NOT FORGOTTEN

A drama

 By Leon Agulansky

Synopsis

On October 7th, 2023, three young Israelis become caught in the nightmare of captivity and war, the past begins to echo through the present. At its heart, Not Forgotten is a story about friendship, survival, memory, and the human cost of history repeating itself. It moves between Auschwitz and contemporary Israel and Gaza to explore one enduring question: What happens when the people who survived history become the ones who must face it again?

Cast: four men

Running time 90 min.

NOT FORGOTTEN

A drama

 By Leon Agulansky

CHARACTERS:

YOSI – 28-30 years old, Israeli, a musician.
YOSELE – his great-grandfather, 25-30 years old, a prisoner of concentration camp.

MOSHE – 22-25 years old, Israeli, recently finished his army service in IDF.

MOISHELE – his great-grandfather, 25-30 years old, a prisoner of concentration camp.

ARYE – 26 years old, IT specialist, Israeli.

LEV —  his great-grandfather, 25-30 years old, a prisoner of concentration camp.

IDF SOLDIER – 20-25 years old, Israeli.
KAPO – voice.
GERMAN OFFICER – voice.
TERRORIST HAMAS – 20-25 years old, Arab, Gaza citizen.
TERRORIST’S – voice.

Scene One

A concentration camp. Night. In the distance, dogs bark. Drunken voices sing in German. The prisoners try to keep warm.

YOSELE.

That’s it, guys. I’m done.

MOISHELE.

Come on. Pull yourself together.

YOSELE.

I can’t feel my feet.

MOISHELE.

Your feet are swollen again?

YOSELE.

They feel like they’re going to burst.

MOISHELE.

Come on. I’ll carry you.

YOSELE.

No.

MOISHELE.

What do you mean, no?

YOSELE.

You can barely walk yourself.

LEV.

We’ll help him.

MOISHELE.

Of course we’ll help him. What else are we supposed to do?

The prisoners help YOSELE to his feet.

A KAPO’S VOICE  is heard.

KAPO’S VOICE.

Hey, Jews! You lazy bastards! Move it! I’m not getting paid for you! Move, you an animals!

MOISHELE.

Quiet. Quiet. You see? The man is starving. His legs are swollen. He can’t walk.

KAPO’S VOICE.

He can’t walk? Let him go barefoot if his shoes are too small. No. I’ve got a better idea. (Shouting.) All three of you — on your knees! Forward, you dogs!

The prisoners drop to their knees and begin moving across the stage.

KAPO’S VOICE (CONT’D).

Sing a marching song!

LEV. I’ll sing you a memorial prayer when you die! El Malei Rachamim.

KAPO’S VOICE.

What?! I swear, I’ll…

A GERMAN OFFICER’S VOICE interrupts him.

GERMAN OFFICER’S VOICE.

Was ist hier los?! Was machst du, Eisel?!

KAPO’S VOICE.

Herr Officer, ich habe, ich habe… diese Menschen nicht…

A gunshot cuts him off. The prisoners flinch.

GERMAN OFFICER’S VOICE.

Hey, you Jews! Raus! Raus! Schnell! Schnell, you filthy swine!

The prisoners help YOSELE to his feet and disappear backstage.

BLACKOUT.

Music.

Scene Two

A barracks in a concentration camp. Night. In the distance, dogs bark. Drunken voices sing in German. The prisoners try to keep warm.

YOSELE.

That’s it, guys. I’m done.

MOISHELE.

Don’t start.

YOSELE.

I’m not starting anything. I’m just saying I’m done.

LEV.

We’re all done.

YOSELE.

I can’t feel my feet.

MOISHELE.

Don’t think about it.

YOSELE.

How am I supposed not to think about it?

MOISHELE.

Think about something else, something good.

YOSELE.

Like what?

MOISHELE.

Food.

YOSELE.

That’s all I ever think about.

LEV.

Then think about women.

YOSELE.

Women?

LEV.

Yes. Women.

YOSELE.

I haven’t seen a woman in years.

MOISHELE.

You’ve seen them before.

YOSELE.

I remember.

LEV.

Then remember.

YOSELE.

I remember everything.

(A Pause.)

MOISHELE.

We have to hold on.

YOSELE.

Hold on to what?

MOISHELE.

To each other.

LEV.

That’s all we have left.

YOSELE (A brief pause).

Do you think the war will end soon?

MOISHELE.

It has to.

YOSELE.

And then?

MOISHELE.

Then we’ll go home.

YOSELE.

Home.

LEV.

If there is a home left.

MOISHELE.

There will be.

YOSELE.

How do you know?

MOISHELE.

I don’t. (After short Pause.) But there has to be.

YOSELE.
All right, guys. Thatэs it for me. My legs are swollen so badly I canэt fit them into my boots anymore. They’ve become like lead. I won’t make it to morning roll call. That’s it. I’m done.

