Sergius was clearly not going to drop it, and if he was honest, there wasn't much of a chance that Tal - who had fallen to pieces after surviving ravenous undead, pissed himself in a cell, and threatened the men who'd sheltered him - was going to embarrass himself much worse than he had already.
"Ok. Ok, you won't let it go. Fine, I'll give you all the sordid little details. I am Mizrahi. A Jew by religion and an Arab by ethnicity. My parents left Lebanon before I was born and moved to Israel. They used to tell me how they left so that they would no longer be mistrusted, no longer be looked at as suspect, because of their faith. They were blind. I very decidedly look Arab. I speak Arabic, my parents insisted I know it as a matter of culture. So, in school, the kids looked at me with distrust and suspicion because of the tone of my skin, the heritage of my people. It would infuriate me.
When I was old enough, I used to go to different synagogues - I told my parents it was so that I could learn from different rabbis. I really did it so I could run into the kids in my class, to show them I was as much an Israeli Jew as they were. I wanted to fit in, I needed it. I had to prove I belonged. The best way I could think of to do that was to join the IDF as soon as I was old enough, even though I could have qualified for an exemption." Tal took another sip of the tea, his headache still very much present, and his throat in need of comfort, before continuing.
"It was a blessing as far as the army was concerned. Here was this kid, who could speak the language of Israel's longtime enemy, who looked like them, and who was desperate for acceptance. The Special Forces jumped on me as soon as I was done my initial training. I did a bunch of different things, went to a bunch of different places. The whole time they fostered this feeling of wanting to belong. Little comments, the controlled placement of rumors. One guy in my platoon asked if I had a Quran hidden under my rack. I punched him in the jaw.
They watched me, trained me, and then the Sayeret Maglan came calling. I was perfect. I would be loyal and I would be relentless in showing my patriotism. I was very good with a weapon, I was young, and I looked, and could speak, like an Arab. Perfect for black ops behind enemy lines. And I was good. Very good." Tal sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the little bed, closed his eyes for a second against the headache, and breathed deep. Sergius sat silently, allowing Tal to continue at his own pace.
"My last assignment was supposed to be simple. I was to go to Al-Harra, in Syria, after the uprising. So much was going wrong after the civil war, and too many factions were trying to gain control - practically all of them hostile to Israel. So when word reached the Mossad of a Muslim cleric, some mullah the people called Alyad Almaftuha - The Open Hand - who was becoming very popular with the locals, they sent me in to get intel. They inserted me in AlRafeed, in the Golan Heights, and I made my way to Al-Harra through some channels we had in place.
I spoke to the locals, told them I was a Lebanese Muslim who was visiting family, but the civil war broke out and they were killed. I needed help, guidance, that sort of thing - you know, make them feel sorry for me and see if they'd get me in touch with Almaftuha or his people. It worked. I was in country about a month and I got taken to a little building on the hill near the city, and was asked to wait in an open room with a young man who was reading a Quran. I must have waited for an hour at least. When he was done reading, the guy came over and talked to me. Asked me about my family. The Mossad had provided a dossier on a family that had been killed during the fighting, who had family in Lebanon, so I knew my cover. It wasn't until later he told me that he was Almaftuha, that it was a name the people had given him, but that I could call him Ahmed. I spent six months there. Constantly, I was questioned by the Maglan, trying to make sure I hadn't lost my way or switched sides. Every time they did it, they knew it would only infuriate me and drive me to prove myself further. I was probed constantly by Ahmed's people trying to protect him. I passed all the tests, and observed everything. He was genuine. Kind. Helpful. I was sure it was an act at first, the Mossad didn't make mistakes. I listened to him preach. I watched him help people who were wounded in the fighting that was still going on. Watched him counsel people who had lost loved ones. We became close, and he started trusting me, he had taken to calling me 'brother'. We even prayed together. I reported to the Maglan that he was clean, just a cleric who was very charismatic and who seemed to just be trying to minister to his folk. I found nothing incriminating. Until he started meeting with a couple of warlords who had some real ties to militant activity in Golan and who had some really negative views on Israel. Not that many people there didn't." The telling of the story was getting easier; the weight of holding on to it had been pushing Tal down more than he thought. Sharing it with brother Sergius, who still sat listening and not judging, was cathartic.
