CrocAttack!. Assaf Gavron

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CrocAttack! - Assaf  Gavron


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       Croc Attack!

      Assaf Gavron

      Translated from the Hebrew by the author

      

       For Mum and Dad

      ‘Lost ground can be regained – lost time never.’

      Franklin Delano Roosevelt

      Table of Contents

       Cover Page

       Title Page

       Dedication

       Epigraph

       12

       13

       14

       15

       16

       17

       18

       19

       20

       21

       22

       23

       24

       25

       26

       27

       28

       29

       30

       31

       32

       33

       34

       35

       36

       37

       38

       39

       40

       41

       42

       43

       Copyright

       About the Publisher

       Map

       1

      I climbed aboard the Little No. 5 as I did every morning on my way to work. ‘Little No. 5’ is what I call the minibussized cab which follows the route of the No. 5 bus. It’s actually a cross between a bus and a cab. You get the best of both worlds – the familiar route and the cheapness of the bus, but they’ve got the speed of a cab and you can hail them and get off where you like.

      And since there were bombs all the time, I only ever took Little No. 5s to work and back. Even if a real No. 5 arrived at my stop before a Little No. 5 I let it pass. A bus was too easy a target for a terrorist – especially the No. 5, which was almost always full and had already been bombed. I wasn’t really all that sure about doing this, but Duchi made me swear never to take the bus. And they were never going to bomb a Little No. 5. For one thing, they can only take ten people, eleven with the driver. Plus there’s only the one door, at the front, so the driver can see exactly who gets on board.

      That day I got on at the usual place. The time was around nine in the morning. A pale midwinter sun was hanging in a translucent sky; wet leaves covered the boulevard.

      The driver was Ziona. She was the only woman driver in the Little No. 5 fleet


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