‘So how are your studies going, Yusef?’ Ahmed asked.
‘Radio circuitry this semester. I got an A,’ Yusef announced proudly, his dark eyes flashing. ‘And there might be a chance for an opening with Cohatek.’
‘The events people?’
Yusef nodded. ‘Although there is only one position and there are ten of us going for it from our university.’
Cohatek was the biggest promoter of concerts and other events in Israel. Despite the violence the government had encouraged as much ‘normalcy’ as possible and big events were still staged in both Jerusalem and Tel-Aviv. Competition to join the company was fierce, and only the best were chosen. Even Palestinians were not ruled out if they were cleared and at the top of their field.
Suddenly four explosions echoed around the hills. Abdullah Sartawi frowned and conversation stopped. Everyone looked at the ceiling as if expecting something to fall on the house.
‘Peace be upon us,’ Abdullah said finally, getting up to stoke the fire. ‘We are out of wood. I meant to split some before dinner.’
‘Sit down, Father. We’ll fix that. Come on, Yusef, move it,’ Ahmed said, cuffing his brother good-naturedly on the shoulder.
‘What about Muhammad,’ Yusef grumbled, giving their youngest brother a questioning look. ‘He’s spent the day sleeping in the olive grove.’
Muhammad looked sheepish but shot Yusef a triumphant look as his mother intervened.
‘Two is enough to split the wood, Yusef. Muhammad can help Raya and Liana clean up in the kitchen.’ Muhammad rolled his eyes, his look of triumph disappearing as Yusef wrinkled his nose at him from the back door before joining Ahmed, heading towards the trees at the bottom of the yard where the logs were kept ready for splitting.
‘I have some good news, Yusef,’ Ahmed said, putting his arm around his brother. ‘I am to be assigned to Mar’Oth.’
‘That’s only twenty minutes walk away. You can help with the harvest,’ Yusef said with a huge grin, secretly pleased that he would see more of his brother.
‘It’s good to see him again, Abdullah. He is such a good boy.’ Rafiqa’s eyes glistened with the hint of a tear. ‘I wish he wasn’t so far away.’
Suddenly the roar of centurion tanks and armoured personnel carriers shook the whole house. Moments later, in a simultaneous assault from the front and rear of the house, both doors were kicked off their hinges and ten helmeted Israeli soldiers burst into the room, Uzi machine guns cocked and ready. Raya and Liana screamed but as their mother moved to comfort them she was knocked to the ground by a soldier.
‘Stay where you are, you Palestinian scum!’ Sergeant Emil Shahak had been Eliezer Erhlich’s centurion tank driver twenty years before, when Ehrlich had joined the 45th as a troop commander. For Sergeant Shahak the long war against the Arabs had suddenly got personal. Brigadier General Ehrlich was one of the finest generals in the long and proud history of the regiment, but now he was dead, killed by the people from this shitbag village. Emil Shahak’s blood was up and he and his soldiers were itching for any excuse to exact revenge.
Rafiqa was racked with pain as she lay on the dirt floor quietly sobbing. The Israeli soldier had rifle-butted her with such force that two of her ribs were broken. Muhammad rushed towards his mother, brandishing a saucepan at the nearest Israeli. The young soldier, a reservist on his first operation, fired instinctively. The burst caught the Sartawi’s youngest son in the chest and he was dead before he slumped to the kitchen floor, a bright red stain seeping across the cotton of the white shirt he’d worn specially for his sister’s birthday. Raya and Liana screamed again, cowering in the corner of the kitchen. Abdullah Sartawi was pale with shock, and as he tried to make a move towards his son he was struck with a rifle and thrown to the floor.
‘Nobody move!’ Flecks of saliva had appeared at the corners of Sergeant Shahak’s mouth. ‘Watch those two!’ he yelled. The young reservist jerked his Uzi uncertainly, first at Raya and then at Liana, his bottom lip quivering as the enormity of what he had done began to sink in. ‘Search the other rooms!’ Emil Shahak was bellowing now.
