THE MARTYR
Page 2
Abdul walked off, leaving Kemal alone with his thoughts. Kemal reached into his pocket and took out his father's old pen- a Cartier, bought when he had gone to the States many years ago, and gifted to Kemal on his birthday. Kemal had always carried it around, believing it was a good luck charm. Kemal wondered where his father was now. Was he in heaven? Kemal saw another boy to his right, someone whose name he could not remember. The boy was sobbing quietly, almost ashamed at his fear. Kemal crawled over to him and touched his arm lightly.
`Im scared. But I don't want to be.'
`Im terrified and you know what, I think so's everyone here, including Adbul. Just hope the enemy doesn't attack tonight and we can go home for one more day.
The boy looked a bit reassured at Kemal's words, and Kemal began returning to his position when he froze at the sound of approaching vehicles. My god, they're here! Abdul was standing now, his machine gun by his side, with an almost maniacal gleam in his eyes. `Let the bastards come! I'll kill them all!'
Kemal sat back against the rock and clutched his rifle against his chest. He could feel tears welling up in his eyes as he heard the sound of boots thumping against the ground as the enemy soldiers dismounted from their trucks. The darkness was torn apart by a sudden burst of light as Adbul fired a flare into the sky. In its eerie green glow, Kemal could now see the enemy, at least fifty of them, most looking not much older than himself, just a few hundred meters away and rapidly approaching the hill. As they closed to within a hundred meters, Abdul began firing wildly, screaming obscenities. A few other boys were also jolted into action and began firing. A few of the enemy dropped, and the others dove for cover and began returning fire. Kemal heard the crack of bullets passing close by and ducked behind the rock in front of him. He got up and turned to see what the boy on his right was doing and retched at what he saw. The boy had been hit in the face, and was lying on the ground, clutching at the bloody pulp that now remained. Two or three other boys had been hit, and their cries of pain and terror filled Kemals ears. This sounds like demons from hell- and they say were going to heaven!
The enemy was now even closer and Kemal could barely hear anything above the din of gunfire. Abdul was still firing and screaming, and for a moment Kemal stared at him transfixed, standing tall, hate in his eyes, screaming obscenities and shouting to the others to become martyrs. Then he seemed to crumple within himself. Kemal ran over to him to find him clutching his belly. Several bullets had shredded his stomach, and he was bleeding profusely as he tried to hold his intestines in. Kemal was crying as he held his childhood friend in his lap. Adbul looked up at Kemal, and Kemal was almost shocked by what he saw. He saw the eyes, not of the man who had been firing and shouting a few minutes ago, but the soft, innocent eyes of the boy he once knew. Abdul was sobbing.
`I dont want to die, Kemal. It hurts so much. Oh, God, it hurts so much.' There was little Kemal could do but hold his friend's head in his lap as he watched the life drain from Abdul. As Abdul died, the painful contortion on his face gave way to an almost serene expression. Kemal did not know whether he had gone to heaven, but he knew his friend had found a peace he had never known in life.
Kemal was jolted back to reality by the sounds of enemy boots approaching him.
`Mop up all the boys. We've finally got this hill!' Kemal grabbed the rifle and peered over the rock, seeing three enemy soldiers with their backs to him. He could surprise them and kill them all. He raised the rifle to his shoulder and then stopped himself. What do I have against these men? What will I gain by killing them? How will I be any better than those who have carried on this butchery?
One look at Abdul's body told him what he should do. He put his rifle on the ground and walked over to the men. He didn't know what he would say or do, but knew he was not going to fight these men, and maybe if they listened to him, in their own small way, they could bring back some sanity to their homeland. `Hello, My name is Kemal and...'
Kemal never got to complete his sentence. One of the three boys panicked at his approach, and fired on reflex. The other two shouted in horror, but realized they were too late.
Kemal felt something slam against his head. He saw his mother's face as she told him stories, his sister dressing up to go to office, his father working late in his study. Then all went dark.
He fell down, his hand still clutching his father's pen.
He had become a martyr.
