Goddess of Battle by Gwendolyn Rachel Ackerman

Author:Gwendolyn Rachel Ackerman [, Gwendolyn Rachel Ackerman]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Black Rose Writing
Published: 2016-03-10T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18. Tyra

Tyra couldn’t help it. She felt adventurous and excited as she followed Esther onto the bus to her settlement. She was a bit worried about the bus getting stoned, or shot at, even though she was in uniform and had her gun. Somehow, on a settler bus, she felt more vulnerable than she did at the checkpoint. Violent incidents were on the rise and Boaz’s instructions were to be more cautious, careful about their own safety, more discerning about who was let into Israel, alert even when they weren’t on duty.

Adrenaline flowed through her veins.

“Jewish communities in America donated them,” Esther was saying and Tyra made herself focus on her friend. “The flak jackets,” added Esther. “I’ve been wearing them since I was small. Before all the buses had bulletproof glass.” She tapped on the window, hard, to show its resilience.

Tyra nodded. So, Esther’s parents, like her own, had no qualms about putting their children in dangerous situations if it served their ideology.

“We’re pretty religious,” Esther explained. “I probably should have told you before. We keep the Sabbath. That means we don’t turn on lights, or rip toilet paper, or cook. You’ll see.”

So, this was going to be twice the experience, Tyra thought. Settlers and ultra-religious. “Excuse me,” she said. “Rip toilet paper?”

“You know,” said Esther a bit impatiently. “No work on Shabbat. Ripping paper is work. It’s my little sister’s job to tear toilet paper rolls into strips and make neat piles in each bathroom so no one has to violate the Sabbath.”

“Oh,” said Tyra, trying not to look amused.

“Anyway, girls from my community mostly do national service if they do anything at all,” said Esther, changing the subject. “They don’t do the army like me. That way they maintain the rules of our modest way of life. No touching men, saying all the prayers, wearing modest clothing, going home every Sabbath.”

Tyra said nothing.

“You may not have heard, but a year ago, our neighbors were killed, slaughtered in their beds like animals, everyone dead except the daughter who was at a youth group meeting. That was the night I decided I wasn’t going to be like everyone else,” Esther continued, her voice hard. “No way was I was going to work with children with special needs or answer phones for some important person. I wanted to carry a gun, kill those suckers. The mother, she was my mother’s best friend.”

Tyra took Esther’s hand and squeezed. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t know.”

“Their twelve-year old daughter Racheli found her family lying in pools of blood. She came running to our house for help.” She stopped for a moment and looked out the window, her face white. “I try not to think about it too much.”

Tyra stayed quiet. There wasn’t anything she could say.

“Mother wasn’t happy that I joined the border police, but Father said to let me be. My friends don’t talk to me anymore.

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