Ahmed remembers only flashes of when a bomb landed near him last February in Gaza.

The 15-year-old and his friend were on their way to pray after a long week of working in nearby agricultural fields. The two were discussing their weekend plans. As usual, Ahmed envisioned spraying passes across dirt fields and scoring goals just like his sports idol, Lionel Messi.

Then, an Israeli tank shell exploded nearby. On his back, Ahmed fought through the dizziness to open his eyes.

One leg hung partially attached to his body. The other leg laid severed beside him. His friend had been blown to pieces.

“ ‘You’re going to die,’ ” Ahmed recalled medics saying before he passed out.

These days, he lives in Sacramento — more than 7,000 miles west from where that explosion in Khan Younis, Gaza severed his body.

In July, he was flown to California with hopes of receiving fitted prosthetic legs and rehabilitation for his injuries. Here, Ahmed has spent time under the care of a Palestinian family and adjusting to his new life.

His body is restrained to a wheelchair — the limp legs of his basketball shorts dangle. Shrapnel scars cover the left side of his face. His left hand is missing three fingers.

Ahmed’s story mirrors the devastation inflicted on Gaza’s youth in response to Oct. 7, 2023, when the Hamas militant group invaded Israel and killed roughly 1,200 people.

Of the more than 42,500 Palestinians killed since then, roughly 17,000 are children, according to Gaza’s Ministry of Health. Earlier in the year, an estimated 10 children per day were losing one or both legs.

In some ways, Ahmed is among the lucky ones. Doctors fought to keep him alive and he caught the attention of Heal Palestine, a humanitarian group that arranges medical treatment and travel for Gaza’s injured children to the U.S.

Now his days are filled with medical appointments, homeschooling and adjusting to American food and culture. He finds solace in God, praying multiple times a day and visiting a local mosque nearly every evening.

But his future remains uncertain.

Two prosthetic legs are not viable with the condition of his body. His stay in the U.S. is limited by his temporary visa. If Ahmed is sent back to Gaza, he will likely be in constant danger and more susceptible to harm per his immobility.

That means he exists in a cruel limbo, caught between the innocence of youth and the haunting reality of war, between finally feeling safe and the realization that death may await him.

“I never want to go back to Gaza,” Ahmed said, through a translator.

He, his mother and members of the host family spoke on the condition of only using their first names because they feared retaliation and the personal safety of their loved ones.

Life back in Gaza

Like most teenagers, Ahmed remains tight-lipped at times. One summer afternoon, while in the living room of his temporary Folsom home, he offered short responses when asked about his childhood back in Gaza.

Life was good, said Ahmed, a scruffy, black-haired boy. He loved playing soccer with friends. School wasn’t his favorite. He preferred working the fields, growing fruits and vegetables.

His mother, Shadia, sat nearby, filling in the gaps. Flown to California to care for her son, Shadia smiled as she spoke about Ahmed’s childhood.

Ahmed is the fourth oldest of her 10 children, yet the family’s main caregiver, Shadia said proudly. She affectionately called him a “naughty boy.”

Ahmed often skipped school to work. Sometimes, he worked in the fields growing corn, watermelon and tomatoes. Other times, he helped fishermen sort their catches on the Mediterranean coast.

“He has always been older than his age and takes on responsibilities older than his age,” Shadia said, through a translator.

Ahmed’s maturity shows. He looks adults in the eye while shaking their hands, is thoughtful when discussing the war and maintains perspective, grateful for his survival.

His desire to provide for his family led to his injuries, Shadia said. His parents urged him to stop working in the fields after hearing reports of nearby bombings.

Nevertheless, Ahmed snuck out the morning of Feb. 16 to work. He would spend the next three days unconscious, with doctors working furiously to ensure his survival.

Surviving and arrival to the U.S.

Mohammad Subeh, an emergency room physician from the Bay Area, was on his third day volunteering in the city of Rafah when Ahmed’s mangled body arrived at his medical tent. The boy was bleeding profusely.

