Achmed was afraid. The bombs had been falling for several hours now, and he had been forced to race from ruined building to ruined building. Everywhere there was confusion and nowhere was there safe. He had been running and hiding for what seemed like hours. Life under Saddam had been worse, much worse, he knew that, but every so often, especially now, when he was cold and hungry, he longed for the relative quiet of his old life. BANG! Another building exploded across the street showering him with dust and bits of bricks.
""HOLD IT RIGHT THERE,"" said a voice, bellowing over a loudspeaker.
Achmed lifted his face off the floor and stared into the bright spotlight. It was so bright he could not see anything.
""DON"T MOVE OR WE"LL SHOOT!,"" bellowed the voice.
Achmed didn't understand the strange, foreign words, but he recognised the intent, and laid perfectly still.
""Please don't shoot me!"" he yelled out in his own language. ""I am just a poor man who is looking for a safe place? Can anyone help me?""
There was silence and in the dusty air, Achmed was sure he was about to meet his end. Suddenly, there was a shape in front of the spotlight. Achmed squinted, but he could not make out the shape. It looked like an Angel. ""Praise Allah,"" he breathed. An angel had come to save him!
""Who are you?"" asked the Angel.
""I ... am ... Achmed,"" said Achmed in stuttering English he had learned at High SChool.
""Come with me, Achmed, you are safe now. Let me take you away from here, let me take you away from everyone."" The STranger offered out a firm hand, and Achmed took it. As he allowed himself to be lifted off the floor, Achmed was surprised at the strength of the person who helped him to his feet.
""Come with me, Achmed. I can keep you safe,"" said the Stranger. Now that Achmed was standing, he could see his wonderful rescuer. It was a slightly older man, with broad shoulders and a quiet resolve furrowing his handsome brow. He had piercing eyes and he radiated something ... quiet resolve ... This was a man with tremendous inner strength, realised Achmed. He felt his mouth go dry.
""I can't believe this is happened!"" said Achmed, as he allowed himself to be led out of the building.
A convoy of army trucks and helicopters had surrounded the place. Clearly this man was important. thought Achmed to himself.
""This young man is coming with me."" said the man to an Army Captain.
""Yes, SIR!!!" bellowed the Captain, gesturing to his men to pull back.
""There'll be no more death here today," said the man, smiling kindly at Achmed. Achmed felt tears well up in his eyes. Was it true? Was he finally going to be safe? SUddenyl, in the presence of this man, it seemed possible.
""You will ride in my car,"" said the man.
""But, who are you?"" asked Achmed.
"Hush now, come back to my hotel, and I will answer all your questions there. It is not safe to be on the streets at night.""
Achmed looked around, it was almost dark. He heard wolves baying and shuddered at the thought of spending another night on the streets of this broken city. Quickly he jumped in the car.
""You're eager!"" said the man, grinning. He had a sparkle in his eyes that Achmed found appealing.
They sped off at great speed until they came to the safe part of the city. The car was waved through by armed guards and soon it pulled up at a hotel. Achmed saw that outside the front was flying the Australian Flag, proudly. He recognised it from school, where his teacher had made him learn all the flags of the world.
The man led him up the elevator and into an opulant room. The walls and floors were covered in marble, and there was a large spa and also a large canopy bed. There was also a nice kitchen.
""Help yourself to food, I bet you haven't eaten in weeks,"" said the man, taking off his jacket and tie.
Achmed nodded hungrily and rushed over to the bench. He pulled out a loaf of bread and bit savegly into it, savouring the taste.
""You're so thin,"" said the man. ""And you must do a lot of running.""
Achmed glanced down at his body. He realised most of his clothes were rags, and his lithe, wiry body was largely visible under the clothes. He blushed. The man handed him a beer, with a strange blue label that said "fosters", and Achmed gratefully accepted it, drinking a large part of it in one gulp.
""Perhaps you want a shower, or a bath?"" asked the man quizzically. ""You're covered in filth.""
Achmed glanced down at his body. His skin was smeared with dirt and ash, but he felt strange about showering in the house of a stranger. The man seemed to s ense his hesitation and put his hand on his (Achmed's) shoulder.
""You asked me who I was. Now the time has come for me to tell you. I am John Howard. I am one of the people who ordered the bombing of your country. Are you angry at me?""
Achmed felt about the last three years, the pain the horror. He looked at the man and said in his stumbling, broken English. ""Bombs killed my brothers and my sister. My mother died from a gunshot. I have no family left. But the day you decided to free Iraq was the greatest of my life, and nothing can take that away from me.""
John Howard looked humbled for a moment, and then said softly. ""And your father?""
Achmed felt his cheeks burn with shame. ""My father supported Saddam Hussein. He watched them feed people in shredders and used to laugh about it. He went away when the Americans came and I hope he never comes back."" He said the last part with a forcefulness that surprised them both. And John Howard knew that he could trust this young man.
""So, Mr Howard, thanks for the beer, but I'd best be going."" said Achmed, moving towards the door.
""Please, call me John,"" said John. ""And don't go. It's not safe out there. I told my men you were coming with me, and I meant it. Besides,"" he said with a grin,"" you still haven't had your shower.""
Achmed felt a well of gratitude spring up inside him, and he could barely hold back the tears. Shyly, he said to John, ""Only if you join me.""
Now it was John's turn to blush. ""I am an old man, you don't want me."" he said.
Achmed walked over to him, and touched his face. ""Yes I do,"" he siad simply.
Wordlessly, they disrobed each other and sank into the spa. At Achmed's earlier touch, they had both grown hard, and now, naked in the water, it was plain to them both their feelings for each other.
John leaned over and kissing Achmed on the lips. Achmed felt himself melt under the wonderful feeling. He kissed back, deeply and strongly.
""Wow,"" said John after a few minutes. ""If I had known you were here, I would have come here a long time ago."" he said.
Achmed smiled. ""That's not all I can do,"" he said grinning, as his hand snaked under the water until it found John's submerged but hard member.
""Oh,"" gasped John, ""That feels real nice.""
""I thought it might,"" said Achmed, slowly pumping his hand up and down.
""Let's not forget you,"" John said, reaching over and wrapping his hand firmly around Achmed's solid member.
Together they brought each other great pleasure, and Achmed knew a peace he had not known in a long time. They climbed out of the spa and towelled off. John had room service deliver a scrumptous feast of lobster and champagne, and for the first time in months, Achmed had enough to eat.
""Stay with me tonight,"" John said, leading Achmed over to the bed. Achmed allowed himself to be led willingly and without resistance. Together they laid in each others arms in the soft, plush bed. Achmed was happy and warm, and he could tell that John was the same.
In the morning (after more fun!!), John turned to Achmed, handing him a crisp white shirt and a good pair of pants. ""Get dressed.""
""Where are we going?"" asked Achmed.
""I told you yesterday. You're coming with me. We're going back to Australia, together.""
Achmed felt his heart well up with pride. He could think of nothing better than going to Australia with his beloved, and he was happy that John felt the same.
The End.
THIS IS MY STORY AND IS COPYRIGHTED TO ME 2005. DO NOT COPY.