The Unlikely Defenders

by Scott Haworth

  “You may enter, we are holding fire,” came the response from the building.

  The four men entered the building cautiously in order to dissuade those inside with itchy trigger fingers. The three Palestinian policemen exchanged pleasantries with their comrades upon entering. Fadi looked around the room, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable.

  “That was excellent work,” the station’s commanding officer said as he lowered his rifle and approached the group of men. He turned to the closest of the three policemen who had joined with Fadi. “Where is your commanding officer?”

  “Dead,” replied the policeman sadly. “We were led by this man,” he said while motioning to Fadi. “He is the one you should be thanking.”

  The commanding officer turned and shot out his right hand towards Fadi. He quickly retracted his arm after inspecting Fadi for the first time. “You!” he said as his eyes went wide. He turned back towards the policeman. “This is Fadi Haddad, the man you were supposed to capture!”

  The policeman lowered his head in embarrassment.

  Fadi rescued the policeman from having to explain himself. “They were doing a fine job,” he said with a smile. “But the giant bugs distracted them. They can not be blamed for having their priorities changed.”

  The commanding officer looked at Fadi as if he had the plague. “No, I suppose not,” he said after a moment. “And I suppose I have more important things to do now than arresting you.”

  Fadi eased his grip on his weapons. “I’m glad to hear it. Now if I may make a suggestion? I believe we should acquire some more impressive weaponry with which to engage these creatures.”

  “This is a Palestinian police station. We are not terrorists. We do not have any…” the commanding officer trailed off as he began to think. He turned without warning and made his way through the police station.

  Fadi had received no cue from the commander but decided to follow the man anyway. It was a short trip through the police station before the two men were standing in front of an unlabeled door. The commander pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked the door. As Fadi followed the man inside he realized it was a storage room.

  “We confiscated all of this from another of your network’s safe houses. I almost forgot we had stored it here. Usually it’s dismantled shortly after we acquire it, but there was a delay this time,” said the commander.

  Fadi’s eyes widened as he scanned the storage room. “This will do nicely.”

  Fadi had been sent to live with his ailing grandfather after the bombing that claimed the lives of his family. The living arrangement lasted less than a month. His senile grandfather could barely support himself let alone a grandson who he could hardly remember. Fadi encountered no resistance when he told his grandfather he was moving out.

  Fadi had no trouble getting back on his feet. The Hamas terrorist group became his new family. It also provided him with a new home. Most importantly it provided him with a reason to live: revenge.

  The recruiter he first made contact with had said that he knew the perfect place for a boy like Fadi. He sent Fadi to a small apartment with four other teenage boys and one Hamas veteran. Fadi learned quickly that the other boys had also lost family members to the Israeli army. He was less enthusiastic when he learned that Hamas expected him to become a martyr.

  “I do not wish to kill myself,” he said frankly to the Hamas veteran once the two had a moment alone together.

  “There is no greater glory to Allah than killing infidels while sacrificing yourself. He will reward you handsomely for your actions. Do you not wish to exact revenge on those who murdered your family?”

  “I have told you before that I am not very spiritual. The others may fight for that reason, but I fight for my own. Killing a handful of the enemy is not enough for me. I wish to kill many more than that. I can do that better by staying alive, can I not?”

  The Hamas veteran grinned widely. “You are a very determined young boy, Fadi. And very smart. I think you may be better suited for a leadership position within our organization.”

  Just like that Fadi had been set on the fast track within Hamas. It was almost analogous to a corporation giving management training. Fadi was taught how to lead a group of men in the struggle against the Israeli Army. He even participated in a kind of ceremony on graduation day.

  His last task before he officially entered the ranks of Hamas was to engage in an attack against Israel. For Fadi it was not a test but rather the opportunity for which he had been waiting. He knew he was only a minor part of the planned assault. One of the young men from the Martyr Squad would be the linchpin of the operation. Still, he saw the attack as the start of something much bigger.

