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and s face had bee as pale as the moon hovering above。 He told Karim to ask Mister Soldier Sahib to show a little mercy； maybe he had a sister or a mother； maybe he had a wife too。 The Russian listened to Karim and barked a series of words。
It s his price for letting us pass； Karim said。 He couldn t bring himself to look the husband in the eye。
But we ve paid a fair price already。 He s getting paid good money； the husband said。
Karim and the Russian soldier spoke。 He says。。。 he says every price has a tax。
That was when Baba stood up。 It was my turn to clamp a hand on his thigh； but Baba pried it loose； snatched his leg away。 When he stood； he eclipsed the moonlight。 I want you to ask this man something； Baba said。 He said it to Karim； but looked directly at the Russian officer。 Ask him where his shame is。
They spoke。 He says this is war。 There is no shame in war。
Tell him he s wrong。 War doesn t negate decency。 It demands it； even more than in times of peace。
Do you have to always be the hero？ I thought； my heart fluttering。 Can t you just let it go for once？ But I knew he couldn t……it wasn t in his nature。 The problem was； his nature was going to get us all killed。
The Russian soldier said something to Karim； a smile creasing his lips。 Agha sahib； Karim said； these Roussi are not like us。 They understand nothing about respect； honor。
What did he say？
He says he ll enjoy putting a bullet in you almost as much as。。。 Karim trailed off； but nodded his head toward the young woman who had caught the guard s eye。 The soldier flicked his unfinished cigarette and unholstered his handgun。 So this is where Baba dies； I thought。 This is how it s going to happen。 In my head； I said a prayer I had learned in school。
Tell him I ll take a thousand of his bullets before I let this indecency take place； Baba said。 My mind flashed to that winter day six years ago。 Me； peering around the corner in the alley。 Kamal and Wali holding Hassan down。 Assef s buttock muscles clenching and unclenching； his hips thrusting back and forth。 Some hero I had been； fretting about the kite。 Sometimes； I too wondered if I was really Baba s son。
The bulldog…faced Russian raised his gun。
Baba； sit down please； I said； tugging at his sleeve。 I think he really means to shoot you。
Baba slapped my hand away。 Haven t I taught you anything？ he snapped。 He turned to the grinning soldier。 Tell him he d better kill me good with that first shot。 Because if I don t go down； I m tearing him to pieces； goddamn his father！
The Russian soldier s grin never faltered when he heard the translation。 He clicked the safety on the gun。 Pointed the barrel to Baba s chest。 Heart pounding in my throat； I buried my face in my hands。
The gun roared。
It s done； then。 I m eighteen and alone。 I have no one left in the world。 Baba s dead and now I have to bury him。 Where do I bury him？ Where do I go after that？
But the whirlwind of half thoughts spinning in my head came to a halt when I cracked my eyelids； found Baba still standing。 I saw a second Russian officer with the others。 It