of the leader. He was high ranking. Instead of black, he wore cream and carried a briefcase instead of a Machine. He always had his briefcase with him when he came to rape me. His rapes were always rushed. He often seemed preoccupied and showed little interest in what he was doing. I submitted. After raping me he always insisted on watching me clean before leaving.
He never spoke to me. No one ever spoke to me and I went long periods of time during which the only people I saw were him and the midwife who visited with pills.
I began losing track of days but most days were the same. When he was home, he raped. I ate. I shat and pissed. And I tried to sleep.
Sometimes the matures would take me outside for air. The sun was now an enemy. My skin burned. Even though my skin is brown, bruises showed. I started to develop a rash on my elbow and bruises below my eyes deepened from blue to purple.
Twice I had been with child and each time the midwife had evacuated my womb. I bled and out of desperation I threw myself from off my bed to prevent another fetus from rooting.
III
I felt the presence of dead soldiers in my room. They were a lot less concerned with me than I was with them.
The soldiers looked frightened. Some did not know they were dead. Others were in search of water to douse their burns. Some were whole and beautiful. I was attracted to them. Once I reached out to touch one of them and as my fingers touched one’s shoulder he turned to ash and fell at my feet. Ash floated from floor to ceiling filling every corner of my room. I could not breathe without inhaling ash. Ash entered my nose and mouth. Ash entered my body through pores and eyes. Ash landed on my lips and I licked it in. Ash entered my body. I felt myself floating in a cloud of ash like a skin diver in a lagoon. Ash held me up. Ash circulated like blood. Ash let me see the last moments of this man’s life.
He had been burned. I could feel burning in my muscles as he excavated ground. I felt snow wet clay under my feet as he stepped in his hole. I could see them standing above, confident and cruel. Several of them pissed on him. Others spat and struck him with their Machines. A group of them fought over who would douse him with fuel.
I felt warmth between my legs.
I had felt him piss fear out.
I felt diesel wet my thighs. I smelled acetone and charcoal lighter fluid. He prayed. I heard them laughing and farting and being confident. I felt cold flames envelop his body and my body contorted like his.
Goose bumps rose on my skin. I saw him as a child with other children throwing snowballs.
I felt warm in his mother’s womb.
I saw him as a sailor on a ship falling overboard. I felt the cold hug of the sea and swallowed salt water.
I woke on the floor wet and cold from sweat and pee. The room smelled of rot. The leader hovered above me.
The leader had come to rape as was his habit but before he did, he told me he planned to award me as a gift to a student who had earned fame in battle.
I offered no emotion but I was scared of being sold.
He reassured me that my new owner would treat me kindly. He said I would not be asked to do work which was beyond my ability. He tried to console me, saying that he and my new owner would be equal partners in my ownership and since this was the case, he would still sleep with me, though not at the same time as my new owner. I betrayed no emotion when he kissed me. Regular beatings had taught me to submit.
After he raped me, he ordered the matures to wash and care for me. He ordered them to move me to another room where lights could be switched off. He ordered them to feed me more. He ordered them to sew new clothes. He ordered the midwife to ensure my womb was empty.
IV
The matures who were emaciated and ill-treated resented having to care for me. They made me think of my mother. The last time I
thought I heard my mother’s voice was the day when women from our town had been sorted and sold. I fantasized, about my father and brothers dying terribly. My mother, would have become a slave somewhere, ill-treated and malnourished. Maryam was still too young to be touched.
But they were not my mother. The matures submitted. A regime of beatings had trained them.
They clothed me. They locked me in and fed me food. They whispered whore through the door. They spoke to me but their words were vile and venomous. They taunted, called me stupid and ugly. Called me corpse and bitch.
Once in a fit of rage, I tried to strike one of them. Another time, with rage, I turned to them and spewed venom. I said I was not sorry they were old and unwanted and witches. Enraged, they clawed my back, leaving scars.
They fattened me up and exercised me. They took me outside. They switched out the lights and boxed me behind my ears. The spit in my food and pushed me down stairs. They walked into me with force.
