Perhaps there was something more he could do for her.

“They’re probably going to kill me, too,” he said.

That part was true. He was a little surprised it hadn’t happened already. The men of this militia unit were savages. Uneducated, ignorant, vicious, and traumatized by combat. They were religious fanatics, yes, but they were also like dogs that had been beaten too much. Whatever affection or friendship that had once been in them was gone. Now, they knew only how to bark, and to bite.

Far from a hero, they saw Ahmet as a stranger, and as a liability. He was well-educated in the sciences, and he spoke four languages. He had spent time in Europe. He was not a guerrilla fighter. His body was not built for the rugged terrain here. If it came to fighting the Americans on these hillsides, or the Kurds, he would be useless, possibly worse than useless.

“They only keep me alive to communicate with you. After that…”

He shrugged.

“I don’t care what happens to you,” the girl said. “You did this to me, so it only serves you right if you die.”

She said it calmly and without spite. It was a simple statement of the facts, as she understood them. The girl, who was raised surrounded by opulent wealth and power in the Western world, could not know the circumstances of Ahmet’s life. She could not imagine the forces that had brought them both to this place. He did not feel a strong need to try to explain them to her.

Nevertheless:

“American special forces raided my village at daybreak two years ago. They killed my brother and my sister, ages fourteen and eleven. They killed numerous other people. Then they left. There was no explanation for their actions.”

She shook her head and started to cry again. She had cried a lot today. He was surprised by her capacity for it. He would have thought that by now she would have gone numb and been beyond tears.

“I don’t believe you,” she said. “I don’t believe a word you say. You were supposed to be a nice, normal guy from Turkey. You had a migraine headache, remember? Everything about you was a lie.”

He nodded. “Okay.”

He glanced around the room. The afternoon was really fading now. Night was coming on. The last yellow light of day played against the concrete walls. It was beautiful. For an instant, he had a thought, a wish…

But it was elusive, and gone before it even formed.

“Ahmet,” a harsh voice said.

A mujahid stood in the doorway. He was a large man, and strong. He had a thick black beard and piercing eyes. He was carrying an AK-47 rifle. He had three or four grenades hanging from his vest.