BoneMan's Daughters Read Online Free PDF Page A

coming or going.
     No one will find you, no one will hear your screams. You should be wishing we’d pointed the RPG at your Humvee instead, yes?”
    “The thought had crossed my mind.”
    “Well then. You can say more than ‘yes.’ Do you mind telling me, Kent, why you are here in my country?”
    Ryan hesitated, considering his options. He could clam up and hasten the inevitable smashing of bones or electrocution or
     a myriad of other techniques perfected in these deserts. Or he could engage them, hoping to stall them while he looked for
     alternatives. He opted for the latter.
    “I’m following orders,” he said.
    “Yes, I’m sure you are. As am I. In the end does it really matter which of us does a better job? Will lives be saved? Freedom
     won?”
    “I don’t know.”
    The man paced back and forth now, hands still behind his back, like an interrogator from an old World War II movie.
    “Then let me help you
know
a few things. Assume for a moment that you are God. That this is really all about you and your children.” He motioned to
     the outer wall as he spoke. “Can you think in terms of God, or are you an atheist like so many of your countrymen?”
    “Yes.”
    “Yes you are an atheist, or yes you believe in God?”
    “I believe in God.”
    “And you believe he loves his children. All of his children.”
    “Yes.”
    “Well then, tell me, if you can, how God feels when he looks down and sees this war of yours.”
    “Assuming God feels anything, I’m sure war bothers him.”
    “If you were God, Kent, how would you feel? Please try to stay in character.”
    Ryan glanced around the room. The only way out was through the wood door, but that hardly discouraged him. He was shackled
     in place—there would be no escape from this hole. All he had was his mind, and he had to keep it active.
    “Focus, please.”
    Ryan looked back at his interrogator. “I suppose I would feel disturbed.”
    “Why? Why would you feel disturbed? Because your children were being killed?”
    “Yes.” But he didn’t feel any emotional connection with the man’s point.
    “So then, like me, on at least one level, you are saddened by this war.”
    “Yes. But also like you, I’m bound by my duty to those who have my loyalty.”
    “Your loyalty is to man, not God?”
    “God hasn’t issued any orders lately,” Ryan said.
    “And if he did, would you follow them, or would you follow the orders given to you by man?”
    Ryan didn’t respond. He knew where the man was headed, but his approach was meaningless because, unlike many Muslims who believed
     they were following God in political matters, his own belief in God was far too distant to consider in the same thought.
    “In truth, everything that happens here in the desert leads back to God,” Kahlid said. “But I can see you don’t follow God
     the way I do. As I thought. So I’m not going to bother manipulating you with an appeal to his will. I’ll have to follow our
     original plan and attempt to test your own will. Is that okay with you?”
    “Not really, no.”
    “You’re honest, I like that. We’re going to find out just how honest you are.” He nodded at the man closest to the door, who
     pulled open the latch, spoke quietly to someone outside, and disappeared into a dark hall. A tunnel.
    “It may take us a few days, that’s up to you, but eventually you will see the world the way we see it.”
    The soldier returned with a camera case and a tripod. He latched the door and began setting it up.
    “We’re going to film you so that we can show the world what we have learned here today. I hope you don’t object. It’s the
     truth we want, nothing more. We don’t care about your rank and serial number; you’ll gladly give us that before we’re done.
     We’re more interested in your heart. In God’s heart, assuming you’re still in character.”
    A thin chill snaked down Ryan’s spine. The interrogation was taking a turn that, for all of its