They were scourging through piles of junk. Not unusual for orphans of the war. The

boy found a tin can, shook it, and tossed it behind him. The girl continued to rummage a

while longer. Her fingers found something damp, and she tried to pull it out. She felt a rip,

and pulled out her hand; on her palm lay part of a banana peel.

She sullenly tore the peel down the middle and handed one piece to the boy. They

placed the rotten, damp garbage between their teeth, and chewed. They chewed. The girl

finished first, and sighed.

"Good night, Caleb. You can have the rest of the food, if you can pull it out," she said. "Good night, Sulaima."

Sulaima walked away, down to one of the explosion craters left behind last week. The

two kids had done a decent job of safeguarding their temporary hideout. The concrete heap

served as good cover during the raids, and the tallowy hides of who-knows-which creature

were sufficient bedding. She sat down on her hide, somewhat larger and rougher than Caleb's

— after all, she was two years his elder.

As she began to see Caleb's silhouette traipsing slowly towards their pit, she heard

two sounds go off simultaneously: The whooshing sound of impending doom she had gotten

used to, and the blaring roar of the automatic sirens, which she had also gotten used to.

She immediately jumped up and cried out, "Caleb! Faster!"

The silhouette started growing larger and came quickly into focus. Caleb hurriedly

slipped down the side of the crater, and Sulaima grabbed onto his arm as they both ran

towards the assortment of concrete blocks.

A few minutes later, as they watched the blurry grey jets pass overhead, from the

holes in the slabs, Sulaima heard her stomach grumble. She grimaced and said to Caleb,

"Should we just sleep here today? It might get a little cramped…"

Caleb nodded solemnly. He knew neither of them wanted to take a chance again, not

after last week. They carried over their hides and placed them haphazardly in the

claustrophobic tunnel. As they both lay down, neither particularly sleepy, Sulaima whispered

softly

"Do you remember my ammi, Caleb?" Caleb was silent for a few short moments before he muttered back, "She was mean.

But she made good tea."

"Exactly," Sulaima replied. "I miss her tea. And I miss her telling me to stay away

from you Jews. But… I don't know what it means anymore."

"Thank you for bringing me her tea."

With that, they both fell silent. Sulaima was aware of Caleb's breathing getting slower

and lighter as he drifted off to sleep — sleep so light, even a simple mosquito could have

woken him up. Not that there were any mosquitoes remaining, they had probably all

vapourized by the bombs. The whooshing sound of impending doom…

She was unwillingly reminded of last week as she started to doze off. That infinite

instance in time, when she was hiding in Caleb's house, reassuring him that his parents would

be back from the border while he sobbed into her sleeve. Even though she was the enemy

Caleb's parents were fighting, there she was, telling him that his parents would succeed. That

she would probably also die, but this little twelve-year-old kid she had learnt to adore would

have his family back.

That was when she heard the whoosh. She remembered getting goosebumps, even

though she had never heard the sound before. She ran to the window just in time to hear the

crash. It was a sound unlike anything she had ever heard. A thunderclap brighter than the sun,

quickly followed by a heat on her face that felt like it was burning her soul away.

She did not wait to see if Caleb was okay; she sprinted out. She ran unlike she had

ever run. A mile passed in seconds, but to her, it felt like hours. She ran as the ashes floated

around in the sudden chilly wind. She turned the corner of her block, the only Muslim block

in the city. As the rubble settled, she reached her house — or what had been her house. She

did not dare to investigate, she did not care what happened in that moment, all she wanted

was to implode. The basil plant her ammi had planted the day before rolled up to her feet,

intact. Other than that, nothing was intact.

Her vision was blotched with yellow, and her blood felt like icy daggers stabbing

from inside her veins. Suddenly, she felt a tug on her salwar, and whipped around. Caleb

stood beside her, grabbing onto her salwar sleeve with one hand, and holding a cracked

teacup in the other bloody hand. She was suddenly hit with an even stronger wave of nausea,

and she pushed him away aggressively.

"Get away from me! Th-this is all because of you people, you… you MONSTERS!"

A small crowd had begun assembling at the end of the block. She was about to turn

heel and run, when she heard it again. Whoosh. And suddenly, the sky was thick with the

noise. All around her, thunder echoed with burning intensity. She stood there, her mouth

slightly agape, Caleb equally as stunned as her, at her feet. Not knowing why she did it, she

pulled Caleb up, and she ran. They ran until they reached Caleb's house, where the same

scene of devastation met them. Neither had words, neither needed any. They stood there,

beside each other, greasy tears rolling down their dusty cheeks. She hugged Caleb in that

moment, and swore by her life to protect the kid.

Sulaima jolted awake. She hated that nightmare. She'd been having it every day since

the raid, and now all that remained of her city, which wasn't even hers originally, was a

wasteland. Her and Caleb had met a few survivors, but they were all hardened frontliners, and

they had never stayed long in their presence.

She noticed Caleb sleeping much more soundly than usual. She decided to check out

the situation in the pit, and silently got out of the concrete tunnel. She barely had time to

notice that the crater was intact, before a hand muffled her mouth tightly with a cloth. She

immediately felt herself weakening, probably because of her empty stomach.

She heard a growling voice mumble, "You think she's the hijabi?" A deeper voice growled back, "She looks like it. Damned reason we all ended up

homeless."

She felt hands around her waist, her vision darkening. The first voice spoke again.

"Pick her up. We'll send her back to her homeland. In pieces."

Then she heard a loud clang and she was dropped. Muffled screaming. Another clang.

Howls of pain. More clangs. A short silhouette appeared over her holding a metal pipe, a

twelve-year-old who she had sworn to protect.

Caleb picked her up slowly, and sat her down against the concrete. It was another one

of those times, none of them said a word. None of them needed to. All of a sudden, one of the

men on the ground began to stir. He muttered in the deeper voice, "You… blood traitor…" Caleb turned around and stood between Sulaima and the man. "She's my sister." He commanded Sulaima sharply, "Run, Sulaima. Go to your house. I'll be there."

At that moment, as much as she wanted to protest, she couldn't do much more than

get up and scamper backwards. She noticed the other man stirring too, and she turned on her

heels. She yelled back as she started running in earnest, "Please… Caleb…"

She was not even a hundred yards away when she heard it. Yet again, that whooshing

noise. Her temples turned clammy, her joints stiffened. She halted, and turned back just in

time, yet again. Thunderclap. Sun. Heat. Burn. Soul.

This time, she did not run. When she reached the concrete heap — or what had been

the concrete heap — there was no sign of the two men. And no Caleb.

Her knees gave way. She fell down kneeling, and did not know anything else.