by J. W. Vohs
The officer cleared his throat before replying, “Down in Eilat. Normally when they call my unit up we work somewhere down in the Negev, but tonight I was sent up here because the Nahal lieutenant isn’t responding to his calls.”
Aviel nodded sympathetically before suggesting, “Why don’t you call your family right now and tell them to come to Ein Gedi? I can find them comfortable places to stay.”
The young man just shook his head before answering, “Nobody’s leaving Eilat right now. They haven’t found a single infection there and checkpoints aren’t allowing anyone in or out.”
“Well,” Aviel mused, “considering what’s going on in the coastal cities that’s probably a good thing. Your family will be fine.”
For a moment the lieutenant looked younger than his twenty-three years, “Yes, sir, I suppose you’re right. I’m sorry for delaying you.”
“That’s quite all right,” Aviel reassured the worried officer before turning his attention back to his nephew. “Avy, is your mother home tonight?”
“Yeah, she’s at home with Sarra and Ronni. Father was called up this afternoon and headed south. Mother will be very happy to see you here. Will you stop there right away?”
“Of course we will. Hey, did you see who’s in the back seat?”
Avy briefly shined his light into the back before exclaiming, “Sophie! And, Mickey, correct?”
Sophie smiled and murmured, “That’s right. He is fourteen now. He prefers to be called Mick.”
Avy shook his head in wonderment, “Two years ago he was just a boy when I saw him. You picked a great time to visit.”
Sophie’s smile quickly faded, “That’s the truth. Levi and Gracie are back in Cleveland.”
Avy took in a quick breath and tried to hide his alarm as he offered, “Levi can take care of himself, and Gracie.”
Sophie nodded, but her eyes betrayed her worry. “Yes, he can. Please come by tomorrow and let us know what’s going on. If you’re worried about your mother and sisters, Mickey and I can stay with them. I was IDF before I married, and Mickey—Mick—knows how to fight too.”
Avy smiled, “I think they’re fine tonight. Mother has a small arsenal in there, and Sarra and Roni have trained with the Nahal youth. Maybe tomorrow, though, if things get worse.”
Avy turned back to Aviel, “Better get moving, Uncle. I’ll visit tomorrow as soon as I can.”
Aviel reached out and took his nephew’s hand, “Keep talking to the lieutenant; keep him focused. The Bedouins are moving out of their villages; make sure you know your target before shooting at anything.”
The young sergeant nodded and then waved his uncle on, watching the tail lights of the Jeep and the trailing vehicle fade into the darkness as the family headed home.
* * *
Ein Gedi was dark and quiet as Aviel pulled into the drive of the half of the duplex he maintained in the village. The Jeep was quickly unloaded, and Lina set Sophie and Mick to work cleaning the spare bedrooms while her husband made the short drive over to his sister’s home. The condo was dusty, but nothing had been disturbed since the last visit. Like many of the older families in Israel, the Galitz’s kept a stocked pantry filled with all types of non-perishables and canned goods. Even though they were in a desert next to the Dead Sea, a lake so salty a person could float in it without trying, the water supply wasn’t a problem in the ancient oasis village around which the kibbutz had been built.
Aviel and Lina had lived in Ein Gedi since 1953, meeting in the kibbutz that year when their parents moved from Tel Aviv to join the Zionist Youth Movement’s agricultural settlement. There they had stayed until 1994, when Sophie’s college choice and Aviel’s work with the mineral water company had led them to Jerusalem. Life in the kibbutz had prepared parents and children for the challenges they would face as part of a fledgling nation, which included everything from developing desert agriculture to fighting multiple wars. Bottled water had ultimately led the formerly socialist kibbutz into the comfortable bosom of successful capitalism, but the people of Ein Gedi still took pride in their rugged, self-sufficient heritage, and if anyone was ready to face a world-wide pandemic, they were. The Israelis here were relatively well-armed, with most of the young men and women augmenting their elders’ guns with their IDF-issued weapons. If the town fell to any invaders, including the infected increasingly roaming the country, it would do so amid a hail of well-aimed lead.
