Read Online We Are Now Beginning Our Descent by James Meek - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: James Meek
Ads: Link
up and put it back in her pocket. Miriam followed the gun with her eyes.
‘I thought you were a journo,’ she said, pulling the gloves on.
‘Is there something about me that makes you think different?’
‘The gun? Who are you with, Stars and Stripes? ’
‘I hope those gloves help you with the cold,’ said Astrid, looking into Miriam’s eyes. ‘You need to be more careful with your gear.’
‘Appreciate it,’ said Miriam faintly, held by Astrid’s gaze. ‘I’ll send them on when I get back.’
‘Don’t,’ said Astrid. She walked across to the Uazik she’d been travelling in and reached into the back for her rucksack. Kellas listened for the tiny sound from her lungs as she lifted it but at the same moment Miriam’s travelling companions called to her and their engines started.
‘I have to go,’ said Miriam. ‘Are you travelling with her?’
‘Astrid. Astrid Walsh. She works for DC Monthly.’
‘You do understand what a liability she is.’
‘Do you know her?’
‘She just dropped a fucking gun out of her pocket. That’s a sackable offence in any outfit I know. You can tell she’s a flake. A military groupie. I know her type. She’s one of those women who doesn’t have any women friends. You should wait here for another convoy.’
‘She’s OK,’ said Kellas. ‘Eccentric.’
Miriam pressed her lips together and stared at Kellas, holding her breath. She let it out. ‘I see. I would say keep your distance, but – I see.’ They wished each other good luck and Miriam went back to her convoy.
That afternoon Kellas and Astrid’s cars crossed the Anjoman pass. The road was a looping trail of black rocks and compacted snow. On either side the snow cover lay a few inches thick. As they traversed the highest point a blizzard came in and twice they had to get out to help push the Uaziks through. Kellas and Astrid stood next to each other, Alex and Rustum on either side, with their hands pressed against the Uazik’s rear door, and put their weight against it. Their lungs hurt and their heads spun with the altitude. The drivers said that, within a week, only horses would be able to make it across. On the way down Astrid tried to rest her head on Kellas’s shoulder and doze, but the jolt of the road kicked her awake each time. When they were in their sleeping bags at nightfall in a guesthouse at the top of the Panjshir valley, Kellas watched Astrid asleep, and saw how the four frown lines on her forehead sharpened into being, then were smoothed away, then returned.
The next morning, as they were packing up to leave, Astrid’s mood changed. Her face closed and she told him curtly that she was staying behind. She’d come to Jabal later.
Kellas kneeled there over the maw of his rucksack, his things spread around him, the winter clothes, the bottle of whisky for the Citizen correspondent he was relieving, the books. He felt a strange dryness on his tongue and realised that his mouth was hanging open. He cleared his throat and asked her what the matter was. Astrid looked at him like a beast of prey for whom he was not prey, cold, distant, proud in herself, without the faintest glow of human social need. She didn’t answer him and turned away.
Kellas got into the Uazik without her and they drove off. The ride shook him hard with two instead of three in the back of the car, without Astrid’s body to brace him. He wasn’t troubled by the sharp shift in her temperament, but he was surprised. He spent the morningthinking about Astrid, and why she meant so little to him. Rattling down the Panjshir his thoughts darkened. The mountains were closer and steeper and cast more persistent shadows. By the afternoon he was full of the sense of lonely cheatedness that comes when all the favourite characters in a drama are dead, yet the drama continues. When he tried to remember Astrid’s face, to try to understand why he didn’t care, he wasn’t sure that he was remembering it well. It would be
‘I thought you were a journo,’ she said, pulling the gloves on.
‘Is there something about me that makes you think different?’
‘The gun? Who are you with, Stars and Stripes? ’
‘I hope those gloves help you with the cold,’ said Astrid, looking into Miriam’s eyes. ‘You need to be more careful with your gear.’
‘Appreciate it,’ said Miriam faintly, held by Astrid’s gaze. ‘I’ll send them on when I get back.’
‘Don’t,’ said Astrid. She walked across to the Uazik she’d been travelling in and reached into the back for her rucksack. Kellas listened for the tiny sound from her lungs as she lifted it but at the same moment Miriam’s travelling companions called to her and their engines started.
‘I have to go,’ said Miriam. ‘Are you travelling with her?’
‘Astrid. Astrid Walsh. She works for DC Monthly.’
‘You do understand what a liability she is.’
‘Do you know her?’
‘She just dropped a fucking gun out of her pocket. That’s a sackable offence in any outfit I know. You can tell she’s a flake. A military groupie. I know her type. She’s one of those women who doesn’t have any women friends. You should wait here for another convoy.’
‘She’s OK,’ said Kellas. ‘Eccentric.’
Miriam pressed her lips together and stared at Kellas, holding her breath. She let it out. ‘I see. I would say keep your distance, but – I see.’ They wished each other good luck and Miriam went back to her convoy.
That afternoon Kellas and Astrid’s cars crossed the Anjoman pass. The road was a looping trail of black rocks and compacted snow. On either side the snow cover lay a few inches thick. As they traversed the highest point a blizzard came in and twice they had to get out to help push the Uaziks through. Kellas and Astrid stood next to each other, Alex and Rustum on either side, with their hands pressed against the Uazik’s rear door, and put their weight against it. Their lungs hurt and their heads spun with the altitude. The drivers said that, within a week, only horses would be able to make it across. On the way down Astrid tried to rest her head on Kellas’s shoulder and doze, but the jolt of the road kicked her awake each time. When they were in their sleeping bags at nightfall in a guesthouse at the top of the Panjshir valley, Kellas watched Astrid asleep, and saw how the four frown lines on her forehead sharpened into being, then were smoothed away, then returned.
The next morning, as they were packing up to leave, Astrid’s mood changed. Her face closed and she told him curtly that she was staying behind. She’d come to Jabal later.
Kellas kneeled there over the maw of his rucksack, his things spread around him, the winter clothes, the bottle of whisky for the Citizen correspondent he was relieving, the books. He felt a strange dryness on his tongue and realised that his mouth was hanging open. He cleared his throat and asked her what the matter was. Astrid looked at him like a beast of prey for whom he was not prey, cold, distant, proud in herself, without the faintest glow of human social need. She didn’t answer him and turned away.
Kellas got into the Uazik without her and they drove off. The ride shook him hard with two instead of three in the back of the car, without Astrid’s body to brace him. He wasn’t troubled by the sharp shift in her temperament, but he was surprised. He spent the morningthinking about Astrid, and why she meant so little to him. Rattling down the Panjshir his thoughts darkened. The mountains were closer and steeper and cast more persistent shadows. By the afternoon he was full of the sense of lonely cheatedness that comes when all the favourite characters in a drama are dead, yet the drama continues. When he tried to remember Astrid’s face, to try to understand why he didn’t care, he wasn’t sure that he was remembering it well. It would be
Similar Books
