Ikram
The elder leant as much as she could to grab the cell phone that was still lying on the nightstand.
She unlocked it in a mechanical gesture.
Her trembling finger pressed down on a green and white icon, and she placed the device next to her more sensitive ear.
A low and soft voice rose from the receiver, wavering. The man at the other end of the line was talking in Arabic, his tongue rolling and singing the words, and cradling the woman with crystal clear eyes.
"Hi, mum! Uh... It's me, Ikram! I'm just calling to tell you..."
A detonation resonated in the handset. The old woman had already moved the small object aside from her head and put it back in place fast as if she wanted to drink her son's voice.
"Listen, we're kinda on patrol today and yeah, I have to go, but I know how much you worry about me. So I decided... I mean. Marwan sort of made me do it but... That's a good idea, I think. I'm gonna talk you through our day, just like that, live-action! I wish you could talk back to me because I could've answered your questions.
Anyway, I'll give you all the details, alright?"
With a smile tasting like tears, she pressed on the speaker button and put the phone down on her pillow. She closed her eyes, soothed by the familiar voice.
"So uh... today, we're November, 15t 2017. It's 1200 and I'm taking my place in the bomb squad number R2.R as in Raqqa and 2 for... well, second company. First one just ended their patrol.
We just got a call from a civilian, he is hesitant about going home because his building was an ISIS HQ for a bit. We have to check if there is nothing dangerous for him or his family.
Don't worry, everything is going to be just fine for me. I've been trained by the best, you know?"
Oh yes, she knew... Ikram had been one of the few to be selected to get into the American formation that was given in the country. He had devoted all the time he was no longer studying to intensive training in mine clearance.
Her mother's heart clenched at the thought of her son's speech when he had admitted his choice to her. She knew it, he would now risk his life every day, to save hundreds.
"So.... Okay wait a sec, I'm getting in the van..."
The voice was gone for a few seconds. The background hustle and bustle sneaked into the mum's thoughts, a mix of yelled orders and sand-filled wind, so tightly linked to the war.
This damn war, destroying day after day Syrians lives, destroying their houses, wiping out families, shattering their hopes.
And his son volunteered to find a way forward. With peace, to fight hatred. Pride was drowning her heart as the voice started its chatting again.
"There we go! So, with the guys, we're going to Al-Qouatli street, right next to Al-Nuri's mosque. Hey, guys, say hello to my mother!"
A few laughs and salutations headed her way. She muttered an answer to her son's friends. She just wanted to scream at them not to go, she just wanted to beg them to just quit the mission, she just wanted... but she couldn't. Not anymore. Tears filled her summer sky blue eyes.
"We'll be there in five, it's not really that far. What can I tell you in the meantime? Uh..."
Oh, she knew what she wanted to hear. Just an "I love you". Just once. But he wasn't thinking about it. He didn't understand that all she wanted from him at that moment was love, not technical details about his mission.
"Yeah, I know! We could present to you our stuff? Marwan, you start! Come on men, you're squad leader, of course, you start!"
With a snort, another voice, deeper, rose through the phone
"Kay, hello ma'am! so. We all obviously have our bulletproof vest and our ultimate protection cap! It would be cool if it could even just protect us from the sun, but hey. Let's not ask too much, alright?" he scoffed "And then we all have some box cutter, sharpened every day because you don't want to have a problem with your only tool, am I right? And yeah, sure, I was forgetting, of course, Gabriel has his articulated arm or something"
"Hey, face it, man, you're just jealous! It's not just some random articulated arm! It's my mega-ass-kicking-mine-defusing device, alright? Watch your mouth Marwan!
And you even managed to forget to the most important part, I always have my cross and medal on me. You guys have a Koran, right?"
She opened her eyes again, and turning her head she caught a glimpse of Ikram's personal Koran, blackened and torn. He usually carried it when he was out on a patrol, it was his own personal guard, the one neither the bulletproof vest nor the cap could offer him.
"Okay guys, that's it, give me back my phone now. Yeah, mum? That's it, we're here! From what I'm saying... It's a guy with his wife and kid. Wait a minute, I'll give you an update as soon as I've got more Infos."
Again, the same noises raised from the background. Some car passing by and vaguely intelligible conversations later, the son was back on the line.
"Okay, so, looks like ISIS was actually occupying the building and they might have left some residual... "gifts"; we'll start with ground floor and go up from there.
