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

I nod after soaking in her words. “Okay.”

“Don’t do it yet.” She puts her hand on my arm. “Wait at least an hour. We just started moving, and it’d look suspicious if you were already tired.”

“How are we going to warm him when he’s taking my sack?”

“Leave that to me. You focus on selling it to them.”

“What if he doesn’t believe us?”

“He will.” Fatima looks straight ahead. “I know it.”

The hour passes uneasily. All I feel is the pounding of my heart as every second goes by. I can’t tell if my stomach is nervous or nauseated. Why do I want to throw up? The longer we go, the more Faisal and Amaan’s words sink into my soul. This isn’t a dream. They really are willing to kill us.

I don’t have a watch and can’t tell what time it is, but I know every step is another closer to the moment of truth. If I can get Salman to come back, we have a chance. But if they catch on… I don’t even want to think of what could happen then.

“Do it now, Zaid.”

Hearing Fatima’s whisper and feeling her gently pat my shoulder, I take a deep breath. The other three are still no more than five or six paces ahead of us. I’ve been playing this out for an hour now with every scenario, both the good and the bad, running circles in my head. Now it’s time. For a moment, I can’t speak. But then I find my courage.

“Salman!”

My voice is louder than I intend it to be, echoing down the darkened street. At least it gets their attention. He arrives at a gradual halt after a few more steps and turns back to me. So do the other two.

“I can’t feel my shoulders.” I keep my dry throat from cracking up, but I sell the weariness in my voice. “Could someone carry my sack for a little while?”

“We’ll stop soon, Zaid.”

“Please, Salman.”

“Can’t you toughen it out?” One of his hands annoyingly lands on his hip. “We’re almost there now.”

Keeping my eyes on Salman, I sense all of their gazes. My heart is trembling; however, I ignore the fear and cast away the doubt. I’ve got to finish this. We may not get another chance.

“No.” I sling the bag off of my shoulder and drop it onto the ground. It lands with a thud. “I’ve been carrying this the whole time, and now it’s somebody else’s turn.”

Letting out an aggravated grunt, he looks at Faisal and Amaan. Neither of them says anything. I don’t know why he expects them to offer any help. The moment is long, the silence uneasy. Finally, Salman glances back at me. “Fine.”

His eyes are daggers as he makes his way towards us. Faisal and Amaan are not looking away as they watch on in silence. If they catch a whiff of us telling him, this could end badly. What’s Fatima planning?

Coming to us, Salman stops and gives me a deadly stare. He bends over to pick the sack off of the ground. As he does, Fatima crouches down, acting as if she’s helping him lift it up. With Salman’s body in front of her, she’s out of view from the brothers.

“We need to get away from them.”

Hearing her faint whisper, Salman hesitates for a moment before looking at her face. Her words were so soft that he’s trying to figure out if he really heard them. After blinking several times, he looks at me, his expression no longer angry.

Salman nods.

“Let’s stop here.” Salman comes to a halt in front of a building. My gaze comes onto the wrecked store. Like every place we’ve seen, it’s been shot up, but this building is more damaged than any other we’ve stayed in yet. The windows have been blasted out and the building is riddled with bullets. Chunks of its walls lay scattered on the walkway and road.

“We still have some time left.” Faisal puts his hand on Salman’s shoulder, encouraging him to continue. “Keep moving.”

“It’s already starting to get light.”

“We need to cover more ground.”

“Zaid and Fatima are tired. I’m tired.” Salman is selling a mix of annoyance and weariness in his tone. He readjusts my sack and his. “We need to rest.”

“No—”

“Zaid, Fatima, and I are the ones who’ve been carrying the luggage,” Salman snaps. “Unless you’re about to offer to carry all our bags, we’re done for the night.”

For a moment, a disgusted expression washes over Faisal and I think he’s about to cock back his fist and strike Salman. He stares at Salman for a moment—too long of a moment. But he doesn’t make a move.

Salman takes a step towards the entrance, turning away from the brothers. As I come into his view, he sends me a quick wink. “Let’s go inside.”

Fatima and I follow Salman in without a word. As I pass the brothers, Amaan glances at Faisal. They’re hesitating. Only when Faisal nods do the two of them follow us in.

I step over a rugged block of debris to arrive at the store’s entrance. The front door is only hanging on one of its hinges. One touch too strong and it’ll topple over. I feel the two brothers only a few steps behind me. Is there a reason Faisal was so adamant about continuing on? Maybe they have a plan of their own.

This place was a butcher shop. It’s been ransacked. Nearly everything is broken or turned over, leaving it hardly recognizable. But I can make out the meat hooks hanging off of a line. Coming inside, Salman sets both sacks by his feet. Switching on his flashlight, he keeps it aimed at the floor as he turns around to look at Faisal and Amaan. “You guys check upstairs. I’ll look around this floor with Zaid and Fatima.”

“Chances are that if somebody’s here, they’ll be upstairs,” Faisal begins as he steps closer to Salman. “Can I borrow the gun?”

“You have a knife, don’t you?”

“What knife?”

“The one you’ve been wearing all night.”

After a long pause, Faisal reaches under his shirt and towards his waistline. His eyes suddenly change when he touches something. He pulls out the switchblade and pops out the blade. His gaze comes on to me. “That’s right. Forgot about that.”

“Let’s get a move on,” Salman orders. “We need to check the place before dawn.”

Faisal motions for his brother to follow, and Amaan does as he’s told. I watch the two of them start heading towards the stairs. In my peripheral vision, Salman is starting to go through this floor, looking behind one of the closet doors and scanning it with his flashlight. Step by step, the two brothers grow further away. They don’t look back.

I turn away when they reach the bottom of the stairs. Acting like I’m headed towards the storeroom, I listen to the wood creak beneath their feet. Their movements are sluggish, unhurried. Why are they moving so slowly? Do they know what’s happening? I don’t dare look their way, afraid that they’ll catch me sneaking the peak. That’ll settle any doubts they have.

Arriving at the storeroom, I shove the door open. The sturdy door swings on its hinges before lightly bouncing off of the wall. I glance into the empty room for a few moments, needing to play the part.

A presence appears behind me. I swiftly turn around and arrive face-to-face with Salman and Fatima. I didn’t even hear them. His gaze is on me while she looks towards the staircase.

“Backdoor,” he hisses. “Now.”

Salman tosses my sack and I catch it with both hands. I steal one more look at the empty staircase before we quickly make our way towards the back of the shop. I’m in the lead. My heart is excited, mind racing. Don’t run, Zaid. That’ll make too much noise. Walk fast but not too quickly.

Leaving the shop’s front room and entering a darkened corridor, we turn the corner and arrive at another hallway. I hear the creaking floorboards above us. Their steps are quick. They’re moving much faster than they did up the stairs, but I can’t tell exactly which part of the floor they’re on.