LEV.
Hey, buddy, what are you thinking? You want to end up as dog food?

(A pause.)

From outside, the Germans can be heard singing in chorus.

MOISHELE.
They’re having a good time, those bastards. They’ve stopped heating the barracks altogether.

LEV.
Yeah. It’s freezing. You can’t go to sleep. You might not wake up.

YOSELE.
Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad.

LEV.
What wouldn’t be so bad?

YOSELE.
What do you think? Not waking up.

MOISHELE.
Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. (To YOSELE.) Listen, my friend, lie down.

YOSELE lies on his back.

MOISHELE (CONT’D).

Put your legs on my back. Just don’t kick me, or I’ll tear them off myself.

He laughs.

MOISHELE (CONT’D).

Come on, Yosele. Come on. That’s it.

YOSELE raises his legs and rests them against MOISHELE’s back.

MOISHELE (CONT’D).

By morning the swelling will go down and…

YOSELE.
And then what?

(A pause.)

LEV.
If we survive this night, we have to run.

YOSELE.
Run. Run, run. Laufen, laufen.

LEV.
Run away from work. We’ll stone the guard, take his rifle.

YOSELE (cynically).
And then we’ll go liberate the camp.

LEV.
We’ll get out.

MOISHELE.
Where to?

LEV.
East. Toward the front line.

YOSELE.
My legs won’t carry me to the front line. And besides, nobody is waiting for us there. Nobody is waiting for us anywhere.

LEV.
We’ll hide. We’ll wait it out until the Red Army arrives.

(A Pause.)

YOSELE.
Shmulik, the one they shot in front of everyone, was from the Warsaw Ghetto. He said they could have escaped from there, but the locals would turn them in for a cigarette.

MOISHELE.
Not a bad deal.

(A Pause.)

MOISHELE (CONT’D).

I’d give anything for a smoke. Sometimes I dream that I’m smoking.

LEV.
No. For six months now I’ve been dreaming about matzo balls in chicken soup.

MOISHELE.
The war will be over soon. I got the guard talking. After everything we’ve been through here… We won’t have to work anymore. They’ll keep us on full rations. You’ll see.

LEV.
And the sky will be checkered.

MOISHELE.
No, my friend. No more bars, locks, executions, or crematoriums. None. We just have to hold on. And for that — we have to stay together. Especially since we’re pretty good at it.
And then… and then we’ll tell the world…

He gestures around them.

MOISHELE (CONT’D).

… we’ll tell them everything that happened here. And the world will be horrified.

BLACKOUT.

Music.

Scene Three

The seaport of the island of Cyprus. The sound of waves breaking on the shore, the cries of seagulls.

CONDUCTOR’S VOICE.
Come on, guys! Come on! Watch your step! Watch your step!

The sound of footsteps on the ship’s gangway. YOSELE, MOISHELE, and LEV, dressed inconspicuously and carrying light luggage, climb the gangway one after another. They appear on stage and sit close together. The sound of the ship’s propellers can be heard, followed by three blasts of the horn: two short, one long. Seagulls cry.

LEV.
It feels good to breathe. The air is good enough to drink.

YOSELE.
As long as we don’t end up drinking seawater.

MOISHELE.
Your legs swollen again? Come on.
He offers his back.

YOSELE.
You probably haven’t heard, but I have.

MOISHELE.
Good for you. Let’s hear it too.

YOSELE.
An English guard told us that Soviet submarines have already sunk two ships carrying emigrants.

LEV.
They’re trying to scare us. What do they care about Jewish immigrants? The Russians are powerful now.

MOISHELE.
Remember I told you we wouldn’t have to work anymore? Turns out not only do they not want to support us — nobody wants to let us in. Not even America and Canada, our “allies.”

(A Pause.)

YOSELE.
They don’t want to give us back our homes and businesses.

MOISHELE.
Drein nisht in der chaynik. They simply don’t want to. They don’t want to see us, hear us, or remember us. (After short pause.) But I want to work. I do. Not for Fritz. Not for Ivan. We will have our own state. Our own country! We’ll build it and defend it.

LEV.
We’ll meet beautiful girls, get married, and have children.

YOSELE.
Moishele, they say the most beautiful girls are in Vilna.

LEV.
No. The most beautiful ones are in your Krakow. Aren’t they?

YOSELE.
Polish girls are beautiful. Ours are the same everywhere.

(A Pause.)

LEV.
I thought the world would be horrified by everything they did to us. I thought so. (After a brief pause.) Tevel from the Minsk Ghetto was right. People will forget about us in five minutes.

YOSELE.
They haven’t forgotten us. My Krakow was liberated by the Russians in January. And in August, local people carried out a pogrom against the Jews in the city. Someone spread a rumor that we were taking Polish children’s blood for the needs of the Red Army.

