The Silent Soldier's Fugitive

Sahra Aydemir "Sahra, Sahra, wake up, sweetie. Please, come on." I opened my eyes as someone gently shook my shoulder, calling my name. It was my aunt. "Auntie, what happened? How is it morning already?" "Sweetie, we're in trouble. It's not morning yet. Please wake up and get yourself together. We need to talk." I immediately sat up in bed, realizing it was still dark. I stretched, trying to shake off my grogginess. "Auntie, what's wrong? Why did you wake me at this hour?" My aunt stood before me in the lamplight. Our eyes met as she said, "Ismail is on his way, and you need to leave before he arrives." I gasped. "No, that's impossible. He built a new life for himself. America was perfect for him. He wasn't supposed to come back—I was finally free." "From what I understand, he's gotten into some trouble over there. I don't know the details. He decided to return here before it came out. I overheard him talking to his father. I got your uncle drunk until he passed out. Come on, hurry and get out of here immediately. Go as far as you can." "Auntie, what about you? What if Uncle finds out?" "He won't realize anything. He thinks I drank too much as well. We both passed out drunk. You took advantage of our situation and ran away from home, okay?" "Okay, Auntie, okay. I'll get ready right away. I'll take a few things and go to Sister Derya's." "Don't be silly, dear. That's the first place Ismail will look." She stepped aside, revealing two suitcases and a backpack by the door. "Look, I've prepared your things." I got up and splashed cold water on my face to wake myself up properly. When I returned to the room, my aunt laid out clothes on the bed: black pants, a black top, and a black hooded sweatshirt. I dressed quickly. "Tie up your hair, put on this hat, and pull up your hood," my aunt instructed. "Make sure no one can tell you're a woman." I tucked my blonde hair under the hat and pulled the hood over it. My aunt handed me a white envelope. "All my savings are in here, sweetie. Keep it somewhere safe—don't let it get stolen. You're leaving Afyon tonight. Don't even think about staying with friends. The Ismail we're dealing with now isn't the same man we could deceive in his twenties. I can't protect you from that creep anymore. From now on, you'll have to protect yourself. Go far away." "Auntie, where will I go?!" "Go wherever your heart leads you. You can think about it along the way. Find a place that's nothing like Afyon and save yourself, my dear." I hugged her tightly. If it weren't for my aunt, that creep Ismail would have forced himself on me multiple times. She had saved me from him. He was my uncle's only child, my aunt's stepson. We had lived in the same house for five years, and for all five years, he had harassed me. I told my aunt about it with great difficulty and fear. Thank goodness she had believed me and constantly protected me from Ismail, the creep. "Auntie, I'll be thinking of you." "Don't worry about me. I can handle this. They'll be more concerned about his troubles in America first. I don't know when they'll start looking for you, but by then, you'll be far away. I trust you, my girl. You can do this." "Yes, Auntie. I'll manage. I'll go far away and build a new life where they can't find me." She removed two bracelets from her arm and slipped them onto mine, pushing them up to hide them under my sleeves. "Take these with you." ", she said.t Auntie, these are yours. If Uncle finds out, he'll beat you terribly because of them. My savings are enough." "You bought these anyway. The money always came from you. He can't beat me—after all, I was drunk and passed out, not in my right mind. He can't do anything. Don't worry about me, just take care of yourself." "Auntie, please give me your blessing. Only God knows what state I'd be in without you." "I give you my blessing with all my heart, my dear girl. Sahra, if it weren't for you, I would have been all alone in this life. You became my companion, my friend, my confidante. You helped me fulfill my longing for a child. Only God knows what would have become of me without you." My aunt couldn't have children. That's why my uncle had married her. His first wife had died of cancer, and my aunt became his second wife. It was the second marriage for both of them—my aunt's first marriage had ended because she couldn't have children. When she had told my uncle this, he had said, "I have a son worth ten. I don't want any more children." At the time, they thought he meant his son was just mischievous, but it turned out he was a complete troublemaker and a psychopath. I shouldered my backpack, grabbed the suitcases, and quietly headed for the door. My aunt called after me, "Sahra, leave your phone here. They might be able to track it." "But what if I need to reach you?" She handed me an old button phone. "I charged it overnight. It's my trusty old one. Get a new SIM card for it." Then she pressed a piece of paper into my hand. "I've written down Derya's number and mine here, in case you need to call during an emergency. You might panic and forget, so I wrote them down just to be safe." "Auntie, how did you manage to make all these plans while I was sleeping?" "You were passed out from exhaustion. Those movies we watched worked perfectly." She attempted a smile. "These old phones can't be tracked, so this will have to do for now." I hugged her tightly one last time before leaving. "Take care of yourself. Maybe a miracle will happen, and you'll be able to join me." "I doubt it, but I'll keep it in mind," she said. Tears welled up in our eyes, but we smiled anyway. Then, carrying my two suitcases and backpack, I quietly left the house I'd called home for twelve years, vanishing into the night, leaving my beloved aunt behind with tears in her eyes. When I lost my family to carbon monoxide poisoning at age twelve, I came to live with my aunt. Now, at twenty-four, I was leaving this house without looking back because my aunt's stepson had poisoned my life. He would do it again if I stayed. I had to leave before he arrived. I hurried through the familiar streets, perhaps for the last time. There was no longer a place for me in Afyon, the hometown where I was born, raised, and