by J.R. Roth
Eight-year-old Azad and his father sat by the small fire outside their tent. Their mixed herd of sheep and goats huddled restlessly nearby. The recent heatwave had been particularly difficult on the livestock.
Now, with the sun below the horizon, the temperature finally dipped below 90 degrees. The moon cast pale light across the rugged mountains around them. A small breeze stirred the dust on the ground.
Azad stole a glance at his father, who sat upright, AK-47 across his lap, scanning the horizon, always on alert. Wolves and bears were not strangers in this part of Northern Iraq, but neither were armed men moving through the hills after dark.
Daesh was always a threat in this area near the Syrian border. But this summer, despite the record-high heat, Daesh cells had stepped up their terrorist activities. It was almost as if they relished the suffering. Azad’s father owned only eighty head of livestock and was unlikely to attract Daesh attention. But still, those fanatics, as his father called them, were capable of anything.
Reşo, their Kurdish Mastiff, lay on the ground nearby. He raised his massive head and gave a low growl.
Two yellow dots appeared over a rise off to the left.
“Jackals,” the father said. “They are no worry to us.”
Reşo put his head back down on his paws.
Azad sat up. Yellow eyes stared back at him from the rise. He loved jackals. As a child who was small for his age, he loved hearing the stories about Jackal, the clever trickster. Jackal was always at a disadvantage because of his size and strength but always found a way to win through wit and deceit. Azad thought there was a lesson in there, somewhere.
A shooting star streaked across the night sky, and Azad looked up just in time to see it streak into nothingness. He looked back at his jackal, and it was gone. It was probably out hunting by itself and didn’t like the sight of the fire.
Then, in the same place, two pairs of yellow eyes appeared. Maybe it was hunting with its mate, the way jackals often did.
Suddenly, four more pairs of yellow eyes appeared down low, near the horizon. This isn’t right, Azad thought.
“Father, look,” Azad said, pointing into the distance, where the glowing pairs of eyes had suddenly multiplied to a dozen.
Azad’s father stood up, pulling his AK-47 with him.
Reşo also stood, growling.
They both watched as the glowing eyes grew larger. The jackals were running toward them.
“Dakka-dakka-dakka,” Azad’s father let loose a burst from his AK-47 into the night sky.
The jackals didn’t flinch.
Reşo took a protective step toward the approaching group of glowing eyes.
The eyes were getting closer. They were closing the distance with terrifying speed.
“Father,” Azad said shakily.
“It’s fine, son. Stand by the fire.”
Azad’s father took several large steps away from Azad and toward the jackals. Reşo by his side.
The eyes were much larger now and Azad could make out the faint outlines of pointy ears bobbing as they ran.
The rifle barked again—dakka-dakka-dakka—this time aimed low, straight into the pack.
Azad saw two of the animals fall, but the larger group kept coming.
“Go,” Azad’s father commanded Reşo, and the large Mastiff lunged forward to intercept the jackals.
Azad’s father fired at the far edge of the attacking pack, careful to not aim near Reşo.
The jackals were now in full view. There were ten of them. Their pale creamy yellow coats reflected the moonlight as they ran straight for the man and his son.
Reşo was nearly upon the pack when he stopped and went rigid. The jackals ran around him, past him, as if he wasn’t there.
“Son of a whore,” the father yelled, lifting the AK-47 and firing the rest of his magazine into the oncoming jackals, sweeping the rifle back and forth.
Azad saw the bullets strike several of the animals, and they tumbled to the ground.
The jackals were suddenly upon his father. They launched themselves toward his chest and brought him down in a flurry of fur and cursing.
Azad never even thought to run. Instead, he stood frozen beside the fire.
From behind the jackals came Reşo, running at full speed. He bounded past the thrashing pile, jaws open, and leapt at the boy. Before Azad could say “No,” Reşo grabbed him and snapped his neck.