MOISHELE.
Nothing new.

YOSELE.
They destroyed the shops, robbed the apartments. They threw people into the streets, beat them, crippled them. And yet they had come back — they had come back (!) from the death camps to their homes. (After a brief pause.) Home.

LEV.
I didn’t go back to my hometown, Tarnopol. Itel, a girl from my town, told me there had been heavy fighting. The city was destroyed. None of our people remained. The ghetto was liquidated. My parents and little sisters were shot. Many were shot. The survivors were scattered among the camps. Me included.
Now it’s unclear whether that place is Russia, Ukraine, Poland, or Lithuania. There is nothing there for me. Nothing.

(A pause.)

MOISHELE.
It’s all right. Now we’ll have our own weapons.

YOSELE (ironically).
Our own weapons! We’ll name a cannon “Jew,” a self-propelled gun “Sarah,” and a machine gun “Aida.”

MOISHELE.
There you go! We have the names. The rest will follow. But the main thing, yidn — no one and never again will dare drive us to slaughter. No one and never again!

The words echo.

MOISHELE.
No one and never again!

No one and never again.

No one and never again.

BLACKOUT.

Music.

Scene Four

Israel. October 6, 2023.

YOSI (walking across the stage with a phone to his ear).
Don’t worry, Mom. Everything’s gonna be okay. How could I not go? Everyone from our band will be there. No, we’re not performing. We’re just going to hang out and have a good time. I don’t drink, you know that. Well… as for the rest, we’ll see. I’m kidding, Mom. I’m kidding. Tomorrow afternoon or by evening. No. I’ll call you myself. The music will be so loud you won’t even hear the phone. Okay, that’s it. Bye! Love you! Bye!

He disappears.

MOSHE (walking across the stage with a phone to his ear).
Mom, I’m leaving. Yeah. Almost everyone from my platoon is going. No. You don’t understand. Oh, you really don’t understand. This is going to be something incredible! How can I miss it?! No. Just beer. I promise. Just cigarettes, nothing else. But I’m not promising anything about that! There’ll be tons of girls. And they’re all beautiful. Okay, Mom, the guys are here. Bye-bye.

He disappears.

ARYE (walking across the stage with a phone to his ear).
Yes. I can. Of course. Which platform? When do you need it? Yesterda-a-a-y? That’s not how we work. We… Okay. Don’t raise your voice at me. Send the request to my boss. I won’t be here for a couple of days. Then I’ll get back to work. No problem. Yes. Talk to you soon.
(He swipes his finger across the phone screen.) Yes. Yes, Mom, yes. It was work. Everything’s fine. They say it’s urgent. But what is this? Everyone is celebrating, and I’m supposed to sit in front of a computer? No. Yeah, lazybones! Yes. So what? Look, Mom, of course you can sit in a bar with a drink. But this… this is something else. The space, the air, the sunset, the sunrise — and all of it enchanted by music. (Coldly.) If you insist, I won’t go. Yes. I understand. I understand everything, even more than you think. Okay. I have to go. We’ll talk. Bye. Bye-ee!

He disappears.

BLACKOUT.

Music.

The music gradually fades. The prayer “Shema Yisrael,” spoken by a radio announcer, can be heard. The prayer flows into the Muslim call to prayer from a minaret. The call to prayer transforms into trance music.

Trance music. Sound effects. The Nova Festival. YOSI, MOSHE, and ARYE dance. Against the background of the music, the sound of an air-raid siren is heard. Then explosions from falling rockets and bursts of automatic gunfire. The music fades.

Announcements over a loudspeaker:

VOICE OVER LOUDSPEAKER.
Air raid alert! Everyone get down! Cover your heads with your hands! Find shelter and take cover!

Automatic gunfire. Panicked screams of men and women.

Distant screams:
No, no, please, don’t shoot! Please!

Another burst of automatic fire.

YOSI, MOSHE, and ARYE disappear. A flash of explosion.

BLACKOUT.

Bell chime.

The lights gradually return. Automatic gunfire, isolated shots, and explosions are heard.

YOSI lies face down, covered with a piece of canvas. The voice of a terrorist is heard.

TERRORIST’S VOICE.
Hey! Enta! Aiva! Enta — Enta! Ta‘al hon! Yalla!

YOSI throws off the canvas and jumps up, trying to run. A burst of automatic fire. YOSI drops down and covers his head with his hands.

TERRORIST’S VOICE.
Yalla! Ta‘al!

Another burst of automatic fire. After it, women’s screams and distant gunshots are heard.

YOSI rises, comes to the front of the stage, and looks into the audience in horror, witnessing the violence and killing around him.

TERRORIST’S VOICE (more gently).
Taman. Ta‘al.

Shocked by what he has seen, YOSI slowly walks away and disappears behind the curtain. The sound of a car engine starting. The sound moves away and fades.

