Roy had just managed to get his hands on Rae and had her pinned to the floor.
“Roy,” said Yam, but Roy didn’t respond, intent on retying Rae to the chair.
“Roy!” Yam tried again. “Listen to me. We’re from the year 2016. This submarine is going to sink any minute. Please believe me. The Dakar disappeared in 1968. They looked for you for years without any luck.”
Roy looked at Yam and let out a mocking laugh. “What are you talking about? We’re already next to Crete. Another few hours and we’re in Haifa,” he said. “Anyway, this is the most state-of-the-art submarine Israel has,” he added with pride.
“We’re near Crete?” Yam asked, worried. Roy nodded.
“This is exactly where the Dakar went down! We’re running out of time,” Yam said as seriously as he could. But Roy only guffawed in response.
“I’ll prove it to you,” Yam insisted. “I have a cellphone my pocket.”
“You have a what in your pocket?” Roy looked confused.
“A cellphone. It’s a device that gets invented long after 1968. You use it like a regular telephone, except you can call from anywhere. Plus it does many other things,” Yam explained.
Roy looked at him with suspicion, but still went and took the device out of Yam’s pocket.
“There’s no reception here. You can’t actually call anyone,” said Yam, “but you can see pictures I took and listen to music if you want.”
Roy handled the device for a few minutes, which to Yam felt like an eternity. “This device is more sophisticated than anything we have here on board,” Roy mumbled, stunned.
“Because we’re from the twenty-first century. From your future,” Mor answered.
“How’s that even possible?” Roy was still struggling to comprehend.
“Look, we’re not exactly on planet Earth,” Mor tried to break it gently.
“What exactly do you mean we’re not on planet Earth?” Roy shot him a piercing look. “I’m twenty-two. I have a girlfriend, a family.”
“The truth is that, here, it may be a little peculiar, but it’s a whole lot nicer,” Mor smiled. “Were it up to me, I’d never go back.”
Roy looked at them more confused than ever and then left the cabin.
“What do we do now?” Anise asked, shaking the ropes off.
“Hey, untie me,” Rae piped up from the corner.
Yam shot her an angry look. “Untying you may be a really bad idea,” he grumbled, but nonetheless went to free her.
Amalia looked at the tunnel walls, freshly chipped by bullets, silent evidence of the violence that had raged here over the last few days. Whole parts of the tunnels had collapsed and large boulders impeded progress for extensive sections. “Stay very alert. We may not be alone,” she whispered.
A few steps later, Sual noticed a piece of cloth on the ground and picked it up. “This is from Mor’s shirt,” she mumbled in terror.
Theo looked at the fabric. Maybe they’ve been kidnapped and Mor’s wounded, he fretted.
Amalia gently took the fabric out of Sual’s hand and examined it closely. “See the cut?” she said, pointing to the edge of the cloth. “The edge is clean. It’s been cut, most probably with a penknife. They may have cut the cloth to make a bandage. And,” she added, pointing at the damp ground, “look, there are shoeprints leading to the exit over there.”
They counted the prints. There were definitely three sets of feet. Theo, somewhat relieved, let out his pent breath. The three started following the footsteps that led them to the tunnel exit.
To their astonishment, the exit was blocked by rocks. Sual couldn’t stop asking herself if the children had managed to leave before the blast blocked the exit.
They started moving the rocks. It was almost an impossible mission, but after a few hours of intensive labor, they’d succeeded in creating a narrow opening.
Amalia was the first to exit. She barely managed to squeeze herself through and crawled out. Bullets whistled overhead and rockets flared in the sky. “Stay low,” she yelled to Sual and Theo, trying to make herself heard over the din and ducking to avoid stray bullets.
Amalia and Theo drew their guns and all three crouch-walked between cars toward the cemetery, using the chaos to cover their progress.
“Stop,” Sual suddenly heard a voice in Arabic. She froze in place. “Put your weapons on the ground,” it continued. Sual raised her arms in surrender, while Theo slowly lowered his gun.
Chapter 25
“I hate you,” an irritated Enochio said to the bogo, who seemed indifferent to the angry angel, calmly continuing to lick his leg. “I told you I’m afraid of heights,” Enochio went on irately, giving his wings another flutter. “Something always happens when I’m in the air. Look what happened the last time I tried to fly.” He pulled up his trouser leg, revealing a long scar down one thigh. “I prefer to walk on two legs. Much safer than flying,” he muttered. “I’m simply not built for this. Plus, I don’t really know how to swim.”
The tiny critter ignored the angel’s grumbling, nipping his right heel lightly. The bogo’s twin tails continued to point insistently to the sea.
“Fine! Fine,” Enochio grumpily accepted his fate. “Let’s see if these old wings even work.” He spread his wings and flapped them a few times. Slowly, he gathered enough strength to lift himself a few inches off the ground. The bogo barked reassuringly and the angel smiled with pride. Carefully, he rose a bit more in the air. His worried face now showed a huge grin. “I’m flying!” he cried excitedly.
The bogo barked and furiously wagged its tails, trying to warn Enochio of the tree behind him, but the angel just went on flapping his wings. “Look at me!” he crowed. The bogo covered his eyes with his tails as Enochio collided with the tree and fell onto the sand. The impact separated the angel from his wings and flung them to the side.
Heavily, Enochio picked himself up, his belly jiggling with insulted pride
