“Where are the kids?” Theo wanted to know.
Fighting to control her emotions, Sual couldn’t answer for several long moments. “They’re not at the hospital,” she finally managed to say, “no one knows exactly what happened there. There’s no internet or phone service. Everything’s cut off.” She was no longer able to suppress her tears and Theo, without thinking, drew her into a fierce embrace.
At around the same time, lying in a nearby bed, Amalia opened her eyes. She grabbed the bed’s safety rail and heaved herself up, ignoring the pain. Amalia was determined: she had to find her boy and Yoav.
Somehow, Amalia managed to get out of bed and, supporting herself along the wall, shuffled forward. But after a handful of small steps, she fainted again.
Sual, recognizing Amalia as the wife of the Israeli painter from the exhibition, reached her just before her head hit the floor. Sual called one of the nurses over and, together, they got Amalia back into bed.
“My son…”Amalia’s eyes begged her.
Sual replayed the minutes immediately preceding the explosion. Just as Theo was about to start his speech and most of the guests had gathered around him in the large hall, the catering manager thought it necessary to tell her they were out of red wine.
Sual hurried to the kitchen, as she wanted to be back in time to hear Theo speak. On the way, she caught sight of Mor, Anise, and someone else going up to the roof. Sual called out and Mor stopped to look back at her, but Anise demonstratively ignored her and continued up the stairs. Mor sent Sual an apologetic smile and hustled to follow Anise.
Sual breathed into the pain. Anise hadn’t forgiven her, but now, recreating the sequence of events in her mind, she breathed in relief, because it meant all three of them had been on the roof. The explosion had been massive, but the building hadn’t collapsed. The kids knew every inch of the house. There’s a chance they managed to escape, she thought.
“Your boy – is he tall and blond?” she asked Amalia, who nodded yes.
“I think he’s with my kids,” Sual whispered. “I saw them going to the roof. And if they were up there, there’s a chance they got away.”
Amalia grabbed Sual’s hand and squeezed it hard. For a moment, the Jewish lawyer from Tel Aviv and the Muslim Arab from Jerusalem were simply mothers.
At Amalia’s request, Sual asked the nurses about Yoav, but the news was not encouraging. He’d been shot in the chest and was still in the ICU. “The doctors did get the bullet out, but the next few hours are critical,” Sual reported back.
Amalia closed her eyes. She thought about all the ugly words she and Yoav had thrown at one another and that Yam had overheard, leading him to run out, slamming the door behind him. She’d have given anything to be able to take the words and the whole fight back.
Chapter 10
Deep underneath the city, in the partially collapsed tunnel, Anise was rummaging around in her backpack. There were a few pitas and some hummus packed in a plastic bag. She took them out; the three hadn’t eaten a thing since morning.
Yam didn’t even chew; he swallowed the pita whole, giving Anise hope. He must be feeling better, she thought. He’d been lucky. Other than the dislocated shoulder, he’d only sustained some bruising. There was nothing seriously wrong with him and he seemed much better already.
Yam concluded the spartan meal with a big swig of water, then wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “OK,” he said, “we have to decide what we’re doing.”
“We’re not doing anything yet,” said Anise. “First, you have to rest. In any case, it’s still too dangerous to go out,” she added assertively, feeding some more sticks to the fire.
“She’s right, you know. The whole area is crawling with terrorists, and you’re badly bruised all over,” Mor agreed. “We have the map. The minute you’re feeling a little better, we’ll move out using the oldest streets. The terrorists may not know those.”
Suddenly, the fire went out. Mor felt his way in the dark for his flashlight, but it was too late. The noise was deafening, and again rocks rained down. The three clung to one another. Please, not again, Anise prayed, Not another cave-in…
This time, it ended as suddenly as it had begun, and silence descended once more. A few seconds later, the coals grew hot and the fire started to burn on its own.
The three looked at one another astonished. “That was no cave-in. Look at the fire,” Anise whispered.
The flames licked the air, climbing higher, twisting and fusing, casting shadows on the ground. It was a sight of splendor.
“Whoa! It looks like letters,” Mor murmured. “I swear to you – the fire is writing. Look – here’s an “o’,’” he pointed, “and there’s a ‘d’!’”
“Yes!” And that looked like an ‘e’!” Anise added.
“You’re nuts,” Yam laughed, “it’s what happens when flames meet a bit of wind.”
“How do you explain the letters?” Anise asked. “And how to you explain the fire starting to burn again?”
Yam had no answer. True, it was a little weird, but so many irrational things had happened to them over the last two days that he wasn’t going to single this out for special significance. It must have a logical explanation, he thought, and took out the map. “Ali was right. It really is an underground city,” he said, changing the subject.
“Let’s see which gate name contains at least one of the letters we saw,” suggested Mor.
“Well, Zion Gate has an ‘o,’ and Herod’s Gate has all of them – ‘o,’ ‘d,’ and ‘e.’ And, look here – we’re really close to Herod’s Gate,” said Anise, pointing at the map.
Yam said nothing. Let them believe what they want if that’s what will make them want to leave before the tunnel collapses once and for all, he