Automatic gunfire. Women screaming for help. Cries of “Allahu Akbar!”

ARYE runs across the stage, periodically dropping to the ground when he hears gunfire. He approaches the side curtain. A terrorist’s shout is heard.

TERRORIST’S VOICE.
Stop! I said stop! Come here! Yalla!

ARYE rushes toward the side curtain with his fists clenched. The sound of a blow with a rifle butt. He cries out. He falls backward onto the floor.

A masked terrorist appears. He drags ARYE by the arms behind the curtain. The sound of a car engine starting. Cries of “Allahu Akbar!” The engine noise fades into the distance.

BLACKOUT.

MOSHE, escaping from the line of fire, runs frantically across the stage, periodically dropping down, rolling over, getting up, and running again. Automatic gunfire continues, along with cries for mercy, screams, isolated shots, and explosions.

MOSHE drops to the ground. He jumps up and runs. A grenade rolls toward his feet. He “kicks” it away like a soccer ball. A flash of explosion. A ringing sound.

MOSHE rolls on the floor, covering his ears.

BLACKOUT.

Scene Five

A room somewhere in Gaza. YOSI sits alone, listening to the sounds outside. A car passes by, followed by a motorcycle, then the clatter of horse hooves. The call to prayer from a nearby minaret fills the air. Silence. The sound of a key turning in a lock.

TERRORIST (offstage).

Move, you dog!

MOSHE is shoved into the room. He falls. The lock clicks shut. YOSI walks over and places a hand on his shoulder.

YOSI.

Hey, brother. Are you hurt?

MOSHE (sitting up).

Concussion. Grenade blast. (Offers his hand.) Moshe.

YOSI (shakes it).

Yosi. They got me at the festival.

MOSHE.

They caught me in the dunes nearby. I wanted to get out by car, but traffic was completely jammed. They wiped out the whole convoy with RPGs and machine guns. (Pause.) How long have you been here?

YOSI.

More than a day.

MOSHE.

More than a day? Where the hell are we?

YOSI.

No idea. We drove maybe twenty minutes from the border fence.

The sound of a lock opening.

TERRORIST (offstage).

Move!

ARYE is shoved into the room and falls. YOSI and MOSHE help him up.

The lock clicks shut.

YOSI.

Nova Festival?

ARYE.

We danced ourselves right into this. Looks like we’re in for a long vacation. (Pause.)

MOSHE.

This is Yosi. I’m Moshe.

ARYE.

Arye.

MOSHE.

Did you see anything on the way here?

ARYE.

The tunnel entrance was hidden in bushes right next to the fence. We were underground for at least half an hour. Concrete walls, electric lights. They’re running generators—probably on our own fuel, if you can believe it. They kept us in an underground room for six hours. There were about ten Israelis there. Half of them were wounded. Talking was forbidden. I only managed to remember a few names.

MOSHE.

That’s all?

ARYE.

The air was damp. Hard to breathe. You could die just from the air. (Brief pause.) The tunnel came out inside an old dusty shed. Then into a car—and here.

The sound of a lock opening.

TERRORIST (offstage).

Hey, Jew! Food!

A plastic bag containing pita bread is thrown into the room.

MOSHE (toward the door).

Hey commander! Water!

TERRORIST (offstage).

What, dog?

MOSHE.

Water… please.

A small bottle of water is tossed inside.

TERRORIST (offstage).

Drink, dog.

MOSHE.

Shukran. Thank you.

TERRORIST (offstage).

Uskut! Shut up.

The lock clicks shut.

YOSI.

You speak Arabic?

MOSHE.

We all studied Arabic in school. Badly. We didn’t want to learn it. Big mistake. (Quietly.) Big mistake. (Pause.) Palestinians from Gaza worked on our farm. Picked up a little from them… a few words in the army… a phrase here and there.

The lock opens again.

TERRORIST (offstage).

Against the wall! Sit down! Hands behind your backs! Stay quiet!

The metallic click of a rifle being cocked. They obey.

ARYE.

That’s it, guys. We won’t even have graves. Poor Mom…

All three quietly recite together.

ALL.

Shema Yisrael, Adonai Eloheinu, Adonai Echad.

TERRORIST (offstage).

Uskut! Esmaa! Shut up and listen!

They fall silent.

TERRORIST (offstage).

I spent many years in an Israeli prison. I speak Hebrew as well as you do. You are prisoners of Hamas. Hamas is responsible for your lives. Pray that your Zionist government decides you’re worth trading for. If you attempt to escape—or if there’s any rescue attempt—you’ll be executed on the spot. Any questions?

ARYE.

We are really thirsty.

TERRORIST (offstage).

I can’t promise champagne. You’ll get water. That’s all.

MOSHE.

I don’t hear any war sound.

YOSI.

