billowing thickly through the tunnel. He heard a splintering sound as the desiccated timbers supporting the ceiling fractured beneath the blast, followed by an anguished cry from somewhere in the darkness.
“Mahmoud?”
Ethan’s own voice was feeble, his throat parched like the deserts above as he groped for the flashlight. He found it and turned the beam to see Mahmoud facedown before him in the mouth of the antechamber, shattered timbers and chunks of rock and earth piled high across the backs of his legs.
“Go!” Mahmoud spluttered angrily. “Get out!”
The ceiling of the chamber rippled, rocks and thick lumps of earth falling to shatter around Ethan’s feet as the timbers above his head groaned. A jagged crack in the ceiling snaked its way above his head and spilt streams of dust like dark water from its depths.
Ethan tossed the flashlight to one side and grabbed Mahmoud beneath his armpits, hauling with all of his strength. The Palestinian cried out as Ethan pulled, his teeth gritted and his eyes shut tight.
A timber as thick as Ethan’s thigh split above them, a cascade of crumbling dirt spilling onto Ethan’s head and shoulders. He ignored the falling debris, gagging for air as he repositioned his feet and pulled again on Mahmoud’s torso.
The earth trapping the Palestinian shifted and then suddenly his body slid free, Mahmoud kicking back against the debris as Ethan hauled him clear and toppled over. Mahmoud scrambled to his feet and grabbed the flashlight, pulling Ethan upright by his shirt and shoving him down the tunnel ahead.
The timbers behind them plunged down with a terrific crash as Ethan ran through the darkness, the tunnel ahead lit only by the wavering beam of Mahmoud’s flashlight. He lurched to the ladder, grabbing the rails and hauling himself upward on legs that were quivering with fatigue.
Ethan finally reached the top and dragged himself out onto the concrete, and Mahmoud followed him up and out of the tunnel. Ethan, his lungs sore and aching, coughed heavily and saw clouds of fine dust puff out of his chest. He barely had the strength to get onto his hands and knees, and as he did so he felt his stomach plunge in dismay.
“No.”
Rachel was sitting with her back to the wall and her hands over her mouth. She was staring at a body lying on the opposite side of the hatch from Ethan, just in front of the open door of the building. Ethan wiped the grime from his eyes with the back of his hand, and realized that the body belonged to Hassim Khan.
Ethan struggled to his feet and joined Mahmoud, who crouched down next to the scientist and searched for a pulse. Ethan looked down and saw Hassim’s eyes vacant and empty. Behind his head, thick blood leaked into cracks in the concrete.
Rachel looked at Ethan.
“Someone stabbed him,” she said, alternately angry and horrified. “A man had locked the doors. Hassim fought him for the key.”
Ethan felt a bleak sense of desolation overwhelm him.
“Whoever he was, he took my camera and the explosives.”
Mahmoud gently closed Hassim’s eyes and then stood, turning to face Ethan.
“His death will not be in vain. Allah willing, he will be in paradise, but we must get outside. They may bomb this building too.”
Ethan helped Rachel gently to her feet and followed Mahmoud in an unsteady run out into the night air.
To their right across the street a large building burned. Palestinians milled about in the light from the flames and pointed at Ethan and his companions. Before Ethan could orient himself to the world around him, a humming sound drifted through the streets from somewhere above. Palestinians immediately scattered in all directions as the sound reverberated between Gaza’s crumbling walls.
Mahmoud grabbed his shoulder.
“They are coming, run!”
Ethan took Rachel’s hand in his and turned, breaking into a run. Behind them, the humming sound became louder, as though some unspeakable prehistoric creature was swooping down from the inky blackness above.
JERUSALEM
There are too many people.”
Spencer Malik watched the large screen before him showing a blazing building in garish shades of yellow and orange. The shapes of fleeing Palestinians littered the scene, some running away from the burning building, others paradoxically running toward it.
“They’ll come out of one of the adjacent buildings,” Malik said. “Just keep the camera steady.”
The technician flying the Valkyrie struggled to keep the aircraft in position.
“We’re running out of airspace, I’ll have to turn.”
Malik watched the screen intently, and spotted three figures sprinting away from the burning remains of the building.