Page 127 - The Kite Runner

116 Khaled Hosseini

“What did he say?”
“He says he’ll enjoy putting a bullet in you almost as much
as . . .” Karim trailed off, but nodded his head toward the young
woman who had caught the guard’s eye. The soldier flicked his
unfinished cigarette and unholstered his handgun. So this is
where Baba dies, I thought. This is how it’s going to happen. In my
head, I said a prayer I had learned in school.
“Tell him I’ll take a thousand of his bullets before I let this
indecency take place,” Baba said. My mind flashed to that winter
day six years ago. Me, peering around the corner in the alley.
Kamal and Wali holding Hassan down. Assef’s buttock muscles
clenching and unclenching, his hips thrusting back and forth.
Some hero I had been, fretting about the kite. Sometimes, I too
wondered if I was really Baba’s son.
The bulldog-faced Russian raised his gun.
“Baba, sit down please,” I said, tugging at his sleeve. “I think
he really means to shoot you.”
Baba slapped my hand away. “Haven’t I taught you anything?”
he snapped. He turned to the grinning soldier. “Tell him he’d bet-
ter kill me good with that first shot. Because if I don’t go down,
I’m tearing him to pieces, goddamn his father!”
The Russian soldier’s grin never faltered when he heard the
translation. He clicked the safety on the gun. Pointed the barrel
to Baba’s chest. Heart pounding in my throat, I buried my face in
my hands.
The gun roared.
It’s done, then. I’m eighteen and alone. I have no one left in the
world. Baba’s dead and now I have to bury him. Where do I bury
him? Where do I go after that?
But the whirlwind of half thoughts spinning in my head came to
a halt when I cracked my eyelids, found Baba still standing. I saw a