They took me outside and locked the door. The Outsiders who were there noticed. I feared they might rape me but none dared touch me in their leader’s home.
The night the leader returned from the field, he let himself into my room. He had been gone so long I had allowed myself to dream he had died terribly.
He let himself in and turned on lights. He took up the whole room and I felt small and vulnerable.
He was filthy having been in the field for weeks. He stunk of shit and piss and cum and stale cigarettes and blood. He reached for me, but startled by his appearance, I hit him in the face.
He was lean from weeks in the field. Strong and fast and vicious.
He caught me by my hair and threw me to the ground. I bit and spit. I clawed his face and back and left scars.
He was mean after being in the field for weeks. The war continued to harden him.
I flailed at him but he was too strong and fast. I had never fought him this way. I had always submitted. I had never fought anyone this way but I was tired.
Tired of him raping me. Tired of the midwife and her pills. I was tired of the matures and the Outsiders with Machines. I had grown tired of the sun and moon and wanted to eat them and shit them out.
I bit his cock and he held me down by my throat, squeezing my breath like water from a wet sponge. I cried when he raped me and he blamed me for it.
He blamed the matures too. He called them terrible names and called me flawed and ugly and reckless.
After he raped me, he instructed the matures to remove me to the white room. He instructed them to feed me less and to take away my clothes. He told me he had changed his mind about divorcing me. He no longer trusted I would be kind and docile to my new owner. He said he would not allow me to dishonor him. He said he would make a gift of one of the other women instead.
The matures obeyed. They took me back to the white room. They stripped me and took away my linens. One mature whispered whore into my ear. Another boxed my breasts. They spat at me and locked me in.
I was cold and scared, I drew myself into a ball. I looked up to find the matures returned. They had grown in height but not in age. They took up the whole room. They feigned care, reaching down to stroke my sore breasts.
They whispered wicked things:
No one loves you.
Bitch.
Kill yourself.
Whore.
Kill yourself.
Witch.
Kill yourself.
Ugly.
Kill yourself.
Corpse.
Kill yourself.
Stupid.
Kill yourself.
V
I woke naked, and cold.
Government planes had bombed us in the night. The buzzing of their engines had been deliberate and confident. They bombed us all night until they thought everyone was dead.
I struggled.
It hurt to breathe so I breathed deliberately. Skin around my torso had begun to turn blue. I walked through the rooms of the house. Small fires still burned. Many of the Outsiders were burned. A mature, who had treated me terribly, noticed me and reached out a hand in supplication. I picked up a slab of stone and dropped it on her head.
I found another mature who had breathed in fire. I stripped her body and dressed myself. I moved rubble and found her shoes. My chest hurt tremendously and I could scarcely breathe.
I listened for bombs and heard forest birds. A few birds landed near and begun tearing open the dead. I threw rocks and books. I cried them off. I sang a song to myself.
Snow fell and I was cold and hungry. I thought about running but I could hardly breathe. For a half second I mistook smoke for bodies.
I sat in the house the rest of the night and listened for bombs but heard dogs. I thought I heard voices but it was wind. I guarded my broken rib and breathed deliberately. I made plans to walk off the mountain and follow the road.
I looked up and saw the moon.
I knew it was treacherous to move off the mountain at night, so I gathered what I could: a blanket, cans of food, and a Machine. I stoked a fire, sat near it for warmth.
When the sun came up I was cold and in misery from fever. I tried to stand but fell. I used the Machine as a cane and began to get up. The forest was loud with crows and beaten wind. I heard hoarse voices calling to me like lost phantoms. I looked over my shoulder and saw a squad of government soldiers. They put me in a helicopter and flew me here. They are confident the war will end soon. They say this but I say nothing.
