First Trip: Get Up and Walk the Land 9
Either not hearing the difference or simply not minding sharing a name with a hearty Belgian breakfast, the girl made the transition from Wafaa to Waffle without protest. It wasn’t long before her head was on Tamar’s knee with Tamar fiddling with the girl’s hair. Girls, much like hamsters, formed heaps after knowing each other for only a few minutes. It seemed the habit transcended race and language.
As the girls dozed off, Dor whispered that Waffle was far too calm for someone who fled from an attack on her family. Yaniv countered this with the surprisingly racist claim that Bedouin didn’t feel things the way other people did.
Eran said nothing. He wasn’t ready to draw any conclusions and also didn’t think it was nice to speak when people were sleeping nearby. Dor and Yaniv agreed that the proper course of action was to take the girl to the police. Under no circumstances will they allow her to lead them anywhere.
A brief discussion on whether Waffle should be eaten if they spent any more time in the cave reminded the boys they haven’t eaten in a while. As soon as they had this epiphany, the contents of their backpacks were spilled on the ground to form a messy buffet.
Eran made sure to remain out of Tamar’s reach, knowing she wouldn’t get up to steal his food for fear of rousing the sleeping Waffle. Fortunately for Tamar, Dor brought enough snacks to stock a commissary, so she got by on Bamba and energy bars. She stuck out a crumb-covered tongue at Eran, who responded by giving her a tahini-stained middle finger. Yaniv, ever the rabbit, nibbled on vegetables and some sad-looking slices of cheese. All the while, Dor looked like he really wanted to say something to Tamar, occasionally even parting his lips, but no words came out. He had the sort of yearning expression that made you want to take him behind a barn and shoot him.
Eran tried to listen to the outside world. Night birds shrieked like merchants at the bazaar. A distant motorcycle revved and screeched. A donkey hee-hawed his displeasure. A flock of sheep bleated their support. Eran crawled outside.
The night was muggy, but compared to the suffocating cave, even the slightest breeze felt like the kiss of a goddess. He looked around, but couldn’t see anything except bare hills and bright clouds. No matter how hard he squinted, he couldn’t see the massive junkyard, with its trailer-sized containers, and huge hole in the ground.
His phone buzzed. It was a message from his mom. She reminded him of his obligation to message every hour and included a short video of a cat that didn’t like to be tickled with the caption “igual que tú jajaja.” Eran replied with the thumbs up emoticon. Message not delivered. He sighed and wriggled back into the cave.
Filled with drowsy people and food, the cave felt surprisingly cozy. Nevertheless, this wasn’t home. Home was home.
He prodded Dor and Yaniv with the tip of his shoe. “Rise and shine, it’s time to go.” He gently shook Tamar’s shoulder and gave Waffle a light squeeze. “Ladies, it’s time to go.”
By the time everyone left the cave, the night grew chilly. Tamar and Yaniv put on their sweatshirts. Eran put on his pride. It did little to warm him but kept him from being that boy who wore long sleeves in summer. Dor was fat and enjoyed every second of it.
Waffle and Tamar walked huddled around Tamar’s phone. It wasn’t clear to Eran how they communicated; their shared vocabulary couldn’t have consisted of more than a dozen words.
Eran had told Tamar a million times to stop using her phone outside. He told her about how Finnish snipers used to take out Russian soldiers by spotting cigarette light from kilometers away. He told her about how American drones blow up terrorists by intercepting smartphone signals. He was about to tell her about how the Mossad had secret devices that could make phones explode, when she tilted her head at him and muttered through clenched teeth, “Eran, you’re digging a hole in my brain.”
Waffle looked at the taller girl with wide-eyed admiration.
Eran bristled. Fine, whatever. If the girls wanted to have their heads blown off by Arab snipers, it was their prerogative.
Their destination was home, the sooner the better. They had uncovered an enemy base, found a mysterious artifact, discovered a new species, rescued a damsel in distress, and given her a silly nickname. Not bad for one night’s work!
However, there remained the question of how exactly they should return home. They could wait for their parents to come pick them up from the road, comfortable but exposed, or they could march through hills and wadis, enjoying perfect concealment but suffering from poor reception and rough terrain.
Waffle divided her attention between Tamar’s screen and the boy’s discussion. Tamar’s eyes never left the phone, but her nods and “a-has” roughly matched what the boys were saying.
“...and these are our options.” Eran concluded. “What do you think?”
Tamar yawned. “Let’s call someone to come pick us up. I’m tired.”
“If we go through the hills in the dark,” Yaniv said. “Dor might fall down and cause an earthquake.”
Dor rolled his eyes. “Both ideas are dumb.” Of all the members of the party, he was the one most chafed, literally and figuratively. He was already walking like a cavalier on an invisible horse…
“Okay, what are you suggesting?” Eran asked. Dor may have been an arrogant, self-aggrandizing bastard, but even his worst enemies had to agree that his arrogance wasn’t without merit.
