by G. R. Carter
And some of those who did not believe the true words of the Qu’uran attacked our Mahdi saying, “This is a trick of the Deceiver. No one of the Faith would use those names, for those names belong to Allah and his angels.”
But before the attackers could reach our Mahdi, Isa reached out his staff, and the men froze in their tracks! And the Mahdi said, “I do not know these men, for they are not of Allah. Where do they live?”
Some elders pointed to the home where their family lived, who had several brothers amongst the attackers.
Then the Mahdi pointed his own staff at the home, and it exploded right before our eyes! Then he said, “You see that my brother Isa held these men in mercy, but did not strike them down. But I am not so merciful as he, and have caused their home and family to be destroyed. If Allah wills me so, I will let Jibril and Mika’il lead their warriors against you. Do you believe you will survive this day? And if you fall against Allah’s messenger, will you awake in Paradise?”
Then everyone fell prostrate in front of the Mahdi, and Isa let the men he was holding go. They too fell, sobbing and begging for mercy, which was granted. I know, I was one of those men! Praise be to Allah and his holy messengers for giving me a chance at redemption!
THREE YEARS AFTER DARKNESS FELL
In the year 2 A.M.R. (After Mahdi Returned), three years after the Great Satan’s minions were humbled by Allah, and two years after the return of our Mahdi and his brother Isa arrived to lead us in God’s will, our holy warriors were involved in great battles with those whose eyes were deceived.
Our men were so far from home, having traveled across Michigan, fighting and defeating pockets of infidels. Our losses were great, but we knew that others were joining us every day, and our martyred brothers were already in Paradise. We wished for the same fate, gladly putting ourselves into the battles and overwhelming nearly every resistance.
Only the fortress city of Grand Rapids remained in all of southern Michigan. Many of you brothers know it today, as Allah humbles us by allowing the Christians to hold out there. Only He who is all knowing will reveal his timeline to us for their destruction. But the Mahdi, knowing that defeating a false prophet of the faith was more important directed our energy toward the west and the inland ocean.
That false prophet’s name was Imam Hussein Furak, one who had created for himself a kingdom out of what was once known to the infidels as Chicago, though none of our elders knew his name or the meaning of his name.
There were 20 million demons that once inhabited its concrete canyons, causing their influence to be felt for countless millions of others. Only a fraction survived the darkness that fell, but still our scholars believed nearly a million dwelled in Hussein’s kingdom when we marched on their gates. One million misled souls crying out for the true faith!
Out of those poor and wretched creatures, Hussein arose and formed a mighty army. Using tricks of the deceiver, Hussein performed magic and the ignorant among the masses believed he was the Twelfth Imam come to Earth. Being misled, the people exchanged their service to Hussein in exchange for bread and safety.
But all-powerful Mahdi led our forces to meet them on the glorious plains of Al-Hammond. Hussein the deceiver filled the forests, fields and roads with at least 100,000 men prepared to fight to the death for his sorcery. Day and night our brave warriors attacked his defenses, martyring almost half of all who traveled with us by the end of the third day.
Then on the morning of the fourth day, our Mahdi, accompanied by Jibril and ten of his Saracen warriors, walked to the middle of the battlefield. And servants pitched a tent for the Mahdi, who simply sat and waited, at the time we did not know what for.
Soon, the false prophet Hussein commanded his men to attack the Mahdi and his guards. We gasped with fear at what might happen as thousands of the possessed scrambled into the open ground. Each of us wanted to run to protect our Mahdi, but the holy men with us commanded us to wait and to pray for a miracle.
Just as we did so, explosions began to appear all along the false prophet’s front line. His men began to drop to the ground, some without a scratch on them. But all grabbed their necks, as Allah himself strangled them, removing the very breath from their lungs! Foam spewed out of their mouths and nostrils, as the demons fought to leave their mortal bodies. Some brave warriors continued on, trying to move forward towards the Mahdi’s tent. The few who made it close dropped facing the weapons of the Saracen.
