"Get up or we're dead!" Those stark words, uttered by her partner, reverberate in the memories of Netta Portal (23) from Kfar Aza. Despite being struck by seven bullets from laughing terrorists, it was these words that propelled her to rise with immense effort, run on her feet, and elude the peril. Recalling the harrowing incident, she states, "I ran with all my strength, without stopping, without looking back, and I had only one question in my mind: Is this how it ends?"
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Netta's path intertwined with Santiago Perez (25) less than a year ago during a post-military service trip to Peru. Bonding over watching the World Cup, they decided to return to Israel as a couple. Choosing the vibrant community of Kfar Aza to establish their home, Netta reflects, "All my life, I have envied those who lived on the Gaza border region. I told him, 'My dear, the Gaza border region is intense.' He adapted there very quickly, even faster than me."
In the wee hours of October 7, she hosted a friend headed to a Nova party. "At 3:00, she left, luckily she made it back safely. By 06:30, we were jolted awake by sirens, huddled in the safe room. Santi rushed to secure the door, eager to witness Iron Dome interceptions. Our window stares right into Gaza. I cautioned him, 'Come back inside.' Around 8:00, the kibbutz security team warned of a potential terrorist infiltration. We thought, maybe three, four at most. How far could they possibly get? Guards on the fence, Hummers at the gas station. Everything seemed secure."
As the sounds of war intensified outside, the reality hit home. "We tuned into the news. The first image we saw—the van in Sderot. I said, 'It's fake. Who's spreading this nonsense?' We decided to check in with Nitzan. His message revealed the grim truth—his father and grandmother were victims, urging us to stay put in the safe room. It was only then that we grasped the enormity of the situation. Santi handed me a pocketknife, and he grabbed a pipe wrench. Amid the gunfire and Arabic screams, my mother's message arrived, confirming the army's engagement. "A little after 10:00, a slew of messages flooded in—'There are terrorists at my place.'"
Alone in the dark
Meanwhile the electricity cut out, severing their connection with the outside world, the two found themselves in the dark. Trapped in their bedroom, they braced themselves for the unknown. "Outside, there's a war; inside, absolute silence," she recounts. "We didn't utter a single word. The fan was useless, and we were both drenched in sweat. Santi rose, gripping the closet handle. He warned me, 'They will break the door; don't scream.' I positioned myself on the bed with a wrench. Looking back, that move probably saved my life.
"In mere moments, Santi's prediction unfolded. They smashed the window and door, barged into the apartment, and shouted in Arabic. One of them yelled 'Sony, Sony.' We understood he meant the PlayStation I had recently bought for Santi's birthday. He gestured with his head that he would defend the device. I shook my head at him, silently urging him not to. It was all conveyed through pantomime. The terrorists tried the closet handle, and when it resisted, they unleashed a burst of gunfire inside. I took a bullet in my leg. Had I stayed lying down, it would have hit my head. Santi suffered two leg wounds, and another bullet grazed the back of his head."
Netta and Santi were searching for a spot to hide, but every house was locked up tight. In a quick decision that kept them alive, Santi pulled her under one of the houses, amid piles of trash and old toys. They stayed there for three and a half hours, just waiting for someone to rescue them.
"We didn't say a word to each other," she remembers. "The weird silence of war settled in. Outside, there were shouts in Hebrew and Arabic. We figured something awful was going on, and I tried my best to stay aware. Santi used his shirt to make a makeshift tourniquet. At some point, we heard voices speaking Hebrew, and for a moment, we thought we were in the clear, but the voices faded away."
"Another hour goes by, and four soldiers in IDF uniforms show up, looking to hide near the house that was surrounded by terrorists. Santi went out to them, pleading for help, 'My girlfriend is dying,' but they said they couldn't rescue us. Eventually, I asked them to call my father, and we sent him our location. Ten minutes later, he arrived with three policemen in an armored car and rescued us to Sderot. From there, I was taken to the Meir Medical Center, where I underwent surgery."
Ten days after that horrific day, Netta found herself at the orthopedic rehabilitation department at Loewenstein Hospital in Ra'anana, disabled: with a non-functioning hand, both legs fixed, in a wheelchair. Today, she's already standing on one leg and moving swiftly using a small scooter-like tool. Engaging in treatments from morning to evening, she's learning to regain independent functioning. Santiago remains by her side all the time. "He may not know my favorite color, but he saved my life."
And the leg?
"The bullets messed up a bone in my ankle, and if it doesn't heal by itself, I might need another operation. The arm isn't back to normal yet, and I can't put weight on the injured leg. But, they helped me stand up, take a shower, and now I can wear pants. The movement in my hip and knee is back in both legs. Today, I'm already walking on the right leg.
"I have a journey ahead. Taking walks is my favorite thing to do. I need my leg, and it'll come back. I don't know how just yet, but it will."