Chapter 5: Fire and Fear
For days, I wandered through the echoes of that moment, unsure of what had happened—or what was happening. Confusion consumed me, like the aftermath of an explosion that had obliterated any sense of certainty. The truth loomed in the shadows, but I couldn't bring myself to face it. The pieces didn’t fit, and my mind fought against the weight of uncertainty.
A sharp knock echoed through the house. My mom moved cautiously towards the door, her brows furrowed in confusion. When she opened it, a policeman stood there, his face serious and composed.
"Is Amir home?" the officer asked, glancing past her.
My dad, who had been dozing off in the corner, suddenly sat up straight, his voice sharp with concern. "Anything serious, sir? Any problem?"
The policeman didn’t respond immediately. His eyes shifted to my father, then back to me. "We’d like to investigate Amir for some reason."
My dad’s grip on the edge of the chair tightened. "For what?"
The officer hesitated for a moment before saying, "He was a friend of Mahira, right?"
My pulse quickened. The name—Mahira—struck me like a thunderbolt.
"Mahira?" Dad echoed, his confusion deepening. "Who’s Mahira?"
"Yes," I answered before anyone else could. I stepped forward, my voice steady but trembling beneath the surface. "She was my classmate. Is she okay?"
The officer remained silent, his gaze fixed on me. The air grew heavier, the room suddenly small as the weight of the situation pressed down on us. My mind raced, trying to piece together the connection, the fear tightening its grip.
The policeman stared at Amir with unwavering intensity. "Can you come with us, sir?"
Dad stood up abruptly, his voice sharp and authoritative. "No. Wait. I’m from the ministry. Explain what’s going on."
The officer didn’t flinch. "Surely, since you are from the ministry, you are aware of the critical leaks during the war."
Dad’s eyes narrowed, his grip tightening on the edge of the table. "Yeah. So? Do you think Amir has done it?"
The policeman shook his head, his expression grim. "No. But I think your son was used—efficiently—by the Indian Intelligence."
I froze, the words echoing in my ears.
"The Mahira and her family—" the officer continued, "They’re identified as Indian Intelligence officials. They leaked confidential documents from Karachi Port to India. They fled when our officers arrived. Their entire house was reduced to ashes by an efficient explosive planted by traitors, along with our army personnel."
The room seemed to shrink. My heart pounded as he finished, his gaze piercing mine. "We only have one lead. That’s Amir."
Dad’s face paled, his breath hitching. "This can’t be… No, Amir isn’t—"
"I’m sorry, sir. But this is what we’ve uncovered," the officer cut in, his tone cold.
The policeman’s voice cut through the tense silence, sharp and unforgiving. "Will he come with us, or should I use force on my fellow Pakistani?"
Dad clenched his jaw, his fists tightening at his sides. "No, he won’t. Let me talk to the ministry."
The officer’s expression hardened, his eyes narrowing. "Nothing’s going to happen, sir. You’re living in Pakistan. Here, power lies upside down."
Without another word, the officer motioned to his colleagues, who stepped forward and grabbed me. My breath hitched as they pulled me toward the door.
"Let go of him!" Dad bellowed, struggling to move toward us. But they were too strong. My father was powerless as they dragged me away.
Inside the police station, the cold, sterile atmosphere felt suffocating. The officer led me into a small interrogation room. The fluorescent lights above buzzed loudly, casting harsh shadows on the walls.
The officer’s eyes bore into mine, his expression unrelenting. "Sit down, Amir." His tone was devoid of warmth, just cold authority.
I obeyed, my hands trembling as I placed them on my lap. The room felt like a tomb, the faint buzz of the fluorescent light above amplifying the silence.
The officer leaned forward, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper. "Let’s cut to the chase, shall we? What did you tell her? What did Mahira say about herself? About India?"
I shook my head, my heart racing. "She was from India, sir. We were just classmates. Nothing more. I swear."
The officer’s eyes narrowed. "Classmates, huh? That’s not what your friend Mustafa told us. He claimed you were more than just classmates. That you were involved, deeper than you’re letting on."
