Dark Chronicles of Nooria 5

As we exit the plane, there's a number of women in uniform. One calls, "Nooria Ahpay, here."
I walk to her, guess she's bigtime bossy but heart of gold. "Come on," she hugs me, "show you around."
I'm starting to get suspicious, why am I singled out, rest from the plane are forming up into groups.
"Don't worry bout a thing," she says cheerily, "why you'll soon have lotsa roommates with the same problem."
"Problem, ma'am?"
"Why of course, gather you girls together, safety in numbers. See it's a huge taboo, other girls in camp maybe don't like you."
"Taboo, ma'am?"
"Taboo means totally forbidden, way out beyond society's rules."
"Ma'am, I'm only ten, haven't done any of that stuff yet."
She shakes her head sadly, "often like so. People refuse to admit, deny, forget. Cannibalism of course."
"Cannibalism, ma'am?"
"That means eating human bodies. Look, you'll be fine, have friends, good school, get counselling, eat well. Now let's go." She puts out her hand and I take it.
Cannibalism? As in the dream? Strange and stranger.
All other barracks are a lot bigger, we arrive at a small one. "You call me Arifa."
"Yes ma'am."
"You mean yes Arifa."
"Yes Arifa."
I see a dozen tough girls with a capital T. All have that mocking look that calls me a wimp.
Arifa grins, "listen up, y'all. This here is Nooria. Corridor, far end, near the China Border. We all know what that means."
The looks change in a nanosecond.
Arifa smiles, "want one volunteer, spend the weekend talking with her. Show her workbooks and such."
A girl shyly pushes forward.
"Right Arezou, she's all yours."
I'm happy with the choice, this one had the least of the smart-ass looks.
Arezou smiles gently, "don't guess you've had tons of time to study of late. Start with math?"
"Sure."
After a few minutes, Arezou raises an eyebrow, "got me beat, everyone else here in Barrack 14 too. So, wanna try ..."
Arezou is kind and patient. By the end of the weekend, I realize even though I miss Melissa, least I'm not alone. I'm assigned the bed next to her.
Curiously, none of the others give me any trouble, all are quite friendly, helpful. Whatever the "Corridor" means, must be heavy, same look of respect I got from folks after thumping John Powderhorn.
"Come on," she says gently, "shower tonight, schoolday mornings it's crazy in the shower block."
First chance we've had to talk private.
"Been watching you Nooria, some girls ain't smart enough to figger it out. You had it taped pretty quick. So what's my real job? To you, I mean."
"Suicide watch."
Grin, "ah ha, right in one. So lemme tell you what I see. We been told all this kinda stuff in school. Real cold fish, it's hard, real hard. If you cry or scream or whatever, least I know you're human, got feelings. Two days now, I ain't seen one flicker of emotion. All you ask, practical stuff, courses, rules and such. Ain't never seen no one like you."
I nod.
"So Nooria, your choice. Learn to talk with me or you end up talking with the counsellor."
"Look, I don't remember a thing, bodies and such. Just a dream, nothing else."
"Worst kind," she asserts, "grownups say repress memories, dissociate." Appraising look, "so, before all this, there's other crazy stuff in your life." Looks into my eyes, "you've killed."
I blush.
"Come on, tell me."
"You promise, our secret?"
She spits on her hand, as do I, we shake.
Blushing fiercely, I start, "see I was left with this uncle, babysit me. He tried to do bad stuff. Me, slithered away, ran to the kitchen, got a knife. Told him stay away. Just laughed at me, tried again. Ran him through. Didn't stop. Put maybe 50 stabs into him."
"Cool. What happened? Cops?"
"Two lady cops, questioned me 2 days. Had to re-enact the scene probably 50 times, position and such. In the end, just let me go."
"So lemme guess, Nooria. Ever since, nothing feels the same. Don't get real angry, more just irritated. Don't feel much of anything."
"How'd you know that?"
"Way you tell it. Come on, it's ok to cry, do it, you'll feel better."
I do.
After, she wipes my eyes, we return hand-in-hand. In a triumphant tone, "there, a start, you're a real person. So you'll talk with me? Easier than the counsellor."
"Yes Arezou, whatever you want."
Arifa comes, sits with us, "so, you two ok together?"