Yusef started towards the house, but Ahmed pulled him back and down into the cover of the trees. ‘No, Yusef!’ he hissed. ‘Think. They have guns, we don’t.’
‘There is firing, Ahmed!’ Yusef’s eyes filled with tears.
‘And there will be more if you burst into the house,’ Ahmed urged him quietly. ‘Allah is with us but we can’t help if we’re dead!’ Ahmed kept his arm wrapped tightly around his brother as they lay on the ground, staring at their house.
‘Empty, Emil.’ The look on the corporal’s face was one of resentful disappointment as he reported to his sergeant.
‘ Ben zsona! Son of a bitch!’ Sergeant Shahak walked over to Liana and Raya. With a burning frustration he kicked their dead brother as he stepped over him. Pistol in one hand, his other clenched, he stood contemptuously over the terrified girls. Emil Shahak was furious that he and his men had not found what they were looking for.
He grabbed Liana by the chin and wrenched her face up, forcing her to look at him. Her face was pale and beautiful, but her eyes blazed with a resentment that only fuelled Sergeant Shahak’s sense of impotence. He turned to his corporal, drawing his lips back into a snarl.
‘You can have the ugly one,’ he sneered, pointing his pistol at Raya. He grabbed Liana’s hair and pulled her to her feet, pinning her slender arms together with his huge, hairy hand.
‘I get first crack at her crack,’ he rasped. ‘Privilege of rank.’
‘No! Please!’ Abdullah Sartawi was on his knees, pleading, his weathered face streaked with tears.
‘Palestinian scum!’ Sergeant Shahak kicked at him but despite the pain Abdullah grabbed the Israeli’s boot and clung to it in desperation.
‘No! No! No!’ he cried.
Sergeant Shahak had crossed the point of no return and he struggled to free his boot. He pointed his Jericho pistol at Abdullah and fired. Twice.
Rafiqa screamed and fell on the body of her husband. Shahak moved the sight of his pistol to the back of Rafiqa’s neck and fired twice more. Rafiqa convulsed and her body slid down beside Abdullah’s.
‘Palestinian shit!’ Sergeant Shahak shoved Liana into her parents’ bedroom, banging the flimsy door behind him.
Numb with shock and dimly aware of what was going on, Liana began to struggle to free herself. Sergeant Shahak’s grip was unbreakable.
‘ Zsona! Inahl rabak ars ya choosharmuta! Bitch! Go to hell with your fucking father!’ he yelled in Liana’s ear, his fetid breath hot against the side of her face. He cracked her on the back of the skull with his pistol and threw her on the bed. In a frenzy he tore the clothes off her slender body, and ripped his trousers down to his boots. Liana froze at the sight of Shahak’s ugly erection, acutely and terrifyingly aware of what was about to happen.
With a guttural growl Shahak climbed on top of her, pinning her hands above her head. Liana shrieked as he forced himself inside her, grunting like an animal, his body giving off a stench of stale sweat and the diesel of the armoured personnel carrier that was his home.
‘You’re next, Yigal.’ Shahak came out of the bedroom hitching up his camouflage pants as he eyeballed the young reservist.
‘Me?’ Yigal croaked, shaking his head.
‘There’s a first time for everything, son, and you’re never going to get an easier one than this. Get in and give it to the bitch.’
‘Come on, Yigal!’ one of the regulars yelled. ‘Are you a man or what?’
Feeling more miserable and confused than ever, Yigal allowed himself to be pushed into the room. Liana was curled up on her parents’ bed, her head against the wall, her body shaking with uncontrollable sobs.
Yigal thought he was going to be sick. He wanted to comfort the girl but he was upset over killing her brother and was too afraid to touch her. He waited until he thought enough time had elapsed for him to claim he had done what they had sent him to do, then dropping his trousers, he opened the door and emerged, pulling them up and doing up his fly.
‘Next!’ he called, his voice dry and uncertain.
‘Ehhhhhh!’ A roar of approval echoed around the Sartawis’ house.
The flimsy doors to the two rooms opened and shut until the last of the Israeli soldiers had finished with both
