Greenland

While We Were in the Bomb Shelter | Screenplay | Fresh Soup

During the brief war with Iran, I found myself several times trapped in the neighborhood bomb shelter with people I barely knew. It was stressful. The missiles were frightening, but there was something straightforward and clear about them. People, on the other hand, are a lot more ambiguous and confusing, especially when they’re crammed into a small, closed space, listening to sirens and explosions on the other side of a concrete wall.

But the explosive reality outside the shelter was soon forgotten, replaced by an unpleasant group dynamic that reminded me of a bad high school field trip: Who ends up sitting in the unsafe spot right opposite the door? When are we allowed to open it and leave? How do I get away from the sweaty neighbor who keeps checking his WhatsApp updates? And how the hell do you explain to the sad French Bulldog who’s in love with your left leg that you’re a happily married man? And yet all these worries, exasperating though they are, pale in comparison with the one really important question:

When the missile attack finally ends and we open that steel door, what kind of world will be waiting for us out there?

Illustration by Ofra Kobliner

INT. TEL AVIV APARTMENT – MORNING

An air-raid siren blares in the background, while a couple in their early 30s prepare to go down to the bomb shelter with their 4-year-old daughter. The father carries the half-asleep girl in his arms. The mother puts a collar and leash on a stocky, panting French Bulldog.

EXT. TEL AVIV APARTMENT BUILDING - MORNING

The family rushes out of the building and heads to the communal shelter in the yard. The dog starts barking at a couple hurrying down the street – the other man also carries a sleeping child.

Woman (to the dog, tugging his leash): Axel, stop! (recognizing the couple) Naomi, Hanoch – why aren’t you in the safe room?

Hanoch: We don’t have one at home…

Woman: Come on, then, quick, get into ours.

Hanoch: Thanks, but from the committee they said--

Naomi (interrupting): My mother-in-law’s in Shelter 16. If we don’t get there she’ll be worried. But thanks!

Naomi grabs Hanoch’s arm and they both start running.

Woman (calling after them): What did the committee say?

Husband: Come on, hurry, a missile could land any second.

INT. SAFE ROOM - MORNING

The couple enters the room and shuts the steel door behind them. It’s dark. The woman turns on the light.

Woman: It’s a little hurtful that they wouldn’t come down here with us.

Husband: Forget it, Ruthi, what difference does that make now? You know if there’s a direct hit, this shelter will crack open like a seashell and the three of us’ll be splattered--

Ruthi (interrupting): I wonder what they said from the committee.

Husband: Did you hear that? (referring to a strange noise from outside). That doesn’t sound like interceptors.

Ruthi: If the committee sent Hanoch and Naomi an update, we should get it too, shouldn’t we? I know we’ve only been here for five months, but we’re just as much a part of this neighborhood as any other family.

Their daughter, Ayala, starts to wake up.

Ayala: Where am I?

Ruthi: Everything’s fine, sweetie, go back to sleep.

Ayala shuts her eyes. She seems to be falling back asleep.

Ruthi (whispering): Go to sleep, sweetheart.

Husband (glancing at his phone, half-whispering): They say it’s safe to go out. What do you think? I didn’t hear a boom.

Ruthi: They don’t like us here, I’m telling you. It’s been five months, and Ayala hasn’t been invited to a single playdate. None of the neighbors have asked us over.

Husband (struggling with the door latch): Forget it, this is Tel Aviv, we’re not in the village anymore. No one asks anyone over in the city.

The shelter door opens and daylight streams in.

INT. TEL AVIV APARTMENT - DAY

We hear the apartment door slam shut and the family walks into the living room. The husband turns on the TV and goes to open the blinds. The TV news is on.

News Anchorwoman: In his recent tweet, the Prime Minister of Israel declared that the historic maneuver executed by Israel, aided by United States technology, will be studied for years to come.

The husband lets the dog off the leash, while Ruthi, with Ayala asleep in her arms, keeps staring at the screen, transfixed.

News Anchorwoman: I am joined here in our Greenland studio by our foreign affairs correspondent, Shirel Dvir. But first, a video clip shared moments ago by the President of the United States of America.

A Trump-like figure appears on the screen.

U.S. President: It was a beautiful operation that took only five minutes, with cutting-edge technology, and now we’ve successfully moved all Israeli citizens and real estate to Greenland, as is. At eight-zero-zero today, my dear friend the Prime Minister of Israel will declare the reestablishment of a Jewish state, right there in the incredible, lush, green lands of that fine country. We did our best to get along with the folks in the Middle East, but it just didn’t work out, and all I can say now is: fuck’em. And God bless America. God bless this--

Husband (O.S.): Ruthi, come here for a second.

Ruthi moves away from the TV and starts walking toward her husband, who stands staring out the window.

Husband: Look… all the buildings are gone. Everything’s gone.

The camera is now behind them, and for the first time since the family entered the bomb shelter, we see the outside. Through the window, as far as the eye can see, is an endless wilderness.

Ruthi: I told you they don’t like us.

- END -

Translated from Hebrew by Jessica Cohen