“I bet they did!”
It was night. Most of the guys had tucked themselves into a corner to get some rest. Saleem, Abdullah, Hassan, and Jamal were in the same corner, having lined up their cardboard sheets. The need for security was balanced against the need for personal space. It was the unspoken code of the park. Saboor had been away from the park all day and seemed to have returned worn out. He was one of the first to retire to his spot under a tree.
Good, Saleem thought. Just sleep and leave us alone.
He dreamed of Roksana again. She was walking in a park with Madar-jan, Samira, and Aziz. Aziz was walking, his cheeks fat and pink, his bowlegs barely keeping up with the others. They were laughing, chatting. Samira bubbled with excitement, her hand in Roksana’s. Then Roksana turned to him, her eyes twinkling flirtatiously.
And suddenly he was awake. It was pitch-black. Everything was invisible. His senses were on edge. He could smell something . . . was it sweat? Saleem concentrated on being perfectly still. He heard nothing and saw nothing.
You’re imagining things, he told himself. Go back to sleep.
Saleem closed his eyes again and willed himself to return to his dream. He had just started to drift off when he felt it. A hand on his thigh. Saleem jerked in fright. Another hand slapped against his mouth. Saleem grabbed the wrist with both hands, but the grip was firm and callused. Hot breath in his ear.
“Be still, dear boy. Be still. Just relax and we can be good friends.” Saboor was fumbling for Saleem’s buckle. Saleem tried to wriggle out from under his grasp, but Saboor’s massive weight held him down. He could barely breathe.
“Quiet or you’ll regret it.”
No, no, no! Saleem tried to get the hand off his mouth and nose. His legs kicked but hit nothing. He clawed at the hand, but it was heavy and unmoving. No, no, no! His stomach turned to feel the hand reach into his waistband.
Saleem reached behind him and fumbled for the handle that lay against the small of his back. He twisted left and right and finally felt it come out between his fingers. He could barely make out the silhouette above him, but he could feel the rancid breath on his face.
He had the handle. In one swoop, he pulled out the knife and thrust it into the dark space above him. He heard a gasp and something push back against him. The hand on his mouth released, the one on his crotch retracted.
“Let me go! Let me go! Let me go!” Saleem yelled out.
Saleem could see the shadow move, stumble, and fall backward. The others had woken.
“What’s happening?”
“Who’s yelling? Everybody all right?”
“What’s going on?”
Saleem was on his feet. His eyes adjusted, and he could make out Saboor’s outline as he limped away, holding his left side. Saleem felt someone grab his arm and jumped back.
“Hey, hey, Saleem! It’s me, Abdullah! What happened?”
What happened? Saleem was not sure. Was this real? What had he just done? He felt numb, dazed. He looked down and could now make out the blade, still in his tight grip.
“Oh God. Oh my God. Oh God.” Saleem was crazed. “He was here! He was on me!”
“Hey, it’s Saboor! Saboor has been hurt!” Voices called out in the darkness.
“He’s bleeding!”
“What happened to him? Who did this?”
Abdullah was at Saleem’s side. He pulled a lighter out of his pocket and flicked on a flame. The rusted blade glinted in Saleem’s hand. A drop fell from its tip.
“Did you stab him?” he whispered in disbelief.
“I . . . I . . . he was on me! His hands were . . .”
The distant voices continued to call out. People were confused and panicked.
“He’s hurt. Someone should do something!”
Saleem’s fingers felt moist, sticky. He looked at his right hand.