My stomach twisted at the mention of Mustafa. "Mustafa… I don’t know what he told you, but he’s mistaken. I didn’t know what Mahira was involved in. I swear, I had no idea."
The officer leaned back, folding his arms. "You’re telling me you had no idea? No connection at all? Just classmates, is that right?"
I could feel the sweat trickling down my back, my breathing shallow. "Yes, sir. That’s all it was. I swear."
He studied me for a long moment, his gaze unflinching. Then he stood up, walking over to the small window behind me. I could hear him muttering to himself, as if weighing his next move.
"You know," he said, his voice quieter now, "we have ways of making people talk. But I’m not one for brute force. I like to think I’m more… persuasive."
I swallowed hard, my throat dry. "Sir, I—"
He cut me off with a sharp glare. "Don’t. Just listen. Mustafa told us a different story. He said Mahira wasn’t just a classmate. He said you were involved in something much deeper. That the two of you were more than friends."
I shook my head, trying to maintain my composure. "That’s not true. I swear. I don’t know what he’s talking about."
The officer’s gaze hardened. "Lying to me, Amir? Really? You think that’s wise? Because I don’t like being lied to." He leaned in closer, his tone lowering again. "Let me tell you something, son. The truth has a way of revealing itself. And when it does, there’s no hiding from it. No matter how hard you try."
My pulse quickened, the weight of his words pressing down on me. "Sir, please. I’m telling you—"
"Shut up," he snapped, slamming his fist on the table. "Enough with your pleas. We know more than you think. We have evidence. Evidence that says Mahira wasn’t just some distant friend. Evidence that ties you to her—whether you like it or not. Also you were very rebellious with Dad. Army is interfering everywhere this was your statements. "
I felt the room closing in on me, the walls seeming to press tighter against my chest. My mind raced, trying to make sense of his word.
He leaned even closer, his breath warm against my face. "We know about the confidential documents, Amir. The Karachi Port. We know what was leaked and how it reached India. Your so-called friendship with Mahira doesn’t matter anymore. All that matters now is what you know—and what you’ve transmitted."
My throat tightened, and I struggled to find the right words. "I swear, I don’t know anything about that."
The officer’s smile was devoid of any kindness. "You swear? Funny, because we’ve heard that before. But it’s starting to sound like a broken record."
I clenched my jaw, trying to steady my nerves. "I didn’t—"
"Enough!" His voice boomed, echoing in the small room. "You’re wasting my time, Amir. We’ve spent enough on you already. Every second you sit there, lying, is another second we waste. But here’s the truth you’re too blind to see: We’ll break you. It’s only a matter of time."
My hands trembled uncontrollably now, and the air felt colder than before. The officer’s words twisted in my mind like a vice, tightening with every syllable.
"Tell us what you know about Mahira. About her family. About what they were hiding. And maybe, just maybe, we’ll go easy on you. But if you keep this up—" He paused, letting his threat hang in the air. "If you keep lying, Amir, then we’ll see just how much you can handle."
I wanted to scream, to fight back, but the weight of his presence and the suffocating tension rendered me silent. His eyes bore into me, unwavering and cruel, as if he could peer into the very depths of my soul.
I was drowning in his words, my mind screaming for some form of escape. But there was none. Only the crushing realization that I was caught—entangled in a web of lies, deceit, and a truth I could barely comprehend.
My head snapped up, every muscle in my body tensed. A cold breeze swept through the room as the officer stepped back in, his face unreadable but his eyes colder than before.
He didn’t say a word. His silence was more menacing than anything he could have said. He moved toward me slowly, like a predator stalking its prey. I couldn’t look away. I didn’t dare breathe.
“Still no answers?” His voice was calm, but beneath it lay a darkness that made my skin crawl. “It’s strange, you know. A boy like you, caught in the middle of something far bigger than himself. You don’t seem like the kind to be caught up in these things.”
