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

My heart is going to burst out of my chest. It’s beating so fast. I feel Salman hunch over the two of us, his hand staying on our backs. His breaths are quick and heavy. Does he know what to do? Does anybody? Fatima shrieks as a bullet hits the ground only a few feet away from us. The concrete beneath us trembles harder than ever before. Are they feeling this too?

Another explosion goes off. Its heat crashes against my side. For a moment, it puts out the shooting and seemingly sets off an earthquake. I pull closer to the ground, hardly able to keep my balance. Then there’s another blast. It’s louder and stronger. It’s followed by a third. Are those vehicles exploding? They’re going off like dominos. I can feel their shock waves. They’re so close.

We’re next to a vehicle. Is it going to explode too!? I need to move. We need to go. Why can’t I move? I’m trying, but I can’t move a muscle. All I can do is shiver. My own body has shut down. What’s happening!?

Salman’s yelling again, but his words are barely audible above the gunfire and eruptions. “Whatever you do, don’t stand up! Stay down!”

A few bullets again clang against Bilal’s car. I hear one rip through the window. Where is Bilal? Is somebody shooting at us? I pick up Salman’s voice again, but I can’t make out his words. And I can’t look up. Quivering more feverously than before, I can’t do anything but listen to the endless barrage.

There are screams—anguished screams. Screams that momentarily cut above the chaos before dying out. Are… are people dying? Are they dying all around us?

A rifle fires off above the rest of the chaos. It’s closer than anything else, closer than the rest of the shooting. I cover my ears without thinking. It goes off again, louder than before. And then again.

“Over here!”

It’s the voice of a man, one that I don’t recognize. It’s coming from straight ahead.

“You three! Get out of there!”

More bullets bang against Bilal’s car. Is the voice talking to us? I feel Salman look in the voice’s direction.

“Zaid! Fatima!” Salman’s words are louder than ever. “Run straight ahead! Now!”

Salman grabs me by the shoulder and forces me up with a running start. I don’t resist and dash alongside him. Fatima is half a step ahead of us. I see the man who’s been yelling. He’s standing at the entrance of a darkened shop. One hand holds a rifle while the other urgently beckons us onwards.

My vision is tunneled, and I see nothing else but the man and shop. I hear my heavy breaths and feel Salman’s hand on my shoulder. The bullets whiz all around us. One strikes the ground right behind my feet. I don’t look back. I sense something pumping through my body. I’m running faster than ever, barely able to keep my balance, but Salman holds me up as he stays right alongside me.

Stumbling into the shop’s entrance, we’re ushered inside by the man. He doesn’t even glance at us as he keeps his gaze on the chaos outside. I step into the shop, followed by Salman and Fatima.

Smash! One of his shop’s windows suddenly shatters as it’s shot up. I instinctively duck, but the man doesn’t move. Instead, he takes aim and pulls his weapon’s trigger three quick times. Its roar makes me go deaf again. I shield my ears and hear Fatima’s shriek.

With his back to us, the stranger takes a step out of the shop. “Are any of you hurt?”

“N—no. I don’t think so,” Salman stutters.

“You three go into the far back room. Close the door. Don’t open it unless it is me.”

“W—what about—”

“I’m going to go and get others.”

Without another word, he disappears into the night.

Salman closes the room’s heavy door, shutting it completely before he latches the strong bolt. His face is red and covered in sweat. Mine feels no different. He takes a deep breath. Then another. His palm presses against the door as he bends over a bit. Staring at the ground, he runs his opposite hand through his hair.

Standing next to Fatima, my breaths remains quick. I can barely keep myself from keeling over. My body wants to shut down again, but my heart is still pounding like a drum—still throbbing. I still sense the energy pumping through my veins. Is this adrenaline? I didn’t know it was real.

We can’t hear anything in this room, not the gunfire, explosions, or screams. It’s as if nothing is happening out there. But… but we all know the truth.

Looking from Salman to Fatima, my mind won’t stop replaying what occurred. I’m stuck in the loop. I feel the explosions. The ringing of the bullets remains in my ears. The ground still trembles underneath me. That all happened, and I was in the middle of it.

After what feels like a long minute, I refocus on Salman. He stands upright, leaning his back against the wall. He’s desperately trying to get his breathing under control. Fatima is on her knees, her face in her hands. She’s saying something, but I can’t hear it.

Two ceiling lamps illuminate the room. It’s a large storage closet. The walls are as thick as the door. It’s mostly empty outside of a shelf that is pushed up against a wall. Its racks are lined up with an assortment of books.

Turning away from my surroundings, I look back towards my friends. Fatima’s eyes are shaking, but Salman has calmed himself, at least somewhat.

“Bilal… where is Bilal?”

Hearing my words, Salman looks at me. He tries to say something but stops himself short before turning away. His eyes are trying to hide tears, tears that can only mean one thing.

No. No. No … it can’t be. I feel my eyes widen. Bilal was with us in the car. Not even ten minutes ago, I was sitting right behind him. Talking to him. Looking at his face. His voice still echoes in my head. He was alive right in front of me. He said—he said that—

I collapse onto my knees. Then my hands. My face loses its color. My arms are trembling. Without thinking, I begin to violently cough. The images of what just happened outside are burnt into my skull. I see and hear it all. I can’t push it away. I try to control it, try to hold back all the emotions, but I can’t.

My face grows red as the coughing continues. It won’t stop. I sense it coming. I suddenly throw up what little food rests in my stomach. It coarsely exits in the form of a dirty yellow and orange liquid, spilling out onto the floor. My body convulses as it all erupts.

A hand comes onto my back. Fatima is crying behind me. Every syllable is consumed by an ocean of sadness. I’ve never heard her sob before. Not like this.

I stay down on all fours long after I let it all out. Staring down at the vomit, I smell the foul stench but don’t possess the nerve to move. This can’t be happening. It was only ten minutes ago… ten minutes ago… ten minutes ago…

Somebody is in the shop. Heavy footsteps press into the floorboards. Each step is louder than the last. They’re slow, as if the person is carrying something. Salman and I look up at the heavy door. Just when the steps arrive at the closet’s door, they turn and go somewhere else. There is complete silence for a few moments, but then they’re back outside the room.

There are three quick but powerful knocks on the door. “It’s me.”

Salman exchanges a glance with me. He recognizes the voice too. Arriving at the door, Salman unbolts it before yanking it open with a heave, revealing the shop owner.

His breathing is a bit heavy. The first things I notice are his hands. They’re bloodied. There’s some dirt on his face that wasn’t there before. The shop owner is my father’s age, maybe a few years older. His face looks weary and his eyes appear old. They don’t hold any of the fear that I’ve seen on everybody else’s faces. Standing in the doorway, he looks down at the vomit and then at Fatima as she continues crying.