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

The longer we go, the more my mind slowly focuses on the present. The pain and soreness are only amplified tonight. Unlike before, we hardly see anybody on the roads. I think we’re the only ones on these deserted streets. Maybe everyone else was wise enough to just stay put.

I can’t distinguish the streets apart. It’s hard enough to even make anything out in this darkness. It’s all one giant blur now, just one pile of debris to the next with no end in sight. I almost forget that every pile of rubble was once a proud building.

Numb to all this, I don’t look left or right. I don’t even look straight ahead. Keeping my eyes downcast, I simply watch my feet take one step after another. I’m a zombie. We make it at least a few miles before my feet feel like drenched logs, but I’m used to this battle by now and try to not let it slow me down.

The corpses aren’t hard to find. Men, women, and children… some younger than me. But, tonight, I don’t feel anything. Maybe the shock is just too much and my mind can’t cope with any more of this. Or maybe I’ve grown numb to the carnage. My mind counts the bodies. I don’t know why. I try to stop myself, but I’m powerless to do so. Each time it gets close to fifty, I lose count and start over. How can there be this much death when the city was so alive just a few days ago?

Every step is more difficult than the last. My legs just want to fall off. After a while, I start telling my mind that there are only a few steps left until we stop. I know I’m lying to myself, but I do it anyway. The Imam always said lying was not a sin if it is done to protect somebody. I hope that protecting my sanity counts.

Just need to make it to that building. We’ll stop and rest in that alley. Only a few more steps to that…

That helps a bit. I don’t know how long I do that for. It feels like hours. But I guess it really doesn’t matter anymore. All that matters is that we keep moving forward. We ignore the pain, the smog, the destruction, and just take one step after the other. It’s all that we can do now.

The trouble I had breathing in all this smoke and fog is gone. I don’t know if the smoke is getting any thinner or if I’ve just adapted to it. The strap grows heavier. It’s soaked with my sweat. Every now and again, I switch my sack over to the opposite shoulder in an effort to alleviate the pain. But after a while, either shoulder hurts just as badly as the other.

The two brothers carry almost nothing. They glance back at me from time to time. A couple of times they even call out when I’m falling behind; however, neither make any offer to hold my baggage for me. They keep talking to Salman. I still can’t make out their exact words, but it sounds like they’re discussing what all they heard on the radio.

Fatima offers to carry the sack more than once. However, I don’t let her. She stays alongside me, slowing down when I do. We don’t really talk. She seems just as lost in her thoughts as I am.

It’s just like the night before, except now the streets are littered with so much more destruction. The sound of silence is louder than ever, reminding us that we’re trapped in this desolation and that there won’t be any salvation tonight. I try to get it out of my head, but the silence is too loud.

Tonight, my heart bears a heavier weight. Maybe it’s because I’m so tired. Maybe it’s because of all the death surrounding us. But I think it’s something else. I can’t forget the boy’s courageous eyes, and I will never forget how another stranger gave his life for mine. Two people sacrificed themselves without a second thought. Above all, one question consumes my mind:

Am I worth that?

“Get off the road!”

As Salman’s cry echoes in my head, I look up to see the yellow headlights breaking through the fog. It’s coming fast. And it’s headed right for us.

I don’t think. I drop the sack. My legs instinctively fall out from under me and I go toppling onto the side of the road. Crashing face first onto the dirty ground, I ignore all the pain ringing through my body. I lay there flat, unmoving. The rest of the group’s footsteps dart off somewhere.

The sputtering roar of an engine comes into earshot. It’s a jeep. Above the ignition, I pick up the voices of men. They sound like the voices that were chasing us.

The jeep’s wheels are crushing down on the road, piercingly crunching whatever they’re running over. Is it climbing over something? It sounds like it’s running over—no, it can’t be.

I’ll be in view of those men within seconds now. Where is everyone else? Eyes shut, I can’t feel them anywhere. I’m not in the jeep’s path, right?

Don’t move, Zaid. Whatever you do, don’t move a muscle or make a sound. Don’t even blink. And don’t breathe.

As the crunching wheels and roaring engine grow closer, I feel my heart pounding faster. Allah , please make me invisible to them. Please!

The jeep’s engine is raucous. It’s closer than ever. I smell the stench of diesel. The voices are unruly. Their hoots drive a fear-ridden stake straight through me. They’re right on top of me. I hold my breath as I face away from the vehicle. Stopping my hand from forming into a tight fist, I don’t move a muscle. I don’t know if it’s my willpower or if I’m just paralyzed with terror. I feel a light shine on me. The hair on the back of my neck stands up under the warm illumination. It’s bright. It stays on me for a long moment. My heart suddenly stops. Did they—

The jeep passes by me and the light leaves me. The engine and the voices begin to fade away.

I stay on the ground for several moments after the jeep disappears into the night. It’s over as quickly as it began. Gaining control of myself, I finally open my eyes. I’m back in the desolate night with nothing but the sound of silence around me.

Staggering to my feet, I see the others. They’re coming up from behind a wrecked van. Their faces appear relieved as they look at me. Turning away, I pick up my heavy sack with a grunt and sling it back onto my shoulder. With how tired I am, I may as well have picked up a car.

I take a deep breath, regaining my composure. My legs shake a bit as they search for their strength. A part of me wonders if it may not have just been better if those men had seen me.

Maybe that way, I would have escaped this.

“Are you okay, Fatima?” We’re again trudging through the darkness and desolation when my soft words break the silence. Salman and the two brothers are a bit too far to hear my words, but Fatima walks alongside me.

She turns to meet my gaze. Weakly smiling, her eyes are just as weary as mine. “I’m fine.”

“Do you need some water?”

“Not right now, but thank you.”

“What are you thinking about?”

“Life.” She takes a deep breath. “Only two and a half days ago, we were in school. We were walking to the bus stop. And now… I don’t even recognize where we are anymore. It’s like we’re not even in Aleppo.”

I stay silent.

“I keep thinking about them all: my parents, your parents, Bilal, Aisha, and Nabeel. Do you keep seeing their faces?”

“I can’t stop myself.” I hold back any tears or remorse. “I keep seeing all their faces, hearing all their voices, feeling all their warmth. And the more I do, the more I feel trapped here.”

She glances away for a moment, as if worried about saying what she’s thinking. “…Zaid?”

“Yes?”

“Will… will we ever see them again?”

I don’t reply as my gaze drifts back onto the road.

“Do you think we will, Zaid?”

After a long moment, I look back at her. “God-willing, we will.”