loved so dearly. After walking two blocks, I reached a taxi stand I rarely used. Dressed entirely in black, I didn't look female. Even if there were cameras, they wouldn't recognize me. There was one taxi at the stand. I tapped on the stand's window and moved to the car's side. The driver got up, came over, and opened the doors. I climbed in and said simply, "Bus terminal." As we drove, I gazed out the window one last time. I would only return here if Ismail died. At the terminal, I paid the fare, collected my suitcases, and went inside. I looked around, wondering where to go next. Deciding to freshen up, I headed to the restroom to wash my face and hands. As I emerged, two young women about my age entered, chatting as they fixed their makeup. "Oh, Habibe, I still can't believe we've been assigned positions and are going to work. We're officially becoming nurses!" "I know! I can't believe it either. I'm so happy, but I feel terrible for Serpil. Her assignment is in Kars. It's the farthest east you can go in Turkey. Any further and she'd be at the Armenian border." Kars, the farthest east in Turkey. So far away... I think I'd just found my destination. "Yes, it's sad. I mean, it's our homeland too, but I hate that she'll be so far from her family." "I'm just glad I got Antalya. Whether it's the central district or a village, at least it's warm there." I seized the moment to join their conversation. "Hello, I couldn't help overhearing. Congratulations on your assignments. Could I ask for your help with something?" I explained my situation to the girls, telling them I was fleeing from my perverted step-cousin and needed their help to ensure he couldn't find me. When they heard about the harassment, they immediately agreed to help. One of the girls bought a ticket to Antalya using my name and ID, while I bought a ticket to Kars in her name. Then we exchanged tickets. Officially, it would appear I was heading to Antalya, while I would be traveling to Kars under a different identity. Before departing, I had Habibe get me a SIM card from the terminal's phone shop. I gave her the new number in case of any issues, wanting her to be able to reach me if she encountered any trouble because of me. I promised to use it for no more than a month before changing it. Both girls were incredibly helpful. I hoped my luck would continue this way. Then I took the first step into my new life and boarded the bus. If I'd had my smartphone, I would have researched Kars, but that wasn't possible with this basic phone. I spent the journey deep in thought. The city center might be too crowded and expensive. A village was out of the question—I'd attract immediate attention. A district would be the best option: not too crowded, not too deserted. The only thing I remembered about Kars from my school days was that it was a cold province in the East, and there was the Sarıkamış district. We had studied the Sarıkamış military operation in class. Perfect. From Afyon to Kars Sarıkamış... Psychopath Ismail would never think to look for me there in a million years. With these thoughts, I drifted off to sleep. The journey took nineteen hours, and there wasn't much to do except during rest stops, so I slept frequently. We had departed at five in the morning, and it was midnight when we reached the Kars provincial border. I awoke to the Gendarmerie conducting a traffic check. A soldier boarded the bus. When he mentioned checking IDs, panic seized me. The name on the ticket didn't match my ID. Would he check the ticket too? My obvious anxiety caught the soldier's attention, and he approached me. "ID?" he asked, extending his hand. "I lost it," I blurted out the first lie that came to mind. "Do you know your ID number by heart?" "Um, I do, but I might have forgotten it right now." "Ma'am, please come with me to the team vehicle," he said, and I mentally berated myself: 'Stupid Sahra, you've messed things up now.' I followed the soldier to their vehicle. Another soldier approached with a tablet. "Could you tell me your ID number?" they asked. To avoid trouble, I recited my number. As they entered it into the system, it occurred to me that I might have been reported missing or as a runaway. I surveyed my surroundings. It was dark—perfect for escaping. Rather than risk Ismail finding me, I could jump over the nearby barrier and run. I'd hide, then hitchhike onward. My backpack was with me. I quickly concocted what seemed at the time to be a brilliant plan: I'd return later for the suitcases with the ticket. Of course, it seemed perfectly logical at the moment. Only later would I realize what a disaster this plan truly was. While the two soldiers studied the tablet and conversed, I suddenly bolted, leaping over the barrier and sprinting toward the open field. The air was bitter cold, and the ground beneath my feet felt treacherously muddy. They shouted for me to stop, but I kept running straight ahead. Then I heard a gunshot—oddly, it seemed to come from in front of me rather than behind. Someone shouted: "Stop, that's a minefield!" No way—do minefields still exist in this day and age? They must be trying to trick me into stopping. Another shot rang out. I felt a burning sensation just above my left ankle, followed by searing pain. "Damn it, the military shot my heel," I cursed and had to stop. Well, it wasn't exactly my heel, but that's how it felt. My feet were mired in mud. As I stopped to catch my breath, there was a commotion, and someone grabbed my arm, spinning me around. The sudden movement sent my hat flying, and my hair tumbled loose. In the dim light, I found myself staring into the eyes of a soldier wearing a headlamp. I squinted against the brightness. Suddenly, he shouted: "Are you trying to get yourself killed? We told you it's a minefield—why didn't you stop?" "I... um..." "You what?!" "I thought you were kidding," I stammered, and laughter erupted from behind us. There were other soldiers present. "Believe me, I'm the last person in this world to joke," he said, but I neither heard nor saw what came next. Already breathless and overcome with fear and panic, I felt consciousness slipping away. As darkness claimed me, my final coherent thought was, "Now my hair is going to get muddy."