World War JeruZalem

28 Days Earlier: The Invasion

"FOR I WILL GATHER ALL THE NATIONS AGAINST JERUSALEM TO WAGE WAR; THE CITY WILL BE TAKEN, IT'S HOUSES PLUNDERED, AND THE WOMEN RAPED. THEN HALF OF THE CITY WILL GO INTO EXILE, BUT THE REMAINDER OF THE PEOPLE WILL NOT BE TAKEN AWAY."

-ZECHARIAH 14:2

JERUSALEM, ISRAEL

SEPTEMBER 28, 2022

I will never forget the day that the world decided to go to war against Israel. Well, against Zion, Jerusalem, more specifically. Trust me, what started out as a normal Wednesday, went downhill quite rapidly.

I'm a sixteen year old Jewish boy who has brown curly hair, brown eyes, light skin, and a pointy nose. My mom named me Sarid, which means "Survivor". I lived on Betsal'el Street, which was miles and miles away from my school, JAIS. Oh, yeah, I'm sorry. That's just an abbreviation. JAIS stands for Jerusalem American International School. I usually go to school by bus, but you know how long that takes, right? Picking up all these kids, having to go through traffic, yeah, I have friends from America tell me that they have the same issue in the USA. I suppose so.

I can recall arriving to school late that day. I jogged as fast as I could to the second floor- to my Algebra class. The doors of the classrooms I ran past were already shut, meaning that the tardy bell had already rung. I was sweating a bit and my mind was swimming. Just tell him the truth. Your bus made you late. Simple. I told myself. I'll be honest with you, I hate being late for anything. Unlike my friends who go to school late purposely, and don't give a sweat, I panic when I get late to school. No, it's not that my mom brutally punishes me or anything, it's just the look on my Algebra teacher's face. No, it's not his face. It's his eyes. He has evil in his eyes that resemble scourges. Whenever anyone gets to class late, he stares at that person with a deep stare, almost as if he's trying to burn holes through their brains with his eyes. His last name explains it. His last name is Chesed, which means "evil, destroyer". His classroom was around the corner of the hall. The nearer to his classroom I got, the more anxious I was feeling. It got to the point where I had to put my hand over my mouth to try to control the nausea.

I was in front of his room door, and I was about to knock on the door, when the emergency bell rang four times from the announcement speakers. Holy shit! I thought. That means we're in lockdown mode! I was looking through the window of the door, and I saw my frenzied classmates gathering all their belongings, and running to the back of the room. I scrutinized the classroom, looking for the teacher. He was nowhere to be seen.

Then, I heard it. Gunshots. Shattering glass. Screams coming from the first floor. That's when I started to panic. "Open the door!" I yelled in Hebrew as I began banging on the door. "Open the door!" No one was buying it. "Open the door!" I screamed with a trembling voice. No one would open the door. "Damn, you bastards!" I roared in anger. I heard lots of footsteps and voices in foreign languages echoing from the stairwell. They're coming. It felt like a movie, except this was in reality. What do people in movies normally do in this kind of situation? My thoughts were interrupted when I heard a gunshot, and screaming as the door of a classroom just barely in my sight collapsed. I took a good look, and hid behind the corner wall. At the time, I didn't know who they were, but they were soldiers. With my heart in my throat, for the last time I approached the classroom door, and began screaming my world out. "OPEN THE DOOR!!!!"

Someone had already turned off the light of the classroom, making it look pitch black inside. For a second, I considered the idea. Who would want to die in the dark? I couldn't understand that, but at this point, I didn't have time to reason with myself. I could hear voices becoming louder and louder. My instincts were screaming at me to flee, and I had no clue where to go. Suddenly, in the midst of all this panic, it dawned on me. The emergency exit! In less than a second, I was already sprinting towards the exit, which was at the end of the hall. I got there in about three seconds. I ran with speed that I never knew I had.

I swung the emergency exit door open, and that's when the alarm went off. Damn it! That's gonna attract them!!! Terror seized me as I heard lots of footsteps coming towards the exit. I quickly shut the door behind me, and sprinted down the emergency stairs. I was on the last flight of stairs when the sound of gunshots flooded my ears, and faithfully, the window of the door shattered, sending pieces of sharp glass falling on me. I ignored it, and I opened the door at the bottom of the stairs. Three malicious faces greeted me, and I just stood in shock, as one of the soldiers had me by the shirt, pulling me to his direction. I'm one dead Jew.

By looking at their uniforms, I realized that they were Russians. I felt defeated as the soldiers laid their hands on me, and as they were about to drag me outside, I heard a soldier from above the stairs, who was looking down the railing, scream in Arabic, "That Jew is ours, we saw him first!"

The Russian man who had his grip on my hair replied, "Too bad, we have him. Whatcha gunna do? Huh...?" The Palestinian soldiers angrily answered with lots of venom in their voices. "We'll take care of y'all faggots." Before anyone could react, a Palestinian soldier pulled the trigger of his rifle, sending a bullet straight into the head of the soldier who was grabbing me by the chest. The Palestinian looked confused, as if he didn't know where his bullet landed.

I felt blood splatter on the back of my neck, and the soldier collapsed on me, putting all his body weight on me. He must've weighed over 175 pounds, because I couldn't support his weight, and as soon as he collapsed, I collapsed under him, landing on my forehead. The other two Russian soldiers fled for their lives, leaving me at the hands of the Palestinians, the ones my mom had taught me to hate from ever since my childhood.

I think when the soldier collapsed, and I collapsed as well, the Palestinian soldiers thought that we both got shot, because they were laughing, saying, "You got two in one shot!" I waited and waited for the Palestinians to come. I heard them quickly running down the stairs, and my blood went cold. Play dead, play dead! I told myself.

By this point, my hair was dampened with the blood of the soldier, and the blood started to drip down my face. My eyes were closed, and I waited for the Palestinians to grab me. I barely opened my eyes, and saw lots of soldier's boots in front of me. My arm was sticking out from under the corpse, and one of the Palestinians grabbed my hand. My hand was cold, probably because I was nervous, but the Palestinian took it the wrong way, which was what I was hoping for. "His hand is cold, he might be dead.", the Palestinian whispered to his fellow soldiers. Then, pointing to the blood, he said, "He got shot. Let's just leave him to die here." For a few minutes, I heard some voices, and then I heard their footsteps fading until they were gone.

I decided to stay there, under the dead soldier, because as long as I look dead, I would be safe, right? My name is Sarid, and I am a survivor of the invasion. As I remained there, trying to look as dead as possible, a deep sleep pursued me, and I blacked out.