“Doctor!” I shriek, rooted to the spot.“Doctor!”
He doesn’t look back.
“Salama!Come on!” Kenan shouts from the front.
Tears erupt from my eyes, and I sob as I hug the babies closer and run after him.
As soon as we cross the road, we hear it.
The plane.
We reach the wall where Kenan’s siblings are peering out, scared out of their wits.
“No,” I choke, whirling around to face the hospital and hugging the babies closer to me. “Pleasecome out!”
Patients, rescuers, and staff are still spilling out the front doors. At the very last second, I see him. He nearly stumbles, supporting two more babies as he runs. His lab coat is half torn and the distance feels impossibly great.
“Yalla,” I beg. “God, please!”
The piercing sound of the bomb slices through the air as it falls.
“No!” I scream, my arms trembling.“Doctor, quickly!”
Kenan grabs me, ducking my head down as the bomb shatters the one place in Homs that held hope. The earth rumbles and cracks as if an earthquake hit. My eardrums ring from the force and debris-filled smoke blinds and chokes me. My limbs shake and I hunch over, trying to protect the infants.
After a few heartbeats where the only sound is the crash of the hospital’s columns collapsing, howls of mourning shake the dust-filled skies. Heart-wrenching cries and prayers rattle my core.
“Are you okay?” I direct at Kenan. The dust settles just enough for me to make out his shape.
“Yes,” he says, coughing hoarsely, and he winces. He turns to his siblings, making sure they’re all right.
“Kenan, take the babies,” I order. “I need to find Dr. Ziad.”
He shakes his head fiercely. “I—”
“Salama, give them to me,” Nour says, and I glance up at her, my heart soaring for a brief moment. She’s unharmed. “They can’t stay here. They need fresh air. Some are already struggling without their incubators.” Two volunteers stand behind her, and I hand the babies over to one of them while the other picks up the cardboard box.
“If you find Dr. Ziad—” Nour stops, her voice shaking. “Tell him—tell him we’ll be at his house.”
I nod and stand despite my wobbly knees. The wreckage throws me into another whirl of despair. The hospital I spent all my days in is gone.
It’s a graveyard.
The building has been reduced to rocks. The volunteers are scattered over the remains, desperately trying to remove the debris. When I get closer, I hear the faint screaming of those still trapped inside. It tears my heart in half. Their agony makes me forget the reason I’m leaving.
From the smoke, Khawf emerges, his eyebrows raised, not a wisp of the destruction touching him.
“Salama, there’s nothing you can do,” he says coldly. “Don’t you dare rethink your decision. The hospital is gone. Your workplace destroyed. There’s nothing left for you here. Your family is dead or arrested. Iknowyou don’t want to be next.”
I look away from him, tears streaming down my face, and trudge forward despite my limbs shaking from fear.
“Dr. Ziad!” I call over the moaning. “Doctor!”
Slowly, the dust settles. The sun’s rays poke holes through the plumes of smoke. The ringing in my ears lessens, and when I scream his name for the fourth time, I hear a faint response.
“Salama!”
I look around wildly, tumbling in the direction of the main gates, to find Dr. Ziad sitting on the curb. There’s a cut on his forehead, blood trickling down his cheek. His face is ashy gray, the tips of his hair and lab coat singed.
