Read Online Never Fear by Heather Graham - Free Book Online Page B

in the air extinguished.
    “ Keep going, run toward
the flames,” Father said, hoping the old adage about lightning
striking twice applied to rockets.
    The militants stopped shooting, the
new darkness hiding away even the shadows upon which they had
aimed. Sabra found herself sobbing once more, not from the pain of
the river’s freezing touch, but she could not help but think of her
family being torn apart by blind gunfire.
    The sky erupted with noise once more.
The screech grew louder than the illumination round had been and
Sabra knew something even worse was coming for her and her family.
She screamed into Father’s shirt.
    She felt the explosion deep within her
chest a moment before all sound ceased, her ears failing to
comprehend the noise barraging her senses. Date-palms simply ceased
to be while men died by the handful. Far off in the night sky, an
unseen angel had delivered its payload onto the Islamic State
militants after the co-pilot had decided not to wait for
authorization from CentCom headquarters to engage the rocket’s
position.
    Father collapsed onto the dry land,
clutching Sabra to his chest. Mother ran up and hugged them both,
praying through the tears. Fahim cried for his mother and Qadir
crawled to her side. The family sat atop fallen palm branches,
clutching each other to confirm they still lived. Father was the
first to join Mother in the Marian prayer she began, thanking the
Holy Mother for delivering them from evil. Qadir joined his voice
to that of his parents, and Sabra followed her brother.
    The fear and rush faded away and the
cold returned, soaking their muscles and bones as the water had
done to their clothes. Beneath the date-palm’s embers, the family
began to shiver.
     
    *
     
    “ My friend. My friend, you
must wake up. Come on now, it is not safe.”
    Sabra squirmed and rubbed at her eyes.
She forced Fahim closer, for his warmth as much as for her own. The
four-year-old did not understand and squealed out a “no” as he
pushed back against his bigger sister. She did not relent in her
quest for warmth.
    “ Where are we?” Father
asked the strange voice. “Have we made it Ramadi?”
    “ No,” the man laughed.
“You are a long way from Ramadi. But you have come far, and I do
not think the Daesh cutthroats will find you any time soon.” Sabra opened her
eyes and saw the man pulling Father to his feet.
    Despite the gunfire and explosions,
Father and Mother had insisted they keep moving, partially to put
as much space between the fallen city and themselves, but more to
keep from freezing to death after their swim. They walked until
Sabra could no longer stand, and Father had to drag her through the
farm fields. With morning fast approaching, they curled up beneath
a layer of palm leaves and fell asleep the moment their heads fell
to rest.
    “ You poor children. Come,”
the man said, lifting Qadir and Fahim to their feet. He did not
look at Mother and her, as it would do dishonor on himself and the
family to help the women. It was the duty of their own family to
help and cherish them. Many of the urban people did not adhere to
the old customs so strictly, but Sabra could tell by a quick glance
at the man’s calloused palms that he spent many hours at work and
prayer.
    “ Come, you all must be
starved and freezing. My wife is cooking. I have not kept to
my zakhat this
year,” he said, referring to Islam’s pillar demanding he provide
for those less fortunate. “It would appear God has sent you to make
me holy once more. Come, break your fast with my
family.”
    *
     
    “ So, when will Santa Claus
bring you your presents?” the boy Mohammad asked.
    “ It is not Santa Claus who
brings presents,” Sabra answered. “The Three Wise Men bring us
gifts, just as they did for Jesus when He was born.”
    “ But if it is Jesus’
birthday, why does everyone else receive gifts?”
    “ Because, silly, Jesus is
the Son of God. There is nothing we can give to Him which is not
already