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

I madly look to the left and right, trying to cut through the smoke and ash raining down. There are people everywhere. I didn’t see any before, but now they’re coming out of the woodwork. I hardly see anything more than their outlines in this smog, but I hear their screams. However, over the cries, I sense their panicked steps as they race right by me. Were there this many people here the whole time?

There’s no sign of my friends anywhere. They just disappeared. I keep staggering through the smog, praying to find the end of it. The ground beneath my feet is hot, and the ashes fall like snow.

What’s that sound? It—it’s more bombs. Even through all the chaos and confusion, my heart begins panicking like never before. They’re just faint whistles at first. But they’re growing louder. Sudden gunfire breaks out behind me. It’s relentless. The bullets are shrilling. It’s close—no, it’s distant, but not too far behind me.

My mind screams one thing above the rest: Run, Zaid, run!

Catching control of my feet, I break out of my stumbling and into a jog. Then a sprint. My feet beat against the ground like madmen. Tearing through the mist and into a clearing, I arrive only to see the sky raining fire. It showers down on Aleppo.

The heavens are blacker than any night. Crowds of people flee from the shooting, their yells echoing through the street. Gunfire roars from all around me. It’s everywhere. It’s closer than I thought. A bullet whizzes out of the smoke and rushes right by me before clanging against a burned vehicle. Another inch and—don’t think about that now, Zaid.

Dashing through the street, I hear bombs falling from the sky. How can there be so many of them? They grow louder with every passing second.

Then it starts again. Deafening explosions rock the city. Men and women topple over as the bombs and missiles erupt. Buildings go up in smoke. Chunks of debris are blown into the air before spilling down on the city, crushing anything in their path. I feel the heat of the blasts crash against my skin. I witness walls and entire buildings ferociously collapse, kicking up enough dust and smoke to rival a sandstorm.

A building’s wall creaks as I run under its shadow. It breaks off in the next instant. Avoiding the falling debris as I leap over rubble, I witness the city that I call home—the city I grew up in—again turn to ashes. But I can do nothing. Like the rest of them, I can do nothing but flee. Some flee to shelter. Others flee away from the battle. However, there is no escape from this. My mind continues to scream one thing through all the madness: run! Run and don’t stop! Run until your feet fall out from under you!

The Judgment Day that the Imam always spoke of is upon us. It is the end.

I hear nothing but the ringing of the earsplitting destruction all around, sense nothing but the insurmountable heat. Black ash covers me. I wipe my eyes of the dust, desperate to clear my sight. My vision is tunneled ahead as I try to escape the bombs. My feet are numb, but I don’t stop. My heart pounds against my chest like a mad drummer, threatening to burst out at any moment. But I don’t slow down. I can’t.

It’s chaos. Madness. The rockets are plummeting onto the street at random. Homes and shops go up in a blinding blaze. The explosions are everywhere: in front, behind, and on either side. There’s just chaos as the bombs strike the city. Blackness shrouds the heavens. I can’t see ten feet ahead of me. There’s so much thick, toxic smog. I w—

I’m suddenly sent lurching forward before crashing on my side. My head is spinning. The ringing is louder than ever before. I lay there a moment longer, unable to muster any strength. What just happened?

My thoughts still in disarray, I stagger to my feet. I almost topple over immediately, but I maintain my balance. The ground is shaky, but I somehow keep it under my feet. Was that a bomb? It almost hit me. A few more feet to the left and I would have been caught in the eruption. Instead, a truck was set ablaze. The fire is scorching. That could have been me in it.

A man dashes right by me. Then a boy who’s nearly my age. Neither one gives me a second glance. Keep running, Zaid. Don’t stop!

The explosions aren’t slowing down. Neither is the gunfire. Continuing to retreat from the bullets, I shake my head in an effort to diminish the disarray. The endless barrage almost drowns out the screams. Some are of the people—my fellow civilians—being engulfed by the explosions and debris. I hear their thunderous cries before they are cut short. Others are of those like me, those fleeing their homes in terror. People run right over one another.

The gunfire grows closer with every second. A bullet shoots right by me. Then another. Followed by a third. Don’t slow down, Zaid. Keep running! The smoke is so thick now that I can barely even see where I’m stepping. However, it only makes me run faster.

But the firefight is moving too quickly. It’s catching up. I can’t outrun it. Vehicles are riddled with bullets before their engines catch fire. The bombs continue rocking the street, leveling anything or anyone they hit. Shockwaves and heat crash against me from every side. Black smoke keeps rising up to the heavens.

My foot hits something, causing me to stumble. I hardly pay any attention to what it is: a corpse, a woman. Catching my footing, I keep dashing for my very life. I can’t slow down. Not even two steps later, I run right over another body. A third is to my right, but I don’t even look at it.

A rocket slams into a high-rise building directly in front of me. The scorching explosion cuts through the smoke. I react on instinct. Shielding my face from the blast and the dust, I take cover behind a broken-down car. There’s another figure hiding on all fours. It’s a man. His head is pressed against the concrete and his hands cover the back of his skull. He’s cowering, too scared to even move.

The roar of the blast dies off. By the time I look back up, the building’s wall breaks off and falls towards the road. I leap back to my feet. But then I stop. Hearing a cry above the destruction, I whip my head around and see a woman. Her foot is trapped under a chunk of debris.

I don’t think—I can’t think. Not now. Sprinting to her in a frantic dash, I crouch down beside her. The debris has her left foot and calf pinned. Her gaze locks with mine, eyes consumed by a fearful terror. It’s the same terror I’ve now seen too many times. They’re begging for any help.

What can I do? Will she even be able to walk after this? Don’t think about that now, Zaid.

Her foot might be shattered under the concrete. But it doesn’t matter. I have to try something. There’s a gap between the slab of concrete and the ground, and I find a place to grab the debris from underneath.

They’re almost here. The gunfire is closing in.

The concrete debris is thick and appears heavy, but I don’t let it sway me. I can’t leave her here to die. With a deep breath, I try raising it up. The weight doesn’t move. Squatting down, I lift up with all my might. Using my back and legs, I pull with every ounce of strength I can muster.

The fighting is drawing closer. The gunfire sounds louder than ever.

I can’t lift the debris, but I don’t give in. I feel my veins showing as I try to move it. All I need is a few inches, just enough for her to move her foot out from under it. My arms are shaking. My body trembles. My ears go deaf as another explosion erupts on the other side of the street. Its heat crashes against my back, but I don’t waver. The concrete is still not moving.

The shooting is nearly on us.

I look up at the scorching heavens. With a roar, I give it everything I have. I muster all that I can rally. I don’t stop. My fingers are in pain and feel like they’re going to break off, and I cannot feel my arms. But the concrete doesn’t move an inch.