  “Are you ready?” a more experienced member of Hamas asked Fadi. The two men were resting in the sand quite a distance from an Israeli border checkpoint.

  Fadi nodded his head as he stroked his rifle to reassure himself. His excitement was overwhelming, but he was also very nervous. He waited another minute in silence until the suicide bomber’s vest detonated.

  Fadi acted without hesitation. He and the other Hamas member stood immediately and ran towards the sound of the explosion. After running for 100 yards he followed his comrade’s lead and flopped into the dirt.

  “Now?” Fadi asked eagerly.

  “Not yet,” the other man replied.

  Fadi looked down the sight of his rifle at the area around the checkpoint. He could see several bodies and several figures who were beginning to pick themselves up off of the ground. It took every bit of his self-control to keep from compressing the trigger. He did not have to wait for long. Several vehicles pulled up within a few minutes. Israeli soldiers and emergency personnel poured out to tend to their fallen comrades.

  “Now!” the other man said. He pulled the trigger of his own rifle.

  Fadi followed suit a split second later. He eagerly sprayed the area in front of him with bullets. He expended his ammunition clip quickly and fumbled to replace it. When he had finished he took a deep breath and told himself to calm down. Most of the figures had hit the ground when the first gunshots rang out. Fadi could see one man crouching against the side of a vehicle. He took the time to aim properly and put the figure in the crosshairs of his weapon. Fadi squeezed off a single round. The man slumped back against the vehicle before sliding to the ground. A wave of excitement flooded over Fadi.

  “I said fall back!” the other Hamas member said. He was behind Fadi now and pulling on his leg.

  In his excitement Fadi had not heard the first command. Reluctantly, he accepted the man’s order and began to crawl away from the position through the dust.

  “Those poor bastards never knew what hit them!” Tex said excitedly. He was standing in the street over the corpses of two Kessiams. Each body had a half dozen bullet holes in it. “I wish I could have seen the looks on their faces when…” Tex trailed off as he realized Jeffery was no longer next to him. He looked back about ten feet to the side of the building from which he had just come. Jeffery was still standing there, uneasily holding his rifle. “Damn, boy! Come on out of there. Ain’t nothing going to bite you!”

  Jeffery looked up and down the street like a child about to retrieve a ball. He slowly moved out from under cover and made his way to the middle of the street. He crouched and jerked his head left and right while walking. When he reached Tex he looked up at the man. Tex was standing perfectly erect with his rifle hanging casually from his right hand. Embarrassed, Jeffery straightened up.

  Tex was too amused with Jeffery to be angry at him. He knew that Jeffery could not help it. He was from Massachusetts after all. He turned his attention towards the other three men in his party. “Where to now?”

  “I say we take Maple up to 5th Street. We can start clearing them out from that part of town,” one man suggested.

  “Sounds like a plan,” Tex agreed.

  The five men spread out and walked down the street. Jeffery was close to the center next to Tex. He wo
uld have preferred to be in the rear.

  Out of nowhere an energy blast hit one of the men square in the chest. He fell to the ground lifelessly as the other four men scrambled for cover.

  “Where is it?” one of the men yelled.

  “Second story window, third from the right,” Tex replied as he aimed his rifle. He was the first to fire at the window but was soon followed by two other men. Jeffery sat in the grass, clutching his rifle awkwardly. He made no attempt to fire.

  Several more Kessiams emerged from behind a building down the street. The humans redirected their fire accordingly.

  “Rush them!” Tex yelled as he jogged forward with his rifle still leveled at the invaders. The militiamen had learned quite quickly that standing still was not an option against the deadly accuracy of the alien energy weapons.

  Tex and one other militiaman made it to the enemy position. One of the humans and four of the aliens had been killed during the exchange. The two men stopped and took aim about five feet from their alien counterparts. The two aliens were shot dead.

  “Goddamn those sonsabitches are getting…” Tex trailed off again as he realized once more that Jeffery had not kept up. “Jeff! Come on!” he said irritably.