Lina and Sophie worried about their Palestinian guests; the grieving Arabs had lost loved ones in an orgy of unimaginable horror and violence, and now they were surrounded by militant Israelis. The first order of business was to try to make them as comfortable as possible. While Mick showed the newcomers where the restrooms were located, Lina began to prepare a light meal consisting of soup and sandwiches. By the time the shell-shocked Mubin and his sister, both obviously far from recovered from the mind-numbing horrors encountered on the road, led their children out to the dining room, the table was set for everyone and the food was ready to eat.
Sophie tried to engage the visitors in small talk in an effort to take their minds from what they had endured earlier in the night, but the adults said very little and the youngsters were too shy to do more than briefly respond to the adult Israeli’s gentle questions. As soon as they finished eating, Sophie led the two little girls over to a small closet containing a plastic storage box overflowing with the toys Gracie and Mick had played with when they were younger. The children enthusiastically began rummaging through the items, and their mother flashed Sophie a small smile of gratitude. Mick and Zafir had quickly become inseparable, and they were excited to discover a stack of X-Box games lying next to a small television in one of the bedrooms. Aviel had insisted to Lina that he needed to purchase a gaming system so that his grandchildren would be able to enjoy all the comforts of home whenever they visited, but the well-worn controllers and the high number of gently used first-person shooter games indicated that the system was being utilized by someone other than American teenagers on an annual summer holiday. Mick set up a game he was familiar with, and the two boys lost track of time as they kept themselves occupied by hunting down and destroying animated zombies.
By the time Aviel returned from his sister’s home he looked tired and worried. He called all of the adults together and explained that news reports were growing worse by the hour; outbreaks had been reported throughout the coastal areas and the West Bank. The cities of the United States were rapidly falling into complete chaos, while those of Western Europe were all reporting that the virus was spreading unchecked among their populations. Here in Ein Gedi, one person was in restraints at the local health clinic, suffering from a bite wound she’d received while trying to care for her infected father in Haifa the previous day. The woman was now unconscious and appeared to have slipped into a coma, with her family surrounding her bedside and praying for her recovery. Upon hearing this, Mubin became agitated and cried out, “You must keep everyone away from her!” Looking slightly embarrassed, he lowered his voice, “You, Aviel, you must go there and finish her.”
The exhausted Israeli sadly shook his head, “I have no authority to do that, my friend. The police or Army would arrest me for murder if the family didn’t kill me first. In fact, I know the family would kill me first.”
Mubin’s sister angrily spat out, “That didn’t stop you from blowing my husband’s brains all over the car! You shoot an infected Palestinian like a rabid dog, but you take an Israeli to the hospital.”
“Alima!” Mubin sharply scolded, “These people have saved our lives. They have saved our children.”
The still-beautiful Arab mother’s huge, dark eyes flashed with fury as she turned on her brother, “And have you forgotten that they killed Selim in 2002?”
Mubin quietly but firmly replied, “He was dug in over Highway One with an RPG; still the IDF warned him to surrender. He chose war, Alima. How many did he kill?”
Alima stared sullenly at the floor until her brot
her moved next to her and took her hand in his. “Hey, please, listen to me, little sister. Whatever has happened in the past is over now. The world is dying tonight. Israeli, Palestinian, American, British . . . we are all one now. We must forgive and work together, for the sake of our children if not for ourselves.”
The man fell silent as he choked back a sob, and after a long moment of silence Alima laid her head on his shoulder and cried softly with her brother. Aviel motioned for his family to leave the two Palestinians alone with their grief for a while, and after ten minutes or so they seemed to be calmed down enough to continue the conversation. Surprisingly, Lina spoke before her husband could carry on with his with his update. “Alima, I’m sorry if we seem harsh to you. Our only son was killed by a suicide bomber in a Tel Aviv restaurant during the second intifada. We know the pain you speak of. But I believe Mubin is right about what has been and what now is. This virus is spreading faster than anyone expected, and if we don’t stand together as humans against these creatures we will all die. I promise you that if your family was Israeli, Aviel still would have responded the same way in your car tonight.”
