Читать книгу Maximum Reach - Adam MD Hamedi - Страница 7

People started gathering around him as soon as they saw him arrive at the camp. Everyone seemed to want to offer his or her sympathies. No one even asked where he had been the last three days. They all started telling him the gory details and just as he predicted, the sentiment was very high against Israel. He listened, but kept walking. Droves of people were walking with and behind him. Some may have wondered where he was headed, but he was sure some already knew he was making straight for the council headquarters. They all figured he knew. The news about the beheadings was on every radio and television station, in every newspaper and magazine. Some newspapers even went as far as display pictures of the headless victims on their front pages.

They all followed.

When he reached the council building, although only the privileged were allowed in, the hall was filled to capacity. Everybody in the camp wanted to hear what he had to say, but he could have bet no one was expecting to hear what he was about to tell them.

When he stood at the podium, the room fell to total silence.

“Who is our enemy?” he asked.

“Israel,” was the response in total unison.

“And who supports Israel?” he asked again.

“America,” came the response.

“Whom do you hate more than both?”

“Traitors,” they answered.

Abbas knew the answers they were going to give him. They were drilled into every one of them since childhood.

“It was I,” he said.

Total silence. They did not understand.

“It was I who did it,” he said again.

“You did what?” came a question from one of the men.

“I killed them and beheaded them.”

A roar erupted. They were in disbelief.

“We don’t believe you,” another man said. “It was the Israelis.”

“It was not, it was I,” more emphatically this time.

The noise was deafening. Men were looking, talking, shouting to each other. They were questioning what they heard.

Abbas waited.

When the room fell silent again he continued. He noticed many disgusted looks directed at him. Some were even murderous.

“The day Israel invaded I was at home with my father.”

More noise. More questioning.

He raised his hands to calm them down. The room again fell silent.

“I know you all think I was not here, but I was. My father and I saw both men leading the Israelis towards the camp. We saw them point at our house. Do you have any idea how difficult and heartbreaking it is to see your best friends lead the enemy towards your house? It was devastating for my father, a true hero to our cause, and doubly so for me,” he added quietly.

“On the insistence of my father, I had to hide. I didn’t want to. I wanted to fight. I didn’t care if I got killed. As a matter of fact, I wanted to die that day and for the next three days as well.”

“In my hiding place,” Abbas continued, “I could not see what was going on, but I could hear everything. They tortured my father, and I don’t mean the Israelis. Those traitors tortured my father just feet away from where I lay, hardly daring to breathe. They wanted to know where I was. They searched the house time and time again.”

“I want you to know that the Israelis wanted to take my father as a prisoner and interrogate him later, but one of his friends, I am not sure which, shot him. The Israelis objected. Do you have any idea what turmoil I was going through knowing our enemy wanted to spare my father’s life but it was his friends who took it?”

“I was in my hiding place for four days. I had water and food and I survived. Even though I tried to starve myself hoping I would die, but my father’s last words kept coming back into my head.”

“Avenge my death, my son. Don’t forget who your enemies are.”

“Every time I recalled his words, I became more determined to survive and seek revenge.”

By this time every man in the place was feeling sorry for him. They had a hard time believing the two men were traitors but they knew Abbas had no reason to lie. Some of them even had some answers, at last, to questions they had been too afraid to ask. How many missions went wrong with no one coming back? Now they understood. But to cut the heads off, especially the boys, they could not understand.

Abbas was watching the turmoil on their faces. He was looking at everyone. He even noticed a couple of men stir uncomfortably. More traitors, he thought to himself? Good. That just solidified his plans.

“Why did you cut off the heads?” asked one man. “And why the boys?”

“For the same reason I went after their father,” he responded. “You all know I did this; had they lived, so would they. And what happens when they grow up? I have plans and I cannot let anything jeopardize them. Those kids would come after me if they were alive.”

They all understood; it was the Palestinian way.

“What are we going to tell the press?” asked another.

“Nothing! We tell them nothing,” insisted Abbas. “They all think the Israelis did it, so let them continue to think just that. They won’t know any better unless we have someone here who would tell them.”

They were all shaking their heads in the negative. They were not about to turn this kid against them. They wanted nothing to do with him.

Fear, raw fear, Abbas saw it in their faces. Perfect.

Abbas knew that they would be talking amongst themselves during the next few days. He also knew they would want to get rid of him; no one would have the courage to take him on. They had proof of what he was capable of doing and, when he sprung the rest of the plan on them in a few days, they would be glad to agree, for then they would be rid of him.

That day Abbas moved back into the house where he had been staying. It had been cleaned.