"Ahmed, was popular, like I said. The people that would listen to him numbered in the hundreds, easily. When I told the Maglan about the meetings, they felt the risk was too great.
They wanted him neutralized, taken out of the equation. If he wanted it, Ahmed had a readymade army. He could send suicide bombers into Jordan via the Golan Heights, and from there into Israel proper, if he so chose. But he didn't, and I told them that. I was very clear that he was no threat, but the higher-ups didn't see it that way. They asked if I was still effective. Asked if I was incapable of completing my mission. I'd been in long enough to know what that meant. He was done, one way or another, and I could either see to that myself, or run the risk of joining him, branded
posthumously as a traitor to Israel.
I agonized over it for two days, until I made myself believe it was my duty. That the Mossad was probably right, and what did I - just another grunt - know that the entire intelligence community of Israel didn't. I convinced myself that I was only following orders, and that this was a righteous act, for the good of my country and my people.
So, on a beautiful day, during one of Ahmed's usual walks on the hill, I waited for him. I confronted him, and told him who I was, and what I was there to do. I felt I owed it to him, that little bit of honesty after all the lies. He said he'd known for months. He said that he hoped I would 'search my heart, and do what I felt was Allah's will'. And so I stabbed him, so as not to alert anyone with a gunshot. I left immediately and was extracted from Al-Rafeed a day later. When I got back, though, it ate at me. I was so sure that I'd read him right, I believed he was no threat, but I wanted to believe he was just that good and had fooled me and the fact that I had doubts…scared me." Tears were starting to form at the corners of his eyes, and lost as he was in memory, Tal simply let them stream down his cheeks to patter on the stone floor of his cell.
"I'd made some friends over the years. We worked closely with the Kidon, the counter terrorism branch of the Mossad, on many occasions. One of the operatives was a good friend of mine; I'd saved him from being shot by a sniper in Gaza a few years earlier. So I asked him to look into it for me. When he came back and told me that the intel was that Ahmed had secured the meetings between those two militant groups in order to ask them to steer clear of AlHarra, to try and protect his folk, but the report didn't make it to the Mossad in time…it was like everything I had done for my country, every act that I said to myself made innocent people safe, every…death…was suspect, if not an outright lie.” The anger rose up and became plain on his face. “He was just trying to broker some sort of cease fire! He was trying to fucking save people! And I killed him! I drove a blade into his lung, so he couldn't scream and he drowned in his own blood over a goddamn clerical error! Do you understand? I knew it, I knew he was clean, but it was easier to believe that my government, my superiors were infallible! That I had the wool pulled over my eyes, and the great and glorious government of God's Chosen People, saw through this charismatic preacher's bullshit. But I was the one who got bullshited and it was by my own people! And I was happy to let it happen. I didn't stop it, worse, I carried it out. Every man I killed in service to this 'greater good' became a stone placed on my chest." R
ed faced and crying in earnest now, hands balled into fists, Tal let that last sentence trail into silence.
"And so you left, yes? Gave up the military and found a bottle?" Sergius asked him, his eyebrows raised.
"Something like that. So you see, I have broken one of the biggest Commandments and killed people. Maybe for no fucking good reason, which makes it murder." Tal sniffed, the tears having stopped, but feeling lighter for having unburdened himself of the story.
"Maybe. Tal, yes you killed people. Yes, you may have been lied to. Is the taking of life a sin? Yes, according to our religions, it is. But, you did what you did, because you were trying to protect people. Your intent was the
preservation of innocent life.
