Free Refuge by N G Osborne

to bring this on ourselves? How much longer can I be expected to hang on?”
    There is no answer. She pushes herself back up and stares at the gravestone. She’s always wondered what happened to her mother’s body. She assumes she was dumped in an unmarked grave, perhaps into the same one they tossed Aunt Sabha and Uncle Aasif.
    “I love you, Mamaan,” she says.
    Noor stands and comes upon a worn path. The American’s image once again appears. She quickens her pace.
    Forget about him. He’s not worth it.
    She breathes in through her nose and lengthens her stride. Her arms swing back and forth, and the graves fly past her like ships in the night. The American recedes further from her consciousness until at last, to her relief, he’s forgotten altogether.

SEVEN
    CHARLIE AND WALI stand inside the lobby and observe the new recruits. Charlie glances at his watch‌—‌four ten; still plenty of time before he has to head off to the Pearl Continental. He has a good feeling the girl will come.
    After all she didn’t say no .
    “Admit it,” he says to Wali, “this is a better bunch of guys.”
    “In all honesty I do not detect any difference, but if you’re satisfied I suppose I am too.”
    “Well their average age is below ninety-five, that’s got to be a plus.”
    “Mr. Matthews I understand that in America youth is prized, but we, Afghans, like to honor our elders.”
    “Jesus, what crawled up your butt?”
    Wali stares straight ahead.
    “It’s because you had to spend the night in the Pajero, isn’t it?” Charlie says.
    “That has nothing to do with it.”
    “I offered to keep you company.”
    “I would not have heard of such a thing.”
    “Then get that smile back on your face. I mean you still managed to get three of your relatives on the payroll.”
    “Two,” Wali says before catching himself.
    Charlie grins and slaps Wali on the back.
    “Gotcha. Now come on, let’s do this.”
    Charlie pushes open the doors, and they walk outside.
    “Oh yeah, one other thing, I’m looking for a motorcycle,” he says.
    “The Pajero is fixed.”
    “Appreciate that, but it’s just not my style, that’s all. Shit find me a decent one for under a thousand bucks and the Pajero’s yours.”
    For the first time that day a smile graces Wali’s face.
    “Oh, Mr. Matthews, you need not worry, I will find you the best motorbike in the whole of Peshawar.”
    “Counting on it.”
    The recruits see them coming and jump to their feet.
    “As-salaam Alaykum,” Charlie says.
    A chorus of wa-alaykum asalaams come back his way.
    “Good to have you all here, my name’s Charlie Matthews and I’m going to be your instructor these next few months. Now what I thought we’d do is just chat a little, you know introduce ourselves, that kind of thing, and then tomorrow at ten we can start on the training; nothing too strenuous, just a basic orientation. What do you say?”
    Most of the recruits nod. Charlie turns to Wali.
    “They really speak English?”
    “I assure you they do.”
    Charlie looks at his watch again. Four fifteen.
    “By the way, how long does it take to get to the Pearl Continental from here.”
    “Forty-five minutes, maybe fifty. Why?”
    Shit, I got to get out of here .
    Charlie turns back to the recruits.
    “Okay, we’ll just do names today, and then we’re done.”
    He points at a fat, Chinese-looking recruit on the far left of the first row.
    “What’s your name?”
    “Shafiq, sir.”
    He points at the man beside him, a recruit with an uncanny resemblance to Abraham Lincoln.
    “And you?”
    “My name is Najib, sir, and I sincerely want to thank you for the opportunity you’ve given us.”
    “No problem.”
    Charlie points at a teddy bear of a man.
    “You?”
    “Bakri, sir.”
    He nods at a scrawny, young man with round glasses and a desperate wisp of a moustache.
    “Obaidullah, sir, and may I, on behalf of all recruits, assure you we will not let you down in this endeavor.”
    “Good to