I remained silent. My throat had gone dry. Words couldn’t form, not in the face of this man’s cold gaze.
The officer leaned in closer, his breath hot against my cheek. “Maybe that’s the problem. You’ve been silent long enough. But silence isn’t going to save you now.”
He straightened, towering over me. “Tell me. What did she say? What did she tell you? Mustafa said. He told us everything.”
Mustafa. The name hit like a hammer, shattering what little composure I had left. My hands clenched into fists, but I didn’t dare meet his gaze. Tears blurred my vision again.
“I don’t know anything,” I whispered, my voice breaking.
The officer didn’t respond. Instead, he turned away, taking a few measured steps, letting the silence stretch between us. I could feel his eyes still burning into me. It was like they could see right through to my soul, dissecting every thought, every emotion.
He stepped closer, crouching down so we were at eye level. His face was inches from mine, his expression devoid of any humanity. I start begging for release.
Amir: “ Sir please. I don’t know anything.”
“You think begging will save you?” His voice was cold as ice. “You think crying will make me feel sorry for you? That only makes you weaker, Amir. And weakness…” He leaned in, whispering now. “Weakness is a death sentence.”
I trembled as he pulled back, his gaze never wavering. “Do you understand me? You have half an hour to speak, to tell me something, anything that we can use. After that…” He let the threat hang in the air.
“Your body will tell us what we need.”
I couldn’t breathe. My chest tightened, my heart racing in terror. Every part of me screamed for escape, but I knew there was no escape. They had me.
Tears streamed down my face, my hands shaking uncontrollably. I choked on a sob, the weight of fear crushing me.
Half an hour. That sentence echoed in my head like a countdown to death. I didn’t know if I could make it.
The officer stepped away, his voice fading into the oppressive silence. My head bowed, my body slumped. I didn’t have the strength to fight. They’d taken everything—my dignity, my will to resist, my very sanity.
The walls of the room pressed in tighter, suffocating me. The floor beneath me felt like it was sinking, swallowing me whole. And all I could hear was the echo of his voice, over and over, reminding me that I had no control, no escape.
Half an hour.
I didn’t know if I’d survive.
Ali stepped out of the interrogation room, exhaling a long, steady stream of smoke from his cigarette. His footsteps echoed hollowly in the dimly lit corridor. Moin followed him, hesitating before speaking.
"I don’t think he knows anything," Moin said, glancing back at the closed door, his tone softer, almost sympathetic. "Look at him. The kid’s barely holding it together. He’s just an innocent college kid. You saw him in there—he’s terrified. He doesn’t have a clue about anything."
"I know," Ali muttered, taking another drag from his cigarette. His voice was cold and distant. "But it doesn’t matter. We’ve already lost this war, Moin. The nation has taken one too many blows. We can’t take another hit like this—losing Amir won’t make a difference. But what we can do, what we must do, is turn him into something else. Into a symbol."
"A symbol?" Moin frowned. "What do you mean?"
Ali exhaled another cloud of smoke, his gaze fixed on the faint glow of the flickering light above them. "A symbol of hope. A symbol that Pakistan is still in the game. That we’re still in control, that we haven’t completely lost it. Amir won’t be a victim—he’ll be proof that we don’t just fight for the truth, we fight for survival."
Moin frowned. "But he’s just a boy. His father—"
"Was a respected official," Ali interrupted, his tone cutting. "Not anymore. His father lost his position when those rumors surfaced about his involvement in illegal dealings. Do you think anyone cares about him now?"
Moin opened his mouth to protest, but Ali’s sharp gaze silenced him.
"His father’s name is already tarnished," Ali continued, his voice darkening. "Whatever goodwill he might have had, it’s gone. And Amir? Well, he’s all we’ve got left. The last piece of that tattered family name."
Moin swallowed hard, uncertainty flickering in his eyes. "So what if he files a lawsuit? What if his family tries to fight back?"
Ali smirked, tapping his cigarette out on the wall. "Inna lillahi wa inna ilayhi raji'un," he murmured under his breath, his tone cold and detached. "We belong to Allah, and to Him we return."