I will not say that God shall forgive you for taking life, I do not know His mind, but I will say that I think He will forgive you for being mislead. And it would seem that He has kept you alive in these dark times, yes? You, this selfprofessed sinner. I wonder why. Perhaps he sees that you wish to make as much atonement as you can, and has given you this opportunity to show him that you were serious. I do not know, for sure - no man may know the will of God. But what shows me your character, is that when you learned of this disparity between your honor and your orders…you stopped. You regretted. This is not the act of a man who sins because he enjoys it; this is the act of a man who believed he was right and learned that he wasn't". Sergius made no attempt at coddling Tal's feelings, for which he was immensely grateful.
He wasn't looking for pity, wasn't looking for someone to stroke his hair and tell him everything was going to be alright, when plainly it would not. No this priest was good, he let Tal know that yes, he had done some terrible things in life, but it was the reason…the intent of why he did them that gave him hope for salvation. Sergius helped him to understand that Tal had an ideal, and that men did not, maybe could not, hold up to it. He was wrong for being so ready to trust, wrong for taking life, but the hope for his salvation lay in the fact that his heart was fundamentally good; it was his judgment that was lacking. Else wise, why save the people he brought here? Why keep them safe?
Perhaps…perhaps, if he could keep them alive and get them to safety as Ahmed had said, or Tal's delusion of him anyway, he could forgive himself after all.
"Father…why is it always the good ones that die young? Do you think God plans it this way?"
"I don't know, but I think not. God does not control our every move, Tal. Why would He want puppets? He wants the best for us, and for us to find our own way, like any loving father; and for that He must set us free to find it for ourselves. As to why the good die young…well it only makes sense, does it not? War is not about good or evil; it's not even about right or wrong. It's simply leaders trying to get their own way. It is logical that a country tries to keep itself alive. Your country, Israel, was carved out of Palestine - and the US and England boxed them in around the sides. They pushed in, while you pushed out, and the result is what we have today. And that serves many people, for there to be war here, or anywhere, really. It keeps people busy while the governments of the world make their moves behind the scenes. Peace on the other hand, is different. War is a sword in the hands of an executioner; peace is a scalpel in the hands of a surgeon. Both cut, but one is meant to end life and the other to cut away the harmful things, so that the body can heal. This is why warmongers live and those who preach love do not. Out of the two, the man who preaches love is the more dangerous, he is taken more seriously. War is an emotion shared by people in power, but love and peace are virtues shared by all. Why do you think they are so often killed? Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.? Ghandi? Even Malcolm X, when he repudiated racism and became a Sunni. Jesus?" replied the old priest, his hand on Tal's shoulder.
"Aren't you supposed to tell me that killing is a sin, that war is wrong? How the hell did you ever become so understanding of soldiers and their guilt?" asked Tal, genuinely puzzled.
"Once I would have. But then I came here. You see, Father Superior Alexius was a soldier once. And I learned much from him. He was nearing the end of his career when he fought in the Soviet-Afghan war. Afterwards he became a priest; it was his way of atonement."
"Speaking of Father Superior Alexius, you'd best fill me in on the issues you mentioned earlier." Tal got up, swayed for a moment on his feet, and motioned for Sergius to lead him to Levi.
Chapter Nine
"I will not eat with these…people!! I'd rather starve than break bread with terrorists!" Levi was standing with his back to a wall in the narthex of the church, Father Superior Alexius standing in front of him and trying to calm him, though his voice raised and he was clearly becoming very angry.
"These people are not terrorists, Alon. They are just people, like you, who found safety with us. They are Muslim, yes, but the only terror in this world now stalks the countryside and does not die." Alexius, his hands out in a placating gesture, was trying to calm the captain with the air of a man who had done this before.
"Not like me! NOT like me."
"What the hell is going on here!" Tal, who had just pushed open the door of the church was assailed by the captain's ranting before he even broke the plain of the doorway. Though all he could see was Alexius' back, the voice of the captain was clear enough to identify.
