Ammar Habib - The Heart of Aleppo - A Story of the Syrian Civil War

As I stand up, I notice that Salman is holding his pistol in his free hand. Does he really know how to use that?

“Go now, Zaid.”

I don’t hesitate. Without a second thought, I’m suddenly dashing across the street and into the thick, black smog. I can barely breathe in it, but it doesn’t slow me down as my shoes beat against the ground. I feel them all around me: Salman, Fatima, and the brothers. Salman gets a step ahead of me and Fatima, while the brothers are behind us.

But then I hear a voice, the one from upstairs. “Over there!”

They’ve spotted us! In the next instant, shrilling gunfire extinguishes the silence.

Rat-at-at-at!

I don’t stop. I can’t stop. I run faster. Faster. And faster. Don’t look back, Zaid. My feet barely touch the pavement as I dart through the smoke. My breaths are quick—gasping almost—as I run for my very life. It’s just like that night it all started. The gunfire is right on top of us. Its roar drowns out almost any thought. They can’t make us out in the smoke, can they?

The gunfire is thunderous. A bullet strikes the ground ahead of me. I hear the piercing collision and feel it bounce off the road. Something flies right by my skull. It brushes my hair with lightning speed, barely missing my head. It’s a bullet. Half an inch closer and it would have—can’t think about that now!

Keep running, Zaid! Keep going. Don’t stop! Don’t stop! Don’t stop!

I can’t see ten feet ahead of me, but I don’t slow down. Their heavy footsteps are behind us as the gunfire roars on. They’re coming fast. How far are they? I don’t dare look back. My eyes suddenly widen right as my foot hits something, sending me stumbling.

Don’t fall, Zaid! Catching myself, I regain my balance and keep running forward. I see the corner of the brick building run right by me. Several bullets pelt it, kicking up dust. The footsteps behind are louder than ever! The men call out to one another.

“Keep moving!” Salman yells over the bullets. “Don’t stop!”

I’m hardly a step behind him, and I sense the two brothers at my side. I don’t think of how I am keeping up with them all.

It’s endless—the gunfire. It extinguishes everything else as bullets cut through the fog. My heart frantically beats against my chest, pounding so hard that I hear it ringing in my ears.

The men are getting closer. Their footsteps are growing louder—no, they’re growing softer. I—I can’t tell! I can’t think of anything right now except to keep running. Keep running and don’t stop.

We’re deep into the thick smoke. It’s so hot. I can’t breathe. I still can’t make out what’s even a few feet ahead of me, but I follow the sound of Salman’s steps. It’s all I can do. The gunfire seems distant now and I can’t sense any bullets. I don’t know if we’re leaving them behind or if I’m just too focused on Salman. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that I keep running.

The sack is lighter than ever as it drags behind me. Scorched buildings are a blur all around. My vision tunnels in on the walkway, ignoring everything else. My heart won’t stop pounding. And the terror won’t die down. The smoke is suffocating, but I push forward.

“To the left!” Salman suddenly roars. “Behind the wall!”

Where is—catching sight of him through the mist, I see him divert from the sidewalk. I follow Salman and Fatima behind the broken brick wall. Surrounded by rubble, it stands by itself. The wall is just about my height and barely manages to stay upright. A push and it’ll topple over. However, it’s wide enough for us to all hide behind, and maybe the thick smoke will protect us from being seen from the sides. It’s our only hope.

The ground beneath us is scorching. I feel it against the bottoms of my shoes. It would burn my hands if I touched it. The wall is blistering too. There’s so much smoke, and it’s a struggle just to breathe. My lungs try to let out a desperate cough, but I force it to stay in.

Crouching down, I hesitantly peer over the wall. Everything beyond the sidewalk is shrouded in smog. Are those voices? It takes my mind a second to focus. There are some people—three, no four—on the road. They’re just like us, only a few years older than me.

Didn’t they hear the gunfire? They need to get off the road. I almost stand up and call them over to us.

But I never get the chance.

The thunderous and deafening bellows of gunfire break the smoky silence. Bullets rip out of the black fog and start flying everywhere with a violent vengeance. I duck behind the wall, shutting my eyes. A few bullets break against the wall, causing it to quiver. I hear them brutally smashing against brick, concrete, and metal.

They’ve found us.

We can’t move. Their rounds are raining everywhere. I stay against the wall, afraid to open my eyes and scarcely able to stop myself from trembling. The shooting goes on. Round after round breaks against our barrier. How many bullets is that? Hundreds? There’s no end to them.

Wait… I’m wrong. Almost none of the bullets are hitting the wall. It sounds like they’re hitting almost everywhere but here. Are they not aiming at us? I can’t tell.

I don’t know where the courage comes from, but I find myself peering over the barrier. The whizzing pellets slice in and out of the smog. The bullets aren’t intended for us. They’re firing at something else. I see somebody in the smoke. It’s… a man. Dressed in full military gear, he has his rifle aimed and firing perpendicular to us. He lets it loose as he takes cover behind a burnt vehicle along with another figure. His gun roars, lighting up the smoke in bright flashes as his bullets cut into the fog.

I hear a scream. It’s coming from where he shot at. Then another. The cries are as sharp and gut-wrenching as the ones from the night of the attack.

Opposite of the soldier, somebody appears crouched down behind a merchant’s shot up cart. I can’t make out his clothing. A comrade shoots alongside him as well. They’re aiming at the soldiers. Are those AK-47s? Those men raucously snarl as they pull their triggers and spray their bullets all over the soldiers’ barrier.

My gaze whips back to the soldiers. They’re gone. There’s no sign of them anywhere. The fog makes it so hard to see anything. But more bullets fly out from the soldiers’ side of the battle.

The shooting is relentless from both sides. Showers of bullets strike against the ground, vehicles, and walls. They destroy everything in their path. Dirt is kicked up on both sides, mixing in with the fog. I can’t keep up with any of it. All I can do is watch the street go to ruin—watch shops, vehicles, and stands turn into wreckage. An explosion erupts not far away, causing me to flinch. It’s on the soldiers’ side. Then a second blast goes off. They’re loud enough to put out the gunfire. But it doesn’t distract any of the shooting. Above the bombardment, I hear the men’s voices. However, mixed with the bullets, it’s all a blur.

The city’s destruction has again begun. And we’re trapped in it.

More soldiers appear out of the smog. As each one appears, it’s as if another rebel does too. My ears grow deaf with all the shooting. A bullet catches the top of the wall, forcing me to duck back down. I hear the sound of gunfire tearing into flesh. It’s followed by screams. I make out one of the voices. I can’t tell which side it’s coming from. They’re trying to order an airstrike. They’re yelling out their orders. However, the two men with radios are down. A different man suddenly screams in anguish. I don’t make out his words, but I hear the voice of another one. He’s yelling at the others to fall back.