Easy Day for the Dead by Howard E. Wasdin and Stephen Templin Read Free Book Online Page B

come you speak so fluently?”
    She smiled. “It is not great. My mother liked English and she taught me. When I was a high school student, I studied in the United States as an exchange student for a year.”
    â€œWhere?”
    â€œSacramento.”
    â€œThat’s great for just one year.”
    â€œLater, I majored in English at California State University.”
    â€œWow,” John said.
    Alex rolled his eyes. No wonder John was single.
    â€œIt took me six years to graduate.” She laughed.
    â€œMaybe that’s why your English is so good.”
    â€œI am embarrassed. It should be better.”
    â€œTwo rooms but you live alone,” John said. “Is that common here?”
    â€œNo.”
    Alex wanted John to ask why, but John apparently decided to let it drop.
    After nearly a minute of silence, Leila explained: “The local newspaper wrote a false article about my husband—saying he wanted to overthrow the government. One day when he picked my son up from high school, some agents abducted them. I tried everything I could and asked the few people I knew for help. The authorities released my son, but he had received such serious head injuries that later he died. My husband remained in prison, and they tortured him to death.”
    â€œI’m sorry,” John said. His voice was quiet and Alex had to strain to hear.
    â€œIt is okay,” Leila said.
    â€œDid you ever find out why the newspaper wrote the false article?”
    â€œIt was a basiji .”
    Alex understood. In 1979, Ayatollah Khomeini established a militia called Basij. Its members, basiji, were infamous for enforcing morals and obedience to the government.
    â€œReserve members do not get paid. Full members are paid. The special members are paid to be part of the Basij and Revolutionary Guard. He is a reserve member. His name is Emamali Naqdi.”
    Alex started to get up, but stopped. John was leaning across the table. He held Leila’s hand in his.
    â€œWhy’d he target your family?” John asked.
    â€œWhen my husband and I went out, the basiji man stared at me—he made me feel so uncomfortable, but my husband told me not to worry about it, so I did not worry. He looked at my husband with an evil eye, but my husband ignored him, too. The basiji disappeared for a couple of weeks. I thought it was finished. Then my husband was taken away. After my husband died, the basiji reappeared, watching my house late at night. Sometimes he just stood outside; other times he sat in his red Chinese SUV—he’d watch my house for hours. I reported it to the police, but they said that because I was living alone, he was protecting me, and they told me I should be careful not to irritate authorities.”
    â€œDidn’t you have family or friends who could help you?”
    â€œWe had just moved here for my husband’s work—we had only a few people. Two helped me free my son, but they were afraid to help my husband.”
    â€œAnd you hold your government responsible for what happened to your husband and son?”
    â€œYes. I love Iran, but I hate the government. It is not just whathappened to me; it is what happened to so many other Iranians.” She paused.
    Alex understood her motivation, but he wondered if he could ever turn on his own government like that. Maybe if it was killing his family and friends and a theocracy, but luckily, the United States was still just a regular, messed-up democracy.
    â€œWhy do you do what you do?” she asked John.
    â€œIt’s a long story,” John said.
    â€œWe have time.”
    Alex tuned John out, thinking about his own reasons. It went back to when he was in high school. There was a man who had a hard time holding a job or connecting to society. He blamed the government for all his own shortcomings. One day, he blew up a post office. Both his grandfather and sister Sarah were killed in the explosion. It was an act of