Enemy Territory by Sharon McKay

Author:Sharon McKay
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: ebook, book
Publisher: Annick Press
Published: 2012-05-24T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 10

To Jaffa Gate

They would go through the gate and into the Old City, get a map, go to the Dome of the Rock, find the candy store, get out, get into a taxi, and go back to the hospital. No, they should find the candy store first and then go to the Dome of the Rock. There would be a real stink with the taxi driver when Sam told him he didn’t have enough money, but he could tell the driver to come back tomorrow. No, that wouldn’t work. Maybe he could wake up Alina and see if she had any cash. Whatever happened, once Pirate Boy had seen the city, they were going back to the hospital.

“Jaffa Gate is up there.” Sam motioned to the top of the stairs that rose up from the shopping area. The steps were like the ones he’d seen in pictures of the Roman Coliseum. The gate was the smallest of the open gates into the Old City. It led to the city’s Christian and Armenian quarters and, dead ahead, the Muslim quarter. Sam had never been through that gate—not that he went there much. The Old City was mostly for tourists.

Sam’s pocket vibrated. Balancing on his crutches, he pulled out his phone and looked at the time: 10:00 p.m. Had anyone in the hospital noticed that they were missing?

“There’s a text from Alina,” he called out to Yusuf, who was a few steps ahead, still gawking at something.

Are you asleep? Do you want to meet in the PR? Bring Yusuf.

“What does she say?” Yusuf called over his shoulder.

“She wants to know if we’re asleep.” Sam began his reply.

Do you have any money . . . ?

He looked up. “Hey!”

Yusuf was now taking the stairs two at a time. He bounded and leapt as if the months in hospital had never happened.

“Wait! Where are you going? I said, wait!” Would this guy ever just stop? Maybe he couldn’t see very well but he sure could run. Sam jammed the phone back into his pocket and yelled, “I said, wait!”

Yusuf stopped on the top step, pulled out the ugly glasses, and gazed across a large, open plaza. Tourists by the dozen milled about, snapping pictures. A young, chubby guy was racing across the plaza carrying a huge bongo drum, two music stands, and a box filled with papers. As if that weren’t enough, he had two guitars strapped to his back. His flaming red hair and beard were plastered to his sweaty head. Yusuf had heard about all the crazy people who flooded into the Old City.

To his right, from the height of the Old City, he had a panoramic view of the shiny, new Jerusalem, the secular Jerusalem of restaurants and shopping malls. To his left, near Jaffa Gate, stood a baker with a cart piled high with bagels—he wouldn’t have looked out of place there a thousand years ago, Yusuf thought. The Jaffa Gate itself might once have been a secret entrance, a kind of portal to all the mysteries of the universe.

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