The country’s got bigger problems than us right now. On the way here I saw our village Nir Am burning. (A beat.) And I saw a lot more than that.

ARYE.

After everything we’ve seen… everything we could tell the world… I doubt they’re planning to leave us alive.

MOSHE.

They didn’t kill us at the Nova festival. They dragged us all the way here. That means they need us (a beat.) for now. (Opens the plastic bag, takes out three pitas, and hands one to each of the others.)

MOSHE.

They’re still warm.

They eat, passing the bottle of water from one to another.

MOSHE.

My parents used to drive into Gaza just to buy pita, hummus, and za’atar.

ARYE.

And extra-virgin olive oil. My mom told me about it.

YOSI.

If this is all we’re getting to eat, we’re in trouble. My grandmother used to tell me how my great-grandfather Yossele’s feet swelled from starvation in Auschwitz. He could barely walk. After the war he never threw away stale bread. He’d cut it into croutons and dry it in the oven.

MOSHE.

My great-grandfather Moishele survived Auschwitz too.

YOSI.

They may even have known each other.

MOSHE.

Even in the middle of summer he always wore long sleeves.

ARYE.

To hide the tattoo on his arm.

MOSHE.

How do you know that?

ARYE.

My grandmother told me. My great-grandfather’s name was Lev… or maybe Leib. One day a camp capo forced them to march to work on their knees. A German officer shot the kapo. “Not proper”, he said. Prisoners were supposed to go to work on their feet — and fast.

MOSHE.

Your great-grandfather hid his past, too?

YOSI.

Native-born Israelis looked down on Holocaust survivors. Why didn’t they fight? Why did they go like sheep to the slaughter? That’s what people asked.

MOSHE.

They had no land of their own. Nothing to defend. Nothing to dig in for. Nothing to hold on to.

YOSI.

Now we do.

(A Pause.)

ARYE.

Looks like history’s repeating itself. Another loop. Hit Restart… and the program begins all over again.

MOSHE.

You’re an IT guy, aren’t you?

ARYE.

Since my army days. (A beat.) An IT guy without a computer is like… (nods toward the empty plastic bag.) …a bag without a pita.

MOSHE.

Yeah… History repeats itself. Fires. Massacres. Rape. Looting. Only this time they didn’t shoot our girls in the back of the head… …they shouted them in the face.

YOSI.

So you really think history repeats itself?

The roar of two fighter jets tears across the sky. Two massive explosions shake the room. The hostages throw themselves to the floor, covering their heads.

YOSI (pointing upward).

Did you hear that? Did you hear it? No. This is a completely different story now.

(A Pause.)

MOSHE.

There’s no air-raid siren.

YOSI.

Of course not. When did they ever worry about protecting their own civilians?

MOSHE.

Innocent people will die.

YOSI (sharply).

Yes. They will.

Distant artillery begins pounding. More explosions rumble in the distance.

MOSHE.

That’s ours.

The launch of Qassam rockets can be heard.

MOSHE.

And that’s theirs.

YOSI.

They still have rockets after October seventh?

MOSHE.

Did you really expect otherwise?

YOSI.

So… what do we do?

MOSHE.

Nothing we can do for now. We sleep… if that’s even possible. My head’s splitting after the concussion, and my ears won’t stop ringing. If I start screaming in my sleep… …wake me up.

ARYE.

We will.

They lie down on the floor. The call to prayer rises again from the minaret. The sound of fighter jets passes overhead.

BLACKOUT.

Music.

Scene Six

Lights rise slowly, revealing the three hostages asleep on the floor. The dawn call to prayer fades away.

YOSI (softly singing Aviv Geffen’s «Ha’im Lihyot Bach Me’ohav»).

“Ha’im lihyot bach me’ohav…”

MOSHE and ARYE gradually join him on the chorus.

(The Hebrew lyrics remain in the original, as is customary in American stage publications.)

MOSHE.

You sing even better than Aviv Geffen.

YOSI.

Between us… he’s never been much of a singer.

ARYE.

You know music?

YOSI.

I’m the drummer in a band.

MOSHE.

I don’t know about drums… …but I’m sure we could borrow a darbuka somewhere in Gaza.

ARYE.

Right now I’d settle for a hot shower…  a cup of coffee…  and a cigarette.

YOSI.

Yeah. A good cappuccino…  and a flaky croissant. That’s heaven.

MOSHE.

Cappuccino? Mostly foam. After the army I backpacked through South America. Now that’s where I had real coffee — in Colombia. (A beat.) Then I came home. Started studying at the Technion. I was supposed to meet up with the guys from my unit at the festival. (Bitter smile.) Guess I found them.

YOSI.

I’d grab my surfboard… head straight for the beach… Our house is only one block from the water. I’d go barefoot all the way…

MOSHE.

Where did you serve in army?

YOSI (after a pause).

