Shoshana took a compass reading, oriented the map, and looked around to see if she could find a recognizable landmark for a bearing. Habish bent over the map and pointed to a spot north of the city of Tuz Khurmatu. “We should be about here.” She agreed and climbed into the rear of the truck to check on Avidar. He was shivering, bathed in sweat and half conscious.
“Please,” she whispered, “not this.” She felt his forehead and almost panicked. He was burning with fever. “Gad! Avidar’s fever is up.”
“Bathe his head in water,” Habish called from under the truck. He was rubbing his hands in the grease and dirt on the truck’s differential. Within moments, he was bending over her shoulder. “See if you can get four aspirins down him,” he said. She rummaged in the makeshift first aid kit and wished they had decent medical supplies. Not that it would do much good, she thought, I’m worthless when it comes to this. She shook four aspirins into her hand and held them to Avidar’s mouth. “No, you fool,” Habish said. “He’ll choke. Crush them and dissolve them in water. Get him to sip the water.” He climbed back into the cab and started the engine, pressing toward Kirkuk.
An hour later, they ran into their first roadblock. The two soldiers were surprised to see the truck grinding along the little used road and hurried to throw their rifles over their shoulders and block the road. Both were trying to act bored and dangerous. Habish took in the poor condition of their rifles and shabby appearance with a practiced eye. “Roadblock,” he warned Shoshana.
The soldiers waved the truck to a stop and ordered Habish to get out. While the older of the two examined the tattered identification booklets Habish produced, the other stuck his head into the truck. A half sneer crossed his face when he saw only Shoshana. She had hidden Avidar under a blanket and behind some baskets. “Get out,” he ordered and unlimbered his rifle.
Shoshana understood the simple command in Arabic and got out. “Your name,” he barked. Fear paralyzed Shoshana. She understood what he had said but could not remember the name Avidar had given her on the false ID he had made at the safe house.
“Her name is Zanab,” Habish answered.
The soldier shoved Shoshana toward Habish. “I asked her, pig-face.” He jabbed the butt of his rifle into Habish’s stomach and took a great deal of satisfaction in watching him crumble to the ground. Then he kicked viciously at Habish and forced him to roll under the truck.
“Farmers,” the older soldier laughed, “care more about their goats than their wives. Leave him while we see what we have here.” He grabbed Shoshana’s shawl and ripped it away. “Very pretty for a farmer’s wife.”
“Too good for a farmer is you ask me.” The leer that crossed the teenager’s face hardened and aged him. “Make her undress.” They both laughed. Shoshana did not understand what they had said and stood silently, determined not to say a word. The older of the two drew his bayonet and used it to poke at her clothes. He pulled the loose-fitting dress away from her body with the point and then shoved the bayonet through the fabric, ripping it away. “You’re using the wrong bayonet!” the teenager laughed.
“Be patient,” the soldier said and methodically cut the rest of her clothes away. When he was finished, both men were absolutely silent astounded at their good luck.
Shoshana stood there and looked away from the man standing in front of her as he shucked off his equipment and pulled his pants down. She had thought about the possibility of rape before. She could feel the Iraqi’s heavy breath on her as he fumbled at the combo pen between her breasts. With a vicious jerk he ripped the tube free and threw it at the other soldier. “Probably money,” he said and turned his full attention back to Shoshana.
The words of one of her instructors in training came back. “Give them what they want, anything. If they want your money, give it to them. If they want your clothes, take them off. Give them your body. Give them your dignity. But if there is one thing you cannot give them, then you must either kill them or be killed.” The soldier pushed her to the ground and forced her legs apart. She looked at Habish lying under the truck. He was staring at the soldier holding the combo pen — the one thing they could not give them.
The soldier slapped her hard and threw his weight on her, pinning her down. His head jerked around when he heard a loud phut. Shoshana bucked, threw the man off, and rolled free. Avidar was standing over the crumpled body of the young soldier and aiming a pistol at the half-naked man.
“No!” Habish shouted. He rolled out from under the truck and stood up. He took the Walther from Avidar and shoved the muzzle under the soldier’s chin, barraging him with questions in Arabic.
Avidar collapsed to the ground and Shoshana ran to him, not caring that she was naked. He was jerking convulsively and consumed with fever. She dragged him back into the truck and wrapped him in a blanket. In desperation, she wrapped another blanket around both of them, hoping her body heat would help. Slowly, the tremors wracking his body slowed, then stopped. His breathing was almost normal when she heard the Walther’s distinctive phut from outside.
Then Habish was standing at the rear of the truck. “I need your help. We need to make it look like these two deserted and took off.” He turned away and went to work while Shoshana found another dress to wear. Not exactly like a farmer’s wife, she thought, but close enough. She jumped out of the truck and found him digging a shallow grave.
“Maybe we ought to bury the bodies away from here,” she suggested. Habish nodded and within minutes, they had buried the soldiers’ equipment and loaded the two bodies into the rear of the truck and were moving again. “We need to get Avidar to a doctor. I think his wound is infected.”
Habish concentrated on driving and did not answer. He stopped the truck in the middle of an open area and told her to look for a dip or gully in the ground that could not be seen from the road. “They won’t stop and search an obvious open area,” he told her. Sixty meters from the truck, Shoshana found a slight depression, little more than a dent in the ground. She lay down in it and called for Habish. “Where are you?” he answered. When she stood up, he waved his approval. Within minutes, they had buried the soldiers and were driving away. “Always remember,” he said, “the best place to hide is like that. Here,” he handed her the combo pen, “hide this.”
She opened the front of her dress and shoved the tube between her breasts. “That won’t work,” she said to herself. “Stop the truck.”
She jumped out and ran around to the rear, reached under and rolled the tube over the differential, smearing it with grease and dirt. Then she climbed back into the cab and dropped it on the floorboards at their feet. Habish nodded in approval. “We still need to find a doctor.” She wouldn’t let it go.
“The guard,” Habish said, “told me that the army has thrown up roadblocks all over the place in the last two days. They were told to stop and check everyone. Anyone who looked the least suspicious or foreign is to be detained.”
“What do we do now?” Shoshana could feel the panic in her building.