Chapter 5
"One of the good things about the fusion battery is that we don't have to stop for gas," Oscar said driving the white Mercedes over the rough terrain. While the Mercedes was a well engineered car, it wasn't designed for roads that were so rough and it was definitely taking a beating.
"Yes, but if you're not careful we'll have to have this car repaired somewhere," Georgia replied grabbing at the dashboard when the car lurched for what seemed like the millionth time.
Pointing to another Mercedes parked by a house in the distance, Oscar said, "We're not the only ones with a car out here."
"I can see that. The real question is if they actually drive it anywhere," Georgia said as the car slipped off a rock and skewed sideways. She hit her shoulder on the door and glared over at Oscar as if blaming him for her discomfort.
"Sorry. Western Pakistan isn't known for having well kept roads," Oscar said. A huge hole opened in front of them and he swerved to miss it. He swore, "Gee whiz that was close."
"Gee Whiz?" she asked with a snort at the juvenile expression. It sounded like something from the old Batman series on television.
"What do you want me to say? Snarkle?" Oscar asked with a grin.
"I'd much prefer Ni," Georgia answered making reference to the knights of an old comedy movie.
"Ni it is," Oscar said.
"We are not going to be able to drive all the way to Afghanistan in this car," Georgia said. She felt like someone had been hitting her kidneys.
"I plan on trading the car for camels in the town up ahead," Oscar said hitting a bump that nearly twisted the steering wheel out of his hands.
"Camels?" Georgia asked. She wasn't sure how she felt about riding a camel for a couple hundred miles. A horse was one thing, but a camel was a totally different kind of beast. She wondered if Oscar knew how many camels a Mercedes was worth. That thought was followed by a number of less pleasant thoughts. She frowned and then said, "I thought this area was filled with terrorists. Will we be safe traveling by camel?"
"Yes," Oscar said.
"What about the terrorists?"
Oscar was silent for a moment and then pointed up the road at a grizzly sight. A dozen bodies were lying on the ground; their weapons lying on the ground beside them. He said, "There has been a little fighting up here."
"Why?" Georgia asked staring at the bodies. She glanced over at Oscar wondering if he knew what was happening. She still wasn't used to his ability to know things without learning them.
"Well, word of Allah's message has reached here. The locals have decided to believe that Allah no longer wants Jihad by the Sword. They've stopped providing the kind of support to the terrorists that was common in the past. It is one thing to support a group that is doing the work of God and quite another to support a group that is defying God. The foreign terrorists take issue with that and have been trying to force the locals to their world view. The terrorists are losing," Oscar said driving around the bodies. He wasn't sure which side of the conflict the bodies belonged to. If they were locals, then the terrorists would have left them there as a message to the locals. If they were terrorists, then the locals would have left them there because of their opposition to the will of Allah.
"How bad is it?" Georgia asked.
"Pretty bad. Entire villages have been destroyed," Oscar answered concentrating on the road. He knew that the road was going to get even worse before they hit town.
For the past month and a half, they had been stopping at an average of two Mosques a day. The message was always the same. Allah wanted Jihad by the Sword to end. The reactions to the delivery of the message became ever more polarized. In some cases there would be great rejoicing, while in others there was a growing current of anger. Georgia said, "I'm not sure what I think of that. I would have assumed that they would be happy that their God is sending them a message."
"That's the politics of religion," he said. Even simple messages became convoluted when men with ambition decided to interpret them.
"Ugly."
"When we stop, would you mind getting on the Satellite Phone and calling your sister?"
"My sister? Why?" Georgia asked turning immediately to find the phone in the backseat.
"I'd like it if she could arrange for a Russian Truck to be waiting for us when we get to our old training grounds," Oscar answered.
While digging around in the backseat for the satellite phone, the car hit another bump and Georgia hit her butt on the ceiling. It earned her a snort of laughter from Oscar. His snort earned him a slight whack to the back of his head. She growled and said, "I'll make sure to request that it has a good suspension. I'll also ask her to load it with real food. I'm sick of MREs."