The Mahdi waved the Crescent Staff and the explosions stopped. Soon Jibril himself led the Saracen towards the army of Hussein. But those who had been brave just moments before now parted before their gleaming black armor; not one remained in front to stop them. Instead laying down their weapons and saying, “We have regained our sight, and can see that this must truly be the will of the Rahman. We have been deceived and beg for Allah’s forgiveness and mercy.”
Then Jibril found the false prophet Hussein hiding in his headquarters, hiding in the toilet no less! Such brave men had just died for him, and he cowers like a sheep before the butcher’s blade! Now Jibril had little mercy for such a coward but remained true to his orders and he drug him out and brought him before the Mahdi, who remained in the middle of the field sitting in the tent.
“Do you know you have deceived these men in front of Allah? They trusted you and you led many to their deaths, yes even damnation for some! Do you understand you must pay for their sins as well as yours?” the Mahdi asked Hussein. “For it is written, only Allah himself holds the power of mercy. Do you ask for mercy?”
Hussein suddenly found courage, pulling himself up to look our Mahdi in the face. “I do not ask for mercy, holy messenger. I now know I allowed Satan to cloud my eyes. Pride has caused me to mislead Allah’s people. But I want to try to set it right before I die. Will you allow me that small token, then all I ask is a clean death.”
The Mahdi had mercy on Hussein, for the man had come to the realization he too was deceived. So Hussein stood in front of the tent, and the Mahdi stood beside him with his staff in hand. Hussein looked over his surviving followers, massed in the open field. Allah used the Mahdi’s staff so that Hussein’s voice boomed like thunder across the assembly.
“Brothers and sisters, our journey together is now over. You have fought bravely for your families and your names. Now hear me, I believed I was the Twelfth Imam come to lead Allah’s people to victory and a new day. But I have now been shown my error, for I was deceived. Clearly Allah has sent his true messenger here, peace be upon him! The Mahdi is here! Come and follow the Mahdi incarnate on Earth! Follow the commands of his holy angels who bring wrath down upon us for our errors!”
Hussein nodded with dignity to Jabril, then knelt before his blade.
Silence spread as a blanket over the fields. All who had followed Hussein knelt down and laid themselves prostrate in front of the Mahdi’s tent. But the Mahdi had mercy once more and spared their lives. Many of you who read this testament came from that field, or had family who were spared that day. Gracious and good is our Mahdi, messenger of Allah!
Then we feasted and rested for three days. Our new followers lined up day and night to pledge their support for the Mahdi, and the Mahdi heard each man’s pledge individually. Though this troubled some of the elders, the wisest said “We have seen great and glorious things. Allah has granted the Mahdi the ability to bring people to his Holy Word. Shall we not trust him to do these things on behalf of Allah?” And those who doubted fasted for the three days, and then all believed.
Then the Mahdi said, “Lead us to that city that is called Aurora. For Allah has a plan for us there.”
So then our new brothers led us to what is now our capital city. The Mahdi said, “Peace be upon this place. Now I will take the name Aurora Mahdi, for the lights in the sky announced my coming. And here are riches untold for all of Allah’s warriors.”
We set to work building the finest mosque we had ever seen, using the finest wood and stone we could find, salvaged in the
buildings the infidels once used as their own.
After a while, some people began to long for their families. Most had taken new wives from those we had conquered, and were anxious to return with their treasures and servants. But the Mahdi said, “Be patient my children, for I have a surprise for you.”
Then the next day, Isa himself reappeared, leading a group of Holy warriors from the west. These brave men had defeated the infidels in what the Americans once called Minnesota and Wiscon-sin. Their path had led them here, just as ours had. Miracle after miracle visited from Allah!