Moin stared at him, confusion etched on his face. "What’s that supposed to mean?"
"It means," Ali said, his voice hardening, "that the boy has no one left. No family. No allies. His parents are gone—dead in a tragic accident. A truck collision. On their way out of this country. Just like that."
Before Moin could respond, a voice cut through the silence. A police officer rushed toward them, breathless and agitated.
"Sir," he said, his face pale, "Amir’s parents—there was an accident. They… they didn’t survive."
The words hung in the air like a heavy shroud. Moin stared at the officer, his stomach turning.
Ali exhaled slowly, his smirk twisted further. "There you have it," he murmured. "No family left to fight for him. No one to challenge us. No one to expose what we’ve done."
Moin’s mouth was dry. His mind reeled, trying to comprehend the weight of what had just happened.
"What have we done?" he whispered, his voice barely audible.
Ali’s expression darkened further. "We’ve ensured Pakistan’s survival. At least, that’s what they’ll believe." His gaze shifted back to the interrogation room. "Now, Amir? Amir will be a symbol. A warning to anyone who thinks they can betray us."
Moin felt his chest tighten, the room closing in around him. "But he’s just a boy," he murmured, his voice filled with doubt. "How can we—"
Ali cut him off, his eyes gleaming with a dark resolve. "A boy? No. He’s a martyr now. For the greater good."
Ali entered the room.
Ali stood in the doorway of the interrogation room, his face twisted with fury, his eyes cold and unrelenting. The silence stretched between them like a noose, tightening around Amir’s already fragile hope.
“Anything you remember, boy?” Ali’s voice was icy, devoid of any empathy. He leaned closer, his breath heavy with smoke, his gaze drilling into Amir’s pale, trembling figure.
Amir could barely lift his head. His lips quivered, his voice cracked. "Sir… I… I don’t know anything. I swear…" His words were barely audible, a whisper beneath the weight of fear.
Ali’s expression soured further, his patience worn thin. Without a word, he stepped inside the room, slamming the door behind him with a deafening crash.
The sound of the impact reverberated through the small space. Ali’s eyes darkened as he pulled back his fist and delivered a brutal blow to Amir’s face. The sound of flesh colliding echoed in the sterile air.
“Liar!” Ali spat, landing another punch, this time aiming at Amir’s stomach. "You’ll tell me the truth. You will."
Amir crumpled, his body convulsing under the relentless assault. The blows came fast and unrelenting—punches to the face, kicks to the ribs, each strike shattering whatever strength he had left. His cries were choked, barely escaping his lips as the world blurred around him.
For what felt like an eternity, Ali pummeled him, every fist, every kick, fueled by rage, fueled by desperation. The walls of the room seemed to tremble under the onslaught, the air thick with the sounds of agony.
One hour passed in a haze of pain and darkness. Amir could no longer scream, no longer move. His body sagged, lifeless, as if his spirit had already fled.
Ali stood over him, his chest heaving, sweat dripping from his brow. The room was silent once again, but for the ragged breathing of the beaten boy sprawled on the cold floor.
Ali exhaled deeply, crushing the cigarette between his fingers. "Traitor. This is a price of being dishonest to your nation" he murmured, almost to himself. "Let’s see how long before your body speaks."
Ali stepped toward the door, his smirk cold and malicious. His voice, dripping with venom, echoed through the silent room.
“Oh dear, I forgot to mention,” he said, his tone calculated, indifferent. “Your parents died in a car accident. No one survived. You’re going for their last rites. Get ready. Traitor.”
The words hit Amir like a hammer to the chest. A guttural scream ripped from his throat, his whole body convulsing. His eyes went wide, his face contorted in disbelief, the reality crashing down on him like a tidal wave.
“No... Mom... Dad... no...” His voice cracked, a broken whisper that barely escaped his trembling lips. “Please... please don’t lie... please...” His hands clawed at the floor as if trying to pull back the nightmare that was engulfing him. His entire body shook uncontrollably, his heart pounding in his chest as if it might burst from the pressure.