"Sounds good to me," Oscar said rubbing the back of his neck. He knew that he shouldn't have laughed at her, but it had been funny.
"When are we going to stop?"
Oscar didn't answer while maneuvering around a large rock. Once past the obstacle, he answered, "When the tire goes out."
"When will that be?" Georgia asked looking over at him.
A thumping noise arose from the rear of the car at the same time Oscar answered, "Now."
"Oh great."
"Put on your burka. We're going to have company while I change the tire," Oscar said opening the door.
"Do you even know how to change a tire?" Georgia asked while looking around to see if she could spot anyone. There wasn't anything to see.
"I'm not sure, but I know you'll tell me exactly what to do," Oscar answered giving her a great big grin and a wink.
"That's right buster," Georgia said putting on her burka. Once it was on, she added, "I know some creative things you can do to yourself with the tire iron."
"Grumpy."
"You wear this garbage bag and try not to be grumpy," Georgia said struggling to open the door of the car.
"Have I told you that you have gorgeous eyes?" Oscar asked.
"You say that every time that I put on the burka."
"Repetition does not make it any less true," Oscar said. He stepped out of the car and said, "By the Gods and Goddesses, this is pretty country."
Georgia finally got the door open and exited the car. Standing there for a moment to appreciate the view, she noticed some birds taking off from a nearby rock formation. She said, "It looks like your visitor will be here soon."
"Don't worry about him," Oscar said going to the back of the car. He opened the trunk and looked at the mess in the back. The rough road had shaken things up in the back of the car. Shaking his head, he said, "It's going to take forever to get the jack out of the back. The spare is under all of the MREs."
Georgia moved to where she could watch Oscar and see the approach to the car from the distant rocks. Sitting down, she said, "That'll just provide me with more entertainment."
"Thanks," Oscar said pulling out three bottles of water. He tossed one to Georgia when he got her attention. He put one in the crook of his arm and opened the other. He took a long drink from it, finishing nearly a third of it.
Georgia followed suit, but watched the approach of a young man over the water bottle. She guessed his age at around fourteen or fifteen. He carried the AK-47 with practiced ease. His age and ease with the weapon disturbed her; no one his age should be that familiar with a gun.
Without turning around, Oscar said, "Hello, young man. Pull up a rock and rest for a spell. Would you care for some water?"
The young man shrugged his shoulders in answer to the question and asked, "Are you him?"
Turning slowly, Oscar held out the unopened bottle of water for the young man to take. In a soft voice, he answered, "It depends on who you mean."
"The Prophet who has come to deliver the word of Allah to us," the young man answered while accepting the bottle of water. He was curious what American bottled water tasted like and would have tried it even if he hadn't been thirsty.
"In that case, I guess the answer is yes," Oscar said.
The young man nodded his head and unscrewed the plastic top from the bottle. He took a small sip and said, "Plastic."
"What?" Oscar asked.
"The water tastes like plastic. I guess that is appropriate for American Water. They say that the streets used to be paved with gold, but now they are made of plastic," the young man answered.
"Sorry to disappoint you, but the roads are paved with asphalt," Oscar answered. He reached in the trunk and pulled out a box of MREs. He put the box a couple of feet behind the rear of the car leaving room to work in the trunk. He turned around and bent over the open trunk.
"What is asphalt?"
"It is a by-product of oil distillation," Oscar answered grabbing a couple of the loose MREs and putting them into an open box.
"That makes sense. Oil used to be gold," the young man answered looking at the car. Tilting his head as if puzzled, he asked, "Did you drive this all the way from America?"
"No. There's an ocean in the way," Oscar answered setting the box next to the one he had put on the ground previously.
"Oh," the young man said. He didn't know much about oceans other than they were large bodies of water. He watched Oscar pull the tire out of the trunk of the car. He had never seen anyone change the tire on a car.
While Oscar used the jack to raise the wheel off the ground, Georgia asked, "What is your name?"
