My slow footsteps are the only sound in this desolate place. A part of me wants to move quickly as I search for my friends, but I remind myself that this is a marathon and not a sprint. I don’t know how long it may be until I see them, and I need to keep my strength because I don’t know for sure what may be out here.
As I move along, I remember something Ummi once told me. She said that when she was growing up, Aleppo was the safest city in the world. The biggest threat they ever faced was a purse-snatcher. But even then, there would be ten people chasing after the thief moments after he tried anything.
I would never dare call my mother a liar, but I’m starting to wonder if she was really talking about the same Aleppo I’m now in. How can a place as peaceful as that become a war zone?
The thoughts dissipate as I suddenly find myself at the edge of a crater. Stepping onto a loose block of rubble, I look down into the hole. It’s about eight feet deep. Maybe more. The slope goes straight down, exposing some busted water pipes and jagged concrete, before coming to a halt at the pit. The other side of the crater is just as steep before returning to the road. The pit seems to still be smoking a bit.
I instinctively look away and cough a couple of quick times. There’s no other way around the crater unless I’m willing to backtrack, but I can’t afford to lose any time. Finding my courage, I step forward and onto the descent.
The slope is covered in loose rocks and rubble. I stay low, trying to keep myself steady. The ground is more unstable than it looks, many pieces of it threatening to tear off as I step on them. It’s hot, too hot for me to dare touch the ground. The heat permeates through my shoe’s now thin soles.
My steps are slow, each one a few inches further than the last. I hesitate after each stride, trying to ensure that the ground is steady before I keep moving. Arms outstretched, I try to keep my balance. My gaze stays glued to my feet as I watch each step unfold. I can’t feel anything as I make my descent, can’t hear anything except the loose rocks plummeting down below with each step I take. I’m halfway there now. Just keep—
The slab of concrete under my left foot suddenly breaks off and slides away, sending me tumbling onto the ground. It happens fast—too fast for me to do anything. Losing my balance as I lurch forward, I try to reach out and grab something. But it’s all in vain. I roughly crash on my side before rolling down the slope. I cover my face on impulse. Each bounce sends pain coursing through my veins. But there’s nothing I can do except helplessly fall down the pit.
Stopping at the bottom of the crater with a loud thud, I lay there for a long moment. Is it over? Letting out a groan, I mentally relive the tumble several times. My body is aching. The elbow I fell on is banged up as pain stings it, and my forearms are throbbing. However, everything else is fine… I think.
Taking a deep breath, I do my best to block out the pain. I shake my head, trying to brush off the ache and clear my mind. It’s not as hot as I thought it’d be down here. Some relief at last. I run my hands over either arm, checking to make sure that nothing is bleeding badly. My fingers come out covered in some dust, but there is no blood.
Crawling onto all fours before rising to my feet, I readjust the supply sack. It’s a little worse for the wear, but it seems fine too. With another deep breath, I turn away from where I fell and face forward. The climb out looks steeper from down here than from up above. Nonetheless, I don’t let it discourage me because on the other side of that are my friends—on the other side of that is hope.
The incline begins not even three steps away. Moving to it with a running start, I immediately begin to claw my way out of the pit. Grabbing anything that I can hold on to, I pull myself out of here inch by inch. I stay low, using my feet as leverage.
One step at a time, Zaid. Look out for anything sharp. Look where you’re reaching and stepping before you do.
As I claw like a man possessed, I send down countless pieces of loose concrete and rubble. I feel and hear it break off and tumble down below just as rashly as I did, but I stay focused. The farther up I go, the steeper the climb becomes until it’s as if I’m scaling a wall instead of a slope. I’m halfway there. The sun is suddenly in my eyes, blinding me. But I don’t stop. And I don’t slow down.
For a moment, I lose my footing as my foot slips off of an edge, but I quickly regain it. Holding on to a jutting steel pipe as some water leaks out of it and runs onto my arm, I come to a halt. I don’t see anything else I can grab to move forward. But I’m close enough now—close enough to be able to grab the edge of the pit with one good leap.
Holding my position, I take a deep breath. Then another. There’s only one shot at this. Otherwise, I’ll be tumbling back to the bottom. I cock my body back, eyes focused on where I need to land.
With a thrust from my feet and yank from my arms, I let out a roar as I leap forward with every ounce of energy I have. I hang in the air for a moment. My hands reach out over the edge, instinctively grabbing on to a piece of the road’s concrete. My body roughly slams against the slope, face banging against something hard, but I hold on to the concrete as if it is life itself. After my head spins for a moment, I regain my senses. Eyes shut, I begin to wildly scramble, trying to throw myself over the edge and onto the road. I don’t stop moving and kicking as I madly attempt to pull myself up. First my elbows come across. I feel them hit the steady ground. Then my chest makes it over the edge. Finally, my legs and feet follow.
I lay there under the hot sun, taking a moment to recompose myself. As the excitement wears off, the place where my face hit the wall begins throbbing. I sense all the dirt and dust covering me and in my hair. Staggering up to my knees, I dust it all off the best I can before wiping my hands on my pants. I take a deep breath… then another. My eyes turn to look straight ahead.
Keep moving, Zaid.
Turning from one street to the next, I keep crossing the same scene of desolation. My city—a place seemed forgotten by the outside world—looks no different than any war zone. I remember pictures of Berlin during World War II. I don’t think anybody would be able to tell this Aleppo and that Berlin apart.
Going from neighborhood to neighborhood, street to street, they all become a blur. It’s just wreckage after wreckage and debris after debris. The amount of destruction on each street seems to be increasing the longer this battle goes on. Either that or we’ve just been marching deeper and deeper into the heart of this war. By the end, when both armies have had their fill of fighting, there may be nothing left standing.
A few people cross my path every now and then, but they don’t pay me much heed. They’re civilians of Aleppo, people like me. Sometimes, it’s a group; other times, it’s an individual. However, they simply go their way and I go mine.
Judging from the sun, it’s late morning by now. Trekking between two burnt cars, one of which is still seething, I hear something from above. A pair of beady eyes are looking down at me. Then another. And a third. Vultures are perched up everywhere, some even soaring in the sky. The large, black birds are appearing out of the woodwork. I’m unable to tell if they’re watching me or the scene in general. However, a couple of them seem to be keeping up with me, even making circles around me. Are they thinking that I’ll be keeling over soon?
Paying attention to them, I fail to notice a pile of rubble blocking the road until I nearly run into it. It’s a toppled building. The debris is a mixture of concrete, bricks, and glass. I look to the left and then the right. There’s no way around it unless I’m willing to go back the way I came, but that’ll cost valuable time and daylight. I let out a groan.