Arezou smiles proudly, "fine, proud to have her as my Friend."
Arifa asks, "Nooria, you ok with her?"
"Yes Arifa."
"Good. Stick right with her. Take her advice on courses and such." Then Arifa takes my chin in her hand, gently turns it, "ah ha, we do share something. Pretty young for it, aren't you?"
I know what she means, but won't admit it.
"So how old were you when you killed?"
"Eight Arifa. But it's not what you think. Didn't kill for food, self-defence."
And now the 3 of us are laughing, it sounds so crazy.
As we undress for bed, Arezou smiles, "there, can laugh, can cry, lotta progress."
"Thanks for being a friend Arezou."
"Nooria, keep the real heavy stuff for weekends, don't wanna miss out on our beauty sleep, fall asleep in class."

I walk into the first class, history. Arezou and I sit side-by-side and I await the inevitable boredom. Once everyone has filed in, the teacher, maybe fifty, rises, "new girl, front and center."
Wordless I obey.
Consults her list, "Nooria Ahpay, right?"
"Yes ma'am."
"Well Nooria, you listen up. Other history classes might be boring, but not mine. See I gotta rule. New girl, hasta talk about a dream with history in it. Doesn't matter if in the dream you are old or young, man or woman, white Afghan or anything else. With me so far?"
I nod, afraid.
"Now look around Nooria, you want these 40 girls thinking you are a wimp?"
I look, I may be tough by standards of Saskatoon or Lilac Valley, but here I am a wimp.
"Now I've read just about everything in history, my job and my hobby. So wimp out on me and I'm gonna ask you lotsa hard questions. Don't just stand around, start the story."
I start quietly, "see I've had this same dream every month or so since age six."
"Louder," teacher insists, "face the girls, don't look at the floor."
"Yes ma'am. Now in this dream, I'm a German paratroop officer. It's World War 2. I'm talking with my sergeant, preparing. Now him and me, been together 5 years now. Both of us started in the Condor Legion, Spanish Civil War, 1936 to 1939."
Do I have their attention? Absolutely, breathless, pindrop silence.
"It's our fourth drop into Crete. That's a mountainous island, belongs to Greece. I tell the sarge of a vision I had, what'll happen to me today. His face darkens, tells me to forget all that nonsense and get on with it. We climb into Iron Annies, slang for JU52's, the three-engine transports. I've just made my jump, chute hasn't opened yet, when a shell rips off most of my right hand. What I really should do, try and stop the bleeding. But I don't, because I know what happens to me if I live."
Are they listening? Oh yeah!
"When my chute opens, it doesn't do cleanly. Snags my right arm, acts like a tourniquet. That's why I don't bleed to death in the air. If also snags my left arm, so I got no ability to steer. I hit hard, lie there dazed a moment. Then I see what I must do. Sarge is coming from a distance. I gotta die before he gets here. He stops by a medic, working on someone else. My both hands are still snagged from the chute lines. So I try to wrestle my gun into position. Just before I do so, he's there, takes my gun away. He holds a cloth over my hand as we wait for the medic. Tells me I almost did a terrible thing, God would be angry at me. Then I pass out."
I stop.
Arrogant look on teacher's face, "does the dream stop there, Nooria?"
"About half the time, ma'am."
"Don't just stand there, tell us the rest."
"Now after my medical treatment, I'm assigned to command Police Battalion 83. Early January 1942, we set out on a tour of duty in Poland."
Teacher looks real sweaty now, pale.
"We drew first blood in Jozefow. Just before that, had my men lined up. Said any family man wants to be excused from this duty, I'll do it, move him to something else. Maybe a dozen take me up on it."
"Stop," teacher say, "in this dream, you happen to know a name, rank?"
"Yes ma'am, Major Reinhard Strasser.
She gasps, turns deathly pale, "story is over. Back to your seat."
A large girl sticks up her hand, "ma'am, not fair. Never interrupt anyone else's story. We want all."
Murmurs of agreement.
Teacher gestures to me, "our friend here would tell you in a too-graphic manner. Check history books in the library. Major Stasser's 83rd was responsible for 180,000 deaths that year."
"You mean Jews, ma'am?"
"Yes."
Loud chorus of "cool" and "awesome".