War Kids (13 page)

GERARD

Abulafia, Mia, the Kenyan Ambassador, and the members of his group all emerge from the embassy. Jesus, just the sight of her with Abulafia makes my blood boil! León gave me a talking to last night, and told me not to let my anger take over and blow the mission. But it’s fucking hard!

I’m standing with the undercover Turkish special agents; they’ve been working with the Kenyan security team for months, and today all their hard work will come to an end. Bet they’re glad of that… working undercover for months at a time is a nightmare.

León walks over to the car. He’ll be driving the car behind mine, and Mia and one of Abulafia's men will be his passengers. Abulafia, his son, and the Ambassador will be in my car.

“Imran, please can you travel with Mohammed” Abulafia instructs the man that was about to get into the car with Mia.

Fuck, he’s changed the plan
. At least she’ll be in the car with León. I know we have to stick with the mission, but I don’t feel good about this. I have a bad feeling in the pit of my gut.

Abulafia heads to the car behind me with León and Mia. Imran, Abulafia's son Mohammed, and the Ambassador get into mine.

Once everyone is seated, I set off toward the airport; I have an undercover member in the passenger seat, and León follows behind us.

Nairobi traffic is a nightmare, and within moments our cars are split up. I cannot drive any slower, or I will stop!
Jesus, León, fucking catch up!
I keep slowing down, and the Turkish special agent keeps looking over at me. I just glare silently back at him.

I pull up to the airport, to the location about which I was informed at the briefing. Instantly, I spot the rest of the special agents. Only another agent would know they are there - they are very well hidden.

Stepping out of the car, I open the door for my passengers.

“Gérard, I hope you said goodbye to your girlfriend, Mia.” Imran says.

I look at him, stunned.
What the fuck… he knows about Mia and me?

Before I have time to react, the sound of an explosion fills the air. Looking around to see where the sound came from, I see a black car, the one León was driving, flying up in the air.

“Boom,” Imran says, with an evil grin on his face.

“Daddy…” Mohammad screams out from inside the car.

Rage flows through me, and with one swing, Imran's body is laid on the ground. The special agents come flying toward us.

“Gérard, no! We have to bring him in alive,” one agent shouts, as he grabs hold of me.

Fuck him!
I kick Imran in the head as he lies on the ground.

There is a chance they are alive… I begin to run to the car.
Please God, let them be alive!
The car is upside down and engulfed in flames. I try to get closer, but I can’t – the heat from the flames is unbearable.

“NO!!”

HAYTHAM

I’m overwhelmed from the moment I enter tent town. It’s not a town; it’s like a city. A lady on the truck informed us that there are more than 120,000 people who call this area home. She said that a year ago it was a desert-like terrain, and practically vacant.

This is the first time I’ve left Syria, and the first time I’m going to Jordan. My new home.

It feel surreal as we drive through the encampment. Looking out of the truck window, I can see makeshift corrugated tin shops. One man is selling candy, another cooking kebab...there’s even a wedding shop. Waliyah’s face lights up when she sees the beautiful dresses.

I feel like an alien seeing humans for the first time. For so long, we’ve been hiding from people, and now there are thousands of them walking up and down the streets, just like a normal sunny day. But it isn’t normal, that much is clear.

“Okay, everyone… we’re here, time to get out,” yells the driver. “Please help the young and old out of the truck. Good luck!”

“Waliyah, it is time to go,” I say. “Mother, how are you doing?”

I know the baby is coming, but she’s been quiet this whole ride. Too quiet. To keep Waliyah from getting scared, I suspect, she hid her pain behind a strong face. I love my mother for that.

“Haytham, I'm okay,” Mother tells me. “The baby will be here soon. Please help your sister out of the truck.”

I take our bags and help Waliyah down. I notice everyone is waiting on us. We were the last to get in, so we’re the first to get out. Several of the other passengers are angry and impatient… some of them have been in the truck for days.

But instead of the fresh air of freedom, all we smell is a rotten stench, like an overflowing toilet.

“What is that, Haytham? Phew, it's horrible!” Waliyah whines as she holds her nose.

Everyone in the truck begins sniffing, no longer in a hurry to get out. I hesitate, but I have no choice. The baby is coming, and this rotten place is my mother’s only hope.

Great!

Behind Waliyah, there are hundreds of people standing in line. They’re all staring at us.

I scan through the crowd; there are refugees young and old, carrying one bag, just like us. Everyone left their homes with just a few necessities and the clothes on their backs.

All of them have blank expressions on their faces. With hundreds of people in a group, I would think the sound of voices would be unbearable, but it’s eerily silent. People stand in small clusters… maybe they are family members? There’s only a hummingbird-like sound of whispers.

It appears that the camp entrance lies at the front of this line.

“Mother, give me your hand.” I reach out to her.

“Thank you, Haytham. You’re such a good boy. Your father would be very proud of you.”

Mother, not now! Don't make me cry!

I grin at her, widen my eyes, and shake my head to indicate I want no more of that talk.

“Sorry, but he would be.” She smiles at me as she takes my hand. Slowly, she steps down from the truck, taking deep breaths.

