Turning away, I scan the rest of the room. First the table. Then the bed. Then the—
I do a double take. What’s that? It can’t be. Without thinking, I rush over to the bed before crouching down and yanking it out. It’s a radio! Holding the black, plastic, portable device, my hands are trembling with excitement. I instinctively elongate the rusting antenna. God, please let this work.
The others! I’ve got to show this to them! Clenching it with both hands, I race through the corridor, keeping my eyes on the radio. I nearly slip on the floor, stumbling a few steps. But I don’t slow down. Bounding down the stairs, my steps are quick and heavy as I go two steps at a time.
My feet hit the second floor with a loud thud. They must have heard me coming because I find Fatima entering the hallway and looking my way as I dash towards her. Seeing what’s in my hands, her eyes light up.
Turning into the sitting room, Salman’s gaze is immediately on me. “Zaid, what is—”
He stops mid-sentence, catching sight of the radio. Fatima is a step behind me as she enters the room. Scampering over to Salman, I set it down between the three of us.
“Switch it on!” Fatima’s words are ecstatic.
Salman hits a switch. Loud, wrenching static immediately pours out of it. Fatima and I impulsively cover our ears before he lowers the volume. After waiting a moment to make sure it’s gone, Fatima and I exchange a quick glance. Salman begins to play with both dials, searching for a signal. I turn my gaze to him. “Do you think it’ll work?”
“God-willing,” Salman replies. Even as he tries to control it, his voice is flowing with excitement.
There’s nothing but static. It’s unending. Is this really all there is? Without realizing it, my fist starts to impatiently beat against my thigh as I keep watching Salman fine-tune both dials.
The static fades down a little and… then there’s a voice. My eyes widen. It’s in the background and can barely be heard at first. But then the voice grows louder, and I know it’s not just my imagination. Soon, the words flood out the static. It sounds like a reporter—a woman.
“…reports of heavy bombing continue to pour in. The military is still… failing to comment on whether they are actively avoiding civilians in their targeting. City… government officials still advise citizens to stay indoors… not possible to evacuate the city. There is a temporary camp being set up in Mansoura for civilian refugees. All refugees who arrive there within the next few days will be taken someplace else. The military… security forces are continuing to heavily engage… rebels on foot in the districts of…”
I can’t hear whatever else is said on the report. My mind is trapped in one sentence—on one thing that it said. Mansoura… that’s west of the city. I visualize an overhead view of Aleppo. If we started in Salaheddine, the southwest part of Aleppo, and are working our way towards Ballermoun in the north, then Mansoura would not be too far west from wherever we are. Am I picturing this right? I run through it again. Then a third time. That’s correct! It can’t be too far away!
My eyes perk up at the thought of safety. Now my heart is more excited than before we switched the radio on. I look at Fatima and then Salman. Neither of them seems to be having the same thoughts as me as they both continue listening to the radio.
“Salman?”
He doesn’t respond.
“Salman.”
“Quiet, Zaid.” He holds up his finger, keeping his attention focused on the radio.
“Salman!”
His eyes finally focus on me. After a moment, he reaches over and switches off the radio.
“We need to figure out how far we are from Mansoura,” I excitedly state.
Why does his gaze seem puzzled? Did he not just hear what the report said?
“Are you listening, Salman?”
His reply is as confused as his expression. “Why do we need to do that?”
“To figure out how to get there.”
“We’re going back home, Zaid. Not to Mansoura.”
Is he serious? I glance over at Fatima. She seems to share his conviction. Am I going insane?
“Are you seriously wanting to go to Mansoura, Zaid?” Salman sounds like he can’t believe I even entertained the thought. “Because of what the report just said?”
“Salman, we have a chance to get out of the city.” I start blurting things out without even thinking. “We’ve been asking God for help. I think this is our solution. He’s put in right in front of us. It won’t take long to—”
“Stop it, Zaid. We’re staying the course.”
I don’t know why, but those words make my blood start boiling. He’s doing it again, just like with any other initiative I’ve had since this chaos began. How can he discard my idea like this?
His eyes seem unwavering. I don’t want to say what I’m really thinking, but I won’t relent easily. Not this time. “We don’t know how long it’ll take to get back to Ballermoun,” I reply. “You said that yourself. We don’t know what’s down that path or waiting for us at the end. But we know what’s to the west: safety!”
“And we know what’s to the north too: our families.”
My voice suddenly spikes as I shoot up to my feet and say what I’ve been holding back for far too long. “Our families!? Our homes!? Do you hear yourself? It’s been days—closer to a week than not. By now, they’re long gone and our houses have been reduced to rubble just like the rest of this city! You’re going to lead us all there to find nothing but a pile of ashes. And God knows that the only way we’ll find our families is if we find them—them d…”
I stop myself from saying the last word. I’m trembling. My yelling shakes the very walls. Salman rises to his feet. He looks calm. I can’t tell if my words had any effect on him. “We’re not turning away from our homes, Zaid. We did not come this far just to turn our backs at the first sight of any kind of sanctuary. Do you really think any camp is safe from being shelled into oblivion? There are no more rules in Aleppo anymore, Zaid. There is no safety.”
“How do you know any of that? How can you lead us on when you don’t know what’s waiting for us even one block away?”
He doesn’t respond. At least not right away. Salman glances towards Fatima and then back to me. The more riled I get, the calmer he becomes. He takes in a deep breath before replying, “Because… I have faith.”
Those words douse out my flames. I lose any response I might have had, so I wordlessly watch as he looks away before walking right by me and into the corridor.
“We will be leaving in half an hour. We should all get ready.”
There’s a gut-wrenching feeling in my stomach as we meet at the bottom of the stairs. Maybe it’s because I know what we’re leaving behind. With every step we take, we’re abandoning a God-sent salvation and willingly walking into the abyss that is Aleppo. Is there truly no way to change Salman’s mind?
I’m the last one to arrive. With a refilled sack of food slung over my shoulder, I find Fatima and Salman already set to go. They both watch me descend the last few steps. My baggage is more of a nuisance than a burden today. Outside of the strap cutting into my bruised shoulder, I don’t pay it much heed. All I really feel is the pit in my stomach.
The light outside is nearly non-existent. I think the sun’s already behind the skyline—at least whatever is left of it. It’ll be dark soon, and we’ll be walking through the smog left behind by the endless bombings. Throughout the day, I hardly heard any explosions and even less gunfire. I don’t think it’s because there weren’t any. I’m just too used to the chaos. It’s a part of me—a part of all of us. I think I’d only notice if the destruction wasn’t there.