“He’s not going to survive,” Subeh recalled thinking. “He was in shock. He was bleeding out.”

Subeh said doctors in Gaza are often forced to carry out amputations and surgeries with limited supplies. In Ahmed’s case, Subeh used a rubber urinary catheter as a tourniquet to stop the bleeding from one of his legs. Anesthesia and antibiotics, in short supply, were used sparingly.

“I was in so much pain,” recalled Ahmed, who said he drifted in and out of consciousness during the surgeries.

Though Ahmed survived, doctors amputated both of his legs up to the pelvis and could only save two fingers on his left hand. When Ahmed fully regained consciousness, his first request was for mango juice, a reminder to Subeh of the boy’s youth.

“Those are the things that still stick in my mind,” said Subeh, who volunteered in Gaza twice, once in the winter and again summer, for a total of nine weeks.

Ahmed’s demeanor left an impression on Subeh, with the pair bonding over faith and gardening. Subeh shared Ahmed’s story on social media, where he has been documenting his volunteer work in Gaza.

“I’ve interacted with a lot of kids we’ve evacuated and understandably, there’s a lot of depression and angst,” Subeh said. “But Ahmed is so positive and optimistic and trying to live every day to its fullest. It’s a beautiful thing.”

Subeh promised to do everything in his power to get Ahmed prosthetic legs. He told the young teen about Paralympians who could swim and run, despite their amputations, encouraging Ahmed to dream.

“There’s no ceiling for them, so think big,” Subeh told Ahmed.

Subeh referred the teen’s case to Heal Palestine, an international organization founded in January by Steve Sosebee. In that time, Sosebee said, the group has arranged for 21 children in severe conditions to receive treatment in the U.S.

Children are sometimes required to wait months before they can brought over. Sosebee said travel is largely dependent on the Israeli government, border policies and evacuation orders. An additional 15 children are awaiting permits for evacuation or will arrive in the coming weeks.

“We try to help every child that can benefit from specialized care,” Sosebee said. “The problem is that we’re not the ones who decide who can get help.”

In April, Heal Palestine submitted a number of medical documents to gain approval for Ahmed’s travel. He was flown to Egypt in May and stayed in the country until mid-July, when the organization flew him to San Francisco.

There, a crowd of more than 100 people greeted him, cheering and waving Palestinian flags. In a video posted on Subeh’s Instagram, the crowd can be heard chanting Ahmed’s name as the grinning boy rolls through the terminal in his wheelchair. Subeh, having just returned from his second volunteer trip to Gaza, was the first to greet him. They exchanged a quick high-five before sharing a long hug.

“I imagine it’s what people feel after they’ve been separated from their families for a long time and then they see their loved one for the first time,” Subeh said. “That was exactly how I was feeling.”

Life in the Sacramento region

Ahmed sat in the backyard of this Folsom home last month, carefully considering his next move in Connect 4.

Ahmed takes his time, fidgeting in his electric wheelchair covered in Palestinian flag stickers and occasionally gnawing on the colored discs. His counts his winning moves in his limited English, before bursting into laughter.

“One, two, three, four,” said Ahmed, while pointing at each disc.

The board game has become a favorite activity since he arrived in the U.S. Ahmed has spent hours playing with members of the host family, who eagerly signed up to care for him earlier this year. The vetting process lasted months, with the family not getting notified of their acceptance until late June.

Deya, a Palestinian born in Kuwait, called it a “no-brainer” decision, with his wife and three sons embracing the idea. Now they assist with weekly doctor’s appointments and trips to the mosque.

“This is the least we could do to ease up the suffering from what people are going through,” Deya said.

On this day, Ahmed revels in an especially dominant Connect 4 streak — winning six straight games. His next challenger is 21-year-old Akrum, Deya’s youngest son.

They have grown especially close over the last few months, despite the language barrier and difference in age.