“We go to the army base we visited on Independence Day. It’s twenty minutes away, tops. We might even encounter a patrol on the way and get a ride. There’s also a ton of antennae near the base so we’ll probably get good reception. See? Now that’s using your brain. None of you would survive a week in a zombie apocalypse…”
Eran nodded. He wouldn’t mind concluding the trip with a ride on a jeep with a machine gun.
Yaniv brushed the three hairs growing from his chin like it was the beard of a wise mandarin. “That’s actually a good idea. Did anyone take any photos before the hole had disappeared? Do we have any evidence of what we just saw?” He frowned. “I’m not sure I could lead anyone to the exact spot the junkyard was visible from.”
“What about Wafaa?” Tamar asked. The girl looked up at the mention of her name.
“Put some syrup on her.” It was fortunate that Yaniv was one of the best runners in school, or his sense of humor would have gotten him killed years ago.
Tamar rolled her eyes. “I’m serious!”
Eran shrugged. “I guess they will find someone who speaks Arabic and help her locate some relatives who’re not trying to murder her at the moment.”
Eran remembered a story about an eloping couple coming to the gates of Rosh Nammer a few years ago. They needed protection because they belonged to different clans and their families wanted to kill them for having a secret marriage. Kinda like Romeo and Juliet only with AK-47s and more facial hair. Eran didn’t remember how it ended, but he was pretty sure no one had been murdered.
Tamar tapped her screen a few times and showed it to Waffle. The girl frowned.
Eran cleared his throat. “I read about this Palestinian couple who—”
Waffle’s braid slapped her cheeks as she vehemently shook her head. “No Palestinian.”
“Israeli?”
Another headshake.
Yaniv eyed the girl up and down. “Jordanian?”
“No, no, no.” The girl pointed at her chest with her thumb. “Banu Safiru.”
“Banu means tribe,” Yaniv and Tamar said in unison. Dor farted in agreement.
Waffle pressed a hand to her mouth to hide her giggle.
The young Bedouin furrowed her brow and looked up to the heavens for inspiration. “Name mine not in computer. Um.” She made a face as if looking into the wind. “Need, um, not police, but, um.” Her Hebrew slipped into hesitant Arabic. It seemed that Waffle was the kind of person who believed that talking slowly and loudly was an acceptable substitute to actually knowing a foreign language.
Suddenly, her expression changed from mental constipation to abject horror. She grabbed Eran by the forearm and pointed in the direction of a faraway mound. He followed her finger but saw nothing but stars and stones.
“Yallah! Yallah!” the girl cried and pushed Eran as if trying to save him from an oncoming truck. It was about as effective as a kitten trying to nudge a sumo wrestler.
Eran found that he enjoyed feeling her hands on his arm. Nevertheless, he resisted her prodding. For all he knew, she could be trying to lead the Jews into an ambush.
“She’s saying we’re in danger from, um, those that fall?” Tamar said after a brief consultation with her phone.
Eran looked about wildly but could see nothing wrong. Meanwhile, Waffle went to shake Yaniv. He ignored her just like he ignored everyone else in stressful situations.
Dor peeled the girl off Yaniv. She turned to him and desperately repeated her warning, though in his case she kept her hands to herself. Dor frowned, either because he was allergic to talking to girls, or because her tone suggested the prospect of bodily harm and Dor didn’t like this. Not when it happened to him.
“She’s saying they’re going to daesh us like ants.” Tamar cried. “I’m scared. Let’s go. Please.”
“Go where? From what?” Eran asked. “For all we know, this girl might be crazy.”
Waffle glared at him. She grabbed the taller girl by the elbow and started leading her away. Tamar looked back at her friends with pleading eyes. “Nu… let’s go! She knows this place.”
Eran didn’t know what to do. It was such a lovely night; cool and breezy, with just enough clouds to highlight the moon’s lithe beauty. It was the kind of night to inspire a kiss or a sonata. What did this girl see that no one else did?
Then, through the sound of wind and crickets, Eran heard a faraway whistle that ended with a dull thud he felt more than heard. A second later, there was another whistle, this one louder.
After a few heartbeats, a nearby tree exploded, showering the boys with sap and sawdust. Eran started running. Yaniv joined with a slight delay and soon passed Eran. The girls followed.
There was another whistle followed by a thud. This one felt like an earthquake. Dor bellowed and Waffle shrieked. The resulting duet was as melodious as a baboon sloppily castrated with a box cutter.
Tamar grabbed her mouth in horror and her eyes widened. Yaniv downgraded his jog to a trot. Eran turned back and saw Dor lying face down, his foot pinned to the ground by a basalt sphere painted bright green with yellow and pink dots.