The young man looked at her without understanding her question. After Oscar translated, he answered, "Mohammed."
Nodding her head, she said, "That is a good name."
"Every family has to have someone named after the prophet. I'm the oldest son, so I get the name," he said after Oscar translated her reply. He looked back down the road and said, "Lots of families are talking about naming all of their sons Mohammed. The way people are dying, it seems to be the only way to keep the name alive."
"There's been a lot of fighting?" Oscar asked struggling to get the old tire off the car. The rocky ground didn't ease changing the tire.
"Yes. We live in dangerous times. At least that is what my father tells me," Mohammed said with a shrug of his shoulders. He didn't really know if that was true. From his experience this was just how life was.
"What are you doing out here alone?"
"I'm watching our sheep. We raise them for the wool and the lambs," Mohammed answered.
"Isn't it dangerous for you to be out here alone?" Georgia asked after the conversation between Mohammed and Oscar came to a halt. Oscar translated her question for the young man.
"Sure. That's why I carry this," he answered holding up his rifle.
Georgia asked, "The bodies back that way... Who are they?"
"They are bad Muslims. They are going against the word of Allah. Allah has told us that we are not to carry out Jihad by the Sword. Those men want to force us to support their fight," Mohammed said with anger in his voice. He looked over at Oscar and then said, "I guess you know that."
Oscar finally got the spare tire into place and started to put the nuts on. Looking over at Mohammed, he said, "Yes, I know that."
Mohammed studied Oscar while he translated the conversation for Georgia's sake. He watched the small man put the tire on the car. It seemed strange to him that a holy man would be spending his time working like that. He asked, "What is it like?"
"What is what like?"
"Talking to Allah," Mohammed asked feeling a tightening in his stomach.
"What is the experience like when you watch a sunset?" Oscar asked returning to his work.
"Nice, I guess," he answered wondering what that had to do with talking with Allah.
"That's a lot like talking to Allah. You experience it, but you are unable to put how it feels into words," Oscar said.
"Oh."
Oscar tightened the nuts on the tire and looked over at Georgia with a smile. He asked, "Did I do that right?"
"You did fine, Oscar," Georgia answered with a laugh.
"I just want to make sure that the supervisor was happy with my work," Oscar said with a wink in the direction of Mohammed. He moved around to the jack and started to lower the car.
"Where are you going?" Mohammed asked.
"I'm going to the next town to trade this for some camels," Oscar said.
"You'll need more than the car if you are to get some camels," Mohammed said with a frown. A car wasn't worth much in this terrain.
"I know."
Oscar loaded the jack into the trunk, putting it back into place where it had been. He paused and looked at his hands. They were filthy. Shrugging his shoulders, he picked up the old tire and put it into the trunk. He straightened up and stretched. Looking over at Mohammed, he asked, "What kind of reception will I get in town?"
Mohammed thought about the question for a few seconds and then answered, "You speak for Allah. Most will respect you. Some will fear you."
"Would you like to come with me to the Mosque?" Oscar asked looking over at Mohammed.
He recognized that he was being invited to hear the voice of Allah. Hardly able to breath, Mohammed answered, "Yes."
Bending down to pick up one of the boxes of MREs, Oscar said, "Good. Perhaps you will have a chance to discover for yourself what it is like to talk to Allah. The Powers that Be seem to favor shepherds."
The reminder of his sheep caused Mohammed to reconsider his answer. If he went into town with Oscar, his sheep would be unwatched for two days. The loss would devastate his family. Shaking his head, he said, "I can't leave the sheep."
"Yes, you can," Oscar said. He gestured to Georgia and said, "She will watch them for you."
"What?" Georgia asked picking up the gesture in her direction.
"I said that you'd watch his sheep."
"Her?" Mohammed asked incredulously. He found it incredible that Oscar was suggesting that he leave his sheep in the care of a woman.
"Me?" Georgia asked. She knew nothing about watching sheep and, if she was being truthful, she didn't want to know anything about it.
"Yes," Oscar answered with a smile.
