Here we are with the second chapter of the story, folks.
The author of this part is Josh Magill, you can find him here and also you can find this part following the first in the page of my blog dedicated to this project!
Chapter 2 – by Josh Magill
The intense heat from the flames scorched the tires of Angie’s car and smoke engulfed them, but Forrest quickly directed them to a parking garage before the fireball did more damage. Angie still screamed as Forrest sprang from the car, ran around to the driver’s side and yanked her from the car.
“We need to get out of here,” yelled Forrest. “Now!”
He led Angie to a side door opposite from the vehicle entrance they had used to escape the explosion. An explosion—the thought frightened Forrest, and though he couldn’t imagine what caused it, he decided he must stay focused and strong for Angie. The panic in her beautiful green eyes fueled him. She looked at him for safety, comfort, and to get her out of this alive. And he would get her out somehow.
Forrest slowly opened the side door and peered out, but was nearly blinded by a second fiery blast when the building across the street—a bank—shattered into pieces. Angie again screamed, buried her face in her hands and began running, but stopped. They were stuck, trapped between two inexplicable detonations. Angie’s mind raced trying to figure out what was happening, who was doing this, and would she die. She collapsed to the cold concrete, broken, unable to move.
“I know you’re scared, but we need to find a way out,” Forrest said to Angie. “I need you to get up and trust me.”
Angie’s eyes were red and pleading. Forrest gently helped her to her feet and led her to a stairwell, guiding, almost pushing, her up the steps to what he hoped was an escape from whatever—whoever—was terrorizing them. He thought about the message on his computer: YOU ARE THE ONLY ONE THAT CAN STOP THEM!
Who? Who was Forrest supposed to stop and how? Why was Forrest chosen to stop them? He couldn’t wrap his thoughts around the situation. This sort of thing didn’t happen to him. It couldn’t; he was not adventurous or searching in that way that would bring such calamity. He continued to question the messages as he and Angie climbed past each floor of the parking garage, but when he opened the door at the top the canvas of white smoke and red flame almost buckled him.
It was a war zone—military fighter planes buzzed overhead, and Forrest could see multiple tanks rolling through the city streets. It reminded him of scenes from CNN or Fox News, which caused him to recognize the emblem painted on each vehicle … Israel.
“לא,” said Forrest in his native tongue. “הוא לא יכול להיות; אנחנו בעלי ברית.” (No! It cannot be; we are allies.)
But it could not be mistaken, with the blue Star of David between two horizontal blue stripes on a white field. It had been a long time since Forrest had seen such destruction and felt such fear. He tried to shake the memories and focus, but he was mesmerized by the sight and he shook.
Angie stared at Forrest with confusion, no longer noticing the destruction around her. Her eyes, once pleading, were now unsure and even angry. They pierced Forrest, stopping him when he turned to grab her arm.
“What did you just say?” Angie asked. “What language is that? What is going on?”
“I don’t know what is going on,” Forrest replied, reaching for her arm. Angie recoiled and asked again.
“What language is that you spoke in?”
Forrest had never told Angie of his heritage, his nationality, or how he hid in the secret place behind the wall when the soldiers came to take his older brother. They had murdered his brother in the street as an example of what they could do when the people fought back. This was the reason his parents had forced him to follow the rules and never stretch the limits or step out of line. But this fear may have also been why Chrissie had rejected him, not seeing herself with a person that never took chances. Forrest never told Angie about the pain his family suffered when his father later hung himself in grief—a moment that Forrest now despised because he now understood that weakness was a family trait. He had never told her he was Israeli because it hurt too much, because it was a different life—a life he had run from to save his mother, to save his younger sister and brother. He was not that person anymore, but that life quickly came back to him amid the flames here now.
“Angie, don’t freak out,” Forrest said, slowly reaching out to her. “I was born in Israel and migrated here sixteen-years-ago when I was fifteen with my mother, sister and brother. I changed my name because I wanted to leave that life behind.”
“Do you have anything to do with this?” Angie asked.
“No!” Forrest replied, not wanting to tell her about the computer messages.
“What was your name?”
“We don’t have time for this,” Forrest pleaded. “We need to get somewhere safe.”
But Angie just stared with those emerald-colored eyes and waited. He had never been able to resist those eyes and the spell they put on him, like the trance of a spelled lover that he could not break. He had always known he liked her, but now he knew it was more. He knew that this moment would make or break any chance they ever had together. She had to trust him so he told her.
“I was born Ananiah Yedidya.”
Angie smiled, then grabbed Forrest’s hand and followed him to the roof of the adjacent office building. She had loved him for a long time and would follow him anywhere.