Nangarhar Province

Rodat District - 15 Kilometres South of Jalalabad

3100 Metres above Sea Level - Next Day

Though Leo had not been executed, he was far from being safe. Coiled on the cave floor, Leo clasped his stomach. The cramps came in waves. His need for opium felt as desperate as being underwater, unable to breathe – how could he deny his body’s impulse to surface? Opium was as natural to him as air to his lungs. His body no longer understood how to function without the drug, physically and psychologically. He’d forgotten how an ordinary person exists hour by hour, how they cope with their frustrations and anxieties. Through narcotics, he’d banished pain and suppressed grief. For seven opium summers he had no needs other than the smoke inhaled into his lungs at the end of every day, achieving a state of numbness, necessary if he was not to attempt something foolhardy. He’d abandoned his grand plans, his journey to America, and put aside the ambition that he might one day find the man who murdered his wife. Though he might not have admitted as much, pretending he was merely delaying the journey, the truth was that he’d dropped the investigation, living solely by the clock of his addiction and the daily routine of oblivion. Without the drug the stark reality of his failure returned. He had not achieved the one thing that mattered most – justice for Raisa – the only thing he could offer her. Instead, he was a grown man who’d made an infant of himself, creating an opium womb.

As Fahad Mohammad had led them out of the valley the withdrawal symptoms had begun, slowly at first, the body’s gentle reminder that he was an addict. When the warnings were ignored the symptoms became far worse. Leo shivered as they walked, his whole body trembling with cold even though they were travelling at great speed. Fahad’s pace was so remarkable, so quick, his legs so long and nimble that from time to time they needed to jog just to keep up. Leo and Nara took turns in carrying the miracle girl, whose name was Zabi. In shock, bewildered, she made no complaints and asked no questions. When Fahad was out of earshot, Nara wanted to talk to Leo but he was in no state to discuss anything. By dusk his condition had worsened dramatically. His whole body shook with each step and it took concentration just to keep on the path, one foot in front of the other, as his skin turned clammy and his brow dripped with sweat. The first air strikes occurred on the cusp of darkness, a burning bright glow and a chemical-fire sunrise. They paused briefly to look back at the fire sweeping the slopes, the bursts of light, at houses obliterated and fields turned to ash, villages scooped up and tossed into the air. Fahad ordered them to run as the strikes drew closer. Aided by the darkness they’d continued their escape into the night. They could hear, feel and smell the bombing, at one point a bomb detonated so close the entire path was covered with smoke. Fighter jets streaked the night sky, targeting the paths they’d only recently crossed, sending vibrations through the landscape as if this war was against the soil and rock of Afghanistan.

Leo begged for a break, stopping by a river, pretending to sip from the water. He took out his wrap of opium and even though his pipe was smashed, he tried to fashion a way to burn it only to have Fahad grab the drug, crush it in his hand and toss the remains into the river. Crazed with anguish, as though he’d lost the love of his life, Leo plunged into the water, blindly scraping the surface for any trace and pitifully crying out.

Sobbing like a child, waist-deep in the river, he’d turned around to see the three of them staring at him. He was too sick to feel humiliation. Fahad moved off without a word, carrying the girl. Nara waited for a few seconds and then followed, leaving Leo alone. Her departure was fortunate since Leo had lost control of his bodily functions, squatting in the river, throwing up at the same time as being struck by diarrhoea. When he eventually left the river he staggered after the others unable to straighten his back, lurching rather than walking, certain with each step that he’d fall to the ground and never stand again.

By the time they were allowed to rest, he was delirious, barely able to comprehend his surroundings, with no idea where they were or in which direction they were travelling. They’d been given shelter in a village, but he hadn’t slept, throwing up at regular intervals until there was nothing in his stomach, coughing up bile and acidic spit, before returning to his foetal position on the jute mattress. At dawn Fahad hurried them on after a breakfast of flat bread and tea. Leo had refused the food, taking only small sips of sweet tea, unable to hold anything else down.

The second day of walking had been worse than the first. Not only did Leo feel sick, he was weak and exhausted. Fahad would not stop and would not slow down, always demanding that they walk faster. The air strikes entered their second campaign but the Soviet bombers were always one mountain range behind. Leo had staggered on without a thought in his mind except for the image of the opium on the surface of the river. Faced with a steep climb up a mountain path he was at the point of collapse. He felt no joy when Fahad had announced that they’d arrived. He merely allowed his legs to give way, falling to the ground at the mouth of the cave.

***

Feverish, huddled on the cold stone floor, Leo slowly realized that there was a hand resting on his shoulder. He rolled over to see that he’d been brought a steel cup of sweet black tea and as he clutched the cup, feeling the heat through the palms of his hands, he saw the woman who’d brought it to him. He sat up, spilling the tea on his fingers, ignoring the pain, astonished as Raisa wiped his brow with a cold rag. He wanted to touch her but feared that she was an apparition and any contact would make her shimmer and vanish. Dumb with joy, he watched her lips as she spoke, each word a miracle. She said:

—Try to drink your tea while it’s hot.

Leo obeyed, sipping the sweet black tea, while never taking his eyes off her, not even for a second.

—I was dreaming about the first time we met. Do you remember?

—When we met?

—I stepped off at the wrong metro stop just to ask your name. You told me it was Lena. For a whole week, I told everyone that I was in love with a beautiful woman called Lena. Then I ran into you again, on the tramcar. I don’t know why I was so determined, when it was obvious you wanted to be left alone. I was sure that if I could just talk to you then you’d like me and if you liked me a little, perhaps, one day, you’d love me. And if that happened, if a person like you could love me, then how could I be a terrible person? When I found out you’d lied about your name I didn’t care. I was so excited to discover your real name. I told everyone that I was in love with a beautiful woman called Raisa. They laughed at me because last week it had been Lena and then this week it was Raisa. But it was always you.

Leo didn’t dare to blink, forcing his eyes to remain open, as if a flutter of his eyelids could wipe her from existence. Clutching the tea tight to prevent him from taking her hands, he said:

—I’m sorry I didn’t make it to New York. I tried. If you’d been by my side I know we would have made that journey. The truth is I’ve never amounted to anything without you. Loving you was the only achievement I’ve ever been proud of. Since you died, I’ve been a distracted father and worst of all, I’ve become an agent once more – doing a job you despise.

As he began to cry, the image of Raisa became blurred. He cried out:

—Wait!

He wiped the tears away only to see that the woman in front of him was no longer his wife but Nara Mir.

Nara sat silent for some time before asking:

—Raisa was the name of your wife?

Leo closed his eyes. Immersed in darkness, he breathed deeply.

—Raisa was the name of my wife.

In all the years of smoking opium he’d never been gifted with a clear vision of his wife, never experienced a hallucination, never seen her before him or felt her near him even for a fleeting moment. Now, without any drug, she’d been by his side. It was wrong to call these withdrawal symptoms – the opposite was true, opium had been a withdrawal from the world. These were the symptoms of a man returning to the world.

He stood up, slowly. With one hand on the cave wall, he found his way outside. It was night. The moon was bright. Before him, the valley dropped down steeply and in the distance mountains rose like the spine of a dormant prehistoric monster. Village fires flickered like disgraced stars tossed down from the sky while those in the heavens sparkled brilliantly, as numerous as he’d ever seen. No longer numb, Leo felt childlike wonder at this view. He was not yet done with this world. Not only did he feel it, he believed it too.