They made sure our cell phones were turned on and charged in case that dire emergency cropped up and told us not to wait up for them. Standard routine.With them out of the house, I was feeling even more uncomfortable around Sherry, sort of like their presence served as a kind of buffer between us. Now it was just the two of us. Alone. Together.As Dad’s car pulled out of the driveway, Sherry headed down to the basement to watch TV and I went the other way, up to my room to just basically hide out. I thought I’d spend the evening playing games on my computer.She knocked on my door about an hour later and asked if I wanted to order pizza or Chinese. I voted for spicy Thai and she went along with it. I told her to go ahead and order for both of us and to let me know when it got here. My plan was to avoid her as much as I could.When the food arrived, we each loaded up a plate and retreated to our separate corners of the house, her back to the family room in the basement and me to my room.. I was thrown back in the seat as the vehicle surged, the convoy taking off through the street.“Yakob?” I turned to the Shin Bet lead agent beside me.“Stones,” he said, one hand on his assault rifle, index finger extended just above the trigger guard.There was a much harder hit on the window beside me, spider-webbing the glass.“Small-arms fire.” Suddenly I was pushed down into the seat well, the laptop bent underneath me, as Yakob yelled. “Go! Go!”It was thirty seconds to the new Gaza administrative headquarters, a set of low buildings near the sea, deliberately humble and simple in design. I could see crowds swelling long before we reached the gate, pushing against the barriers. No signs, no uniforms, no coordinated chants. This was a sudden, spontaneous reaction to something.The convoy did not slow down as it approached the facility; the gate was only just drawn back in time, and closed immediately after the last car had passed.Descending into underground parking, we moved quickly.
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