His first impulse was to turn and run for the protection of the cave, but Hanan’s words about warning others flashed through his brain. He began running as fast as he could for the center of the village. Screaming a warning of attack, he burst through the blacksmith’s door, startling the half dozen men lounging inside. “Syrians are attacking from the east!” he screamed. “Get your weapons!” Without waiting for a response or giving them time to ask questions, he bolted from the door and raced for the cave.
The dusty streets came alive as he ran through them, pounding on doors and shouting through windows. His heart pounded, not only from running but out of fear. Adrenaline pumped through his body, charging his legs but slightly fogging his mind. Had he been thinking clearly, he would have taken the extra few minutes and detoured to Micah’s house and warned him and his family. As it was, the thought never crossed his mind.
The last quarter mile to the cave was the most difficult. Uneven ground, boulders, and no clearly defined path meant he could go no faster than a slow trot, and each passing second caused him anxiety. What if the attackers saw him duck into the cave? It would all be for nothing. Scrambling to the entrance, he scooped up the oil lamp and silently thanked Jehovah that the wind had not doused the flame.
Shielding the lamp’s flame with his hand, he skidded and slid down the incline to the cavern calling out, “Miriam, are you here?”
His heart beat faster when there was no reply, and as he raced into the large cavern, he discovered why. A small fire was burning, and everyone was sleeping peacefully on their beds of sheep and goat skins.
Stumbling to Miriam’s side, he shook her forcefully on the shoulder, “Wake up,” he said breathlessly. “The village is under attack.” Then raising his voice, he called out, “Everyone wake up. The village is under attack.”
As the little family slowly came to life, Gideon raced to the corner of the room where they’d placed the weapons. Taking his bow he quickly fastened the string and did the same with each of the others. “Uzzi,” he called, “get your bow and two quivers of arrows. Hanan, you do the same.”
Uzzi leaped from his bed and was at Gideon’s side in an instant. After slipping a long dagger under his belt, he slung a quiver filled with arrows over each shoulder and picked up his bow.
Caleb reached for his sling and all of his pouches filled with stones. He slipped one after another over his shoulders.
“Hanan, come quickly,” Gideon called over his shoulder. “You must get your bow and arrows.”
There was no movement in Hanan’s bed, and Gideon picked up the lamp and strode over. Reaching down he grabbed the heavy woolen blanket. “Hanan, get up.” He gave the blanket a toss. There was no Hanan, only a rolled-up goat skin.
Gideon turned around and yelled, “Where is Hanan?”
Miriam reached for a lamp and replied, “I don’t know.” And then with alarm in her voice, she added, “He was here when I went to sleep.”
“Hanan!” Gideon shouted loudly, but the name bounced off the dark walls of the cave and went unanswered.
Miriam spun in circles looking at every nook and cranny and then, in desperation and panic, screamed, “Hanan! Where are you?” But there was no answer.
Gideon dashed across the cave, picked up a lamp, and was heading for the tunnel when Gili softly said, “I know where he is.”
Gideon whirled around to see her standing on the opposite side of the cave, barely within the circle of light from the fire. “Where?” Gideon demanded far more forcefully than he intended.
Gili bit at her bottom lip and said, “He made me promise not to tell.”
“Tell me,” Gideon yelled. “Now!”
“Gideon!” Miriam screamed as she ran to Gili’s side and put her arms around the frightened child. “Don’t yell at her like that.”
Gideon sucked in a huge breath and said only slightly more calmly, “I’m sorry. But, please, Gili. You must tell me.”
Gili looked up at her mother and said almost tearfully, “He made me promise!”
Miriam knelt on her knees in front of Gili and gripped her lightly on each shoulder. “Gili,” she said as calmly as she could, “I understand he asked you not to tell, but his life might be in danger. If you know where he is, please tell us.”
The little girl lowered her head and said softly, “He went to Samara’s house. He said he wanted to warn her.”
Still kneeling Miriam quickly turned and looked across the dimly lit cavern to where Gideon had been standing, but he was gone. From the darkness of the path, his voice called, “Everyone stay here. I will return.”