Ali stepped out of the station, the dim streetlights casting long shadows over his face. The media had arrived in full force, cameras flashing and microphones thrust toward him, eager for answers. He adjusted his uniform, standing tall, his expression hardened.
“I’ve captured the traitor,” Ali declared, his voice cutting through the noise. “Amir has leaked confidential documents of Karachi Port to Indian intelligence. His actions cost us dearly—our security, our trust, and our peace. Unfortunately, his parents were involved as well. They died in a car accident, attempting to flee from the country. But we have the main planner—Amir.”
The reporters crowded closer, hanging on every word.
“Amir’s betrayal was not just a personal act,” Ali continued, his tone cold. “It was a threat to our nation. The war against India wasn’t just lost on the battlefield, but from within. We, as professional police officers, have a duty to uphold the truth. Today, we give Amir a final chance to be with his parents—one last goodbye.”
A wave of murmurs swept through the crowd as they absorbed his words. The air grew heavier with the weight of his statement. The cameras continued to roll, capturing every detail of Amir being loaded into the back of the police van. His body, limp and broken, was barely recognizable.
Ali watched as the van doors slammed shut, the sound echoing in his ears. The officers climbed in, leaving behind the growing mob of reporters, their questions unanswered. The journey to the cemetery had begun. In silence, they moved forward, each second stretching into a thousand, carrying the echoes of loss, betrayal, and unrelenting grief.
Amir sat motionless on the seat of the police van, his head resting against the cold metal wall. The world outside blurred into a series of shifting lights and shadows, the sounds of the city fading into a dull, hollow echo. The last 24 hours felt like a distorted dream—something too horrifying to comprehend, too overwhelming to process. His body felt heavy, numb, as though every ounce of energy had been drained from him.
Tears had long since run dry. His dry, cracked lips barely moved, and his eyes stared blankly into the distance, unseeing. The echoes of the accusations, his father's broken voice, and the news of his parents' deaths reverberated endlessly in his mind. The words of the officers—traitor, leaked documents, Indian intelligence—played on repeat, distorted and twisted, like some nightmarish mantra that refused to let him go.
He couldn't cry. Couldn’t scream. Couldn’t even form the words to deny the accusations, though every fiber of his being screamed out for truth. His mind was too broken, too shattered to resist, to fight back. What was left of him felt hollow, empty. All he could do was breathe—shallow, unsteady breaths—as the van rumbled on through the city.
The journey felt endless, stretching into an abyss of despair. Every passing second dragged on like an eternity, the weight of the silence pressing down harder and harder with each mile. All he had left were the echoes of his guilt, his helplessness, and the distant, painful reality that his world had imploded in the blink of an eye.
The van jolted to a halt, throwing Amir sideways onto the seat. His dazed mind barely registered the commotion as the vehicle ahead erupted in a deafening explosion. The shockwave rattled the metal frame of the police van, and the officers inside shouted in panic.
Ali barked orders, his usual composure shattered. "Stay alert! Weapons ready!"
The van screeched to a stop on the abandoned road. Before anyone could react, a barrage of gunfire echoed through the night, slicing through the van’s metal walls. The officers cried out, some slumping over immediately, others scrambling for cover. The air was thick with the acrid smell of gunpowder and the metallic tang of blood.
Amir, crouched in the corner, covered his ears and squeezed his eyes shut, his heart pounding like a drum. The chaos was unlike anything he had ever experienced—pure, raw terror. The sound of bullets ricocheting off the van’s walls was deafening, and the screams of the officers only added to his dread.
Then, silence.
The sudden quiet was almost worse than the gunfire. Amir peeked up through trembling fingers. The van's interior was a gruesome scene. Blood pooled on the floor, bodies slumped lifelessly. His breath hitched as his gaze darted around. He was the only one left alive.
