Open Season by Cameron Curtis (early reader books TXT) 📗

house. Robyn stepped outside, closed the door behind her, and surveyed the passage. The houses above were supported by rock, and stilts that extended to the levels below. One had to squeeze between the stilts, these great wooden columns, and the face of the mountainside. Go far enough in one direction, and one came to Ghazan’s house. Travel in the opposite direction, one would pass the back of Baryal’s. Beyond lay the communal toilets.

There were narrow spaces between the houses. Robyn crept to the front, where she had a clear view.

The escarpment stretched twenty yards from the village to the fast-running river. On the ground level were a number of large houses. There were stables and a corral. She looked right and left. There, on either side, were steps that led to the higher terraces.

Every village had sentries. This village had at least two. One at either end, close to the river. From there, they could watch the big wooden bridge that provided access to the far bank. They covered both banks, the steps, and the upper terraces.

From her place of concealment, Robyn could not tell if there were more sentries posted on the higher levels.

She crept back to her room, careful not to disturb Wajia.

Robyn began to leave the house every night. She studied the sentries’ behavior. She saw they could not focus on both the riverbanks and the village at the same time. In the mountain blackness, on a moonless night, it would be easy to climb the steps when they were not looking.

She would have to escape onto the mountainside. Cover as much ground as possible during the day, and make her way to the river by night to drink. She began to hide food inside her boots. She would make her escape in her camouflage uniform. Draw a dark chador over her head to hide her light-colored hair.

There had to be sentries on the upper terraces. Robyn dared not venture onto the escarpment at night to see where they might be posted. Rather, every time she went with Wajia to the river, she swept the village with her eyes, trying to spot armed men on watch.

Always, she saw one or two. Never in the same place. She had to assume they would also be posted at night.

The distance from the terrace to the tree line was no more than fifteen yards.

It was a chance she had to take.

21

Robyn’s Escape

Kagur-Ghar

Tuesday, 2000

“I had to wait for the new moon,” Robyn says. “I used the time to plan, and hide food.”

People who live in cities are used to streetlamps. They are often surprised by how bright moonlight can be when cast across an open space. Soldiers standing exposed on a riverbank or mountain slope make easy targets.

“Were you able to identify the positions of sentries on the terraces?”

“No.” Robyn shakes her head. “I had to assume they were roving. But I knew they were there.”

The new moon came. Robyn waited till the early hours of the morning. She dressed in her camouflage uniform, drew a dark brown chador over her straw-colored hair.

Robyn stepped to the back door. Glanced over her shoulder at Wajia’s sleeping form. She felt a pang in her heart. Wajia had tried to befriend her. She hoped Wajia would not get into trouble.

It was a soldier’s duty to escape. Robyn crept out of the house and along the alley.

The distance from Najibullah’s house to the steps was a hundred yards. Robyn located the two sentries by the riverbank. Slowly, she lowered herself to the ground and began to crawl. She moved deliberately, with her chest and belly close to the ground. Within twenty yards, her knees and elbows felt raw.

When she reached the foot of the steps, she knew the easy part was over. She waited for the sentries to look toward the riverbank, then sprinted uphill for ten seconds before throwing herself flat against the stone. She held her breath, rolled on her back, swept her eyes over the terrace. There... on the third level, a sentry leaned against the side of a house.

Three points of reference now. She waited till all three men were looking away, then sprinted for ten seconds. She reached the top, flattened herself on the first terrace. The sentries by the river were no longer the greatest threat. She had to watch the sentry on the third level. Find other sentries she assumed were high on the terraces.

Robyn lay flat, watched, and listened.

There. A man stood on the edge of the second terrace, looking out toward the river. He stared at the glistening black ribbon for a long time, then looked to the sentry by the house and waved. She rolled on her side and hid her face.

Fifteen yards.

Robyn fought the temptation to get to her feet and run. Instead, she rolled onto her belly and crawled. Six inches at a time.

Twenty feet and she looked back. The man on the second level was looking toward the river.

The man on the third level was staring at her.

Robyn’s heart stopped. She turned her head to the side and hid her face. Held her breath and waited. Counted three hundred seconds.

The night was silent. when Robyn looked back, the man was looking toward the river again. She shut her eyes briefly, kept on crawling.

When she reached the tree line, she wanted to run. Forced herself to crawl further, past the first trees. The village was quiet. She had no compass, but on a clear night, she knew how to use the stars.

Ten minutes later, she got to her feet and began to hike. She moved slowly, watching her step. The forest floor was treacherous. Gnarled roots snaked in all directions, fighting for purchase in the rocky soil. It was rough going, but she found herself reassured by the familiar smell of pine needles. She pressed her hands flat against the trunks of trees for support. Felt bark under her fingers. Every fifteen minutes, she stopped to listen for the