The Summer House

Chapter 100 Afghanistan

I find myself awake again, my left hip and legs still twisting and burning and crawling with pain. I look up, see chiseled rock and stone. I’m in a place, somewhere.

I spit, blood still in my mouth.

What the hell has happened?

The foreign voices continue talking out there, and I wish I had spent some time learning Pashto back in the day.

It might have been useful.

Might have been.

The voices grow louder. I now remember what’s happened in the last long minutes, and as I hear the footsteps of the men coming toward me, I close my eyes and it goes dark again.