The Celestial Gate

by Avital Dicker

  Mor flattened himself against a wall. There has to be a secret passage out of here, he thought. Priests had always built themselves escape hatches. He thought about his father who, until yesterday, was still busy being mad at him. It seemed like an eternity ago. What he wouldn’t give to see him now.

  Mor felt a punch to his shoulder. “To hell with you! If you hadn’t gone in here, we’d have been close to outside by now,” Yam said, his face red with fury.

  “Or dead,” answered Mor. “You ought to be thanking me that we’re in here and not over there.”

  Yam pushed Mor hard, who fell backward onto an old wooden cross leaning against a corner of the room.

  The cross wobbled, lost contact with a wall and, creaking, broke apart. Mor leaped to his feet, his hands balled into fists, ready to fight, when he felt the tiles underneath him move. This is not happening, he thought.

  Anise looked down into the pit that was now yawning open in the floor. “What have you done?” she yelled.

  At the last moment, Mor tried to grab a hold of something but found nothing: the wall was too smooth. He fell into the deafening dark. He saw nothing around him, only felt his legs hitting water, making a loud splash as he dove down.

  Seconds later, Yam too hit the water and dove. He kicked hard and swam up to the surface, gratefully inhaling the cold air. A third thud was heard, and Yam assumed it was Anise.

  “She can’t swim,” Mor yelled before diving back down.

  There was no time to think. Yam dove too. The water was murky. His eyes stung and he couldn’t see a thing, but he let his hands do the searching. He was running out of air; within seconds he would have to break the surface, but he wasn’t willing to go up for air without her, without Anise, the maddening girl he dreamt about night after night. He wasn’t going to give up. Suddenly, his hands felt something. They were passing over Anise’s limp body. He grabbed her around the middle and, with a mighty kick, headed up with the last of the air in his lungs.

  The two boys pulled the unconscious Anise toward a dry corner. Mor started to resuscitate her. Several tense seconds followed before she started to move, cough, and expel mouthful after mouthful of fetid water.

  “Silly girl,” a red-eyed Mor whispered. He stroked her arm.

  Yam was examining the cave. Water lapped his feet. He turned his flashlight on and looked at the ground that, until just a moment ago, had been dry.

  “The water is rising! We have to get out of here,” he said.

  Mor helped a pale Anise to her feet. Suddenly Mor yelped, “Something bit me!” and almost knocked the flashlight out of Yam’s hand. The water was rising quickly now, and Anise shrieked in terror when she realized the water was full of rats.

  Yam lifted the flashlight over his head and looked at Anise with worry. “I’m fine,” she said while trying hard to smile.

  The water was now at waist level; they had no choice but to keep going forward. Yam thought he saw a ray of sun at the far end of the cave. If the sun can make it in, there has to be a way out, he thought.

  “Let the water pull you forward,” he shouted at them, starting to swim. Mor, carrying Anise on his back, moved more slowly in his wake.

  Yam swam ahead with fast, powerful strokes. He was hardly able to see the opening in the roof of the cave above. He saw the sun painting a bright spot in the dark but found nothing to grab onto to pull himself upward.

  The water continued to rise. Yam knew that time was running out, but tried to keep calm. “Anise, climb onto my shoulders,” he said, standing close to a wall.

  He tried to boost her up, but Anise found nothing to grab and fell back into the water, landing next to a rat. She drew back in disgust and again tried to pull herself up, stepping on Yam who had gone underwater to leverage her up. This time she made it and, using every ounce of energy, she started climbing the wall toward the opening.

  By now, Yam was barely able to stand upright. He motioned to Mor to hurry up. “When you reach the top, throw something to me,” he yelled. From above, Anise held her out her hand to Mor and he heaved himself up after her. Without stopping to breathe, Mor emptied the backpack of everything the old man had packed. When at last he found the rope, heaved a sigh of relief and, in his heart, offered thanks to Ali who’d thought of everything. After all, he didn’t think Anise would have been happy to volunteer her shirt. He and Anise quickly tied the rope around their waists and threw the other end down to Yam.