I didn’t. They wouldn’t take me.

MOSHE.

Medical?

YOSI.

Epilepsy. Had it since I was a kid. By the way… I’ve got a favor to ask. (He takes a rubber bite block from his pocket.) If I start seizing again… put this between my teeth.

ARYE.

We will. Though I’d rather not have to.

YOSI.

Believe me… so would I.

MOSHE.

Quiet. Do you hear that?

They listen. Outside come the sounds of car horns, mopeds, motorcycles, horses, and many voices.

MOSHE.

I’m sure of it. The civilians are leaving.

ARYE.

Leaving? Where?

YOSI.

They’re evacuating the city.

MOSHE.

South. Where else could they go?

YOSI.

Which means Golani and Nahal troops are coming. They’re coming for us.

ARYE (dryly).

Sure. They’re going to drop everything… just to rescue the three of us.

MOSHE.

They’ll come. Let’s just hope they don’t bomb us during the artillery barrage.

ARYE.

They’ll send drones first.

MOSHE.

Drones are fine. Doesn’t help us. We can’t stick our heads out… or signal where we are.

ARYE.

Our own troops could mistake us for terrorists and shoot us.

MOSHE.

Depends on your luck. (A beat.) I don’t hear tanks or small-arms fire yet. Looks like we’ll need patience. And don’t fall apart on me, Arye. You hear me? Don’t.

The sound of a key turning in the lock.

TERRORIST’S VOICE.
Yalla, Yehud! Face the wall! Hands behind your backs! On your knees! Yalla!

The sound of an assault rifle being cocked. The prisoners obey. The TERRORIST approaches and ties each prisoner’s hands behind their backs.

TERRORIST (pushing the prisoners forward with kicks and shoves).
Barra! Barra! Ruh! Yalla! Ruh!

They move toward the side curtain and disappear. The sound of car doors slamming shut, followed by an engine starting. The sound of the engine fades into the distance.

BLACKOUT.

Music.

Scene Seven

The hostages sit on the floor of another room, listening to the sounds outside. Distant artillery fire can be heard. From time to time fighter jets roar overhead.

ARYE.

How many more times are they going to drag us from one house to another? When is this ever going to end? (He breaks down in tears.)

MOSHE (putting an arm around him).

Hey… hey… easy, brother. (He gently shakes him.) Hey…

ARYE (crying on MOSHE’S shoulder).

Nobody’s looking for us! Do you hear me? Nobody! No one even knows we’re alive… sitting here in this godforsaken place! Our families don’t know a thing. There’s no end to this… No end… Why? Why did this happen to me? Why?

Suddenly YOSI falls backward. His body arches violently. His arms and legs convulse, his eyes roll upward.

MOSHE.

Yosi! Yosi! Yosi!

TERRORIST (offstage).

Uskut! Shut up!

A heavy fist pounds against the door.

MOSHE and ARYE throw themselves over YOSI. They pull the rubber bite block from his pocket and struggle to place it between his teeth. Gradually the seizure subsides. YOSI begins breathing normally.

MOSHE (holding him).

That’s it… Easy… Easy… Breathe. That’s right. Good. You’re okay. Good. Breathe. At least we’re not underground anymore. There’s air here. Just breathe.

YOSI begins singing weakly. His voice gradually grows stronger. Eyal Golan’s song ‘Shachachti Mi Zman’ fades in and joins him.

(The song may be performed live or played as a recording.)

ARYE.

This last trip took about twenty minutes.

MOSHE.

Longer than that.

ARYE.

We stopped a lot. The roads were jammed with refugees.

YOSI.

Doesn’t matter. We still have no idea where we came from… or where they’ve brought us.

MOSHE.

I’ve never seen so many donkey carts in my life. Samir — one of the men who worked on our farm — used to tell me his math teacher rode a donkey to school. But this many…

ARYE.

What could you possibly see with a blindfold on?

MOSHE.

You have to learn a few tricks. When they blindfold you, squeeze your eyes shut first. Later you can work the blindfold down a little with your eyebrows.

YOSI.

Useful tip. Got any more?

MOSHE.

Sure. Rub grease or food on your wrists whenever you get the chance. If your hands are tied, it might help you slip free.

ARYE.

They keep moving us from place to place. Looks like they don’t intend to kill us.

YOSI.

We’re valuable cargo.

MOSHE.

Don’t get your hopes up.

YOSI.

Why not? Remember that one Israeli soldier they traded for one thousand twenty-seven imprisoned terrorists?

MOSHE.

You want them to release another thousand murderers just to save your ass? They won’t be planting tomatoes. They’ll go right back to killing Israelis. I don’t believe the government will make that mistake again. (Raising his voice.) I don’t think they’ll do it!

TERRORIST (offstage).

Uskut! Shut up!

A loud bang on the door.