Uzzi grabbed another lamp and knelt by the fire to light it. “I’m going with Father!” he said as the oil in the lamp took the flame.
“No!” Miriam said forcefully. “You must stay here; we may need you.”
“But—”
“No, Uzzi. You must stay here!”
Uzzi let out a frustrated sigh and reached for his bow. “I can’t be of any use in here. I’m going up the tunnel to the entrance.”
“We’ll all go,” Miriam said as she rose to her feet. “We’ll stay hidden, but we’ll watch for Father.”
Uzzi led the way as the four of them cautiously walked up the inclining path. They stopped well short of the entrance and allowed their eyes to gradually adjust to the brightness of the afternoon sun. “Wait here,” Uzzi said quietly and crept farther on his hands and knees. Inching forward he heard and smelled the deadly business of war long before he saw it.
It was the noise—the screams of men and women, the sound of buildings crumbling, and the crackle of fire—that made him drop to his belly before he reached the mouth of the cave. As he lay there with his chin almost touching the pebble-covered dirt, the faint smell of fire drifted into this nose. The gray-brown cloud of smoke began climbing into the sky and filtering the sunlight, and he knew houses and fields of ripe grain were burning.
Using his elbows and toes, Uzzi inched forward until he could peer over the lip of the entrance. It was the perfect vantage point. From here he could look down the gradually sloping hillside to the streets and houses of the village. It was only a quarter mile from the cave to the nearest street of the village, but it was a challenging distance. Aside from the upward rise of the uneven terrain, there were rocks—some as big as a house—a few scraggly trees, and countless clumps of brush that had to be negotiated. The last hundred yards to the entrance was open ground that offered no hiding places. Watching from here, Uzzi found another reason why his father had chosen this cave—not only was it farther away from the village, but anyone attacking would have no protection as they neared the entrance. It could be easily defended.
Uzzi looked beyond the rows of rock and mud houses that made up Edrei to the wheat fields. A wall of bright orange flames stoked by the wind leaped twenty feet in the air and devoured the stalks of wheat like a fire-breathing monster. Thick plumes of dark-gray smoke rose hundreds of feet in the air and then spread horizontally as if trapped by some unseen hand that would let them go no higher. The thickening smoke hung in the air, turning the bright yellow sun a sickening red.
Uzzi shifted slightly so he could look down at the main road leading out of Edrei. He watched a man frantically pulling on the lead rope of a donkey. A woman sat on the donkey’s back, and Uzzi could tell she was clutching a small child in her arms. She kicked at the small animal with her heels and swatted at it with a willow stick, but the stubborn creature simply would go no faster than a casual walk. Ahead of them two men were running hard, their robes flapping wildly with each step. Uzzi watched as they overtook and raced passed a man and woman clutching the hands of four little children, being pulled along faster than their little legs could churn. Uzzi slowly shook his head and wished he could warn all of them. What the fleeing people could not see was that a quarter mile beyond them, half a dozen Syrian soldiers with bows and spears stood shoulder to shoulder across the road. The frightened villagers were fleeing into the waiting arms of the enemy. There would be no escape.
Panic reigned in the streets of Edrei. Uzzi watched as women dashed into houses and slammed shutters shut. Men were crouched on rooftops with bows in hand, awaiting the advancing attackers. But the attack wasn’t orderly, street by street or house by house. Instead, it came from all sides almost at once. The soldiers were like mad ants as they rushed from house to house, killing those who resisted. Women and children were dragged into the middle of the streets and forced to sit on the ground with their hands on their heads. Uzzi watched a woman leap to her feet and rush toward a young man who lay with an arrow protruding from his back. As she ran, a soldier on a black horse rode up beside her and violently kicked her in her back. The woman stumbled to the ground and fell under the horse’s wildly stomping feet. The rider never looked back at the motionless woman lying in a heap. Uzzi rose on one knee, methodically reached over his shoulder, and pulled an arrow from his quiver, notching it in his bow. “Come within range of my bow,” Uzzi snarled as he looked at the horseman, “and you will die.”
Uzzi caught the movement out of the corner of his eye and instantly dropped back to the ground. Scanning the boulder-strewn landscape below, he watched two figures darting hand in hand from one large boulder to the next. Although he couldn’t see the faces, there was no mistaking Hanan’s black-and-white striped tunic. The other person, with long hair trailing behind her, was Samara.