  As Jeffery crossed the distance he suddenly had a thought that probably should have crossed his mind earlier, What the hell am I still doing with these guys? He could not come up with an answer.

  “Damn, boy,” Tex said as Jeffery finally arrived. “You’re a squirrelly sonvabitch ain’t ya?”

  Jeffery lowered his head in disgrace. “I have a testosterone deficiency. It’s a side effect of a medical procedure I had. It makes me less… aggressive.”

  Tex did not accept his excuse. He sneered down at the cowardly man with contempt. He was about to produce some more choice words when another team of militiamen came running into view. The leader of the new group stopped when he reached the three humans.

  “What’s going on?” Tex asked.

  “Got word that a bunch of the critters are attacking Thomas Jefferson High School. All the teams are heading over there to help,” the new group’s leader replied.

  “You can’t tell me school is still in session after everything that’s happened.”

  “No, but a bunch of folks went there for shelter.”

  “All right we’ll join up with you then. Lead the way,” Tex said.

  The combined militia group headed off towards the school at a good pace. Jeffery took up position next to Tex. He was still unsure of why he was tagging along.

  “Mr. Wenzel?” the nurse asked. She continued after Jeff stood up from his seat. “Right this way.”

  Jeff followed the nurse through the hallway of the hospital and was deposited in one of the rooms. He thanked the nurse after she told him that the doctor would be in to see him shortly. He waited impatiently for a half hour.

  “Mr. Wenzel?” the doctor asked as he entered the room. “Sorry about the wait. I’m Dr. Frank Chan, I’ll be the lead surgeon for the procedure,” he said. He sat down on a stool in front of Jeffery and began to review his chart. “I have to admit, I have some reservations.”

  “I don’t,” Jeffery said simply.

  Dr. Chan peaked up from the chart at the unexpectedly frank response. “I see. This is a very rare procedure in this day in age, especially in the United States. Now I’m sure you’ve already gone over all of this during the psychiatric consultations, but nonetheless I have a few questions. Have you considered Depo-Provera?”

  “I’ve looked into it. It only reduces the urges, it’s not a cure.”

  “Yes but it still has a very high rate of success. Considering how strongly you’re willing to commit to reforming I’d really—”

  “No,” Jeffery said forcefully, cutting him off. “I will not take the chance that it could ever happen again.”

  “Okay,” Dr. Chan said. Jeffery was clearly not going to be dissuaded. “Are you aware of the risks associated with this procedure and the use of anesthetic?”

  “Yes.”

  “Very well. A nurse will be in shortly to prep you for the procedure,” Chan said pleasantly.

  “Thank you,” Jeffery responded.

  Dr. Chan shook his head in puzzlement after he exited Jeffery’s room. On his way out he almost bumped into one of his interns. “John! I’m glad I ran into you. You busy?”

  “I was going to grab a bite to eat in a few minutes. Why, do you have something interesting for me?” John asked.

  “Interesting doesn’t begin to describe it. How would you like to scrub in on a castration?”

  “Castration! Seriously?” John questioned.

  Dr. Chan nodded. “I’ve got a sex offender who wants to make sure he never rapes again.”

  “There’s easier ways to do that then getting your balls hacked off,” John said. He grimaced and made a motion to grab his crotch in order to emphasize the point.

  “Yeah, but he passed the psych screening and he seems quite sure of his decision. I thought it was crazy at first too, but when I talked to him… I don’t know. It seems kind of noble.”

  “Oh yeah,” John started sarcastically. “Those kiddy rapists are such an honorable bunch.”

  Chapter Eight

  Marcus Schwarz did not know how long it had been since he had parted ways with the rest of the U.S.S. Russell’s survivors. He had sat down on the beach and watched the waves crash for a while. He had not been thinking deeply or dwelling on the course of his life and his naval career. In fact he had felt remarkably calm while watching the simple act of nature. He had made his decision. He was done with the Navy, and that filled him with a sense of peace and closure.

