Page 130 - The Kite Runner

The Kite Runner 119

“How long have they been waiting?” Baba said, standing over
Karim.
“Two weeks.”
“I thought you said the truck broke down last week.”
Karim rubbed his throat. “It might have been the week
before,” he croaked.
“How long?”
“What?”
“How long for the parts?” Baba roared. Karim flinched but
said nothing. I was glad for the darkness. I didn’t want to see the
murderous look on Baba’s face.

The stench of something dank, like mildew, bludg-
eoned my nostrils the moment Karim opened the door that led
down the creaky steps to the basement. We descended in single
file. The steps groaned under Baba’s weight. Standing in the cold
basement, I felt watched by eyes blinking in the dark. I saw
shapes huddled around the room, their silhouettes thrown on the
walls by the dim light of a pair of kerosene lamps. A low murmur
buzzed through the basement, beneath it the sound of water
drops trickling somewhere, and, something else, a scratching
sound.
Baba sighed behind me and dropped the bags.
Karim told us it should be a matter of a couple of short days
before the truck was fixed. Then we’d be on our way to Peshawar.
On to freedom. On to safety.
The basement was our home for the next week and, by the
third night, I discovered the source of the scratching sounds. Rats.

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