  Yam felt many dozens of teeth biting into his flesh underwater. Losing his balance, he felt himself swept away by the rapid current. The distance between him and the rope dangling in the air was growing greater by the second. Taking an enormous breath of air, Yam struggled to swim against the current. “Just a bit more!” Mor cheered him on, this time throwing the rope so that it landed closer. Yam was inches away from it when a rat bit his leg. Kicking it off, he used his last strength to leap ahead, managing at last to grasp the rope. Hand over hand, bit by bit, Yam climbed the rope. Reaching the top, he crumpled exhausted to the dry floor. Seeing his bleeding leg, Anise unintentionally let out a loud shriek.

  Mor covered her mouth with his hand. “Shh… Be quiet. We’re not alone,” he whispered in her ear. From somewhere nearby, they could hear the sounds of several men in noisy conversation. Mor looked around: the walls of the tunnel they were in were covered in concrete and thick electrical cables were suspended from the walls.

  Unlike the previous tunnel, this one seemed to have been excavated only recently. This is modern construction, Yam thought, and turned off the flashlight. There was nowhere to flee. The only thing that might save them now was the dark. They stayed near the wall, listening quietly to the sounds that were coming closer. Anise shut her eyes.

  The bright cone of a flashlight missed them by inches. Six bearded men, who were engaged in a loud argument, walked past and failed to notice the three of them. A moment later, they’d disappeared into the tunnel. Mor held his breath: the men had been speaking Hebrew.

  Anise had her hand in her mouth and was biting down hard to stifle the scream that threatened to leap from her throat. Beads of sweat covered her forehead.

  “They’re Jews,” Yam whispered, “they’re wearing yarmulkes.”

  The three of them waited for several long minutes before daring to turn their flashlight on again.

  Yam took the ancient map out of his pocket. Having been enclosed in a zippered plastic bag, it had stayed dry. Yam breathed in relief. From her own backpack, Anise took out disinfectant and bandages and saw to Yam’s wounded leg. The daubing burned horribly, but he made no sound of protest. Ali knew what he was doing when he packed our bags, Anise thought, sending her unspoken thanks to the old man.

  “To get back to the gate, we have to turn left,” said Mor, pointing to the path marked on the map. “By the way, during the Six-Day War, legend has it that the gates fought with one another over which one the soldiers should use to enter the Old City. All the gates boasted of their own worth, and only Lions’ Gate kept quiet. God asked it, ‘Why are you silent?’ and it answered, ‘It pains me to think of the young fighters. I’m afraid they’ll be hurt. That’s why I’m not saying anything…’”

  “Ha! Now the lions don’t want war,” Anise retorted, cynicism dripping from her voice. “And, anyway, where is all this stuff coming from?”

  “My civics class,” Mor answered. Anise laughed. “Wait a second – I thought you were Italian,” she teased.

  “Shut up,” Mor grumbled. In apology, Anise gave him a quick hug.

  “In any case,” Mor went on, “we can’t stay here. It’s only a matter of time before someone else walks past and we can’t rely on luck to escape notice again.”

  “The celestial gate can’t be a gate where blood was spilled and it can’t be a gate that’s significant to just one religion. So, yeah, I agree with you,” said Anise in soothing tones, folding up
what was left of the bandage.

  “Well, we have to find the gate. It’s our only chance,” said Yam, thinking about his parents. “I think so too,” said Anise, “it’s the only chance we have.”

  Suddenly, a rock dislodged itself from the wall, missing Yam by less than an inch. It was immediately followed by another rock, this one near Anise.

  Mor looked up. Cracks were quickly opening up the length of the concrete walls and great clumps of cement started to rain from the ceiling. The racket was deafening. The tunnel is caving in, Mor thought in the second before a rock hit his head and knocked him out.

  Anise knelt down next to the wall. She didn’t know if this lasted a moment or an eternity. She squinched her eyes and covered her head with her arms.

  She stayed in that position for several minutes, afraid to move, even once the rockfall seemed to be over and everything was once again quiet.

  “Anise,” she heard Yam calling, finally lifting her arms off her head.

  “I can’t move!” Yam sounded panicky.

