Shula, our neighbour from the second floor, just flew like Superman out of her window. I saw that because I was looking at the things outside, and she passed right in front of me. I want to fly too, but Mom will shout at me if I try. Last time I tried I was really careful: I had a Spider-Man mask and I invented a special sticky rope just like Spider-Man’s webs, only a bit thicker because I took it from the washing lines and put raspberry jam all over it. In the end I sprained my ankle and she was so pissed and I didn’t get any allowance for a month. She can be like that sometimes. She says that she has enough trouble as it is, but I don’t believe that. I mean, she can do anything she wants, buy anything she wants, eat anything she wants. So she has to work — so what? I can work too. Last summer I worked in the minimarket across the street, packing stuff in nylon bags, got ten shekels an hour. I got enough money to buy a cool model of the Boeing AH-64D Apache Longbow, which is, like, the best attack helicopter ever. But of course Mom didn’t let me get it. She wants me to save my money. I explained to her that even if I save my money, in the end all I want to do with it is buy the AH-64D model, so why wait?
Everything is shaking, and the walls are making a weird sound. Outside, there are screams. Once I heard Mom scream, when that social worker came to visit. She screamed like crazy then, but when I asked her about it she was very quiet, which frightened me. I used to scream some myself when I was little, but grown-ups are not supposed to do it. Mom said so. And now many grown-ups are screaming outside, in the street. Some of them are flying too, just like our neighbour Shula. Maybe a bit slower. They’re very loud. Mom said that if anything happens, if anything scares me, I should call her at work. But I’m not scared. I’m not a baby anymore, I’m the man of the house, that’s what grandpa says to me all the time, and I have to protect Mom. Maybe she’s in trouble. Maybe there’s social workers everywhere, so everybody screams. Mom hates social workers. Maybe they bite you, or sting you, like bees. I once got stung by a bee. I cried for two days — but I was little then. The screams outside don’t stop. Mom’s at work now. Maybe she got stung by a social worker. I really need the AH-64D — I could fly there and rescue her.
Now there’s smoke in the street, a bit like what happened when we put out our Lag-Ba’omer campfire, but cooler, because this one has colours in it. And I hear loud boom and boom and boom, like the thunder that we had in the winter, but I’m not afraid of thunder anymore. I’m a big boy now. I need to find Mom.
I go to my room and wear the blue sweatshirt that I hate but Mom likes, I take my schoolbag and empty it on my bed, then put back only the useful stuff, like the little knife that Mom doesn’t know about and some masking tape and some batteries and a poster with the detailed internal design of the Lockheed Martin F16I, which I got from Aviation Magazine, because you never know. Everything is moving, and in the kitchen stuff is breaking, so I take my keys and go out and make sure to lock the door because Mom will kill me if I don’t. I go down the stairs and out to the street.
There’s wind, and there are dirty puddles all around, and some buildings look funny, and there’s smoke in colours. There are no people in the street, and nobody’s shouting any more. This is a problem, because I thought that maybe someone will help me to get to Mom’s work. But there’s no one. Then I remember my cell phone. I dig in my schoolbag, hoping that it’s still there. Usually I hate it, because Mom insists that I keep it on, and she always calls me just when I’m in the middle of something. Now I think it’s a good idea. But the phone doesn’t really work — it says there’s no reception. I never saw it like that. I hope that Mom’s phone has reception, because otherwise she might scream even harder than that other time. Mom just hates it when things break down.
I’m going down the street, to the bus stop. I hope a bus will come and I could ask the driver to take me to Mom. And then I hear something new, and the smoke is going all around itself, and something huge comes out of it.
It’s a Boeing AH-64D Apache Longbow!
This is so cool! I saw them only on TV, and in pictures, like in my Aviation Magazine and The Big Book of Planes and The Full Combat Helicopter Guide. It’s the Longbow, not the usual AH-64, I can see the difference. Mom can’t, but I can. And it’s for real!
And it’s shooting! Yeah! I think those are Hellfire missiles, and they fly above and I can’t see where they’re going to hit, somewhere over the buildings. There’s a great booming noise, more than thunder, more than anything, and I think I hear a building falling. And then there’s smoke coming out of the Longbow . . . no, there’s smoke around the Longbow, the smoke with the funny colour, and now the Longbow takes a turn . . . no, maybe something is moving it, like when I play with one of my models, like the one of the McDonnell Douglas F15E Strike Eagle, which is cool but not as cool as the Longbow. Especially the real one. And now the Longbow is on its side and its going down and I feel the wind of the rotor — it’s huge! — it’s going down right at me, the rotor is coming at my hea —