10. Go! Run!
"Hurry up!" Ahmad yelled.
I locked elbows with Amna and half dragged her with me.
Three more bangs followed us and Amna squeaked.
We turned a corner and then immediately turned again. There was a broken building to our left and Ahmad hurriedly dived through the open doorway.
"Here, quickly!"
I followed him, heaving Amna in behind me. Ahmad was peeking out of the doorway, and I made sure Amna was lying down before I slumped against a wall to catch my breath.
After a few minutes of silence, Ahmad came back into the room.
"They're gone."
"Thank God," I muttered, wiping my forehead.
I crawled over to Amna, who was flat on her back, clutching her thigh.
"Are you okay?" I asked.
Biting her lip, she shook her head.
"Have you changed the dressing since Friday?" I asked, kneeling next to Amna.
Another shake.
"Here," Ahmad said, handing me a bag and kneeling down next to me. "That Adon guy handed this to me when we met him yesterday."
"Okay. Do you have any medical knowledge?"
Ahmad shook his head.
With a sigh, I uncovered the dusty box in my brain labelled "First Aid". I took the bag from Ahmad and rifled through it quickly.
There was a bottle of water, some bread and medical supplies. I hunted for a clean bandage roll, anti-septic liquid and cotton swabs. When I found them, I set the bag to the side and faced Amna.
The bullet that had grazed my hip the night we ran had hit Amna's leg. With some of my first aid knowledge, I'd managed to get the bullet out and bandage up her wound at our first hideout.
It had been about three days since we'd started running. Adon had been helping us whenever he could, why, I didn't know. If it weren't for his warning, we would have been dead. Had we even hesitated for a few more minutes, we'd have been shot.
It was dark but the sky lit up every few minutes when a bomb dropped to the ground and exploded. We were alive, for the most part, and that was all that mattered.
There wasn't really a spot where there weren't soldiers patrolling, so we had to change our hideouts at least once a day. It was difficult to keep running without being seen, especially with an injured person.
"This is going to sting a bit," I murmured with a warning, wincing when Amna winced slightly as I dabbed an anti-septic ladled cotton ball on her wound.
"Are you okay?"
"Of course," I answered with a smile.
Amna nodded.
"There, we, go," I murmured, tucking the end of the bandage into itself. "Does it still hurt a lot?"
"Not as much as it was hurting."
"Good, good."
"You must eat something," Ahmad said, handing Amna the water bottle and a slice of bread.
She shook her head and muttered something in Arabic.
"Amna, you have to eat," Ahmad replied firmly.
With a reluctant nod, she took the bread and a sip of water.
"I'll take first watch," I said with a murmur, walking over to the doorway and settling in.
Ahmad gave me a brief smile and made a temporary pillow for Amna out of the backpack. They spoke to each other quietly until Amna fell asleep
Morning came quickly, with Ahmad and me taking it in shifts to keep guard.
The sun was just rising when I settled myself perpendicular to Ahmad in the doorway.
"You okay?" I asked.
He was gazing at Amna, a small dent on his forehead.
He sighed. "I just cannot help wonder what Amna would be like if she did not grow up in Gaza."
Amna was lying on the floor, an almost peaceful look on her face, which was covered in cuts, dirt, and blood.
"You shouldn't think like that. Amna is who she is today because she grew up in Gaza. It has made her strong and beautiful! You too, Ahmad. Hardship has a way of doing that to people. It shapes and transforms them. But it is up to that person to allow the transformation to happen. They have allow it to let them grow, let them heal. Being stuck in the past, or in the Land of Ifs, does not help a person. You will degenerate, and become ugly."
Ahmad sighed.
"You are right, I know."
We settled into companionable silence for a while before Amna stirred. The sun had raised up low on the horizon by now.
"We should go," Ahmad said. "We cannot stay in one place for too long."
I nodded and stood up, helping Ahmad remove any trace that we had been in the deserted building.
Most of the day had gone by when we finally stopped for a rest. We hadn't encountered any soldiers yet, but we did hear many bombs go off in the distance.
Ahmad passed Amna our only bottle of water, and said, "Do you realise that we can never return home?"
He was right, I realised. The full impact of being chased was slowly dawning upon us. And it was mostly my fault that Ahmad and Amna were now fugitives in their own land.