YOSI.

Sounds like they’ve hidden hostages all over Gaza. Scattered us through every tunnel and basement. How are they supposed to rescue us now?

ARYE (shouting).

I don’t know how! We were kidnapped inside our own country! It’s the country’s job to figure out how to bring us home!

A violent pounding on the door.

TERRORIST (offstage).

Uskut! Quiet!

ARYE (lowering HIS voice).

I was born here. I served here. I worked here. I paid my taxes.

(Gesturing around the room.) This isn’t my screw-up. It isn’t mine.

MOSHE.

Keep your voice down. Or Yosi’s going to have another seizure.

MOSHE (after a pause).

They worked on our poultry farm. For years. They were like family. We paid them well in cash. Bought holiday gifts for their kids. My father even found a rare medicine for one worker’s wife. It saved her life.

YOSI (grimly).

It saved her life…

MOSHE.

My father told me that when we pulled out of Gaza, we left them greenhouses, irrigation systems, warehouses — everything they needed. We said, Plant. Grow. Harvest. We’ll buy your produce and help you sell it. They destroyed it all. Then they danced on the ruins waving Palestinian flags. (A beat.)

ARYE.

That’s your left-wing crowd for you!

MOSHE.

Our left-wing crowd?

ARYE.

That’s right. You people from the kibbutzim and moshavim. Defenders of Palestinian rights. This is on you! You packed the labor unions, the universities, the courts, the TV stations, the newspapers. You fought for their right to kill us. But our right to defend ourselves? That was never part of your agenda. You poisoned America… Canada… Europe… with that ideology. You’re the reason — Israel never finished off Iran… never crushed Hezbollah… never wiped out Hamas in Gaza.

TERRORIST (offstage).

Uskut! Shut up!

A heavy blow strikes the door.

MOSHE.

Wipe out Gaza?

ARYE.

You’re right. So far it’s Gaza that’s wiping us out… while we keep hiding behind the “Iron Dome”.

MOSHE.

Don’t lecture me about the “Iron Dome”. I was born and raised on the Gaza border. Air-raid sirens were the soundtrack of my childhood.

YOSI.

Easy, guys. At this rate you’re going to start fighting each other. You’ll bring on another seizure. We can’t just scrape Gaza off the face of the earth. And two million people aren’t going to disappear. They want to live, too. They want to raise children.

MOSHE (thoughtfully).

They want to live… They want to raise children.

(A long pause.)

MOSHE CONT’D).

This war isn’t ending anytime soon. If I get out of here… I’ll go straight back to my unit… and come right back here. (Another pause.) I won’t be taking prisoners. Not with white flags. Not with their hands in the air. A roof over their heads… three meals a day… medical care… a college education in an Israeli prison paid for by my taxes? No. Not anymore. I’ll settle the score myself. Personally.

YOSI.

Even civilians?

MOSHE.

Did any civilians rescue us? Did they tell our soldiers where we’re being held? Did any of them help us escape?

YOSI.

Little children don’t even know they’re being raised to become terrorists.

MOSHE.

We don’t wage war against children.

ARYE.

See that? A few months in captivity… and the left-wing dove of peace starts talking like a normal man. Now all that’s left is to re-educate Yosi.

YOSI.

My mother’s probably losing her mind. She doesn’t know whether I’m alive or dead.

MOSHE.

Did anyone see them take you?

YOSI.

Maybe. If whoever saw it survived. (Pause.) Mom… Mom… If only I could make one phone call. She raised me alone. Dragged me from one doctor to another. I just kept getting worse. Any loud noise… and I’d have a seizure. Pretty pathetic, huh? Then somebody suggested getting used to sound little by little-starting quiet… working up to louder and louder noises. It actually helped. We finally saved enough money to buy a drum kit. That’s how I ended up joining the band. (A beat.) I wonder if any of the guys made it out alive. And as for re-educating me… it’s too late. I’ve never understood how an idea can justify killing people. I still don’t. (Quietly.) But I wouldn’t take prisoners either.

ARYE.

There you go! And you said it was too late to change your mind.

The sound of a key turning in the lock. The sharp metallic click of a rifle being cocked.

The door opens.

TERRORIST (offstage).
On your knees! Hands behind your backs! Yalla!

The prisoners line up at the front of the stage and kneel. The TERRORIST appears, holding a knife. He approaches them from behind. He presses the knife to the throat of one prisoner, then another. The prisoners silently move their lips, reciting the “Shema Israel”.

The TERRORIST lowers the knife. He spits on the head of the prisoner standing in the middle. He kicks him and exits.

ARYE.
Again?! Looks like this is going to become our daily routine. (Pause.) There’s nothing left to wait for. We have to figure out how to get out of here.

YOSI (touching his legs).

