Fan Fiction ❯ Rebus Knight ❯ The Blood of a Dead Man ( Chapter 7 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Rebus Knight..........................by ConfirmTheOriginOfFire

Note: I am not anti-Semantic, anti-Israel, etc. Caution for strong material later in the story. If you don't understand certain aspects of the story, email me at Broccoliforest@aol.com and I'll explain it.

-Chapter Seven-

THE BLOOD OF A DEAD MAN

"Merciful Allah . . ."

Mahmud couldn't stop repeating himself. Kashim reached out to grab his arm for support, but his best friend had been quicker and was clinging to Kashim's arm mercilessly. They both shivered at the same time.

"Damn damn damn damn damn," Kashim said.

"Do you know who that is?" Mahmud asked shakily.

"Yeah. How could I not? Sadakah's father. I . . . don't feel so well now."

The crowd kept shoving them along, but they struggled out of the rush to kneel beside the Palestinian man. "Abdullah?"

Mahmud jumped back when the man moved ever so slightly. Kashim cautiously touched Abdullah's arm. "Kashim? That you?"

"Yessir. Abdullah, what happened?"

"They . . . stormed the houses . . ." Abdullah shifted in pain. We ran, I was separated . . . so I fought."

He opened his sick-looking eyes and fixed them hauntingly on Kashim, almost as if he could see him. "Run home quickly . . . the soldiers come . . . your mother . . ."

"What?" demanded Mahmud. "What happened? Did they get the people on our street? Tell us!"

"Shhh!" hushed Kashim. "What happened, Abdullah?"

Abdullah's chest should have been heaving in and out laborously, in deep, painful breaths, but he didn't have the strength left for it. He was barely moving at all. His normally twitching, darting eyes weren't even moving. Kashim was somewhat unnerved by the fact that they were settled on him, and somewhat wished that Abdullah would look at Mahmud that way instead.

Then he was ashamed of himself for thinking like that. This man was dying. Kashim moved his hand from Abdullah's arm to his hand. He held it gently, as his wife or daughters might have if they were here. Tears sprang to his eyes as he thought of how much Abdullah loved all his daughters, even though women were often not treated well today. He wished he could have his family with him now, instead of the boy who wanted to marry his eldest daughter.

"I . . . make sure Imani is taken care of . . ." Then he fell silent. His dry, parched lips were parted slightly and his blind eyes stared, glassy, into space. Mahmud respectfully closed them. Then he grabbed Kashim and pulled him away. They ran for their lives.

"We have to find Amira!" he exclaimed suddenly. "I don't know if she knows what's going on. She might be in danger!"

"Right!" Suddenly, Mahmud stumbled and fell.

"What is it?" Kashim asked, alarmed.

"My foot is stuck in this thing!" A rusty airgrate had broken under his foot, and now it was caught in the rusty, sharp prongs of the metal, cage-like grate cover. He struggled and struggled, but he was stuck well.

"Get back! Get back!" Kashim ordered runners who were about to step on him. "Don't worry, we'll get you out of there."

A scream rose from the refugees as a rumbling rolled in from the "safe" side of the camp. More Israeli tanks and soldiers were closing them in! They were surrounding the camp! Uncontrollable Israeli civilians as well as soldiers rushed into houses and more screams came from these buildings.

"Amira!" They were getting dangerously close to his house. He almost broke out into a run towards it.

"Kashim!" Mahmud cried. "Please, please, please don't leave me here alone! Help me out of here! Please!"

"Yes, yes, of course." He was very worried about his sister, but no decent person would leave his best friend in this condition. Kashim grabbed Mahmud's foot. Blood was trickling over his white sneakers, and his ankles looked somewhat orange from being scratched by the rust. Carefully, Kashim bent back the weakened parts of the grate, then yanked his foot out.

"Thanks!" He hung onto Kashim's arm, limping, as they hurried towards his house. The door was wide open when he got there.

"No!" he cried, tossing Mahmud onto the couch and rushing upstairs. The door to Amira's room was also open, and the light was on. He ran inside, and gasped. Kashim grabbed the machine gun from his back and pointed it.

"What have you done? No, no no!" He squeezed the trigger, and an erratic line of fire erupted . . .