I'm going to get Marwan's orders as he is squad leader."
"Alright guys, we get in, we search every nook and cranny, defusing any device and we all get out in one piece, is that clear?"
All the other answered positively
Marwan talked again, a bit louder to cover up the sound of trucks passing by.
"Gabriel, as usual, you know the drill. You get in first, checking corners with the arm. You don't hesitate to call for backups if you need, you know we have your back anytime you need.
Ikram? You follow him. Actually, since that thing is recording, describe the situation as precisely as you can. If it can help us afterward, we might try to record all of our next interventions to make sure we're not missing anything. Maybe your mum doesn't have to listen, you know? but do as you feel
Mohammed, I'm counting on you buddy, we have more and more civilians around the house, help me create a secure area around the building and make sure no one is getting in..."
She wasn't listening to the leader's voice. She was only focusing on her son's breathing. She didn't care about these instructions, they wouldn't protect him from the blast of the explosions.
"Okay, everyone is good? Let's go then! as usual!"
Footsteps echoed as the bomb squad walked inside, fast and adrenaline-driven, heading into an unknown situation. She could imagine her son's face always stuck in that pout whenever he was focusing on something really important. And she could feel, in the way he was breathing and in the silence they all observed, that all those men realized as they stepped in how precarious was their security.
"Okay mum..." he kept his voice down, even though there wasn't any danger of the enemy hearing them; she was surprised this time by the softness in his throat when he was saying this word.
"We're in. I'm following Gabe. Protocol wants us to get in very carefully, as most IED are meant to go off when you enter the building. We have to check if there isn't a wire somewhere that might act as a trigger. Then we can explore the room a bit more thanks to this arm thing that Gabriel is handling. It actually allows us to lift bulky objects that always cover the floor.
If we find a mine or an IED, I'm the one who has to disarm it, usually by cutting off the power source for the trigger system. And... I thinks that's about it.
Right now, we're taking a look at the main door. There doesn't seem to be any kind of wire... But Gabe wants to make us go in through the window, it's safer. You never know these days, last time I heard a team got blown off because they started using infrared triggers, the bastards."
She shook her head and wasn't able to prevent a tear from rolling down her cheek. Sniffing, she closed her eyes again, almost drowning in the familiar voice.
"Window seems good. Now, we just have to check room after room, closet after closet and even under the sinks to see if our dear ISIS friends didn't leave us a surprise somewhere.
By the way, mum. You have to promise me to never touch any kind of object in the streets. A bomb could be hidden anywhere."
How many times had she heard that warning? And yet, it always made her feel the same way. A bitter sadness. The sadness of people who have lived so long that all they can see now is a cluster of unsettling ironies.
Her son, her love, her entire life, had taught her how to be wary of bombs, and now he was the one going to taunt them. Yes, she was proud, she was even more than that, of all the things he had accomplished; but he was nothing less than her child, and everything putting him in danger was tearing her apart.
She had grown tense as the story progressed, and now she could no longer close her eyes. They were glassy, staring into nothing as she felt the throbbing pain in her heart, her distress flooding her now.
"There you go, exactly what I was saying! Gabriel found something hidden in a bottle of coke. Can you imagine how fucked up you have to be to do this kind of thing? Anyway, he can defuse it himself. I'll go and check the desk's drawers, it might be booby-trapped."
Right at this moment, she wanted to scream. Yell at her son to look before he put his feet down. To turn back. Please... Please turn back.
Footsteps echoed again through the handset, ominous in the silence, as the drumroll slowly and rhythmically rolls before a condemned man climbs the scaffold.
Tears were now streaming down her face. Laying on her back, eyes turned toward the ceiling, thinking about her child. Her baby, her son.
"Looks like there is nothing in the drawer after all. Let me just take a look in the corner of the"
A deafening sound filled the whole room. A sound so powerful that the recording was cut off.
She was crying.
She was weeping her son, again, and again, and again. Relentlessly, she was listening to the death of her beloved child, who had died for his fatherland.
Dead, without telling his mother the "I love you" she was so desperately waiting for.
Slowly, she extended her hand toward the table, face flooded with tears.
She grasped with her fingertips the only object that would connect her to her son again, and brought it close to her chest, her sorrow overflowing from her face.
She was still crying, when she pressed the trigger.
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