His heart pumping harder, Khaled lifts his chin. When he glances over his shoulder, he finds Hajji Amer staring straight at him. For a second their eyes meet. In the gaze of the man he once called a friend Khaled searches for a sign of shame or guilt or even pity, anything at all, but there is nothing there; it is as empty as the cistern below. “Shoot!” They open fire all at once. Shouting “God is great” in Arabic, they gun down sixty-four Yazidi men and boys who have no weapons, no way of defending themselves. One after another the bodies fall into the void. “Some are still alive!” a man
...more
