Chapter 7

“My hair is white!” Georgia said glaring at Oscar in response to his comment about how nice she looked that day. They were riding camels side by side about thirty yards behind Jumah.

“I like it,” Oscar said with a smile. Her hair had turned to a white color that was almost shocking in its purity.

“It’s not blond,” she said holding a strand of her hair in front of her eyes. She wished that it had turned blond rather than white. Her original color had been a hue of light brown that bordered on being blond or perhaps blond that bordered on being light brown.

“Well, I like it,” Oscar said for the hundredth time.

“You’re a pervert. You do know that,” she said shaking her head.

“Why?”

“You like granny hair,” Georgia said turning to glare at him. She thought the color was a lot like that of an old woman who colored her hair with bluing. It made her feel old.

“You could put on the burka,” Oscar replied without reacting to the angry expression on her face. He knew that suggestion was going to get a rise out of her. She was still wearing her fatigues and had sworn that she wasn’t going to put on the burka ever again. For some reason she really hated that outfit.

“Let me be more precise. You are a pervert because you like granny hair and for me to wear a sack that covers me from head to toe,” Georgia said looking up at the sky as if seeking protection from Oscar by a higher power.

“Okay,” Oscar said smiling at the back of her head. His camel was dropping back to follow hers.

Jumah was smart enough not to get in the middle of this discussion. The first time he had done that, both of them had told him to mind his own business. The fact was that learning that one of the Powers that Be was responsible for her hair color reminded him of the story of Moses. In his mind that made her a holy figure and favored of Allah. The fact that she was a woman confused him, but he wasn’t an overly religious man and did not know how to interpret it.

“You’re not going to deny it,” Georgia asked looking over her shoulder at Oscar. She was rather surprised by his agreement.

“Nope. If loving you and appreciating your beauty in all of its forms is perversion, then consider me a pervert,” Oscar said. He looked at her and winked.

Georgia tapped her whip on the camel to speed it up in an attempt to catch up with Jumah. She was getting used to swaying motion as the camel moved along the dry creek bed that cut between the two mountains. She sighed and asked, “So why do you have such an interest in seeing me in the burka?”

“I like looking at your eyes,” Oscar answered. He tapped his camel on the side with his whip to get it to move up beside Georgia’s camel. Instead of speeding up, his camel stopped and threatened to drop to its knees. He tapped it again a little harder and it started to move again, but stopped after three steps.

“You can look at my eyes when I’m not wearing the burka,” Georgia said and then realized that Oscar was somewhere behind her. She glanced back and watched him struggling to get his camel moving once again.

Watching the conflict of wills between human and camel, she asked, “Are you ever going to get control over that camel?”

“I don’t think so,” Oscar answered. He and the camel were not getting along too well. The first two times that he had gotten on the camel had ended up with him on the ground. He swore that the camel had snickered at him. The first time the camel had risen on its rear legs, Oscar had not realized how far forward the camel’s body would be positioned and he had flown over the camel’s head. The next time he had mounted the camel, he had been surprised by how quickly the camel had risen on its front legs and had been thrown off the back. That had been the high point of their relationship.

“I don’t think it likes you,” Georgia said watching the camel shake its head.

“Really? I guess that would explain why it spits at me every time I come near it,” Oscar said. He hit the camel harder with the stick and it jumped forward.

The distant conversation let Jumah realize that he had left Georgia and Oscar behind. He stopped his camel to wait for them to catch up for what felt like the hundredth time over the past three days. It amazed him that someone who was favored by Allah would have such a difficult time controlling a camel. When Georgia caught up with him, he said, “You would think Allah would give him a little help with the camel.”

Georgia laughed and said, “There are times when I’m firmly convinced that the Gods and Goddesses have a very unusual sense of humor. I think Oscar is one of their favorite sources of entertainment.”

“Allah is a very serious matter. You don’t joke about Allah,” Jumah said in a tone of voice that was warning her that he wouldn’t tolerate that kind of talk. He might accept them talking about their Gods and Goddesses in a light hearted manner, but not Allah.

“I’m sure he’s a very serious God,” Georgia said.

“I don’t really like the idea of a God that is too serious,” Oscar said as his camel came to a stop behind Georgia’s camel.

“Why?”

