Kindness

Mikha stood on the hot dirt, bare but for the colorful ikat draped over her. Underneath, Mikha's hands were bound tightly behind her, and her legs were hobbled at the knees. Nervously, she traced with her eyes the long length of rope tied around her throat down along the ground and back up into the hands of Balak, the man who had "found" her.

Next to Balak's corpulent frame was a wiry man with a dark face and drab tan clothes. He would occasionally nod and scratch at his thin beard as he listened to Balak, and paying no attention whatsoever to the angry woman standing silently beside him.

Mikha watched the men talk for a few minutes, then let her eyes drift to the military truck behind them. It had no markings, and Mikha hoped it was Uzbekistani and not Afghanistani.

Looking away from the truck and the others, Mikha focused on the trunk of the dusty white Mercedes Balak had brought her in. She was still sore from the bumpy two day ride in that cramped darkness.

"Eh, girl!" Balak called and jerked her forward with a tug of the rope.

Mikha took two uncertain steps forward and stopped. They were all watching her.

"Here, stupid!" Balak tugged again.

Reluctantly, Mikha shuffled closer, stopping just out of arm's reach.

At a nod from the dark man, the woman reached out and flipped off Mikha's colorful robe.

The sight of Mikha's naked form turned the woman's face from a scowl to a sudden laugh, "Hey, Balak," she giggled, "did you bring us a stick or a girl?"

"Shut up, woman. Examine her." The dark man responded.

Mikha felt the blood rush to her face as the woman did just that. From checking her teeth and hair to her nails, the woman roughly groped and prodded every parcel of her undernourished flesh as Mikha held still and stared up at the pale blue dome of the sky. At last, the woman was done, and Mikha let her gaze drift down from heaven to earth along the tops of the valley ridge and down the dark barren sides to the flat spot of dirt between her feet.

"She's fine," the woman said as she turned back to the men.

Mikha heard the truck door open then slam while she crossed and uncrossed her toes.

"We'll see."

Mikha looked up when Balak's fat fingers pushed under the ropes binding her knees and cut them free. The dark man was standing directly beside Balak. But all Mikha saw was the small fragile package of cookies in his hand.

"Are you hungry, girl?"

Mikha nodded.

"Then I guess," said the man as he removed a cream cookie from the package, "you want one?"

Mikha opened her mouth and the man pushed the cookie in. Mikha chewed greedily while the man laughed. She savored the taste of the only food she had had in the past two days, and didn't even mind as Balak took up the slack of the rope around her throat.

Mikha opened her mouth again, the cookie gone.

The man smiled at Balak. "Greedy girl. But I have something else for her now."

The girl looked down at his hand, expecting to find the cookies, and instead saw the shiny foil of a condom.

Mikha coughed, and immediately the dark man grabbed her cheeks and lifted her face to his own.

"There is a place a woman may not examine, and so I must do that honor."

Mikha sucked in a breath to scream, but was jerked short again by a tug of the rope.

"Open your mouth," the man commanded, squeezing her face for emphasis.

When she opened, the woman pinched Mikha's tongue and pulled it out to place two slender sticks of wood above and below her tongue. She then bound the ends tightly together with thick string. Mikha grunted, but couldn't retract her tongue.

Before she could protest, the girl was lifted up and carried to the mercedes, where she was sat on the edge of the front fender.

"Good."

Mikha fell backwards onto her arms across the hot hood of the mercedes when the dark man released her. After a moment, she felt the rope pull taut again, but it didn't urge her back up onto her bottom.

Soon she felt the man's bare thighs push between her knees, exposing her to him. Then she felt a surprisingly warm palm touch her belly.

"She's not a virgin, Balak."

"No, but she was when I found her."

"Ah, then she's sure not to be carrying a fetus, you sterile goat." he laughed.

Suddenly, Mika felt the tip of the man's rubber coated manhood press against her entrance. She jerked up, but the hand on her belly held her down. Then all too soon he was in.

Mikha did scream this time, but the sound died in her throat as the man began thrusting. Mikha squeezed her eyes shut and tried to think of anything but what was happening. She wouldn't cry. It didn't do her any good the last time.

"So it is just you," he grunted.

". . . my blowtorch,"

". . . and me."

With the last word, the dark man shoved himself inside and released his futile load.

"Well done," Bakal said from behind.

Slowly the dark man withdrew and pulled up his pants, dropping the spent rubber beside Mikha's thigh on the fender before brushing off his hands and turning to complete the three's sordid deal while Mikha laid, eyes still closed, feeling the time-warp of her whole life closing in around her.

Mikha sucked in one breath, then another, while the ache between her legs slowly eased. She knew now that she'd probably never make it out of Afganistan, out of the Taliban.

No, she thought. No, she was out of the Taliban. In Afganistan or out. Life was going to be one fiesta after another. Party after party with one man or another for the rest of her days.

Mikha opened her eyes and let the tears fall.