After breakfast of a boiled egg and some flat bread, Maliha watched her father sew her bear’s eye back on. The rusty needle penetrated the furry black fabric that her father pinched between his thick, cracked fingers. Biting off the end of the thread, he tied it tight. His lips brushed against the button while his teeth tore the last of the lingering thread off.
“Go play,” he said with a smile, handing her bear back and pulling the black thread from his mouth.
Gathering the soft, stuffed animal into her arms, she ran toward the door. She stopped in the gray light of the sun in the doorway. “Thank you, Papa.”
“You are welcome, Maliha, now be safe.”
“Yes, Papa,” she replied then ran out into the field. Hiding behind the thin gray clouds was the sun. She had never seen the sun, without the clouds. It was always a distant, glowing ball, hiding away.
She crunched through the field, careful not to damage any of the unevenly planted stalks of corn. There was a spot where father had always made sure to not plant anything; it was her spot he said.
She found it, a small break in the corn where she could set her bear down and draw pictures in the dirt.
Before long, her short fingers were caked in dirt and she had a small mud pile with a mommy and daddy made of corn leaves that lived inside. The two loved one another very much and were talking about having a baby girl.
A rustling noise drew her out of her domestic fantasy.
She froze.
Voices followed along with the rustling. They were muffled and didn’t sound like her father or uncle. She grabbed her bear and pulled it close. It felt warm against her chest.
The sound grew closer. Faint rustling, and heavy stepping feet.
She knelt low, with her hands in the dirt, and looked through the stalks. Shadows took shape in the distance and moved through. She could see thick brown boots, and pants that were mottled green and brown.
The boots stopped.
It sounded like a man, his breathing heavy. “Hold on guys, I’m going to check out this clearing.”
She heard him speaking but didn’t understand the foreign language he spoke with.
The boots turned toward her and stepped into her play area. They nearly landed on the house and happy parents-to-be. “Whoa! Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said. There was a thick helmet on his head, patterned the same as his pants. He had a long black rifle in his hands and was fat with armor and ammunition. Dark glasses hid his eyes, and he looked as though he hadn’t shaven in several days.
She jumped back but was unable to scream.
He smiled, lifted his hand away from the pistol grip where it rested and waved.
She waved back before she knew what she had done.
He grabbed the black thing on his shoulder and spoke into it. “Never mind, just a kid.”
She stared at him.
“Roger,” a voice replied.
“Have a good day.” He waved again and walked off.
Maliha waited until she couldn’t hear the rustling anymore then sprinted back to the house.
“Papa, there are men in the field!”
“I know, baby, get inside,” he said from the doorway. The yard was already clear of animals, and she could hear Uncle Reza inside.
“You know who that is? That is the Americans and they will kill us because we are the true believers in Allah. You could have protected us, but you chose not to,” Reza yelled.
Papa knelt beside her. “Go to your room and wait for me.”
She nodded.
“Brother, now is not the time,” Papa replied.
Maliha ran through the house and into her room, jumped into her bed, and pulled the blanket up over her head. The blanket protected her from the dull gray light that shone through the twisted metal over the cracked glass window, but it didn’t protect her from the sound of her father’s and uncle’s voices.
“You knew something like this would happen. That is why we invited them here, to protect us.”
“At what cost, Reza? We sacrificed our freedom, our dignity. Was it worth it for the security they provide?” Papa asked.
“You were willing to sacrifice our father’s home, for a woman!”
“You watch your mouth, or by Allah it will take more than the jinn to protect you from my wrath.”
“The jinn won’t help me. You made sure of that when you painted the door blue and put your handprint in white upon it. You have cursed this family.”
“I did it because I loved her. I don’t expect you to understand that.”
“Women are to bear children, you and I both know that.”
“She did bear me a child, my child. Because I was unwilling to sacrifice that for anything, most certainly not for my safety.”
“And the women you loved died because you were so stubborn.”
Smack.
Someone fell.
Maliha listened to the sound of her breath. She could feel it bouncing off the blanket in front of her and blowing across her face. The air grew stifling and uncomfortable inside her small cocoon.
“They are surrounding the village,” Uncle Reza said. His voice was weak and barely audible. “Everyone in this village will turn them on us. These Americans they will kill you and take your daughter. And what will you have then?”
“Maybe I will send them to the only other house that the jinn aren’t welcome,” Papa replied. His voice filled with more resolve and more anger than she had ever heard before.
“You wouldn’t dare. Please, Hamed, you wouldn’t,” Reza begged. His voice was thick with fear. “You know more than anyone else the danger that is trapped in there, what they would unleash.”
“Then you should understand why I need your support to protect this home, our home, from the Americans. And anyone else who would be our enemies.”
There was a long pause.
“You are stubborn, Hamed. But I don’t have a choice. I will help you.”
“Thank you, Reza.”
Adam Fenner 