Alima had buried her face in her hands when she learned about her rescuer’s son, and she gently rocked back and forth whimpering as Mubin rubbed her shoulder and whispered unintelligible words of comfort. After a few minutes she quieted down, and in a voice muffled by her hands, politely asked for Aviel to continue.
The weary Israeli finished his briefing by explaining, “The IDF has reinforced the permanent checkpoint we passed a few hours ago, and a new roadblock has been set up about a dozen miles south of here. Of course, Bedouins are moving through the Judean Hills easily enough, and when the situation along the coast gets bad enough we can expect plenty of other people to try crossing the Hills or sneaking around the roadblocks. The residents here have set up a guard rotation around the settlement, so I believe we’re safe enough for now. I suggest that we all get some sleep and plan on joining the community tomorrow to see how we can help out. So unless anyone has anything to add, let’s go to bed.”
Alima had finally uncovered her face, and her tears were drying. She stood up and moved over to where Aviel and Lina were sitting together and slowly sank to her knees in front of the older couple. “I am sorry for judging you,” she sincerely declared, “and I am sorry about your son.” She sniffed a few times before continuing, “We live in a land of tears. Thank you for saving me and my children in the car tonight, and thank you for bringing us here into your home. Please forgive my insults; this has been the most frightening, difficult night of my life.”
She began to cry again, and Lina pulled the young mother into an embrace as she tearfully reassured her, “There is nothing to forgive, Alima. You have suffered much, and we understand what that can do to a human heart. We are so sorry about your brother, and I wish so much that we could have helped your husband tonight.”
Even tough, old Aviel put a hand on the woman’s shaking shoulder and patted her on the back until she finally managed a small, tearful smile. “If it was just me here tonight, I might walk off into the desert and never come back, but I love my daughters too much to leave them. You can count on me to help any way I can.”
Lina smiled back, “Thank you, Alima. Now, why don’t we all get some sleep?”
* * *
The rest of the night passed quickly, with Aviel, Lina, and Sophie each pulling a two-hour guard shift in front of the living room window. None of them would admit to the others that they were just as concerned about their houseguests as they were about the infected, but their military training and years of hard experience had taught them that sacrificing some sleep for peace of mind was a bargain they were more than willing to make. Following the arrival of morning and a quick breakfast, everyone walked over to a community meeting center where citizens were organizing for the defense of Ein Gedi. Mubin and Alima immediately realized that they weren’t the only Palestinians seeking refuge in the ancient oasis-settlement. A significant number of their own people were in the meeting center as well as several families of Bedouins and even a few Druze. Whatever worries they still harbored about being accepted in what they had grown up knowing to be a militant Israeli Kibbutz rapidly faded as they saw everyone working together to figure out ways to keep their families safe.
The news from Israel and the rest of the world had grown more alarming overnight, and word of the fall of Washington D.C. shocked everyone to the core. The Americans were the most powerful force on the planet in every way imaginable, and now they were being conquered by what people were unabashedly calling zombies. Still, once everyone began to recover from the shock of learning that the United States was collapsing, the overall influence of the news was positive for the defense of Ein Gedi. The people who’d been arguing that all they needed to do was wait until the government got the situation under control were permanently silenced, and those who had been hesitant to commit to participating in the work that had to be done now accepted that there was no other choice if they wanted to survive.
Once again faced with an existential threat, the Israelis who’d been born and raised in Ein Gedi quickly reverted back to their collectivist roots, developing plans to share work details, food, weapons, and ammunition in what would obviously have to be a group defensive effort. The kibbutz had been established as a military-agricultural settlement, so the older residents all had extensive experience working together in both the IDF and various farming enterprises. Former officers and sergeants with combat experience were abundantly present, and several dozen reservists who’d chosen to quietly ignore their call-up orders and stay home to protect their families added to the number of people who knew how to fight.