The door creaked open, and a sliver of light pierced the darkness. Amir squinted, his vision blurred, and his heart stopped when he saw a figure stepping into the light. The face was familiar, but his mind was too foggy to process it. The person reached out, their voice urgent yet soft.
“Amir, wake up. Let’s go. Amir, wake up…”
The voice tugged at something deep inside him, pulling him out of his stupor. Amir blinked rapidly, trying to focus. His body, heavy with exhaustion and injuries, refused to cooperate.
“Amir! Run... Run for your life!” the voice commanded, snapping him into action.
Adrenaline surged through his veins as he stumbled out of the van, his injured leg buckling beneath him. The pain was sharp and searing, but the urgency in the voice kept him moving. He didn’t look back—he couldn’t. He only knew one thing: he had to run.
The night swallowed them whole as they disappeared into the darkness. The distant wail of police sirens grew faint as they fled, leaving behind the smoldering wreckage, the bodies, and the haunting cries of a battle Amir didn’t understand. All he knew was that he had escaped, but from what—and into what—he couldn’t yet comprehend.
Amir’s breath was ragged as he stumbled through the dense undergrowth, his injured leg dragging behind him like a dead weight. The towering trees above cast eerie shadows under the pale moonlight, their branches clawing at the sky. His heart pounded in his chest, not just from the exertion, but from the overwhelming terror that clung to him like a second skin.
“Keep going, Amir!” the familiar voice urged. A figure loomed beside him, steadying him whenever he faltered.
The ground beneath them was uneven and treacherous, roots snagging at their feet like hands desperate to pull them down. Behind them, the faint sound of sirens and barking dogs hinted that the backup was closing in.
“I can’t... I can’t do it anymore...” Amir gasped, collapsing onto a patch of damp earth. The pain in his leg was unbearable, a fiery ache that spread through his entire body. He clutched at his side, his chest heaving.
“You’re not dying here, Amir. Get up!” she barked.
“I... I can’t,” Amir whimpered, tears spilling down his cheeks. “Everything hurts… my parents are gone... I don’t even know what’s happening. Just go…”
Familiar face untangled his face and Amir got a sudden shock with unprocessed emotions
“Mahira.......” amir whisper
Mahira with soft expression with urgency. “You think I came back to let you give up? After everything you’ve been through? You’re stronger than this, Amir.”
The third figure, a lean, quiet young man named Faizan, knelt beside them, scanning the surrounding nervously. “We don’t have time for this, Mahira. They’re getting closer.”
Mahira didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she looped Amir’s arm over her shoulder and, with a strength that seemed impossible for her frame, hoisted him up. “If you can’t walk, I’ll carry you.”
Amir groaned as she pulled him upright, the searing pain in his leg bringing fresh tears to his eyes. “Mahira... why? Who are you ? Why are you doing this?”
“Because you don’t deserve this,” she whispered harshly. “Now move!”
With Faizan taking the lead, the three of them continued deeper. Mahira bore most of Amir’s weight, her breaths heavy but determined. The trees grew thicker, their branches entwining to form a canopy that blocked out the moonlight.
After what felt like an eternity, Mahira stumbled into a small clearing and gently lowered Amir onto the ground. His body was drenched in sweat, his face pale from the effort. She crouched beside him, pressing her ear to the ground, listening for any sign of pursuit.
“They’re still far,” she muttered to Faizan, who stood guard, his eyes scanning the darkness like a hawk.
Amir lay back, staring at the stars peeking through the treetops. His mind swirled with questions he didn’t have the strength to ask. All he knew was that Mahira, the girl he thought he’d never see again, was here, risking everything to save him.
“Mahira...” he croaked, his voice barely above a whisper. “What’s happening? Who are you? How... how are you alive?”
She looked down at him, her expression unreadable. “Rest now, Amir. I’ll explain everything soon. But right now, we survive. Together.”
Her words hung in the air, a fragile promise amid the chaos. For the first time in days, Amir felt a flicker of hope. It was faint, but it was enough to keep him holding on.
