The Dent in the Military ID
“How do you know that we are safe?” he asked Kelly after a few seconds.
“I called Mohammed,” she replied. The moment she uttered Mohammed’s name, Ali looked up at her. She kept quiet for a few seconds and then added, “You went unconscious the moment you sat in the car. Once I drove away from the hospital, I had to think fast about what to do. I was sure that the FBI must be hot on our trail. Omar had been severely injured in the explosion that day, but I couldn’t rule out the possibility of him or his men looking for us. The only person that I could think of to turn to for help was Mohammed. I figured he was the one person we could trust. He called a friend and arranged for us to stay here. So don’t worry— there is no trail for the police to follow.”
Ali took a deep breath and said a short prayer. He looked up at Kelly. “Thank you, my dear. I am again in your debt.”
“Well, it was not me entirely,” Kelly explained. “You have something else to thank, too.” She held up Ali’s military ID. “Now it has a slight dent in them.” Ali took the badge from her and kissed it. “You were wearing it, and it seems a bullet bounced off of it. So you were partially protected by it.”
Ali had tears in his eyes. He took Kelly’s hand and said, “Well, it seems Allah was protecting me. Still, I am in your debt. It is Allah who has brought us together. If you would not have been there, I do not think I would have been able to escape. I would have been sleeping somewhere under the earth by now.”