With faithful jihadists of the west and the east both present, Mahdi and Isa revealed a vision given to them by Allah. They instructed us to search the ground under what had once been a great airport. With the guidance of Jibril, we found an entrance to an underground chamber. Then the Mahdi and Isa took their holy angels into the cavern. For three sunrises we waited for their return. There was fear among the group and some wondered if they would return. Then, on the third day, the Mahdi and Isa reappeared and said, “Peace be upon you. Allah has granted us another miracle, come and see!”
So many of the leaders went into the opening with them, which now held light! Boxes and boxes of weapons, ammunition and food were given to us by Allah himself as a reward for our efforts. Enough supplies to keep our armies in the field for years! Mahdi said, “Here let us build an altar to make sacrifices to Allah. For he will continue to bless us. But none may enter the holy of holies. You must not enter the Forbidden Chamber, where only Mahdi or Isa may dwell.”
Though Sunni and Shia disagreed on the meaning of Allah’s word before the darkness fell, Isa used this miracle as a bridge between us. Together we gave up our past disputes and praised Isa and the Mahdi for bringing us together, forming a mighty army to bring this entire continent to the word of Allah.
So brothers and sisters, now you know how our Caliphate began, and you see how we came to build the finest city in all of Islam here in Al-Aurora. You have seen the mosque of the Rahman! Do you need more proof we are following the will of Allah himself?
Holy warriors, destroy the demons that still dare to risk Allah’s judgment by calling themselves Americans. The infidels led by Satan’s wizard, Alexander the Terrible, worshipers of the false prophets, prostrate before their graven red hawk image, attempt to prevent Allah’s holy warriors from spreading the Caliphate to their decadent lands. How can you sleep while they exist to foil the will of your Mahdi, Allah’s holy messenger?
Oh Martyrs, will you hear the cry to battle? Come and lay down your mortal lives to spend eternity in Paradise! Slay the demons and let this New Levant be cleansed with their very blood!
AGAINST THE STORM
Book Four
Fortress Farm Series
Destiny is not a matter of chance; it is a matter of choice. It is not a thing to be waited for; it is a thing to be achieved.
William Jennings Bryan
Prologue
ARK Refugee Camp
Formerly East St. Louis
Three Years after the Battle of Shelbyville
Year 10 A.G.R. (After the Great Reset)
Hazy smoke hung in the damp air like a blanket, the toxic byproduct of dozens of campfires burning anything flammable. Malik and Robbie had suffered in miserable conditions for months now, spending most nights out in the open. No night ever allowed more than a few hours of sleep as they took turns keeping watch over their few meager possessions. The Masen cousins were all that remained of their original group. All their followers had succumbed to illness or the fights that broke out over a can of food here or a dead squirrel there.
Their reward for such perseverance was a squalid refugee camp built just across the giant Mississippi River from the gleaming buildings of ARK’s White City. The crowd here was a mix from all over the upper Midwest, mostly refugees fleeing the ever-expanding Northern Caliphate. These were the lucky ones who could find something that could float and headed south on the big river’s currents. Eventually the ones that made it through obstacles of nature and man gathered under the shadow of brilliant white and silver buildings holding the capital of one of the few forces powerful enough to stop the Caliphate.
Tired and hungry men, women and children huddled together under the shattered ruins of a fallen past, waiting to see if they would be accepted here as permanent refugees. Ration bars like the ones despised before the Reset made up their daily diet, now gratefully consumed as a delicacy. Each contained more calories than most had consumed at one sitting for weeks or even months. Tension crackled as parents desperately longed to get their children out of the damp and dirty environment before sickness set in. Even the most advanced medical staff in the modern world wasn’t able to save most if they caught deadly hygienic diseases.
Each person wishing to move west into ARK territory submitted to a facial scan from the RenOne supercomputer operating in the heart of what everyone referred to as the City. While it held no record of a person’s sins in the years since the Reset, it could identify undesirables from the pre-Reset criminal databases still stored inside. Neither Malik nor Robbie had earned criminal records in the years before the power went out, but they both had surely been under surveillance by law enforcement as front men for the GangStars. No one knew for sure what ARK did with those flagged as undesirables, but the camp was rife with rumors. Some never returned from their interviews…best not to take the chance.
