the kite runner-第76章

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


own　as　he　mumbled　a　prayer　under　his　breath。
The　red　trucks　entered　the　playing　field；　rode　toward　one　end　in　twin　clouds　of　dust；　sunlight　reflecting　off　their　hubcaps。　A　third　truck　met　them　at　the　end　of　the　field。　This　one　s　cab　was　filled　with　something　and　I　suddenly　understood　the　purpose　of　those　two　holes　behind　the　goalposts。　They　unloaded　the　third　truck。　The　crowd　murmured　in　anticipation。
　Do　you　want　to　stay？　　Farid　said　gravely。
　No；　　I　said。　I　had　never　in　my　life　wanted　to　be　away　from　a　place　as　badly　as　I　did　now。　　But　we　have　to　stay。　
Two　Talibs　with　Kalashnikovs　slung　across　their　shoulders　helped　the　blindfolded　man　from　the　first　truck　and　two　others　helped　the　burqa…clad　woman。　The　woman　s　knees　buckled　under　her　and　she　slumped　to　the　ground。　The　soldiers　pulled　her　up　and　she　slumped　again。　When　they　tried　to　lift　her　again；　she　screamed　and　kicked。　I　will　never；　as　long　as　I　draw　breath；　forget　the　sound　of　that　scream。　It　was　the　cry　of　a　wild　animal　trying　to　pry　its　mangled　leg　free　from　the　bear　trap。　Two　more　Talibs　joined　in　and　helped　force　her　into　one　of　the　chest…deep　holes。　The　blindfolded　man；　on　the　other　hand；　quietly　allowed　them　to　lower　him　into　the　hole　dug　for　him。　Now　only　the　accused　pair　s　torsos　protruded　from　the　ground。
A　chubby；　white…bearded　cleric　dressed　in　gray　garments　stood　near　the　goalposts　and　cleared　his　throat　into　a　handheld　microphone。　Behind　him　the　woman　in　the　hole　was　still　screaming。　He　recited　a　lengthy　prayer　from　the　Koran；　his　nasal　voice　undulating　through　the　sudden　hush　of　the　stadium　s　crowd。　I　remem　bered
something　Baba　had　said　to　me　a　long　time　ago：　Piss　on　the　beards　of　all　those　self…righteous　monkeys。　They　do　nothing　but　thumb　their　rosaries　and　recite　a　book　written　in　a　tongue　they　don　t　even　understand。　God　help　us　all　if　Afghanistan　ever　falls　into　their　hands。
When　the　prayer　was　done；　the　cleric　cleared　his　throat。　　Brothers　and　sisters！　　he　called；　speaking　in　Farsi；　his　voice　booming　through　the　stadium。　　We　are　here　today　to　carry　out　Shari　a。　We　are　here　today　to　carry　out　justice。　We　are　here　today　because　the　will　of　Allah　and　the　word　of　the　Prophet　Muham　mad；　peace　be　upon　him；　are　alive　and　well　here　in　Afghanistan；　our　beloved　homeland。　We　listen　to　what　God　says　and　we　obey　because　we　are　nothing　but　humble；　powerless　creatures　before　God　s　greatness。　And　what　does　God　say？　I　ask　you！　WHAT　DOES　GOD　SAY？　God　says　that　every　sinner　must　be　punished　in　a　manner　befitting　his　sin。　Those　are　not　my　words；　nor　the　words　of　my　brothers。　Those　are　the　words　of　GOD！　　He　pointed　with　his　free　hand　to　the　sky。　My　head　was　pounding　and　the　sun　felt　much　too　hot。
　Every　sinner　must　be　punished　in　a　manner　befitting　his　sin！　　the　cleric　repeated　into　the　mike；　lowering　his　voice；　enunciating　each　word　slowly；　dramatically。　　And　what　manner　of　punishment；　brothers　and　sisters；　befits　the　adulterer？　How　shall　we　punish　those　who　dishonor　the　sanctity　of　marriage？　How　shall　we　deal　with　those　who　spit　in　the　face　of　God？　How　shall　we　answer　those　who　throw　stones　at　the　windows　of　God　s　house？　WE　SHALL　THROW　THE　STONES　BACK！　　He　shut　off　the　microphone。　A　low…pitched　murmur　spread　through　the　crowd。
Next　to　me；　Farid　was　shaking　his　head。　　And　they　call　themselves　Muslims；　　he　whispered。
Then　a　tall；　broad…shouldered　man　stepped　out　of　the　pickup　truck。　The　sight　of　him　drew　cheers　from　a　few　spectators。　This　time；　no　one　was　struck　with　a　whip　for　cheering　too　loudly。　The　tall　man　s　sparkling　white　garment　glimmered　in　the　afternoon　sun。　The　hem　of　his　loose　shirt　fluttered　in　the　breeze；　his　arms　spread　like　those　of　Jesus　on　the　cross。　He　greeted　the　crowd　by　turning　slowly　in　a　full　circle。　When　he　faced　our　section；　I　saw　he　was　wearing　dark　round　sunglasses　like　the　ones　John　Lennon　wore。
　That　must　be　our　man；　　Farid　said。
The　tall　Talib　with　the　black　sunglasses　walked　to　the　pile　of　stones　they　had　unloaded　from　the　third　truck。　He　picked　up　a　rock　and　showed　it　to　the　crowd。　The　noise　fell；　replaced　by　a　buzzing　sound　that　rippled　through　the　stadium。　I　looked　around　me　and　saw　that　everyone　was　tsk　ing。　The　Talib；　looking　absurdly　like　a　baseball　pitcher　on　the　mound；　hurled　the　stone　at　the　blindfolded　man　in　the　hole。　It　struck　the　side　of　his　head。　The　woman　screamed　again。　The　crowd　made　a　startled　　OH！　　sound。　I　closed　my　eyes　and　covered　my　face　with　my　hands。　The　spectators　　　OH！　　rhymed　with　each　flinging　of　the　stone；　and　that　went　on　for　a　while。　When　they　stopped；　I　asked　Farid　if　it　was　over。　He　said　no。　I　guessed　the　people　s　throats　had　tired。　I　don　t　know　how　much　longer　I　sat　with　my　face　in　my　hands。　I　know　that　I　reopened　my　eyes　when　I　heard　people　around　me　asking；　　Mord？　Mord？　Is　he　dead？　
The　man　in　the　hole　was　now　a　mangled　mess　of　blood　and　shredded　rags。　His　head　slumped　forward；　chin　on　chest。　The　Talib　in　the　John　Lennon　sunglasses　was　looking　down　at　another　man　squatting　next　to　the　hole；　tossing　a　rock　up　and　down　in　his
hand。　The　squatting　man　had　one　end　of　a　stethoscope　to　his　ears　and　the　other　pressed　on　the　chest　of　the　man　in　the　hole。　He　removed　the　stethoscope　from　his　ears　and　shook　his　head　no　at　the　Talib　in　the　sunglasses。　The　crowd　moaned。
John　Lennon　walked　back　to　the　mound。
When　it　was　all　over；　when　the　bloodied　corpses　had　been　unceremoniously　tossed　into　the　backs　of　red　pickup　trucks……separate　ones……a　few　men　with　shovels　hurriedly　filled　the　holes。　One　of　them　made　a　passing　attempt　at　covering　up　the　large　blood　stains　by　kicking　dirt　over　them。　A　few　minutes　later；　the　teams　took　the　field。　Second　half　was　unde