“Come on, Mother, we have to get in line.” But as I look at her, we both know the baby will be here before we make it to the front. I give her a reassuring smile as she hobbles forward.

“It’ll be okay, Mother. We got this far. We’ll make it in before the baby comes.”

In front of us, it looks like there is a small girl about my age, and a boy who I'm guessing is her brother.

I tap the boy on his shoulder. He turns around, and his shoulders instantly tighten up beneath my hand. His face is gray and sunken in, with bulging eyes. He looks like he’s starving. I wonder how long he’s been traveling. The girl turns around at the same time, but a lot more slowly. She has a head scarf hiding most of her face.

“AHH!” Waliyah screeches and jumps back.

I stare at the girl, startled. What's wrong with her?

Then I realize… it's not a girl; it's a very old lady. Her face is covered with wrinkles on her paper-thin skin. She has a black hole where one of her eyes should be. She quickly lowers the headscarf to conceal herself again.

“Sorry, my daughter is young,” Mother apologizes for Waliyah. I'm still staring at the old lady. She looks like she’s dead. Mother nudges me, shaking me out of my trance.

“What's the line for?” Mother asks. I guess that's the first question that came to her mind.

“We’re waiting to get in,” the boy replies. “We have to register at the front gate. Once we’ve done that, we go into the main section.”

“How long have you been here?” Mother asks.

“We haven't been here long,” the boy says as he shrugs. “But earlier we asked the people in front of us, and they were told it takes about twelve hours to get to the front.”

Oh no, my mother doesn't have twelve hours! She's been having contractions for hours. I don't even think we have twelve minutes.

“I'm not having my baby here!” my mother begins to yell, shattering the eerie silence. Everyone turns to look at her. “This baby is coming! Please, Lord, help me! Help us all!”

“Stay calm, Mother. You can make it. You are strong. We will find a way!” I try to soothe her by gently stroking her hand.

“Sir, does your mother need a hot cup of tea?” a boy interrupts us. I'm grateful because I’m not sure what else to say to my mother. How am I going to get her out of this line?

“Sir, would she like some? It’s three coins,” the boy adds. I smile. This is the first time I have been called sir.

“Mother, would you like some tea?”

She doesn’t respond.

Waliyah and I spot the biscuits in his hand.

“Can I have one? Can I? Can I?” Waliyah squeaks, and Mother smiles.

“Haytham, will you pay?” Mother passes me her handbag, sweat dripping down her face.

Time passes a little more quickly; the tea helps take our minds off the line.

Just as we finish the tea, we notice soldiers walking around handing out biscuits and juice. Waliyah is excited when she spots them.

“Yay, more biscuits!” The sugar is already taking effect on my sister; it is fun to watch her be happy.

“Haytham, I cannot stand in the line anymore,” my mother tells me quietly, trying not to scare Waliyah. “We have to get to the front. We have to go now.”

The soldiers are getting closer.

“Sir, sir, my mother is going into labor.” I step out of the line and call to the soldier, but he doesn't appear to hear me.

“We need help!” I yell louder. Everyone in line turns to me, and I finally get the man’s attention.

He moves closer to me. My body trembles with every step he takes.
Jesus, Haytham, get a grip!

But my fear is understandable. I’ve been hiding from them for so long, and now I need them for help.

“What is wrong?” The soldier stands over me. He's double my size. I can’t get the words out of my mouth, and my throat feels like it’s swelling up.

“My mother is going into labor. We need help,” Waliyah answers, as she grabs a biscuit from his tray and takes a bite.

If she can do it, so can I.

“She’s been having contractions for hours. We need to get her inside and into the hospital. Please help us.”

The soldier looks over to my mother who is now puffing and panting, doubled over in pain.

“Follow me,” he says.

I let out a huge sigh of relief.

Thank God.

JADA

Zak and I enter the kitchen together, both a little bit giggly. Butterflies are flying around in my stomach. I’ve never felt this way before, but it’s kind of nice. I smile as I realize he’s holding my hand.

Zak swings the flashlight around as he tries to get a better look. Luckily the kitchen is empty. He shines the light in my eyes. “What are you smiling about?” he asks me with a chuckle.

I go to jab him in the ribs, but he grabs my hand and spins me around, laughing.
Damn, he knows my moves, I need some new ones!
I begin to giggle. He keeps spinning me around and around.

“Stop, stop, I’m dizzy.” Laughing, I stumble into the restaurant.

The kitchen doors close, taking with it the glow from Zak’s flashlight. But now I’m blinded by light shining directly into my eyes.

I recoil and cover my face.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. We thought we were alone,” says a strange voice.

It’s deeper than Zak’s, but it’s not an adult’s voice… it’s younger.

Zak comes bouncing out of the kitchen, laughing.

“Are you still dizzy?” he asks.

“Zak, we’re not alone,” I whisper. Zak holds his flashlight up and waves it across the boys' faces.

“Your girlfriend is right, you’re not alone,” says the deep voice.
He thinks Zak is my boyfriend! And Zak isn't disagreeing
…

“We mean you no harm. We’re just getting some food, then moving on; there must be enough for all of us,” says one of the boys.

