BoneMan's Daughters by Ted Dekker Read Free Book Online Page B

know how many women and children your war on our country has killed? Do you have any notion at all of how many thousands
     of innocent victims the Great Satan has left dead in my country?”
    A small voice whispered a warning in Ryan’s mind, but he couldn’t make it out.
    “They all die; they die, they are butchered by your bombs and your missiles and it’s all so clinical and distant—you don’t
     feel the pain because it’s so far away and because you don’t understand the wailing of the mothers and fathers and of God
     himself when you kill the children!”
    He spat the words with bitterness.
    “So now”—he paused, taking a deep breath through his nostrils and closing his eyes—“you are going to help me bring the pain
     of our loss to all the mothers and fathers of your country.”
    Ryan’s eyes snapped open.
    “Do you understand yet?”
    The man thrust his finger back at the photographs. “If Satan had killed a few children on the streets of any town in your
     country, horror would settle in the hearts of millions. Ted Bundy kills a few dozen women and the press screams foul, foul,
     foul. Your Beltway Killer shoots a handful of people on the streets of your capital and the country cries out with outrage!”
    Kahlid blinked. “But Satan comes here and kills thousands of women and children and not a single tear is shed. And I tell
     myself, I have to turn the thousands into one. If they can see just one die, they will understand our pain.”
    “This is madness,” Ryan said.
    The man’s nostrils flared. “Bring him in!”
    The door swung open and a shirtless young man, perhaps fifteen, walked in, wearing an expression that looked part confused,
     part curious.
    “Ahmed.” Kahlid smiled at the boy. “Come here, Ahmed.”
    The boy walked over to Kahlid tentatively, eyes wide at the sight before him.
    Kahlid put his hand on the youth’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, he doesn’t speak a word of English. Which is good, because if he
     knew that I was going to kill him the way my own son was killed—that I was going to crush his bones—he would cause quite a
     scene.”
    Nausea swept through Ryan’s gut.
    “I don’t have a building to drop on him, so I’m going to break his bones with a hammer. To be more accurate,
you’re
going to break his bones. You will kill him, just as you killed my wife and my child one year ago to this day. No one cried
     because no one saw. So you will do it again, and this time we will put it on film.”
    He wouldn’t kill, of course. How could they force him to kill? But the mere suggestion of it made his mind swim.
    “Don’t be ridiculous,” was all he could manage.
    “You can save this child a fate that neither of us would wish upon him,” Kahlid said. “You’re wearing a wedding band; tell
     us where your wife and children live. I have some friends in your country who are waiting for my call. They will go to your
     home, kill your wife and your child on camera so that the whole world will know how painful even one lost child can be. Look
     into the camera and tell us to execute your child and I will spare this one.”
    Ryan’s mind refused to process his thoughts logically for a few beats. What was he being asked to do? Surely they… Surely
     this man didn’t…
    Then the game altered in his mind and he knew that he wasn’t the only one who would die here in this room. They would use
     empathetic pain to break him. Survivor guilt and self-loathing, meant to crush his will.
    The ease with which he made his decision surprised even him. It was as if a steel wall had gone up in his mind, shutting off
     all but his stoic resolve. If it came down to it and this man was not bluffing, then he would have to accept the death of
     this boy, however monstrous it seemed. The alternative was simply an impossibility.
    “You’ll only make them hate you more,” he said.
    “I don’t think so. Americans have a great capacity for forgiveness once they understand a