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work in Shkin? I asked.
    He pointed toward his pallet. I am the supply officer, he said. A thankless job but one that enjoys Commander Sabir’s complete trust. To fight in a unit led by him is a great honor.
    I said nothing, unsure how to show the proper respect to Commander Sabir, a man I’d yet to know.
    There are more recruits like you in Shkin, said Naseeb. One by one they’ve arrived this winter, training until the warm weather comes and the fighting season begins. There were eight when I left a week ago, maybe more now.
    I am ready, I said.
    He was quiet for a moment. When he spoke again, there was more weight in his voice: No doubt you heard of Gazan’s bombing in the bazaar.
    I shrugged. There was nothing I wanted to say to him about that.
    In the villages south of here it is even worse, he said. Those dogs attack and then hide in the mountains. What nang can be claimed in that?
    I shook my head.
    Yes, yes, he added, nodding to himself. The hunting will be good this fighting season. There are more Americans here and Gazan is tired and we will—
    Distant thumps and a low shrieking squeezed out all other noise. We saw nothing and still the noise came. A hot wind surged downward. It spilled like a pitcher of water across the ground, pasting our baggy clothes to our bodies. The helicopter settled in front of us. The other sounds returned and the gust became a warm breeze in the cold night. The back ramp lowered, opening like a fist. Inside, blue overhead lights shined dimly into a long empty hull that shook, as if with a sickness, under the motors above. A pair of crewmembers ran up and down, unlashing bundles from the deck plates, clearing the cargo hold. Their night-vision goggles covered the tops of their faces except where two coins of green demon light shone onto their eyes. They wore dark one-piece jumpsuits, olive-green, maybe black. Each of their helmets was painted like a giant skull, white on black. A protective face mask formed the jawbone, decorated with jagged teeth. The two helmets were identical except that one of the crewmembers had decorated his with a red Mohawk that ran its length.
    The crew waved us on board. I followed Naseeb to a canvas bench near the front. Naseeb slid his shoulders beneath a set of straps. Hepulled another set across his lap and fastened three buckles into a fourth with a circular clasp. I watched. Then I imitated him and slid my buckles into the clasp, but I was much smaller than whoever had sat in my seat before. Soon my loose straps were tangled. I tried to tighten them but couldn’t. I attempted to fit the loose straps into the clasp as Naseeb had done, but the buckles would not lock. As I struggled, Naseeb took pity on me. He loosened his own straps, leaned across his seat, tightened mine, and then pressed a button I hadn’t seen on the clasp’s front. He sat back down, tightened his straps, and nodded at me. Now that we were both seated, the forklift driver lowered his night-vision goggles and drove the pallet of rice in behind us. The crew lashed it to the floor. The ramp closed, the helicopter rattled. In an instant we became smooth and weightless. I smiled in the dark. I’d never flown before.
    –
    Less than an hour later, the helicopter lifted back and its engines screamed and rattled, easing us downward. I looked out the window but saw nothing. We landed with a heavy bounce. The blue lights came on again. The ramp lowered and the crew rolled the pallet into the gravel-and-dirt landing zone. Naseeb and I followed. Outside we hugged our bodies against the bags of rice as the helicopter’s engines pushed hot air against us. Its dead weight lifted and then disappeared.
    My ears rang in the silence and my eyes strained in the dark. There was no one there. Naseeb walked off the landing zone.
    I grabbed his arm. Where do I sleep? I asked.
    You see that light? he answered. Away from us blinked a dim slit. That is the barracks for the recruits, he said. Then Naseeb