“Are you alone?” Zak asks.

“Yes, it’s just the three of us. We’re heading over to the church. We’ve been told kids are meeting up there, and they know where our fathers are.”

What?!
A lump appears in my throat. “They know where our fathers are?” I shriek, shocking them all and shattering the silence of the darkness. “You know where they are?”

“I don’t know,” he says. “But there are people at the church who do. Do you two want to come with us?”

I turn and smile at Zak. He doesn’t smile back, just nods.

“Please, will you turn around so we can check that you’re not carrying any weapons?” Zak asks the boys, shining the light toward them. “We just like to be safe, and we’ll do it next.”

The boys glance at each other, and then start to turn around with their hands in the air. I quickly pat them down. They’re clean.

Then we turn around with our hands in the air. I’m glad I didn’t bring my gun with me. We stand staring at each other, and then smile, as if to welcome each other. Zak holds his hand out to the boy standing in the middle. He looks like the leader.

“Hi, I’m Zak.” Nice move, Zak.

“Hi, I’m Mansur.” He’s kind of pleasant on the eyes.
Jada, you tart!

“Hello, I’m Jada.” One after another we introduce ourselves.

“It’s not just the two of us; there is a gang of us, and we’ll have to check with them first before we make a decision,” Zak informs the boys. I like how he is taking the lead. “Oh, how did you get in here without us hearing?”

“We came in through the back door.” The boy smiles, and I cannot believe we didn’t see the back door. How stupid of us!

Zak and I head outside to the rest of the group. They’re all waiting quietly, hiding in the shadows.

Tilly stands at the front of the gang, eagerly waiting.

“Zak, Zak, is it safe? I need the bathroom,” she says.

“Yes, it’s safe. But before you go in, there are three boys in there. They look like teenagers. We checked them for weapons, and they don’t have any. Is everyone okay with going in? Or we can move on to the next restaurant.” Zak has a concerned look on his face.

“I’m okay to go in if you are,” Tilly says. Zak hesitates.

“I think they’re okay. They told us they know where our fathers are being held,” I explain.

All the kids stand back in surprise, mouths open.

“They know where my father is?” one of the small boys gasps.

I nod. “Yes… they said they’re heading to the church where other children are gathering, and someone there knows where they’re holding the men.”

The small boy steps forward. He looks so little, about seven years old. But he has an oddly wise expression on his face.

“I want to go with them if they know where my father is,” he says. “I have no one left. They killed everyone I love.”

My heart breaks as the boy speaks.

“Me too!” another boy shouts.

“And me,” echoes another. One after another, the children agree to go into the restaurant and find out what the boys have to say.

“Okay, decision made. Tilly, go with Jada, she knows where the bathroom is,” Zak informs the group.

“I need to go to the bathroom as well,” says a little girl.

“Girls, follow Jada to the bathroom. I’ll go with the men.” We end up making two lines and march back into the restaurant.

The three boys are standing there waiting for us. “This is the 3F gang,” Zak introduces us.

The leader of the boys speaks up. “We are… The Three Musketeers.”

We all start laughing. It’s a great ice breaker. One after another, the children go to the bathroom. I start to close the curtains and Zak helps me, then we light a few candles that were set out on the dining tables ready for the guests. Tonight’s guests are the 3F gang and the Three Musketeers. It makes me smile as I arrange some plates.

The boys are in the kitchen searching for food. I hope there are some good treats. They come out with smiles on their faces and their arms full of treats.

The restaurant visit turns into a party. Everyone is excited about the tasty snacks the boys found. All the younger children sit together, smiling and shoveling food in their mouths, laughing and joking with each other. Every few minutes I hush them like a mother trying to keep her wild kids quiet.

Zak and I sit at a table together, watching the candle’s flames as they wave in the breeze of happiness in the room. I look over at him, and he is watching me. He looks deep in thought. He sees me looking at him and smiles his sweet smile, but he has a worried look in his eyes.

I move closer to him. “Are you okay?” I whisper.

He places his hand on top of mine. Butterflies start fluttering in my stomach again. He opens his mouth to speak, but Mansur interrupts. “May we join you?”

Zak closes his mouth and looks down at my hand.

“Yes, of course,” he says, waving toward the free chairs, but keeping his hand firmly on top of mine.

“Eat up, you two… we got loads of good food for us,” one of the boys says. He’s right; there’s a spread fit for a king.

“One minute.” I jump to my feet, stride over to Tilly's table, and whisper into her ear. She stands up, smiling, and we both run into the kitchen. Everyone is silent, watching for us, wondering what we’re up to. We search the kitchen and find what we are looking for and then return to the main dining area, each carrying a tray of fizzy pop. Everyone cheers. For a lot of us, this was a rare treat even when life was normal. I walk over to Zak, holding out my tray.

“Sir, would you like cola or orange?” I ask.

Zak smiles at me.

“I would like orange, please, waitress,” he replies in a funny, deep voice.

“Wonderful choice, sir,” I say haughtily. Tilly copies me, and the whole restaurant fills with laughter.

It is a good day.