Ababeel sank against the jagged edge of a shattered concrete pillar, the remnants of a building that had once been someone's home. Her chest heaved violently, each breath scraping her throat raw, her palms slick with cold sweat from the shock that still clung to her senses like a second skin.
Then—she heard it.
Habeel's breath, ragged and uneven, was breaking through the thick layer of dust that coated everything. Short. Sharp. Drowning. Each exhale sounded like a struggle, like he was trying to pull himself from a sinking weight of grief and rubble all at once.
Her fingers trembled as she wiped the dirt and sweat from her face. She forced herself to move, lifting her legs, one step at a time. Her knees shook like brittle glass under the strain. She swallowed hard, tasting the sharp tang of fear mixed with vomit, and whispered to herself, barely audibly:
Ababeel (shaky whisper): "You can't leave him alone… he'd come for you."
Her boots crunched against the broken tiles and scattered shards of glass, every sound amplified, every step a hammer on her nerves. The air was thick with the smell of burnt wood, dust, and something more acrid she didn't want to name.
Habeel was crouched ahead, clawing at the rubble with hands already scraped raw, nails streaked with blood. He breathed in shallow, frantic gulps, his face taut with silent screams he refused to let out.
Ababeel (softly): "Habeel…"
No response.
Her hand hovered over his shoulder before gently settling there. He froze, muscles taut like a trapped animal. Slowly, his gaze lifted, meeting hers through layers of dust and tears that streaked down his cheeks.
Ababeel (voice breaking): "I'm so sorry… I'm so—"
Before she could finish, he pulled something from the rubble—not bones, not clothes—but a photograph, creased, worn, edges curled from time and neglect. A family picture. His mother, father, three younger siblings, and a younger version of him, smiling like the world was still a place that could hold innocence.
The photo trembled in his hand.
Habeel (voice cracking): "They were right here, Bee… right here."
Her heart split open. She reached for his hand, holding it over the photograph.
Ababeel: "We'll keep them with us… okay? They're still with you."
For a long moment, the rubble and the ruins held their breath with them, a silence thick with dust, grief, and memories of a world that had once been whole.
Then—a sound cut the stillness like ice through water.
Boots. Heavy. Multiple pairs. Marching. Close.
Ababeel's eyes widened. Her hand shot out to grab Habeel's arm.
Ababeel (urgent whisper): "Habeel—Habeel, someone's coming!"
But he didn't move. He stayed frozen, his gaze locked on the photo, as though it were a shield from the world. She shook him harder.
Ababeel: "Habeel, PLEASE. We have to go!"
A harsh voice broke through the chaos—soldier, commanding, terrifyingly close.
Commander Josh (yelling): "SEARCH EVERY HOUSE! IF ANYONE'S HIDING, BRING THEM OUT!"
Her heart slammed against her ribcage. She tugged at his shirt, desperate to pull him to his feet.
Ababeel (desperate): "Habeel, listen to me—we need to RUN!"
Grief had made him heavy as stone. He didn't move.
Footsteps thundered nearer, echoing against broken walls, crushing her hope with each step.
Then—BANG!
A gunshot cracked the air, a deafening, explosive punctuation that sent dust and plaster raining down from the ceilings. Something snapped inside Habeel. His eyes cleared as if the sound had burned away the fog of his despair.
He gripped the photograph like a talisman, stood with sudden, terrifying speed, and caught her wrist.
Habeel (sharply): "RUN."
And they did.
Gunfire erupted behind them—RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT! Bullets shredded the air, ricocheting off twisted metal and shattered walls.
Commander Josh (shouting): "TARGETS! TWO OF THEM—DON'T LET THEM ESCAPE!"
Ababeel screamed, a sound lost in the chaos, as a bullet pinged inches from her temple.
Ababeel: "OH MY GOD—OH MY GOD THEY'RE SHOOTING AT US!"
Habeel (running, shouting over the chaos): "NO SHIT SHERLOCK?! MOVE YOUR BUTT!"
They leapt over jagged slabs of concrete, dodged burning debris, and sprinted across a landscape reduced to jagged fragments of a world that had been. Another volley of bullets hissed past.
Habeel: "LEFT—GO LEFT!"
Ababeel: "I DON'T KNOW WHERE LEFT IS ANYMORE!"
Habeel (yelling back): "THE OTHER SIDE OF YOUR OTHER SIDE!"
Branches whipped across their faces as they plunged into the woods, leaves snapping and cracking underfoot. Their lungs burned with every ragged breath, their hearts hammering as if trying to escape their bodies.
Behind them, soldiers barked orders, their voices lost in the distance.
Commander Josh: "They ran into the forest! FOLLOW!"
Another soldier countered: "No—order says don't waste ammo on the woods. Let the drones handle it."
Ababeel and Habeel didn't stop. They couldn't. Not until the forest swallowed every echo of the violence behind them, leaving only the thrum of their hearts and the wild, ragged gasps of survival.