But then I see the entrance. The wall has collapsed in on itself. It’s been blown into a pile of rubble, completely blocking the front doors. One of the minarets has broken off and fallen straight down, smashing into the marble tiled courtyard. The minaret lies broken and scattered, no more recognizable than any of the other ruined buildings.
As the flames of another wreckage reflect off of the minaret and masjid, I stare at it in disbelief for a long moment. I almost ask Salman and Fatima if we should try to go around the masjid and look for the women’s entrance, but they hardly even give it a glance before continuing down the broken road. And so, without a word, I follow.
We keep trudging through the darkness, not knowing what lays even twenty feet ahead of us. For a little while, I think I hear some gunfire a few streets down. It spikes up for a moment, breaking the silence. We all stop. But then it dies off… and we keep moving.
There is a slight nighttime breeze long into our journey. The wind blows through the hollow streets, but it’s barely strong enough to be felt. However, as soon as it hits me, I look up and thank Allah. Just this drop is enough to quench my thirst for a while.
A few blocks later, I think I hear some sirens not too far away. They sound like police sirens. Or maybe an ambulance’s. Salman and Fatima don’t seem to react to it. However, the noise disappears as if it was never there, just like everything else tonight. Maybe my mind is playing tricks on me. We march on.
The longer and further we go, the louder the sound of silence becomes. It grips my soul like an unrelenting leech. It speaks into my heart, letting me know just how forsaken these streets have become. Is the entire city as desolate as here?
The silence is faintly broken by the crackling of a fire. It sounds like burning debris. I see it up in the distance as it dimly breaks through the mist. A few steps closer and I notice that it’s coming from an alley up ahead.
There’s a large heap of wreckage between us and the fire. Salman nearly runs into the debris before stopping. It’s about twice as tall as him. The mountain is made up of a bunch of bricks from a toppled building that’s overrun onto the road. He looks to the right and then the left. There’s no way around it.
Salman expertly climbs it. His movements are slow. The higher he goes, the more loose pieces of debris he unintentionally knocks down. With each move, he makes sure to find a stable footing before taking the next step. He arrives at the top with relative ease. Finding a firm area to plant himself, he turns around and offers Fatima his hand. After she takes it, he pulls her up and over to the other side. It’s almost effortless for him.
He firmly takes my hand next. As he pulls me with a heave, I grab a piece of debris that is jutting out and kick off of another to help push myself towards him. He lets out a groan as he yanks me upwards. The heavy sack isn’t making it any easier. I sense it pulling on my shoulder, forcing a pang of pain to run through it. My arm feels like it’s going to break off. As soon as I’m at eye-level with the top of the wreckage, I grab it with my free arm and help pull myself up. I groan in pain, my face turning red. My entire body is shaking as I dig deep to find my strength. Going up a few more inches, I throw my chest onto the mount and quickly worm myself onto it. As I do, a jutting brick’s edge sharply jabs into my side, but I barely give it a wince.
Salman hops down to join Fatima. I follow him. My feet hit the ground hard, shooting a shot of pain up my legs. The sack violently smashes against my sore upper knee, and I almost fall over before Salman catches me. That hurt more than I thought it would. As I rise back up, the foul odor immediately hits me.
Finally on the other side, we take a moment to catch our breath before moving on. Passing the alley with the light, I look into it. There’s a trashcan on fire, dimly illuminating the narrow lane. Not far from it is a woman. She’s sitting with her back against the brick wall. Her head hangs low and her knees are up to her chest. There is a child with her, no older than three. He’s clutching her shoulder as the woman weeps and shivers. Even out on the main road, I think I can faintly hear her whimpers above the low flame.
I stop, turning to fully face her. I hear Salman and Fatima do the same before looking back at me. Staying there for a few moments, I keep my eyes on the woman and child.
“Zaid, what are you—”
Salman quiets when he sees me reaching into my sack. I feel his gaze go back and forth between me and my sack a couple of quick times. I hastily rummage through it until I pull out a loaf of bread and a small bottle of water. Without a word, I leave Salman and Fatima behind as I start making my way to the woman.
“We need that, Zaid.”
Salman’s voice is as authoritative as ever, but I don’t care. With every step, the heat of the fire grows a bit warmer and my footsteps seem to echo loudly. The closer I get to her, the more I feel my heart tremble. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because she could very well be someone I know.
When I’m a few steps away, she suddenly looks up, as if just hearing my footsteps. The crackling of the small fire becomes inaudible. So do my footsteps. Her cheeks are damp, and I can see her face clearly as the flames softly reflect off of her. Her long black hair is uncovered and a mess while her headscarf is wrapped around her neck. She freezes upon noticing me, not sure my intentions.
But then she sees what I’m carrying. I take the last steps to her. Her gaze stays locked with mine. She doesn’t say anything and neither do I. I hand her the items one at a time. First the bread. Then the water. She takes them into her slim, quivering hands. Behind her tear-filled eyes is an ocean of gratitude. I see a sliver of light slowly break through the blackness. It’s as if life has returned to her.
The woman takes the last item. I pause for a second, thinking of what I can do for her. Reaching back into the bag, I carefully pull out a long carving knife I found in Jari’s kitchen. I put it on the ground next to her before turning and leaving.
As I walk away from her, my bag seems lighter. However, at the same time, it weighs heavier than before. I can feel my feet, at least a little bit. For perhaps the first time since this nightmare began, my soul senses something besides fear and despair. A short-lived gust hits me and takes away the odor for a brief moment. I sense the woman’s gaze on my back. It was filled with dread a few moments ago. Now, there is a hint of something else: hope.
I will never forget those eyes.
Fatima and Zaid watch me the whole way back. His arms are crossed. “What are you thinking? We needed that.”
“Not as much as she did. I have more food, but she didn’t have anything and has a child with her.”
“It’s not your decision to make, Zaid.”
Turning away from them, I look straight ahead as I switch the sack onto the opposite shoulder. “It’s what Nabeel would have done.”
Salman doesn’t argue with that.
“Let’s go.”
“We’ll stay here.”
I hardly even noticed that we stopped. But sure enough, we’re standing outside of a double-story building. There’s a burning car a little ways down the road. It’s far enough that we barely feel its heat, but its light reflects off of the structure. The building’s windows lay shattered on the ground, and the door is barely hanging on its hinges. However, it seems mainly undamaged. Less than the others at least.
Fatima’s voice cuts into the air. “I think we should keep—”