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the kite runner-第79部分
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ve enough beds; and not enough mattresses for the beds we do have。 Worse; we don t have enough blankets。 He showed us a lit tle girl skipping rope with two other kids。 You see that girl? This past winter; the children had to share blankets。 Her brother died of exposure。 He walked on。 The last time I checked; we have less than a month s supply of rice left in the warehouse; and; when that runs out; the children will have to eat bread and tea for breakfast and dinner。 I noticed he made no mention of lunch。
He stopped and turned to me。 There is very little shelter here; almost no food; no clothes; no clean water。 What I have in ample supply here is children who ve lost their childhood。 But the tragedy is that these are the lucky ones。 We re filled beyond capacity and every day I turn away mothers who bring their children。 He took a step toward me。 You say there is hope for Sohrab? I pray you don t lie; Agha。 But。。。 you may well be too late。
What do you mean?
Zaman s eyes shifted。 Follow me。
WHAT PASSED FOR THE DIRECTOR S OFFICE was four bare; cracked walls; a mat on the floor; a table; and two folding chairs。 As Zaman and I sat down; I saw a gray rat poke its head from a burrow in the wall and flit across the room。 I cringed when it sniffed at my shoes; then Zaman s; and scurried through the open door。
What did you mean it may be too late? I said。
Would you like some chai? I could make some。
Nay; thank you。 I d rather we talk。
Zaman tilted back in his chair and crossed his arms on his chest。 What I have to tell you is not pleasant。 Not to mention that it may be very dangerous。
For whom?
You。 Me。 And; of course; for Sohrab; if it s not too late already。
I need to know; I said。
He nodded。 So you say。 But first I want to ask you a question:
How badly do you want to find your nephew?
I thought of the street fights we d get into when we were kids; all the times Hassan used to take them on for me; two against one; sometimes three against one。 I d wince and watch; tempted to step in; but always stopping short; always held back by something。
I looked at the hallway; saw a group of kids dancing in a circle。 A little girl; her left leg amputated below the knee; sat on a ratty mattress and watched; smiling and clapping along with the other children。 I saw Farid watching the children too; his own mangled hand hanging at his side。 I remembered Wahid s boys and。。。 I realized something: I would not leave Afghanistan without finding Sohrab。 Tell me where he is; I said。
Zaman s gaze lingered on me。 Then he nodded; picked up a pencil; and twirled it between his fingers。 Keep my name out of it。
I promise。
He tapped the table with the pencil。 Despite your promise; I think I ll live to regret this; but perhaps it s just as well。 I m damned anyway。 But if something can be done for Sohrab。。。 I ll tell you because I believe you。 You have the look of a desperate man。 He was quiet for a long time。 There is a Talib official; he muttered。 He visits once every month or two。 He brings cash with him; not a lot; but better than nothing at all。 His shifty eyes fell on me; rolled away。 Usually he ll take a girl。 But not always。
And you allow this? Farid said behind me。 He was going around the table; closing in on Zaman。
What choice do I have? Zaman shot back。 He pushed himself away from the desk。
You re the director here; Farid said。 Your job is watch over these children。
There s nothing I can do to stop it。
You re selling children! Farid barked。
Farid; sit down! Let it go! I said。 But I was too late。 Because suddenly Farid was leaping over the table。 Zaman s chair went flying as Farid fell on him and pinned him to the floor。 The director thrashed beneath Farid and made muffled screaming sounds。 His legs kicked a desk drawer free and sheets of paper spilled to the floor。
I ran around the desk and saw why Zaman s screaming was muffled: Farid was strangling him。 I grasped Farid s shoulders with both hands and pulled hard。 He snatched away from me。 That s enough! I barked。 But Farid s face had flushed red; his lips pulled back in a snarl。 I m killing him! You can t stop me! I m killing him; he sneered。
Get off him!
I m killing him! Something in his voice told me that if I didn t do something quickly I d witness my first murder。
The children are watching; Farid。 They re watching; I said。 His shoulder muscles tightened under my grip and; for a moment; I thought he d keep squeezing Zaman s neck anyway。 Then he turned around; saw the children。 They were standing silently by the door; holding hands; some of them crying。 I felt Farid s muscles slacken。 He dropped his hands; rose to his feet。 He looked down on Zaman and dropped a mouthful of spit on his face。 Then he walked to the door and closed it。
Zaman struggled to his feet; blotted his bloody lips with his sleeve; wiped the spit off his cheek。 Coughing and wheezing; he put on his skullcap; his glasses; saw both lenses had cracked; and took them off。 He buried his face in his hands。 None of us said anything for a long time。
He took Sohrab a month ago; Zaman finally cro
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