“PUT IT DOWN!” “PUT IT DOWN!” Assef let go of my throat. Lunged at slingshot made a thwiiiiit sound when Sohrab released the cup. Then Assef was screaming. He put his hand where his left eye had been just a moment ago. Blood oozed between his fingers. Blood and something else, something white and gel-like. That’s called vitreous fluid, I thought with clarity. I’ve read that somewhere. Vitreous fluid. Assef rolled on the carpet. Rolled side to side, shrieking, his hand still cupped over the bloody socket. “Let’s go!” Sohrab said. He took my hand. Helped me to my feet. Every inch of my battered body wailed with pain. Behind us, Assef kept shrieking. “OUT! GET IT OUT!” he ering, I opened the door. The guards’ eyes widened when they saw me and I wondered what I looked like. My stomach hurt with each breath. One of the guards said something in Pashtu and then they blew past us, running into the room where Assef was still screaming. “OUT!” “Bia,” Sohrab said, pulling my hand. “Let’s go!”I stumbled down the hallway, Sohrab’s little hand in mine. I took a final look over my shoulder. The guards were huddled over Assef, doing something to his face. Then I understood: The brass ball was still stuck in his empty eye socket. The whole world rocking up and down, swooping side to side, I hobbled down the steps, leaning on Sohrab. From above, Assef’s screams went on and on, the cries of a wounded animal. We made it outside, into daylight, my arm around Sohrab’s shoulder, and I saw Farid running toward us. “Bismillah! Bismillah!” he said, eyes bulging at the sight of me. He slung my arm around his shoulder and lifted me. Carried me to the truck, running. I think I screamed. I watched the way his sandals pounded the pavement, slapped his black, calloused heels. It hurt to breathe. Then I was looking up at the roof of the Land Cruiser, in the backseat, the upholstery beige and ripped, listen ing to the ding-ding-ding signaling an open door. Running foot steps around the truck. Farid and Sohrab exchanging quick words. The truck’s doors slammed shut and the engine roared to life. The car jerked forward and I felt a tiny hand on my forehead. I heard voices on the street, some shouting, and saw trees blurring past in the window Sohrab was sobbing. Farid was still repeating, “Bis millah! Bismillak!”It was about then that I passed out. “把它放下！” “別打了。” “把它放下！”阿塞夫放開我的喉嚨，朝索拉博撲去。索拉博鬆開弓杯，彈弓發出嘶嘶的聲音。接着阿塞夫慘叫起來，用手掩着片刻之前還是左眼所在的地方。血滲出他的指縫。血，還有其他東西，像嗜喱水一樣的白色的東西。那叫玻璃狀液，我清楚地想起來。我在某個地方讀到過，玻璃狀液。 阿塞夫在地毯上打滾，翻來覆去，不斷慘叫，雙手仍掩着血淋淋的眼眶。 “我們走！”索拉博說，他拉起我的手，把我扶起來。我被痛擊過的身體每一寸都在發痛。 阿塞夫在我們後面叫着。 “出去！滾出去！”他高聲尖叫。我跌跌撞撞打開門。衛兵看到我的時候，眼睛睜得大大的，我在想自己像什麼樣子，每次呼吸都帶來胃痛。有個衛兵用普什圖語說了幾句，接着飛也似的跑過我們，奔進房間。阿塞夫仍在裏面不停喊着“出去！”。 “快走，”索拉博說，拉着我的手，“我們走。”我拉着索拉博的小手，掙扎着走下門廳。我回頭看了最後一眼，衛兵在阿塞夫身邊亂成一團，朝他臉上做着什麼。我恍然大悟：銅球還嵌在他空洞的眼眶裏。 我覺得天旋地轉，倚着索拉博，蹣跚走下樓梯。樓上傳來阿塞夫聲聲慘叫，如同受傷野獸的哀嚎。我們走出來了，走進陽光中，我的手臂壓在索拉博肩膀上，然後我看見法裏德朝我們跑來。 “奉安拉之名！奉安拉之名！”他說，眼睛大大地瞪着我。他將我的手臂摔在肩膀，背起我，朝卡車飛奔而去。我想我尖叫了。我看見他的拖鞋嘭嘭蹬着地面，甩打着他粗黑的後腳跟。呼吸很痛。然後我看到了陸地巡洋艦的車頂，被放進後座，看到發皺的米色坐墊，聽見車門打開的叮叮叮聲音。一陣跑步聲繞過車身，法裏德和索拉博匆匆談了幾句，車門用力關上，引擎發動。車子猛然前衝，我感到額頭上有隻小手。我聽見街道上的聲音，幾聲呼喝，看見窗外的模糊的樹朝後退去。索拉博在哭泣，法裏德仍不停重複着：“奉安拉之名！奉安拉之名！”大約在那時，我昏了過去。