"Barzani!" Levi pushed out from behind Alexius and walked briskly over to Tal and Sergius. Around his head, a clean white bandage had been wound and there was such a large and deep bruising around his eyes that he looked like a raccoon. "Tell this old priest that these Islamics can't be trusted! For God's sake, one of them stole the lace out of my boot! But he wants us to eat with them, like they haven't been trying to blow us to pieces for decades now!" The captain did indeed have a piece of thin rope tied around the top of his boot to keep it in place.
"Are you out of your mind, Levi? They're just folk! That's it! They didn't take your bootlace, I did. I used it to set a trap for the undead as we ran here. You don't know those people from Adam, so stop accusing them of shit! Terrorist, my ass…they're just scared and you're not helping! Are you really gonna show your ass, digging up shit that doesn't matter now that the whole world's gone to hell?"
The captain looked confused for a second. He was clearly still upset, but the look in his eyes seemed to say he wasn't all that sure about what. Tal looked around and saw the small group of Arabs that he'd seen when he'd first gotten to the monastery. They were sitting off to the right side of the central isle in some of the pews, all of them looking sideways at Levi through the narthex entrance as he raved, and were eating a meager meal of biscuits and fruit. One was an older man, older than Tal at least, maybe Ben's age, a young boy close to Isabella's age and two women in hijabs. Clearly they were uncomfortable with the captain's insults, but they appeared to trust that Father Alexius had things in hand. Isabella was a few pews up with Ben, but Christine and her husband were absent.
"Yeah…well…where the hell have you been anyway? I woke up in a strange room, my head hurt like hell, still does, and they told me you were here but wouldn't let me see you! Where's my unit?! Why aren't we in the city?" Levi was in fine form, eyes wide and hands motioning with every exclamation.
Tal wanted to navigate this one carefully, the man lost his unit and was in a strange place and from the bruises around his eyes and his excited state, that knock to the head had clearly loosened something vital.
"Listen. I was…ill and recuperating. We were in the alley and you wanted to move out to the City's center when they overran the barricades. One of yours, a female soldier, fought like hell but one of the things grabbed her vest and let off a grenade. It was a big
explosion, probably got a secondary off one of the other grenades on her. You took a hit to the head…but the rest of your people…didn't make it. The City was lost. We bailed and carried you with us. Here."
"Oh. Oh. All of them? Dead? Goddamn. Goddamnit! Bercow…she just got promoted…I pinned her rank on myself…" he seemed to trail off and his eyes took on
a vacant look. Then he seemed to shake himself back to the present. "So where are we? What happened?"
"I can help with that, if you will calm down", Alexius stepped forward between the two men. "It has been about two weeks since the beginning. We heard of a sickness. Smatterings of news from America, France, Africa. People were getting sick and dying. Sometimes they got confused because people would die when no one was around and then when they came back, the others thought they had just gone mad, we heard stories of people going berserk and attacking people. But that was only in the major cities. It had been in the country side for a little while before, near as we can guess. They must have been away in the rural areas or in places far removed from help. What was isolated in the cities must have been rampant in the rural areas, and by the time the governments knew it was a problem, there were virtual armies out there, widespread to be sure, but it only takes a few to start. We heard of some attempts to call in the military, but it was too late."
"How do you know all this?" This was an isolated monastery and Tal was astounded that this monk had better intel than he did. Well…in fairness I was ludicrously drunk for a long, long while.
"The internet. We are monks, yes, but we are still a part of the diocese. Do you think the Patriarchs wish to spend money to send messengers out here all the time, when email is so much faster and cheaper? And the people who came before you told us of their trials. We have a satellite dish on the roof and some solar panels for the computer in my office. They are useless now, of course, there has been nothing out there for some time. All in all, from the first reports to the last, it took a single week for the world to unravel. All our vaunted civilization, gone in seven days. The Bible tells us God made the world in seven days, and it would seem He unmade it just as quickly."
"Yeah, well…not all of it. Not yet." Tal was in no mood for the religious overtones of Alexius' explanation.
"Perhaps not. But this is now where we find ourselves."
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