AMERICAN FAPPER
by Adrian Bonenberger
Me and Chuck came up together. Deployed young to Iraq, where we learned everything they don’t teach you about war in training, then to Afghanistan, where we learned everything about war we’d missed in Iraq. Then, back to Iraq, where we’d made names for ourselves as a sniper team—I was the shooter, he was the spotter. After word got around that we knew our business they sent us on deeper missions. We saw “peaceful” countries as part of ad hoc Task Forces. The kind of operations you don’t read about in newspapers until months or years afterward, with guys from Delta Force and the CIA. Missions where you almost might have been on another planet, for all anyone knew.
When the only friendly faces you see for months are American, those faces mean something different from what they did before. Too, America takes on a significance that it hadn’t. You learn that some places on earth are nothing like Philadelphia, where I’m from. And while Chuck grew up in the Deep South, called himself a “good-ol’ boy,” I remember many times when his broad, ruddy face widened, his eyebrows arching at some unexpected new vision, like the time we found a group of children butchering a camel with machetes in a courtyard, or the two-sided ambush by Sudanese Bedouin we’d scraped through outside Halayeb, the southernmost tip of Egypt, driving in a pickup truck alongside a convoy of Egyptian soldiers. After, we’d climbed out of the cab and examined the doors, which were so riddled with bullet holes they’d looked like cheese graters—yet neither of us had been hit or even grazed. A miracle. Moments like those, Chuck’s deep drawl made more opaque from the wad of chewing tobacco in his cheek, he’d whistle, low, and say something like, “Never seen that be-foar,” voicing his thoughts so I didn’t have to say mine.
In America, we’d been about as different as they come, but over there, those differences were insignificant when placed against the extraordinary spectacles to which we’d become the audience.
Our first deployment together was back in 2005, when Ramadi went sour. That’s where we gelled as a team, when he got me through my first big ordeal as a sniper, as a soldier. We were providing overwatch for a convoy of tanks. You wouldn’t think tanks needed a couple guys with rifles to protect them, but insurgency plays out on the margins—and Iraqi fighters were crafty. It was summer, and hot so the air made everything slick. We were lying on a factory roof scanning for insurgents in places we’d have gone if we were in their position. A thousand meters out, on a low, desert hill, we spotted two black-hooded beeb
s by a beaten-up dirtbike. They were waiting for the convoy, one bent over a detonating device fiddling with the trigger, the other holding a thick pair of field binoculars. The tanks rumbled and squeaked along the road like a World War II movie.
Higher cleared us to engage. I nailed the triggerman immediately but hesitated for a clean shot on the lookout, who ducked as I fired, one of the only times I aimed and missed. The tanks were approaching an intersection and Chuck was yelling at them over the radio to stop. The lookout activated the IED as I cleared the rifle’s chamber for another round. Unobserved, purely by chance, the bomb caught the lead tank full on and flipped it up and over like a toy, spinning high into the air. Its turret popped off, something human fell out, and then everything was bouncing over the earth. I’d never felt a blast like that before. It shook everything.
After Chuck died, I couldn’t shoot worth shit. For snipers, that’s a problem. I’d be out on mission staring down terrorists through a high-tech scope and instead of opening fire, I’d watch them dig bombs into the road. I always found an excuse why there wasn’t a shot, and people started to notice.
Up to that point I’d been one of the best snipers the SEALs had. My thing was always hitting my targets and putting them down, no matter the distance or difficulty. If I pulled the trigger, the cunt on the other end was either dying, or getting hurt so bad they’d wish they had. During the bad time when I wasn’t shooting, my stellar record gave me latitude with superiors, made the SEALs think twice about switching me off.
That’s the military. You earn your stripes, you make your bones, you prove yourself, and they won’t just throw you away. Still, it got to where they were talking about putting me behind a desk or sending me stateside to train other snipers. Grounding me. And once you’re off the line, it’s hell getting back.
My father never served. When I was younger I watched Full Metal Jacket and after, asked why he didn’t join, and he said Vietnam was already over by the time he was old enough to fight. Later on, I figured out that the timing didn’t quite work out—he could’ve joined, and seen action, so he must’ve had some other reason.
The Road Ahead Page 26