"A woman can't watch my sheep!" Mohammed exclaimed indignant at the idea of a woman doing his job.
"I don't know anything about watching sheep!" Georgia said.
After Oscar translated Mohammed's comment, the frustration of wearing a burka for so long bubbled forth. With irritation obvious in her voice, she asked, "Why can't I watch your sheep?"
Grinning, Oscar translated the question. Mohammed was about to answer when he caught sight of the fire in her eyes. Having seen the same look in his mother's eyes, he knew better than to antagonize her. Rather than shout, he said, "Women can't take care of themselves. They need a man to protect them."
"Bullshit," Georgia said after Oscar translated. A knife appeared in her hand as if by magic. She growled, "I can take care of myself."
Her answer didn't require translation. Mohammed lifted his gun and looked over at her knife with disdain. His expression changed to irritation when she took the gun from him and to surprise when she shot a branch off one of the trees. He shrugged his shoulders and said, "Trees don't fire back."
"I wouldn't worry about that Mohammed," Oscar said putting the last of the material back into the trunk. He slammed the trunk shut and walked around to Georgia. Putting a hand on her shoulder, he said, "She's trained with some of the best in the world. She can do what is necessary."
After he repeated his statement in English, Georgia understood that he was referring to all of the paintball exercises she had done with the Special Forces they had trained. She said, "I can watch your sheep."
Taking a little liberty with her answer, Oscar said, "She says that she'll watch your sheep."
"Okay," Mohammed said thinking that he would like to be there when Oscar went to the Mosque. He also wasn't about to disagree with the man who was speaking the words of Allah in the Mosque. Shrugging his shoulders, he said, "If you say that she can watch my sheep, who am I to disagree?"
"So take us to your sheep," Oscar said with a smile. He held out a hand to help Georgia to her feet.
"They are back that way," Mohammed said turning in the direction in which he had come from.
"While you are at it, you might want to introduce us to Amid," Oscar said.
The young man jumped in surprise at Oscar's knowledge of Amid. Turning to look at Oscar, he asked, "How did you know about Amid?"
"He's watching the sheep at the opposite end of the valley from you," Oscar answered gesturing to the east.
Mohammed stared at Oscar for a full fifteen seconds. He had watched the Mercedes approach and knew that they had not had a chance to look around. There was no way that he should have known about Amid or where Amid was watching his sheep. Rather than comment, he turned to lead the way.
Walking over the rough terrain in the burka was not easy. The long robe caught on rocks and threatened to trip her. The cloth covering her mouth and nose made it difficult to breath. The black color drew heat from the rays of the sun. When the robe caught on the rocks, she gave up and lifted it to her knees. She growled, "This stupid outfit is going to kill me."
Not understanding what she was saying, Mohammed looked over at her and shook his head. It was obvious that she was not a Muslim woman. He said, "You know that in Pakistan you don't need to wear the cover over your face. In fact, you can show your whole face."
"What did he say?" Georgia asked convinced that he was saying something insulting.
After Oscar translated the young man's comments, Georgia asked, "Really?"
"Sure. This isn't Afghanistan under the Taliban. You don't have to wear the niqab. In fact, you could probably get away with wearing a hijab," Mohammed answered with a laugh. He shook his head and scrambled over the rough terrain.
There was a painfully long delay while Oscar once again translated. She asked, "What is a Hijab?"
"It is a headscarf. When you are around strangers, you would cover your mouth with one end of the scarf," Oscar answered.
Growling, Georgia looked over at Oscar and asked, "Did you know about that?"
Oscar climbed over a rock and turned back to look at her with a smile on his face. Looking up at the sky, he answered, "Well, maybe I did."
"You're sick. You know that don't you," Georgia growled.
"Hey, I like looking at your eyes. They are really quite striking like that," Oscar said with a grin. Seeing the fire from her eyes, he added, "Of course, we are traveling through all kinds of areas with a wide variety of customs. The most conservative form of dress protects you the most."
Georgia glared at him and said, "I'm not sure that I believe you."