"I'm so sorry," I murmured, voicing my thoughts. "All this is my fault. If I hadn't come here to report on anything, you guys would still have a semi-normal life."
"Julie, do not say that!" Amna said. "You are helping us more than you know. People are starting to realise how we live, and that is thanks to you."
I gave her a faint smile, guilt still building a home in my stomach. "But at what cost, Amna? Look how much you have lost."
"Oh, no. If I lived my life basing it on what I have and what I have lost, I would be a very unhappy person. I am grateful that you answered my emails. Even if Palestine is not free at this moment, it will be soon, because you helped. And if I lost everything in the process, I would be glad. Because future Palestinians will be able to live in a land that is free, where they are not killed just. Because. They. Are. Palestinian."
I squeezed Amna's arm and gave Ahmad a knowing look. This was exactly the strength I was telling him about earlier.
He gave me a small smile before saying, "Night is going to fall soon, we should find shelter."
I nodded in agreement. "Do you know where we are?"
"Near the coast, I think. I am not too certain."
I nodded.
"Come on, then," he sighed, and we began walking again.
We took a few more turns and went down an alley that had recently been bombed, as there were small fires every few feet. We rounded a broken building, piles of rubble lying everywhere. One said pile had formed a sort of cove, so Ahmad headed for it, making sure Amna and I were safely in.
It was cramped, and we could barely stand, so we sat down against the far wall of the cove. There really was only room for about two and a bit people.
Ahmad crouched at the entrance. "You guys stay here," he said. "I wil be back soon."
Amna moved forward and grabbed his arm. "Where are you going?"
"To see where we are. And maybe see if I can contact Adon."
Amna nodded and murmured something in Arabic before Ahmad left.
I gave her a weak smile as she sat back down next to me, a worried crease denting her forehead.
"He'll be fine," I whispered.
She nodded and tried to return my smile, but couldn't.
"How strange it is, Adon helping us," I murmured.
Amna "hmphed" but said nothing else.
"What?"
"Nothing, it is just-" Her head snapped towards the cove entrance, the rest of her sentence forgotten.
Moments later, I heard it too.
Soft footsteps.
Amna opened her mouth to call out, but I shook my head, placing a finger over my lips. If it was Ahmad, he'd have walked in normally, not hesitantly.
"We need to leave," I breathed.
Amna's wide, shining eyes asked me how.
I pointed to a large, sharp rock at her feet and mimed throwing it against my head, and then pointed outside.
She nodded in understanding, picking up the rock.
I held up three fingers, dropping one at a time. My second finger had barely folded down when two men rushed into our cove.
Blinding pain took over my body as I felt something hard and sharp hit my head.
I had only time to see Amna's horror-stricken face before darkness overtook.
When I came to, I was lying in a cell, my hands tied behind my back and a gag over my mouth. My feet were chained to the wall, and in the distance, I could hear pitiful, terror-filled screams.
Where the bloody hell was I?
*
I groaned in pain.
"I will ask only one more time. Who. Sent. You?"
"No-no one," I gasped.
The man gave me a fifth prod with his taser and I had to bite my lip from crying out.
"Liar!"
"I-I'm not lying. I swear to God."
With another slash of his knife to my face, he stomped out of the cell.
I collapsed to my knees.
Pain was reverberating from every inch of my body. It hurt to even breathe. Slowly, I leaned against the wall, taking small, sharp breaths.
I hissed as my back slipped too fast down the wall and I hit the floor with a cracking thud.
I'd lost count of how long I was in this place.
Initially, I think they intended to take Amna, because they questioned me about her family and Ahmad's family. However, when they realised whom they actually caught, they got a lot more crueller, and kept demanding who had sent me to spy on them.
Part of me felt like they felt threatened by what I was writing and how quickly it was gaining momentum.
Naturally, their only defence was to torture, and then ultimately kill, anyone who dared speak out against them.
They had dutifully given me food about five times now. However, after swallowing a piece of glass in my first meal, I didn't eat any more.
With a sigh, I tried to even my breathing so that my heart would stop pounding in my ears.
I was in an underground sort of prison, and I could see into the cell across from me and the ones on either side of it. There was a small boy in the left cell, and an old man in the right one. Across from me was a man, about my age, who had been taken in for questioning earlier on and hadn't returned.