There it is. It’s starting again. My legs are getting heavier. My feet are swelling. I won’t get far like this. You two go without me…

MOSHE.
Listen to me. Instead of talking like that, put your legs on my back.

MOSHE sits with his back toward YOSI and offers support for his legs, exactly as MOISHELE did for

YOSELE. The swelling will go down. Little by little. And we’ll run together. Together.

ARYE.

Of course. Together. And no more tears.

YOSI.

Oh, look who’s talking!

(A Pause.)

MOSHE.

I don’t know exactly where we are. But the fighting is getting closer.

ARYE.

They’re moving us more and more often. They’re nervous. Every transfer is a risk.

MOSHE.

We can take out the guard. Grab his weapon. But then what? There are snipers everywhere on both sides. The moment you appear in their sights, nobody’s going to ask your name.

YOSI.

We still have to try. When things get really bad, they’ll slaughter us like sheep. I’m not waiting for that.

ARYE.

Maybe we should wait until they find us.

YOSI (shouting).

They’ll find us dead!

TERRORIST (offstage).

Uskut! Shut up!

A heavy fist pounds against the door.

MOSHE.

Okay. I have an idea.

He motions them closer and speaks quietly. The audience cannot hear.

A series of explosions erupts nearby. Cries of “Allahu Akbar!” Automatic fire and single shots are heard.

The prisoners throw themselves to the floor.

MOSHE.

Listen carefully. They fire in bursts. Several automatic bursts are heard. Our soldiers fire single shots. Always single shots. A series of single shots is heard. There. That’s ours. A Tavor. A good rifle.

More explosions.

The sound of a door opening.

A TERRORIST rushes into the room.

TERRORIST (panicked, waving toward the exit).
Yalla! Yalla! Yalla! Barra! Yalla!

A single sniper shot rings out.

The TERRORIST jerks his head and falls.

An automatic burst follows.

Another single shot cuts it off.

The sound of a body hitting the floor.

MOSHE.

They’re close! Our people are close! Move! Go! Don’t touch the weapon. We’re in the sniper’s sights. Take off your shirts. We have to show them we’re not carrying explosives. Come on!

The prisoners jump up and rush toward the exit.

YOSI cries out, falls to the floor, grimacing in pain.

MOSHE and ARYE grab him from both sides and disappear.

BLACKOUT.

Music.

Scene Eight

Lights slowly rise.

The sound of a heartbeat in complete silence.

The three hostages, stripped to the waist, walk toward the front of the stage.

MOSHE is in the center, carrying a white cloth tied to a stick.

YOSI and ARYE walk with their hands raised.

A series of single shots.

The prisoners fall.

The heartbeat stops.

BLACKOUT.

 (A pause.)

A sudden flash of light.

MOSHE rises and waves his arms.

MOSHE.

No! No! No, no, no! This is a mistake! It wasn’t supposed to happen like this! Not like this! (Looks at ARYE and YOSI.)

Get up! Come on, get up! Get dressed. We’ll do it the way it should have happened. The way it was meant to happen. Later… But it happened! Positions! Lights out!

BLACKOUT.

A pause.

Scene Nine

Night.

The prisoners lie on the floor.

The sound of crickets. A dog barks in the distance.

The dog whimpers and falls silent.

Single shots are heard.

A powerful explosion blows the door open.

An IDF SOLDIER bursts into the room.

The prisoners stare at him in disbelief, slowly sitting up.

IDF SOLDIER.

Israelis?

MOSHE nods.

ARYE and YOSI remain frozen in shock.

IDF SOLDIER.

Quickly! With me! Move! A radio transmission is heard:

— “Kodkod mi Hargol. Shlosha hatufim. Anachnu yotzim”.
— “Chozher shenit”.
— “Shlosha hatufim. Anachnu yotzim mi komah shniya”.
— “Rut. Kibalti. Kodkod. Sof”.

MOSHE and ARYE help YOSI to his feet.

The IDF SOLDIER gestures for them to leave him and points toward the exit.

Then he quickly moves under YOSI’s arm and supports him.

They disappear after MOSHE and ARYE.

BLACKOUT.

Automatic fire, explosions, and cries of “Allahu Akbar!” are heard.

A vehicle door slams shut.

An engine starts.

The sound fades into the distance.

The battle grows quieter.

The sound of helicopter rotors begins to rise.

Lights return.

An imaginary helicopter appears on stage.

The PILOT, wearing a helmet, gestures urgently for the hostages to hurry.

They enter from the side, run toward the helicopter, and climb aboard.

The rotor noise grows louder.

The prisoners embrace.

A radio transmission is heard:

— “Kodkod mi Hargol. Yahalomim beyadeinu”.
— “Chozher shenit”.
— “Yahalomim beyadeinu”.
— “Rut. Kibalti. Kodkod. Sof”.

BLACKOUT.

Music.

END OF PLAY

April 27, 2024