Between the Grapevines

1. Wahid

The young men of the Resistance created a large problem for the Occupation, one that was further accentuated by their hidden faces and identities. They were one of two forces existing in Al-Khalil that carried weapons, but the rifles of The Resistance were unlike those of the Occupation. To oppose the oppression, destruction, and murder of the Occupation, The Resistance held guns, swords, and daggers of protection, defense, and freedom. Bullets from their weapons sought vengeance.

On this fateful day in Al-Khalil, bullets rang out and crackled in the previously peaceful hours of the morning. They sought their targets in the empty streets of the town where only the monsters roamed with their protective helmets and roaring vehicles. When children flooded out of their school gates under the ringing of the ancient bells, they found bullets and blood dotting their streets.

For the children, it was no reason to stop and stare in wonder of who had been hurt and what had happened to their loving and peaceful town. Unlike other children who heard the coos of their appreciative mothers in their first moments of live, these youth had been welcomed to the Earth by the distant cracks of gunshots and blasts of falling bombs. So they did not stop, nor did they stare, they simply continued sprinting.

"The ball is at my house! Come with me to get it or my mom will make me stay home to do my homework and- wah!" The young boy cried out in surprise when a larger man suddenly appeared around the corner and occupied his vision. He stumbled back in a panicked flurry before catching himself on the hand extended toward him, seeming to stretch down from the brightness of the sun above him in all its length.

"Intabih 'a tariq," a gravelly voice spoke from the sky above him in a tone that dismissed his momentary alarm. It carried an air of authority and confidence that delivered with a trustworthiness unlike that of the threatening green men.

When the boy rubbed the sand from his eyes and squinted against the brightness engulfing the world around him, he lifted his gaze to see the man peering down at him. He, and all the other children surrounding, gasped at the sight before them.

A tall man raised his head into the clouds so much taller than any of them were. His vast shoulders and strong arms were seen even beneath his large white sleeves. The sun behind him drew shadows over his dark eyebrows, short eyelashes, curved nose, and dark eyes. Contrastingly, his expression remained anything except dimmed as he smiled at the children around him. Atop his head sat a white scarf embroidered with black interwoven patterns secured around the black hair that peaked from beneath it, its edges falling over one of his shoulders to hide the straps of the bag on his back.

"You're...," the boy stumbled back with wide eyes and parted lips. His expression filled with wonder and excitement as he peered down at the hand lifting his in a gentle greeting. "You're one of the Shabab. You're from the Resistance?"

The man's gaze grew shifted in recognition when he glanced down at the scarf dropping over his shoulder. He chuckled at the gasps that surrounded him as if he'd become a star and carefully unwrapped the scarf from his head to expose his buzzed hair. "You reminded me," he reached forward to softly pinch the cheek of the child gaping up at him. "Can't let them see me, can I?"

He absentmindedly shook his head, the expression in his eyes filled with nothing but admiration as he stared up at the superhero in front of him. Though he'd always dreamt of a moment of meeting one of the Shabab who protected his people and bore enough bravery to stand in front of the bullet-stuffed weapons of the green men, the boy found himself incapable of processing the sight before him.

"Don't tell them you saw me," the man dropped his hand above the boy's head and ruffled his thick brown hair as he took a wide footstep past the children. "Keep it a secret between all of us, okay?" He asked.