  Eventually Marcus had stood and started to walk down the beach. He did not have a destination in mind, but that did not matter to him. He was happy to be on his own without the pressure of responsibility. His tranquility was shattered by the sound of quiet whimpering.

  Marcus stopped in his tracks and tried to figure out where the noise was coming from. It was a quiet sound, barely audible over the crashing of the waves against the beach. After a moment he pinpointed the location. It was coming from the rubble of what had been a house just off the beach. He quickly jogged through the sand towards the debris.

  “Hello?” Marcus yelled as he reached the remains of the house. He received no response. He stepped cautiously through the rubble until he came upon the source of the whimpering. An Indian woman was curled up in the wreckage of the house. “Ma’am?” he asked.

  The woman took no note of Marcus as he crashed loudly over the debris. At first he assumed that she had not heard him or that perhaps she had suffered hearing loss. When he got closer it became apparent that she was nearly catatonic. She was shivering violently and had her eyes firmly shut. He reached down and gently shook her shoulder. She took in a quick gasp of air as though she was startled. She stopped shaking but kept her eyes closed.

  “Hi there,” Marcus said as pleasantly as he could muster. “I’m Commander… my name’s Marcus. Do you speak English?”

  The woman said nothing for so long that Marcus began to assume that she was not going to respond.

  “Yes,” she whispered quietly after a moment.

  “Can you tell me what your name is?”

  “Abhaya Singh,” she squeaked out.

  “Is this your house Abhaya?” Marcus asked.

  “Was my house,” she responded, her voice shaking. “It was my house. My house is gone.”

  Marcus did not know how to respond to that. The woman was clearly suffering from post traumatic stress, but she did not seem to be injured. “I know you’re scared Abhaya, but it’s not safe to stay here. Why don’t you come with me and we’ll go…” Marcus suddenly realized that he had no idea where to go. “Someplace else.”

  Abhaya began to shake violently again. “I can’t go, I can’t be outside…” she said. She struggled to remember what her mother had called her condition. “I’m agoraphobic.”

  Marcus ha
d heard of agoraphobia once before when he was a young officer. He had witnessed one of the new crewmen freak out for no apparent reason. Marcus had tried to talk to the young man but to no avail. After a while Marcus and two others had been forced to drag him down to the sickbay. Marcus had waited for an hour outside before the doctor finally came out to discuss the crewman’s condition. The doctor had said that the man was simply overwhelmed by the vastness of the ocean around him. He could not stand to see unending water with no land in sight. The doctor informed Marcus that it was a fairly rare form of agoraphobia.

  Marcus realized that Abhaya must have had a similar reaction when she suddenly found herself out in the open. He informed her that he would return shortly before running to the next nearest house. It too had suffered damage from the Kessiam fighter’s attack so he moved on to another house that was still intact. He found the door unlocked and announced his presence before entering. Several lights were on but no one was home. Marcus deduced that the occupants had fled in a hurry. Confident that the house would work, he ran back to Abhaya.

  “Abhaya, there’s a house just down the street I think we should go to. Is that okay with you?” he asked. He watched as she cringed and tried to draw her legs even closer to her body. “It’s okay. You don’t have to open your eyes. I’ll carry you, all right?”

  Abhaya reluctantly nodded her head.

  Marcus had difficulty picking her up since she was so tightly coiled. With a heavy grunt he managed to lift her off of the ground. He gingerly made his way through the rubble and then all the way back to the neighbor’s house. He carried her inside like a bride over the threshold. He quickened his pace as he felt his legs beginning to give out. He deposited her softly on the couch in the living room before collapsing next to her.

  “We’re here,” Marcus said in between gasps for breath. “You’re inside again.”

  Abhaya opened her left eye a crack and looked around. While she was still uncomfortable, she felt exponentially better. She opened both her eyes and adjusted herself on the couch so that her head was laying on the armrest. Her breathing calmed and she quickly stopped shivering.