the kite runner-第76章

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　bloodred　grass。　I　wake　up　from　those　short　of　breath　and　sweaty。　Mostly；　though；　I　dream　of　good　things；　and　praise　Allah　for　that。　I　dream　that　Rahim　Khan　sahib　will　be　well。　I　dream　that
my　son　will　grow　up　to　be　a　good　person；　a　free　person；　and　an　important　person。　I　dream　that　lawla　flowers　will　bloom　in　the　streets　of　Kabul　again　and　rubab　music　will　play　in　the　samovar　houses　and　kites　will　fly　in　the　skies。　And　I　dream　that　someday　you　will　return　to　Kabul　to　revisit　the　land　of　our　childhood。　If　you　do；　you　will　find　an　old　faithful　friend　waiting　for　you。
May　Allah　be　with　you　always。
…Hassan
I　read　the　letter　twice。　I　folded　the　note　and　looked　at　the　photograph　for　another　minute。　I　pocketed　both。　　How　is　he？　　I　asked。
　That　letter　was　written　six　months　ago；　a　few　days　before　I　left　for　Peshawar；　　Rahim　Khan　said。　　I　took　the　Polaroid　the　day　before　I　left。　A　month　after　I　arrived　in　Peshawar；　I　received　a　telephone　call　from　one　of　my　neighbors　in　Kabul。　He　told　me　this　story：　Soon　after　I　took　my　leave；　a　rumor　spread　that　a　Hazara　family　was　living　alone　in　the　big　house　in　Wazir　Akbar　Khan；　or　so　the　Taliban　claim。　A　pair　of　Talib　officials　came　to　investigate　and　interrogated　Hassan。　They　accused　him　of　lying　when　Hassan　told　them　he　was　living　with　me　even　though　many　of　the　neighbors；　including　the　one　who　called　me；　supported　Hassan　s　story。　The　Talibs　said　he　was　a　liar　and　a　thief　like　all　Hazaras　and　ordered　him　to　get　his　family　out　of　the　house　by　sundown。　Hassan　protested。　But　my　neighbor　said　the　Talibs　were　looking　at　the　big　house　like……how　did　he　say　it？……yes；　like　　wolves　looking　at　a　flock　of　sheep。　　They　told　Hassan　they　would　be　moving　in　to　supposedly　keep　it　safe　until　I　return。　Hassan　protested　again。　So　they　took　him　to　the　street……　
　No；　　I　breathed。
　……and　order　him　to　kneel……　
　No。　God；　no。　
　……and　shot　him　in　the　back　of　the　head。　
　……Farzana　came　screaming　and　attacked　them……　
　No。　
　……shot　her　too。　Self…defense；　they　claimed　later……　
But　all　I　could　manage　was　to　whisper　　No。　No。　No　　over　and　over　again。
I　KEPT　THINKING　OF　THAT　DAY　in　1974；　in　the　hospital　room；　Just　after　Hassan　s　harelip　surgery。　Baba；　Rahim　Khan；　Ali；　and　I　had　huddled　around　Hassan　s　bed；　watched　him　examine　his　new　lip　in　a　handheld　mirror。　Now　everyone　in　that　room　was　either　dead　or　dying。　Except　for　me。
Then　I　saw　something　else：　a　man　dressed　in　a　herringbone　vest　pressing　the　muzzle　of　his　Kalashnikov　to　the　back　of　Hassan　s　head。　The　blast　echoes　through　the　street　of　my　father　s　house。　Hassan　slumps　to　the　asphalt；　his　life　of　unrequited　loyalty　drifting　from　him　like　the　windblown　kites　he　used　to　chase。
　The　Taliban　moved　into　the　house；　　Rahim　Khan　said。　　The　pretext　was　that　they　had　evicted　a　trespasser。　Hassan　s　and　Farzana　s　murders　were　dismissed　as　a　case　of　self…defense。　No　one　said　a　word　about　it。　Most　of　it　was　fear　of　the　Taliban；　I　think。　But　no　one　was　going　to　risk　anything　for　a　pair　of　Hazara　servants。　
　What　did　they　do　with　Sohrab？　　I　asked。　I　felt　tired；　drained。　A　coughing　fit　gripped　Rahim　Khan　and　went　on　for　a　long　time。　When　he　finally　looked　up；　his　face　was　flushed　and　his　eyes　bloodshot。　　I　heard　he　s　in　an　orphanage　somewhere　in　Karteh　Seh。　Amir　jan……　　then　he　was　coughing　again。　When　he　stopped；　he　looked　older　than　a　few　moments　before；　like　he　was　aging　with　each　coughing　fit。　　Amir　jan；　I　summoned　you　here　because　I　wanted　to　see　you　before　I　die；　but　that　s　not　all。　
I　said　nothing。　I　think　I　already　knew　what　he　was　going　to　say。
　I　want　you　to　go　to　KabuL　I　want　you　to　bring　Sohrab　here；　　he　said。
I　struggled　to　find　the　right　words。　I　d　barely　had　time　to　deal　with　the　fact　that　Hassan　was　dead。
　Please　hear　me。　I　know　an　American　pair　here　in　Peshawar；　a　husband　and　wife　named　Thomas　and　Betty　Caldwell。　They　are　Christians　and　they　run　a　small　charity　organization　that　they　manage　with　private　donations。　Mostly　they　house　and　feed　Afghan　children　who　have　lost　their　parents。　I　have　seen　the　place。　It　s　clean　and　safe；　the　children　are　well　cared　for；　and　Mr。　and　Mrs。　Caldwell　are　kind　people。　They　have　already　told　me　that　Sohrab　would　be　wele　to　their　home　and……　
　Rahim　Khan；　you　can　t　be　serious。　
　Children　are　fragile；　Amir　Jan。　Kabul　is　already　full　of　broken　children　and　I　don　t　want　Sohrab　to　bee　another。　
　Rahim　Khan；　I　don　t　want　to　go　to　Kabul。　I　can　t！　　I　said。
　Sohrab　is　a　gifted　little　boy。　We　can　give　him　a　new　life　here；　new　hope；　with　people　who　would　love　him。　Thomas　agha　is　a
good　man　and　Betty　khanum　is　so　kind；　you　should　see　how　she　treats　those　orphans。　
　Why　me