Malik and Robbie kept their heads down, performing assigned tasks required to receive daily rations. Each refugee had to work: fishing in the river’s backwaters to help supplement camp rations, cleaning barges used to carry cargo and people up and down the rivers, even work groups that were escorted out of camp to pick fruit or dig coal. Those who showed the most intelligence and initiative were given priority in the application process for residency. Trying not to draw attention to themselves, Malik and Robbie did an okay job but refrained from becoming model employees, waiting for an opportunity to move on.
Their chance finally came when Grand Shawnee representatives arrived at the camp, looking for volunteers to move to the rapidly expanding province. The Red Hawk Republic needed experts, or strong backs, to help improve their industry and economy. There was an interview process but no computer scans. The Grand Shawnee crew didn’t have the technology or the time to wait. With ARK's permission they set up an information tent to find prospective workers.
“We’ve got to go down there and get a ticket east,” Malik said to his cousin.
Robbie didn’t look convinced. “Somebody is goin’ to recognize us, sure as shot. I heard they’re making you fill out an application. Even if they don’t have that computer, I bet they still are smart enough to keep track of names. You know they’ll figure it out somehow.”
“Then we’ll just change our identities. Come on, Robbie, there’s no way they’ll figure out who we are with paper records. Think about it!”
Robbie did think about it, trying to work through the problems as best he could. “I’ll agree with you on one thing, cuz: we got to get out of here! I guess it’s worth the stretch.”
“Of course it is, now let’s go take their tests. Just do the best you can, and I’ll insist you’re coming with me. Think of a name and a backstory. Whatever you come up with is fine, but you have to stick with it from here on out. Even in private, we have to be who we say we are. Understood?”
Robbie shook his head, trying to think of someone he always wanted to be. “Okay, I got it. You’re Mark and I’m Brian.”
“Those are the best names you could come up with?”
“I thought you’d like it. Common names blend in well, right? Keep attention off us,” Robbie said with a satisfied smile.
“I did say that, you’re right. It’s just that going by ‘Mark’ the rest of my life…”
“Okay then, Marcus. That better?”
Malik, now Marcus, smiled and nodded. “Marcus” at least sounded slightly more cultured. “Marcus Neilson and Brian Niels
en. Sounds okay, we’ll get used to it.”
“I hate to lose our last name more than my first name. Seems like we’re giving up who we are.”
Marcus nodded. “We are, Brian. But it’s a new start for us. We’ll just have to be the founding members of the Nielsen family now.”
Fresh identities in mind, the two made their way down to the registration tent, receiving clipboards with a five-page test. Some questions were multiple choice, some written, but almost all were science- and math-related. Watchful eyes kept anyone from sharing answers, and Marcus was done long before Brian made it to the third page. Fifteen minutes later, a man in a uniform with “SSS” on the sleeve was calling out Marcus’s name.
“Marcus Nielsen! Marcus Nielsen, are you here?” Marcus finally shook himself out of a daze, realizing they were looking for him.
“I’m here, I’m here,” he said, rushing up to the desk. “Sorry, I haven’t slept much recently.”
“Is that right? Well I’d like to see how you score with a night’s rest, then! You score off the charts for intelligence, Mister Nielsen. I’m flattered you wanna come with us, but can I ask why ARK hasn’t taken you yet?” the polite young man asked Malik.
“Well, you may have noticed that there isn’t a whole lot of diversity over there,” Malik answered with some truth.
The Shawnee rep simply smiled with a subtle nod. “Well, Mister Nielsen, you’ll find that the only color we’ve ever hated here is the Grays, and even they’re our friends now,” he said, relaxing. “Welcome to Grand Shawnee.”