Caleb sank to his knees and let his head fall to his chest. The tears streamed from his eyes and washed little paths in dirt-stained cheeks before dropping to his filthy robe. From the center of Edrei, the harsh sounds of a trumpet permeated the air and caused fear to grip his heart. With his father and two brothers dead, his sister taken as a slave, and probably his mother captured as well, he didn’t care if anyone saw him. He watched in dismay as soldiers emerged from caves, rocks, and the few remaining homes, flocking toward the sound of the trumpet like ants returning to their mound.
“I’m still here!” Caleb shouted defiantly, but none of them looked in his direction.
Lowering himself to the ground, he suddenly felt very alone. He sat back, staring at black pebbles as his emotions raced in a vicious circle between grief, pity, anger, and fear. Drained of tears, he stood up and began walking toward the nearest member of his family: Hanan.
Stepping over rocks and small clumps of brown grass, Caleb made his way to the black-and-white tunic of his brother. Caleb lovingly knelt beside the body, lifting his brother’s head and patting his cheek. Then the tears began anew. Wiping his dripping nose on his sleeve, he slowly adjusted legs and arms so that Hanan was lying on his back, legs stretched out and arms folded on his chest. Caleb had no idea why he did it, only that he felt Hanan would somehow be more comfortable. That done, Caleb stood up and walked down the hill to where his father lay.
At the sight of the arrow protruding from his father’s body, the grief Caleb felt was washed away with a flood of anger. He suddenly hated the life-depriving arrow and the faceless men who had taken his father from him. Caleb reached down and violently tugged on the shaft. The arrow eventually yielded to the pull, and Caleb snapped it in two over his knee and tossed the pieces as far away as he could.
Kneeling beside his father, Caleb’s tears once again welled up. “I don’t know what to do, Father,” he choked out between sobs. “What do I do now?” he cried as he picked up his father’s stiffening hand and held it tightly.
Once more wiping his eyes and nose, Caleb gently arranged his father’s legs and arms as he had Hanan’s; then he took a deep breath. Looking down he said, “I’ll return and bury you properly, Father, but now I must go to Uzzi.” Turning, he slowly began trudging up the hill to where the third body lay.
Caleb cautiously wound his way to where Uzzi lay on the ground. Unlike Hanan or Gideon, his body was in a more natural position, and he looked far more peaceful in spite of the three arrows protruding from his body.
Kneeling down, Caleb lifted his brother’s shoulders and head, hugging them to his chest and, with genuine affection, choked out, “Thank you, Uzzi, for protecting us. You were always the brave one.” Holding Uzzi’s head in the crook of one arm, Caleb looked down and lovingly wiped dirt from his older brother’s forehead and cheeks. With the tip of his finger, Caleb gently dabbed the tiny teardrops that were nestled in the corners of each of Uzzi’s eyes. “Don’t cry, big brother. They can’t hurt you anymore,” he said softly as he rocked back and forth.
Only when cramps began in his legs did Caleb gently lay Uzzi’s head and shoulders on the ground. Sitting down beside the still form, Caleb stretched his legs out in front of him and sat in silence for several minutes, looking at the smoke-filled sky. Then as if speaking to Uzzi, Caleb said stoically, “Father is dead; Hanan is dead; Gili has been taken by soldiers; and I don’t know what has become of Mother, but she’s either dead or taken as a slave.” Turning his head to look down at Uzzi’s face, he added, “You would know what to do, but—” and he stopped in midsentence. There was another tear in the corner of each of Uzzi’s eyes.
Caleb reached beneath his own robe and pulled out a corner of the linen tunic. Finding the cleanest piece of cloth he could, he carefully dabbed the little drops and watched. Slowly, another clear drop of liquid formed in the corner of each eye, and again he wicked up the tears with the edge of the cloth. As yet more tears formed, Caleb excitedly scrambled around and placed his ear on Uzzi’s chest and listened. Nothing. The rough wool of Uzzi’s tunic tickled Caleb’s ear so he withdrew his head, rubbed his ear, and quickly put his head back down. But there was still no beating of a heart.
Looking at Uzzi’s closed eyes, where yet another tear had formed, Caleb reached up with his dirty thumb and gently raised an eyelid. He wasn’t sure what he would see, but instead of the brilliant green eyes that always sparkled with excitement, there was only white.
Letting the eyelid slide back into place, Caleb carefully undid Uzzi’s tunic and took a deep breath. Disregarding Uzzi’s blood streaked chest, Caleb lowered his head and placed his ear directly over where he thought Uzzi’s heart should be, straining to hear the sound of a beating heart. For a brief second, he thought he heard something, but the longer he listened, the less certain he became.
Caleb leaned back and stared at Uzzi’s bare chest. If his heart was beating, surely his chest would be rising and falling as he breathed, but there was nothing. And then he did the only thing he could think to do: he talked. “Uzzi,” he said with guarded excitement, “I don’t know if you are alive and if you can hear me, but if you can, move your finger.”