His first instinct was to shout out to Hanan to stay where he was. Running would only attract the attention of the soldiers, and the two of them could easily hide among the boulders and trees until dark. But he knew Hanan. His brother was probably frightened out of his wits right now, and darkness held even more terror.
It was only after he watched the young couple scurry twice more from rock to rock that he noticed a third person. This new figure was hiding in the shadows of an old shed, his back pressed tightly against the dilapidated structure, a bow in his hand. One hundred feet beyond him, three soldiers were cautiously working their way toward the man, darting from the protective cover of one hiding place to the next, obviously in pursuit. “Father?” he mumbled in quiet alarm as he recognized the tunic of the man beside the shed.
Standing beside the shed, Gideon pulled an arrow from his quiver and notched it in his bow as he watched Hanan and Samara duck behind a boulder. He shook his head. If only they would stay still. Each time they moved, they ran the risk of attracting the attention of a soldier.
He could neither hear nor see the soldiers, but he knew they were nearby. They had been chasing him ever since they’d caught sight of him leaving Samara’s ransacked and empty house. There had been four, but when one of them had stumbled on Gideon and charged with his sword drawn, Gideon deftly shot an arrow just below the man’s body armor. The soldier dropped to his knees but bleated a warning before he fell forward on his face in a lifeless heap.
Uzzi looked down the hillside as Hanan and Samara dropped down behind the last large boulder before they’d have to cross the open ground. He knew what Hanan was going to do, and somehow he had to get his brother’s attention to stop him. If the soldiers saw them run across the open ground to the cave, they would jeopardize everyone’s safety by revealing their hiding place. Rising cautiously to one knee, Uzzi took careful aim with his bow and let an arrow fly. The arrow arced through the air and slammed into the rock about six inches above Hanan’s head, splintering into a dozen pieces.
At the sound of the arrow striking the rock, Hanan ducked down and covered his head with his arms. After a moment he slowly raised his head and looked up the incline to where Uzzi was crouching. Uzzi held up both arms and emphatically motioned for him to stay where he was. Hanan shook his head. He pointed to Samara and himself, then he pointed up the incline to where Uzzi was. Uzzi shook his head angrily and more adamantly motioned for Hanan to remain behind the rock and pointed down the hillside toward Gideon and the soldiers.
Hanan didn’t even bother to look. He shook his head, grabbed Samara by the hand, and together the two of them rose and began running across the open ground.
Hanan’s black-and-white striped tunic and Samara’s off-white robe contrasted perfectly with the black dirt. They looked like flags waving in the breeze as they ran.
Gideon looked up the hillside and watched in shock as the couple began their dash across the open ground, knowing that their movement and brightly colored clothing would instantly attract the attention of not only the three soldiers pursuing him, but dozens more nearby. The couple had run fewer than a dozen steps when Gideon heard a soldier yell, “There, up in the clearing just above the rocks!”
In a split second, Gideon made his decision. Running out from behind the shed, he yelled at the top of his lungs, “You Syrian dogs!” and charged forward, letting his arrow fly. It was intentionally a wild shot, meant to distract, not injure or kill, and it worked. All three soldiers instantly ducked for cover, as did Gideon when he reached another, smaller shed.
Uzzi watched in horror as his father charged from his hiding place and sent the arrow through the air. He didn’t see him drop behind the second shed because at that exact moment, Hanan and Samara charged to the cave’s entrance and dropped to the ground beside him.
“We made it,” Hanan exclaimed breathlessly to Samara. “We made it!”
“And probably killed Father in the process,” Uzzi hissed angrily.
“What are you talking about?” Hanan said.
Uzzi grabbed Hanan by the cheeks and turned his head down the hill so he could clearly see Gideon valiantly trying to fend off the three soldiers creeping toward him.
“I didn’t know he was there,” Hanan said defensively.
“Why do you think I was warning you to stay hidden?”
Hanan started to say something, but Uzzi was already on his feet and racing down the hillside toward the boulder from which Hanan and Samara had just run.