“I like to think that someone finds my actions funny when I screw up,” Oscar answered. He grinned and added, “I know that the Two-Sided One has had more than one belly laugh on my account.”

Jumah shook his head disturbed by the conversation. Rather than respond to them, he muttered, “Allah forgive them.”

The sudden appearance of the American soldier in front of Jumah startled the man. He stopped his camel and stared at the soldier with a sinking feeling in his stomach. This was not the kind of thing that ended well. Either the soldier would think he was a terrorist or someone would become convinced that he was collaborating with the Americans. Neither possibility was good. Holding his hands in clear sight, he waited for the soldier to make the first move.

Looking past Jumah, the soldier said, “Hello. Where’s Oscar?”

Jumah understood two of the words and guessed the third word correctly. Moving slowly so that his movements wouldn’t be misinterpreted, he turned around and looked behind him. Georgia was leading the third camel and Oscar was nowhere to be seen. Turning back to face the soldier, Jumah held his hands up in the universal gesture that conveyed his total lack of knowledge about the matter.

The soldier caught Jumah’s expression and chuckled. From personal experience, he knew that such a bewildered and confused expression was common when dealing with Oscar. He jumped when Oscar said, “I’m here, Colonel.”

“Jesus, Oscar. You could give a guy a heart attack doing that,” the soldier said spinning around to stare at Oscar. It was hard to believe that Oscar had been able to sneak up on him.

Jumah stared at Oscar unable to believe that he had appeared from nowhere. He had been looking right at the spot. It seemed to him that a rock shimmered and then turned into Oscar. Convinced it was magic, he said, “Allah protect me.”

“You’ve been promoted twice since I’ve seen you,” Oscar commented looking at the man’s uniform.

“Yes, I was promoted after finishing training with you and then again two years ago,” Colonel Wagner said with a negligent shrug of his shoulders. He wasn’t going to mention that the second promotion was earned many times over.

“You’ve been out here all that time?” Oscar asked thinking that six years was a long time to serve in the same area.

Georgia finally reached Jumah and stopped her camel beside his. She was about to greet the Colonel when Oscar’s camel nudged hers from behind. She gave it a dirty look and the camel backed off.

“No. I’ve been back to the states twice,” the Colonel answered. The identity of the woman with them finally dawned on him. He said, “Hello, Georgia. I like the white hair.”

“Men! I swear they’re all perverts,” Georgia said with more than a little irritation in her voice. She couldn’t understand their fascination with her hair.

The Colonel whispered to Oscar, “Is there some story about the white hair that I should know?”

Oscar laughed and shook his head in the negative. He answered, “She’s just a little sensitive about it. What ever you do, don’t ask her to wear a burka.”

Concerned that they were in trouble, Jumah turned to Georgia and asked, “What are they talking about?”

“They are just catching up on old times,” Georgia answered.

The Colonel asked, “When did you learn to speak the local lingo?”

Georgia answered, “At the same time my hair turned white.”

“Oh.”

“How have things been along the border?” Oscar asked.

The Colonel answered, “Things were a little out of control there for a while, but traffic has stopped for the past two weeks. There’s been a bit of fighting amongst the various factions here.”

“Yes, we ran into a bit of that in Pakistan. We came across the bodies of some terrorists who had been killed by locals. We heard rumors of major battles occurring when terrorists tried to force the locals into supporting Jihad. In fact, Georgia had to kill a dozen of them,” Oscar said.

“A dozen?” the Colonel asked. He turned to Georgia and asked, “What happened?”

“There were about to execute a shepherd boy in cold blood. He was only thirteen years old. I couldn’t stand by and watch them do it, so I had to intervene,” Georgia said. The idea that she had killed a dozen men still bothered her. She had to tell herself over and over that there had been no choice.

“Good job,” the Colonel said with a nod of approval. He had come to respect Georgia’s abilities while undergoing training, but he had doubts about her willingness to use them when it came down to the real thing. That she had the skills to be a very deadly fighter had never been in doubt.

Several dozen fire pits were scattered around the wash where they planned to spend the night. This particular spot had served as a stop for caravans traveling from Pakistan into Afghanistan for centuries. Each major storm would wash away the debris left behind, but it had been six weeks since a good rain had fallen. The most recent fire pit had been used two weeks before.