Dropping to his elbows so his nose was only a few inches from Uzzi’s hand, Caleb studied every finger watching for movement. What he was expecting was a finger to wiggle wildly; what he got was an almost imperceptible twitch of a little finger.
“Praise Jehovah!” he shouted at the top of his lungs. “Uzzi’s alive!” He jumped to his feet and began leaping in the air. After three leaps he dropped to his knees, clasped Uzzi’s face between his hands, and shouted again, “You’re alive!” But when Uzzi neither moved nor blinked, the jubilation disintegrated as rapidly as it came, and suddenly Caleb was overwhelmed by the thought of what to do next. He was twelve. He had no skills or training. His mind raced in a thousand different directions and arrived at the same destination—confusion. He didn’t know what to do. And then he thought of Gili being torn from Uzzi’s side. What would his spiritually inclined young sister do?
Taking Uzzi’s limp hand in both of his, he bowed his head and prayed: “Oh, great Jehovah,” he began, “I have not the faith of Gili or of the prophet Elisha, but I need help. I have tried to keep the Law and follow the prophets, and I pray that you will look down on me with favor this day. My brother Uzzi is wounded and is almost dead, and I don’t know how to help him. Please preserve his life and help me know what to do to take care of him.” And then, not knowing what else to say, he simply uttered, “Thanks be to Jehovah.”
Caleb knelt somberly in silence, staring at the arrows’ smooth wooden shafts. He knew they had to come out, and quickly, but he had no idea how. Seeing the knife hanging from Uzzi’s belt, Caleb withdrew it from its sheath and carefully cut away Uzzi’s leather tunic and robe. Sitting back, he examined each wound.
Of the three arrows, the one in Uzzi’s side was buried the deepest, and Caleb cringed at the thought of pulling it out. The arrow in the shoulder wasn’t deep, but Caleb could see it was embedded in muscle. Then he looked at the arrow sticking out of Uzzi’s thigh and decided that was where he would begin.
The arrowhead had entered the front of Uzzi’s thigh, and as Caleb lifted his brother’s leg, he could see the tip of it was already protruding out the back side. Using the knife, Caleb cut off the shaft below the feathers, leaving about six inches protruding. Propping Uzzi’s leg off the ground with his own, Caleb placed the flat blade of the knife on top of the stubby shaft and in one quick movement shoved down. The bloody arrowhead popped through the underside of Uzzi’s leg. Tossing the shaft aside, Caleb wadded up some of Uzzi’s robe and placed it under the freely bleeding hole.
Caleb let out a deep sigh and looked at Uzzi, who hadn’t moved or made a sound as the arrow was removed. “Sleep, brother,” he said out loud. “Then you won’t feel any pain.”
Caleb twisted around to face his two remaining opponents. Reaching up he tugged lightly on the arrow buried in Uzzi’s shoulder. Solid. Having watched his father and Uzzi remove arrows from deer and grouse, Caleb knew he would do far more damage trying to extract the arrow the same way it went in. As he pondered this, a flood of thoughts streamed into his mind, and he knew what he needed to do.
Jumping to his feet, he ran to the closest fallen soldier and sliced long strips of cloth from the edge of the man’s cape. Next, Caleb ran down the trail to the shed where his father had hidden from the approaching soldiers. Taking a bucket, Caleb filled it full of water and hurried back to where Uzzi lay.
“Brother,” he said as if Uzzi could hear, “I’m going to wash you up a little.” He dipped a strip of cloth in the bucket and began washing the bloody thigh. Satisfied it was as clean as he could make it, at least for now, Caleb folded two of the strips and placed them on either side of Uzzi’s bleeding thigh. Using a third piece, he wrapped Uzzi’s leg to hold the other two pieces in place and tied it securely.
With one wound cleaned and bandaged, he ran back to the dead soldier and quickly cut off the remaining cloak, rolling it up as he walked back to Uzzi. Lifting his brother’s shoulder, he stuffed the cloak under it so Uzzi was slightly off the ground. Using the knife, Caleb cut the arrow’s shaft, leaving it much longer than the first. Holding the arrow firmly in place with his left hand, he picked up a flat-sided rock in his right. After taking careful aim, he swung the rock and hit the end of the arrow. After the second blow, the arrowhead popped through the backside of Uzzi’s shoulder, and after the third, enough of the shaft protruded for Caleb to pull it completely out. Tossing the arrow aside, Caleb washed both sides of the wound and stuffed a small corner of a cloth into both wounds to staunch the bleeding.
Without slowing, Caleb rolled Uzzi onto his side, removed the third arrow, and quickly washed and bandaged the wound. Dipping his hands in the little remaining water in the bucket, Caleb washed away the dirt and blood and sank back against a rock, completely exhausted. He closed his eyes, not in sleep but in prayer. “I’ve done everything I know to do and more,” he said quietly. “I need him; please don’t let him die.”