Akmed counted to three as slow as he could, letting his family prepare themselves. When he hit three, they bolted out from the hiding place, running as fast as their legs could go. He feared for his brother. He would never forgive himself if anything happened to him.
  The bullets whizzed by like bees ready to sting. He looked back and saw the gunmen chasing after them, trying to prevent their escape. Akmed lept over the bodies of people he had known all of his life. The bodies lay crumpled in the street. The Iraqi troops had set up a  perimeter up ahead and they were almost there. Akmed raced toward the Iraqi soldiers thinking of how wonderful his plan had been. He turned around just in time to see his mother trip. Akmed felt the blood drain from his face and the fear for his mother cloud his judgment.
     ***
  Akmed was out in the dry lands, the area where the grass is the tallest and driest, looking for ants to burn when this whole ordeal had begun. As a young boy he had been the only one in his family that could get up on the roof to clean it because the dry clay  was so fragile. He was the oldest in his family, and his 16 years of life had been hard. His father had left to fight in the military, and he was constantly trying to find work to support his family. Akmed had just located a nice ant hill when he heard the first screams coming from further out in the dry lands. They were quickly followed by the sounds of automatic weapons firing. The panic set in immediately, and he  froze in place, the fear stopping his brain from processing what was going on. The grass started to shake, and he dropped to the ground, fearful of what was coming. A small cat ran past, and he let out a small sigh of relief.
  That relief was short lived however, because the gunmen were going by on the road near his hiding spot. He crept toward the hill that overlooked the road; slowly and silently he crawled across the ground like a lion sneaking up on its prey. Akmed reached the top and what he saw was almost more disturbing than what he had heard. The small detachment of Iraqi forces stationed at his village were fighting back with ferocity and were holding their own, but there had been people caught in the crossfire. All that was left, of most of the dead, was a bloodied mass with bullet holes riddling their bodies. The Iraqi soldiers started to fall back to the village.
  Akmed decided this would be his time to escape. He ran back down the hill towards the village and through the dry grass that stung as he pushed through it. Akmed had come to the edge of the dry lands  and the clearing that held his village. His house was near the center of town. As Akmed started off towards it, he saw the soldiers fleeing back down the road to their next line of defense and the rest of their comrades. Akmed ran harder and faster than he thought he could, trying to get to the safety of the buildings before he was gunned down in the open. He had reached the buildings just as the first bullets tore themselves into the ground behind him.
  Akmed  had thought of  all of the horrific things that could happen to him and his family if they were captured. While in school, Akmed had heard the gruesome stories of people being publicly executed. He could not let that happen to the people he cared about. With that thought in mind, he sped up, still hoping to find his family safe. He had started to turn down his street when he saw the first extremists’ trucks plowing into town. The trucks stopped and men piled out all of them armed to the teeth with guns. They stood in between him and his family and they were already starting to break into houses.
  The men were dragging a family from their home, the young children screaming and crying out in fear. The children's parents had fought back, but that only resulted in two quick bursts from the guns into the bodies of the parents. Akmed knew that he had to get to his family before they did. He did not wait around to see what would happen. Instead, he ran across the street when he did not see anyone looking and hid behind the houses. The clay was cool, and the shadows helped conceal him from any stray glances. Akmed dashed toward his house, hoping his backdoor was still unlocked. Akmed had fled after a fight with his brother before the attack. He hoped more than anything that he would be in time to get them out of their house alive.
  He reached the back door and charged in. The room was dark and all the blinds had been closed. Akmed had been surprised to not find his family when he first walked in. He bellowed out in panic and fear. Akmed felt his heart spring to life as he saw his mother and brother. His brother jumped down the stairwell and rushed toward Akmed embracing him in a loving hug.
He ran to his mother’s  warm embrace, so tight he felt like his ribs could snap. Akmed never wanted this moment to end, but he knew it would have to if he wanted to feel his mother’s embrace ever again.  Akmed had already started to formulate a plan because he knew he had only a small window of time to escape with his family to safety.
  Akmed’s  mother released her son from the bone crushing hug and gave him a worried look. He explained to her his sorrow over leaving his family in such a rage, and Akmed could feel all of his grief boiling over; the burning in his eyes were the beginning of tears. Seeing his family safe and sound brought out his strong emotions.
  Akmed calmed himself down with the consoling voice of his mother and with the support of his brother. The time he had to act was limited, and he told them of his plan for escape. They all moved out the back door, and just as they were doing so, Akmed heard the neighbor's door getting smashed in by the terrorists. Screams pierced the air and Akmed’s heart sunk lower than ever. He had been close with his neighbors, and their kids were some of his greatest friends. The feeling of loss was great, and he had fleeting thoughts about returning to try to help them, but he knew his attempts would be in vain.
  Akmed pushed his family forward toward the corner house on the dirt road. They ran like wild antelopes fleeing the predators that would ultimately mean their death. They fled to the house that lay two from the end and hid in the alleyway. Akmed was concerned for his family, and he could tell his mother was staying strong for his brother and himself.  He gave them a few seconds break, and he told them that they would need to push hard for the corner house if they were to make it without anyone noticing.
  The family had bolted from their cover, running like the world was on fire. They ran hard and fast with Akmed at the back. He kept looking over his shoulder, hoping that the extremists would not look behind the houses. They reached the safety of the alleyway between the corner house and the house next to it, just as a man in a mask burst into the backyards of his street looking for anyone who may be fleeing.
   Akmed had let out a sigh of relief. He knew they were not free yet and he went to the edge of the alleyway to see if the man in the mask was still there. He peered out barely sticking part of his eye around the corner, thinking that if he was seen, he would have to flee the safety of the alley and into the dangerous streets. Akmed saw the man return into the house with an almost disappointed walk.
  The relief inside of Akmed grew considerably, and he thought he may make it out of this mess after all. Akmed looked out into the dust and blood covered road; there were bodies lying everywhere. The battle between the Iraqi soldiers and the terrorists raged on in brutal fashion. The street coming from the left was being held by the extremists and the street to the right was where  the Iraqi troops had made their line of defense.  Akmed’s hopes sunk. The people who had died were trying to get to safety; they were about to take on the same challenge.     
  Akmed counted to three as slow as he could, letting his family prepare themselves. When he hit three, they bolted out from the hiding place, running as fast as their legs could go. They had almost reached their destination. Akmed turned back around to look for  his mother, and just as he was doing so, she tripped and fell to the ground.
   Akmed charged back into the hail of bullets, hoping to save his mother from death. Akmed reached his mother and pulled her up by her arm, screaming on for her to go. The Iraqi soldiers had just gotten his brother to safety when Akmed was flattened to the ground by a brutal force, the wind knocked out of him. The blood from the bullet wound was already pouring out of his arm. The warm sensation did not stop him from seeing his mother trying to come back for him, but the troops would not let her. As he tried to get up to run for her, another bullet pierced his body, pushing right through his chest.
Akmed fell for the last time that day watching as his mother reached the safety of the waiting trucks. He rolled himself over so he was facing the sky. He never feared death, and he did not now. His family was safe and that was all that mattered to him. Akmed examined the  crystal clear, blue sky for the last time.