Eventually, Aviel called for quiet and asked everyone to gather around a chair he had climbed up on. After several minutes he explained, “Well, after walking around here for an hour and talking to everyone I could, I can’t find anyone who’s actually faced the infected in battle. Did I miss anyone? Have any of you actually fought these creatures?”
When nobody spoke up, Aviel continued by reaching down and grasping his new, Palestinian friend’s shoulder and declaring, “My friend here, Mubin, killed two of the infected by smashing their heads in with a rock after they attacked his family.”
A murmur spread around the room and more than a few eyebrows were raised at the sight of an old, Israeli war hero claiming to be buddies with a middle-aged Palestinian. Everyone was looking at Mubin with curiosity and newfound respect as Aviel resumed speaking.
“This man’s brother-in-law turned into one of the flesh-eaters after I arrived on the scene, and I killed him instantly with a gunshot to the head.”
Again a low murmur broke out in the room until Aviel raised his hands for silence. “I strongly suggest that we accept the internet reports that these creatures can only be killed by destroying their brains.”
People around the room nodded their understanding as Aviel continued, “If we are attacked, we must conserve our ammo. All of our fighters should carry hammers and knives, perhaps even clubs and pikes. I’m sure everyone here who’s been in combat knows that making a deliberate head-shot on a moving target is very difficult.”
Some of the people in the room looked around uncomfortably, wondering if they had tried to make just such a shot on one another in the past. Then the mood was broken when Aviel recognized the raised hand of an older Druze who’d been politely listening to what was being shared. The old man explained, “My son is a scout with the IDF in the Golan Heights. He said that the soldiers there are wearing body armor and finding ways to protect their hands and arms. Most of the wounds they’ve been seeing are in those areas of the body. He also said that they are using leather, plastic, rubber, duct tape, anything else they can use to cover their arms and legs. I believe we should consider doing the same thing here at Ein Gedi.”
Aviel smiled in thanks to the man and added, “I hadn’t even considered what my friend here just shared with us, but it make
s sense. From what we know at this time, the virus is being spread through human bite wounds. Now, I’m not a dentist, but I don’t believe most of us have particularly sharp teeth. We can bite hard; anyone who’s ever been in a nasty street-fight knows what I’m saying, but our teeth aren’t made for puncturing. Thick leather should stop most bites from breaking skin. We should all work on ways of protecting ourselves if and when these creatures show up here, and please, everyone share any ideas you have no matter how outlandish they may seem to you. Apparently zombies are destroying the world, so there is no way your ideas can be crazier than reality.”
After a round of grim laughter faded away, Aviel finished his speech and everyone went back to their preparations. Now, however, many people were working on weapons and protective clothing in addition to forming into squads. Lina and Alima took the children home and kept them occupied while preparing the evening meal, but Mubin, Sophie, and Aviel all stayed behind at the gathering and helped develop a defense plan for the town. By late afternoon Ein Gedi had organized a militia of four hundred men and women equipped as well as possible to fight the infected. As nightfall descended, more than a quarter of the soldiers took up guard positions around the settlement.
By the time Aviel returned home after accepting command of a company of one hundred fighters, including Mubin and Sophie, Lina met him at the door with the news that all cell phone and land-line service was down. Television stations were off the air, and the few radio outlets still broadcasting were announcing that martial law had been ordered by the government and a 24 hour curfew was in effect until further notice. IDF forces were treating everyone still on the streets as hostile, infected, or insane people dangerous to the security of Israeli citizens and subject to being shot on site. One radio station host had pointed out, though, that the streets below him in Tel Aviv were filled with flesh-eating infected, but no soldiers were anywhere in sight. He wondered, on-air, what the military warnings actually meant.