I tried talking to the little boy, but there were soldiers on either side of my cell gate, and they had very nicely fired their guns at me to keep quiet. Most of the bullets had missed, bar one, which had grazed the side of my knee.
The little boy had since retreated to the far corner of his cell and didn't come into view again.
The sound of soft, cautious footsteps had me still my attempt to get comfortable.
I listened intently, trying to quieten my breathing, but, if anything, it just got louder. Not that quiet breathing would stop them from killing me.
A familiar figure came into view and my breathing got shorter, and my vision darkened.
I closed my eyes and shook my head.
I had to be hallucinating.
Keys jingled and the door to my cell swung open. The soldier entered and proceeded to untie my hands and unchain me.
"Walk," he ordered, placing the tip of his gun at the small of my back.
I scrambled to my feet, my legs weak and shaking. I took a step before slipping and landing painfully on my knees.
"Hurry up!" there was a bang and I shrieked. "The next one goes through your head. Walk!"
I hurriedly stood up again and Adon pushed me forward with his gun.
We continued walking for a few moments, steadily going uphill. Finally, we burst into fresh air.
Night had just settled in and the stars were twinkling brightly. We were about to cross the prison camp gates when another soldier stopped Adon.
They had a quick conversation in Hebrew before Adon said, "This is prisoner 2468021. It needs to be put down.
My heartbeat escalated.
Traitor.
Here I was, thinking he was helping us. That he had somehow found some good in him and decided to be a decent human being.
I thrashed backwards, trying to land a hit on any part of Adon's body.
Immediately, the soldier at the gate drew his gun and fired at my foot.
He missed, but I still felt the heat of the bullet graze the side of my bare feet.
"Next time, I hit my target."
"Stop," Adon growled. He then menacingly spoke to the soldier before marching forward again, shoving me into movement.
"Where are you taking me?" I asked.
"Shut up," he growled again.
"I thought you were a good person, Adon."
"Shut. Up."
I sighed. I was too exhausted to fight, but I'd be damned if I was going to die quietly.
"You got us this far, why the sudden change of heart?"
The gun cut deeper into my back.
"Julie. For once in your life, listen." There was an urgency in his tone which, reluctantly, made me keep quiet.
We had just walked through the final exit gates when Adon lowered his gun and started walking faster.
"We don't have much time," he muttered. "They'll figure it out soon."
I frowned. "Wha-"
As if on cue, his walkie-talkie crackled to life with a long string of Hebrew, which was then repeated in English.
"Code Red One. Lieutenant Adon Hazzan has gone rogue. Prisoner 2468021 has escaped, at his aide. Do not let them out. I repeat, Lieutenant Adon Hazzan has gone rogue..."
Adon let all pretences fall.
"Run!" He grabbed my hand and we ran.
Once we had put some distance between the prison and us, Adon let go of my hand long enough to remove the silver ring on his thumb.
"Tracker," he murmured before taking my hand again, pulling me faster.
A while later, we stopped to catch our breath. They had somehow followed us, and were always a few metres behind us.
Breathing heavily, I leaned against a wall.
"Do you think we lost them?" I asked.
Adon's nostrils flared as he tried not to show how winded he was.
He peered around the corner, frowning slightly before breathing, "For now."
"What?"
He turned to me, his gaze somewhat hazy. "I-I just don't understand how they keep finding us."
"You said the ring was a tracker, right? And you did throw it away, right?"
He nodded.
If there was one thing I learnt about the Israeli Government since I had got here, it was the fact that they were cunning. There had to be a second tracker on his uniform. A less obvious one. They'd scare them into wearing the ring 24/7, and if by the off chance the ring was lost, or they took it off, there had to be another way for the higher ups to find them.
Adon's walkie-talkie crackled again. We both glanced down at it. It was a relatively simple one, which had only one button.
"Joonah Street," it said.
It suddenly dawned on me. "Adon," I said, grabbing his walkie-talkie. "It's this, your walkie-talkie."
"My what?"
"Your radio. It must have a tracking chip in it."
Adon nodded in understanding, and in a flash, he took the radio, threw it on the ground and proceeded to stamp on it.
"Now," he muttered. "We run."
And for the fourth time that day, we took off.
***
A/N
New update! :) The video attached is an excellent watch.
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