  Anise felt her way along the wall, trying to make her way toward him in the profound dark that didn’t let her see a thing.

  “I’m coming. Just keep talking. I can’t see you.” She thought she felt blood trickling down from her knee, but she ignored it. “Yam, turn on your flashlight,” she shouted.

  “I can’t find it,” Yam answered faintly.

  Anise tripped over the rocks heaped all around her, but stubbornly inched her way ahead. “Come on, Yam, speak to me. I’m almost there.”

  She had to keep him talking. He mustn’t be allowed to pass out. Please, let him stay awake until I get to him, she thought, rooting through her pack. There’s got to be something here, she knew. Her fingers finally located a box of matches. Old Ali – thank you again, she thought, taking out a match.

  Anise managed to light it and by the feeble match light saw Yam’s shape on the ground nearby. A large chunk of concrete was lying across his lower body, and he was moaning in pain.

  The match burned the tips of her fingers. She immediately lit another, only to see a Yam looking pale and weak. She’d never be able to move that concrete off him alone, plus she might injure him more. And where was Mor?

  Anise moved the match from side to side, but there was no sign of him. “Mor, where are you? Answer me,” she yelled, but aside from Yam’s moans, she heard nothing. She lit one match after another, but found no sign of Mor.

  There were hardly any matches left in the box. She decided it was best to leave the rest for future use, when they might need them. Anise crawled toward Yam in the dark, telling herself over and over that he was going to be fine, he had to be fine. In the dark, she stumbled across his arm, and he screamed in agony.

  Despite her reservations, she lit another match. It was a good thing no rock had landed on his upper body. All his ribs would have been cracked, she thought, trying to look at the bright side. But, until she succeeded in moving the concrete off his body, she wouldn’t be able to assess his injury. The match in her hand went out and anxiety gripped her by the throat. She was alone now. Everything depended on her.

  “There’s a flashlight in my bag,” Yam whispered.

  Tears trickled down Anise’s cheeks, but she took a deep breath, wiped her face with the back of her hand, and lit another precious match. Other than rocks, chunks of concrete, and some tree branches, she saw nothing. Yam’s bag must have gone flying when he fell.

  Anise forced herself to concentrate. Branches, she thought, there are branches here. She lit yet another match and tried to burn the wood, but it was too damp. Further attempts failed too.

  Now there were only three matches left in the box, and Anise was determined to save them for later. She took out her water bottle and trickled a few drops into Yam’s mouth.

  “Find the bag,” he whispered.

  “I’m not leaving you,” she answered.

  “You have to,” he urged her. “We need the flashlight. We can’t do a thing in the dark and, as you can see, I’m not going anywhere.” Yam tried to laugh, but it hurt too much.

  Anise looked at the grimace of pain that passed over his beautiful face and her heart skipped a beat. Instinctively, without thinking, she leaned over and placed her lips on his. For a moment, all else disappeared. Nothing existed except for the sweet softness of his mouth. An intoxicating tremor of pleasure ran down her spine; the smell of his body made her giddy. It took an effort of will to break contact, but she finally did so and, without looking back, started searching. She had to help him, she had to find a way to get him out of there.

  Nothing was visible in the dark and Anise soon lost sense of time. She took one of the last three matches and lit it. The tiny flame flickered over Mor’s closed eyes. He was just inches away from her, sprawled on the ground looking lifeless. She fell to the ground, tears rolling down her cheeks as she embraced the still body. I don’t know how to live without him, she thought. “Hey, you’re strangling me,” she suddenly heard. For a second, Anise was sure she was imagining things. But Mor was now rubbing the bump left by the rock that had knocked him out. “What happened? It feels like a boulder hit my head.”

  “A boulder did hit your head,” Anise laughed in relief. “The tunnel collapsed and some of the ceiling fell in.”

  “Shitty workmanship there.” Mor shook some gravel off his shirt. “Where’s Yam?” he asked.

  “He’s pinned down by a large hunk of concrete, and I can’t move it by myself without injuring him more,” Anise said.

  “I have a flashlight,” Mor said. Anise hugged him tightly.

  “Let’s go,” mumbled Mor, embarrassed by her touch.

