Efraim
15 August 2043 Local (GMT+2.00)
Sinan bin al-Baari almost hesitated before bashing the four-year-old’s face in, but then he remembered that it wasn’t really a boy, it was a pig and an ape, and that freed him. He struck the blow with all the savagery he could muster, infinitely more than was needed, and the butt of his rifle shattered the child’s face with an audible and wet crack, and the boy crumpled to the floor. As soon as he was down, Sinan struck again, and this time broke through bone and spilled brains onto the linoleum floor.
The boy’s father screamed with animal anguish, inhuman in its grief, and then Aamil shot him, and the man fell, eternally silent.
They stood still for a moment, each of them viewing their work, and finally Sinan said, “God is great.”
“God is great,” Aamil echoed, and Sinan thought his voice sounded hoarse and almost choked. He looked to his friend, trying to read the expression on his face, but Aamil was moving away already, toward the switch on the wall, and he flicked it and plunged the small kitchen into darkness.
Sinan moved out of the room into the hallway, carrying the rifle with its butt pressed between his arm and his chest. The butt was wet from the child and he felt fluid soaking into his shirt, but he didn’t mind that, and he continued forward, toward the closed front door with its broken lock. Through the window, he could see the street, the fading sunlight, and as he watched an IDF armored personnel carrier rolled down the street, and when Sinan caught sight of the Star of David painted on its side, he couldn’t stop himself from spitting in disgust.
He turned away from the door to see Aamil was now behind him, looking anxious.
“We should go now,” Aamil said.
“We haven’t finished.”
“There’s no one else here.”
Sinan gestured with a free hand back toward the kitchen. “Father, son . . . Where’s the mother? There’s at least one more.”
Aamil glanced over his shoulder quickly, then looked back to Sinan, as if he hadn’t liked what he’d seen. “It’s enough, we’ve done enough, Sinan. We should go before we can never go.”
“You’re afraid.”
Aamil shook his head.
Sinan considered, then looked out the window once more. The street was empty, the purple and red of the sky melting to a darker blue. Darkness would help their escape, but it would also lend them more time for the work. Maybe they could enter another house, put down another animal or three? The idea excited him, made his stomach tighten in anticipation. That would be wonderful, to be able to return to the camp and tell all who doubted him what they had done in the Zionist settlement, how they had proven that no one was safe there, not even in their own homes.
Then he thought of the APC and reconsidered. Aamil had fired his weapon, and it was luck, it seemed, that had kept anyone from hearing the shot. In another house, if it happened again, Sinan doubted they would be so lucky a second time. Even more, he doubted that they would be able to kill those descendants of apes and pigs in silence.
Aamil was right, but for the wrong reasons.
It was time to go.
•
They waited until full darkness had descended and the APC had passed by the house three more times, now shining its mounted halogen lights into yards and alleys. Each time it passed, Sinan could see the soldier at the spot, and each time, Sinan imagined a bullet from his gun entering the soldier’s head, and his finger slid from its safe position alongside the guard to the trigger, feeling the curve of metal against the pad of his forefinger. But he kept the gun down, resisting the urge despite his craving to seize the opportunity.
At last they emerged, sprinting quick and low across the street, between the settlement houses, across a wide backyard, making toward the barbed-wire fence. Sinan led as fast as he could, but this wasn’t the way they’d come into the settlement, and he wasn’t entirely
15 August 2043 Local (GMT+2.00)
Sinan bin al-Baari almost hesitated before bashing the four-year-old’s face in, but then he remembered that it wasn’t really a boy, it was a pig and an ape, and that freed him. He struck the blow with all the savagery he could muster, infinitely more than was needed, and the butt of his rifle shattered the child’s face with an audible and wet crack, and the boy crumpled to the floor. As soon as he was down, Sinan struck again, and this time broke through bone and spilled brains onto the linoleum floor.
The boy’s father screamed with animal anguish, inhuman in its grief, and then Aamil shot him, and the man fell, eternally silent.
They stood still for a moment, each of them viewing their work, and finally Sinan said, “God is great.”
“God is great,” Aamil echoed, and Sinan thought his voice sounded hoarse and almost choked. He looked to his friend, trying to read the expression on his face, but Aamil was moving away already, toward the switch on the wall, and he flicked it and plunged the small kitchen into darkness.
Sinan moved out of the room into the hallway, carrying the rifle with its butt pressed between his arm and his chest. The butt was wet from the child and he felt fluid soaking into his shirt, but he didn’t mind that, and he continued forward, toward the closed front door with its broken lock. Through the window, he could see the street, the fading sunlight, and as he watched an IDF armored personnel carrier rolled down the street, and when Sinan caught sight of the Star of David painted on its side, he couldn’t stop himself from spitting in disgust.
He turned away from the door to see Aamil was now behind him, looking anxious.
“We should go now,” Aamil said.
“We haven’t finished.”
“There’s no one else here.”
Sinan gestured with a free hand back toward the kitchen. “Father, son . . . Where’s the mother? There’s at least one more.”
Aamil glanced over his shoulder quickly, then looked back to Sinan, as if he hadn’t liked what he’d seen. “It’s enough, we’ve done enough, Sinan. We should go before we can never go.”
“You’re afraid.”
Aamil shook his head.
Sinan considered, then looked out the window once more. The street was empty, the purple and red of the sky melting to a darker blue. Darkness would help their escape, but it would also lend them more time for the work. Maybe they could enter another house, put down another animal or three? The idea excited him, made his stomach tighten in anticipation. That would be wonderful, to be able to return to the camp and tell all who doubted him what they had done in the Zionist settlement, how they had proven that no one was safe there, not even in their own homes.
Then he thought of the APC and reconsidered. Aamil had fired his weapon, and it was luck, it seemed, that had kept anyone from hearing the shot. In another house, if it happened again, Sinan doubted they would be so lucky a second time. Even more, he doubted that they would be able to kill those descendants of apes and pigs in silence.
Aamil was right, but for the wrong reasons.
It was time to go.
•
They waited until full darkness had descended and the APC had passed by the house three more times, now shining its mounted halogen lights into yards and alleys. Each time it passed, Sinan could see the soldier at the spot, and each time, Sinan imagined a bullet from his gun entering the soldier’s head, and his finger slid from its safe position alongside the guard to the trigger, feeling the curve of metal against the pad of his forefinger. But he kept the gun down, resisting the urge despite his craving to seize the opportunity.
At last they emerged, sprinting quick and low across the street, between the settlement houses, across a wide backyard, making toward the barbed-wire fence. Sinan led as fast as he could, but this wasn’t the way they’d come into the settlement, and he wasn’t entirely
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