  Mor took out the new cellphone they had both received as a present not that long ago and turned on the flashlight app. Anise looked at him with surprise. How had she not thought of that herself? The new phones were waterproof. By the phone’s light, they could finally see the damage to the tunnel. Large portions had collapsed, the concrete walls were crumbling, and large rocks blocked almost the entire exit.

  Yam’s backpack had landed next to a rock not far from Anise and Mor. Anise picked it up while Mor collected some sticks. After a few attempts, they managed to light a fire.

  Anise and Mor crouched down on either side of Yam. Mor grabbed the concrete. “Ready?” he asked. Anise nodded yes. Holding tight, they tried to lift it, but Yam screamed and they immediately stopped.

  “He’s passed out,” Anise whispered, and leaned over to wake him. Mor stopped her. “It’s better this way,” he said.

  They gave it another go. Anise’s muscles burned with the effort while Mor’s forehead beaded with sweat. This time, their straining paid off and Yam’s lower body was once again free.

  Anise looked at Yam’s prone body. “I think his shoulder is dislocated,” she whispered.

  “Do you know how to pop it back into place?” Mor asked.

  “Not really. I’ve seen the doctor do it, but I’ve never tried it myself.”

  “Anise, you can do it,” said Mor with all the assurance he could muster.

  Anise knew there was no room for error. One wrong move could cause Yam irreversible damage. She took a deep breath and concentrated. The world around her shrank back into nothing. Calmly, she took hold of Yam’s arm and, with a sharp twist, pulled with all her might.

  Yam came around with a scream, but his shoulder was back where it belonged.

  “I’m alive,” Yam whispered.

  “And trapped in a nightmare,” Anise giggled, proud of herself. “But, yeah, alive.”

  “You’re going to make an amazing doctor,” Mor concluded.

  Chapter 9

  After regaining consciousness, the first thing Theo saw was Sual; her head was bandaged and her right arm was in a sling. It took him a few seconds to realize he was in the hospital.

  Sual dipped t
he edge of a towel in cool water and wiped his forehead. He tried to sit up, but she pushed him back down. “You were very lucky,” she said. “The bullet didn’t hit any major organs, but you’re absolutely not allowed to move.” Sual added that, fortunately for her, she’d been in the storage area at the moment of the attack and, other than a few cans of food falling on her head, she hadn’t been hurt.

  “Where are the kids?” Theo wanted to know.

  Fighting to control her emotions, Sual couldn’t answer for several long moments. “They’re not at the hospital,” she finally managed to say, “no one knows exactly what happened there. There’s no internet or phone service. Everything’s cut off.” She was no longer able to suppress her tears and Theo, without thinking, drew her into a fierce embrace.

  At around the same time, lying in a nearby bed, Amalia opened her eyes. She grabbed the bed’s safety rail and heaved herself up, ignoring the pain. Amalia was determined: she had to find her boy and Yoav.

  Somehow, Amalia managed to get out of bed and, supporting herself along the wall, shuffled forward. But after a handful of small steps, she fainted again.

  Sual, recognizing Amalia as the wife of the Israeli painter from the exhibition, reached her just before her head hit the floor. Sual called one of the nurses over and, together, they got Amalia back into bed.

  “My son…”Amalia’s eyes begged her.

  Sual replayed the minutes immediately preceding the explosion. Just as Theo was about to start his speech and most of the guests had gathered around him in the large hall, the catering manager thought it necessary to tell her they were out of red wine.

  Sual hurried to the kitchen, as she wanted to be back in time to hear Theo speak. On the way, she caught sight of Mor, Anise, and someone else going up to the roof. Sual called out and Mor stopped to look back at her, but Anise demonstratively ignored her and continued up the stairs. Mor sent Sual an apologetic smile and hustled to follow Anise.

  Sual breathed into the pain. Anise hadn’t forgiven her, but now, recreating the sequence of events in her mind, she breathed in relief, because it meant all three of them had been on the roof. The explosion had been massive, but the building hadn’t collapsed. The kids knew every inch of the house. There’s a chance they managed to escape, she thought.