Welcome to Dubai (The Traveler)

by Omar Tyree

  None of the men inside of the armored truck were from royal lineage, so they could all relate to the rich and wealthy of the world who had often used the ideas, the land, the labor, and the hope and dreams of everyone else to build their riches.

  Tariq, an Oman immigrant with Ethiopian and Somalian blood in his own ancestry, finally ended the long-winded history lesson and brought everyone back to the tragedy at hand. “So how many immigrant men does he have?”

  Mohd took a breath and knew that it was over. “Not enough to win. He only has enough men to make his point. And even some of those men are still loyal to me.”

  “And do you feel this all will be worth it?” the UDF commander questioned. Even he realized that Mohd would be put to death by the Emirates.

  Mohd exhaled and answered, “Life is always worth more than death. So my heart aches for him. But if it were not for the untimely death of my wife, none of us would be here today.”

  *****

  As Mohd finished his historical conversation inside the armored truck headquarters with the UAE authorities, more than a hundred reinforcement soldiers were flown into the downtown area with more on the way.

  Ra-Heru watched from the window of the twenty-seventh floor of the building as a dozen more helicopters flew in. He understood that the end was near. Not only had his men lost the surveillance room, but they had now lost half of the bottom floors to the Union Defence Force as more hostages continued to flee.

  Heru then called his lieutenant on the bottom floor of the lobby to check in without his surveillance team.

  “It’s Heru. How are the men doing outside in the crowd?”

  Down in the lobby with nearly a hundred hostages, the imposing lieutenant peeked outside to see what he could report without catching a sniper’s bullet in his forehead. But the dozen or so immigrant men from the ambush had already been chased down and killed.

  “They are no longer in commission,” he reported back to Heru.

  Heru nodded and paused. “Okay. It is time for phase three. Let’s stall the soldiers for as long as we can, and let the people all know our mission.”

  “Yes, I agree,” his lieutenant commented. And he immediately began to shoot into the ceiling to gain everyone’s attention.

  “AAAHHHH!” the tourists and their families screamed. None of the men had shot a gun in the lobby for the first thirty minutes that they had arrived there. They wanted the hostages to feel safe. But now the lieutenant needed them to listen while being well guarded by his men to prevent any attack.

  “To all of you who are here, whether you are from America, Britain, Australia, France, Russia, Germany, Japan, China, India, South Africa or wherever, we mean you no harm. You have only been detained here today because the United Arab Emirates have refused to give us the young Emirati developer Abdul Khalif Hassan and his wife, Hamda, who have allowed many atrocities in their labor workforce. And not only them, but all of the Emirati developers of Dubai.

  “We, the laboring immigrants from all around the world, have been the nameless and faceless builders, workers and dreamers of everything that is here. Yet the ruling class continues to ignore our cries for fair wages, health, housing and more humane conditions and respect on the job. And yet they have refused to negotiate with us on these most important issues.”

  “And this is how you respond, by taking innocent hostages?” an Indian traveler yelled from the crowd. “And people have been killed, whether it was your intention to kill them or not.”

  Inside the basement staircase, Gary waited with a fully loaded assault weapon and an automatic pistol while listening to it all. He still needed his own education on the revolt. And although Johnny had already told him plenty about some of the conditions in the UAE for workers, it was indeed more informative to hear it from the angry workers themselves.

  The lieutenant responded, “It was not us who harmed any of you. It was the soldiers, the police and vigilantes, who attempt to distract us from our goals.”

  “Nooo,” the Indian man cried out. “It was your men who shot and killed some of us.”

  “Yeah!” a few of the other hostages chimed in.

  “Which men?” the lieutenant asked.

  A few of the immigrant gunmen grew nervous inside the room as the Indian man looked around for them. Finding the angry immigrant from Palestine, the Indian pointed and said, “Him. He has been very forceful with everyone.”

  Without hesitation, the lieutenant fired his gun into the chest of the defiant gunman. Again, there were screams from the shocked hostages.

  “If we were interested in harming you, it would be as easy as that. But as it now goes on,” the lieutenant said, “we doubt that the Emirati rulers have reported anything of your situation to the public of Dubai, Abu Dhabi, Deira, Sharjah or the over provinces and cities of the Emirates. Why? Because they are stubborn with the local news, and they do not want you to be afraid of coming back, and more importantly, they do not want the world to know the conditions under which we are forced to work here. But after today, they will have no choice but to listen to us.”

  Gary was ready to react immediately after hearing the gunshots, but he composed himself and continued to listen while hoping and praying for the best.

  I just have to wait. I have to wait for the right moment, he convinced himself. The lieutenant continued, “Our Egyptian leader, Ra-Heru Amun, has organized us here today to die for our cause. And some of you may indeed die along with us, not by design, but by happenstance.”

  The lieutenant waited for their collective moans to die down before he continued. “I too am an immigrant with dreams from the lower class of Yemen, one of the oldest civilizations in the Middle East, which long ago became the stomping ground for the new civilizations. And I do not expect you all to sympathize with my cause and that of the other men in this room today, but I do expect for you to remember, and to do your own research, so that you are better prepared to know the true histories of the world.”

  *****

  Inside the armored truck headquarters, Mohd, Tariq, Ali and the UDF officials listened to the lieutenant themselves through high-technology microphones that were able to pick up all of the sounds inside the lobby. And they all agreed that the incident would pose a nightmare for the Emirati businessmen, who had begun to bank on the UAE as a safe haven location for much of their new economy.

  Ali looked at Mohd and asked, “So their plan now is to converse with the world media?” Before he even posed the question, he understood that the Emirates would have no choice but to expose themselves to an international conversation about the practices of their construction workforce.

  Tariq grinned, shook his head and stated the obvious, “The Emirates are not going to like that.” The investigator had an acute understanding of how proud and determined the ruling class of the United Arab Emirates was to exert their will on their own society. But now the immigrant workers were forcing them to play a more compromised hand of cards.

  In the meantime, the intelligence officials quickly looked up the meaning of the name “Amun” and reported their findings to their commanding officer.

  “So, Ra-Heru Amun is the defender of the poor, and compa rable to Zeus in Greek mythology?” the commander asked Mohd.

  Mohd grinned, loving their sudden focus and respect for the ancient world history of Egypt. He then nodded with his answer. “Even today, in the Christian societies around the world, the masses of their poor call out to Ah-men after every prayer, the God of all gods.”

  The commander nodded back and was satisfied with their present grip on the situation. And he had heard enough. They could not possibly allow the immigrant terrorists to dictate their terms for world media coverage. It was impermissible. So the soldiers were forced to move faster and stronger to take out the head by any means necessary: Ra-Heru Amun, who was previously known as Talib Aquil Nasir.

  The commander told his second in command, “Send all of the men to the top floors to terminate Ra-Heru. That
is our own chance to avoid more of an embarrassment for the Emirates. And tell them to continue to move out the hostages.”

  Mohd overheard the command to terminate his son, but there was nothing that he could do about it. However, he understood that their task would not be easy, for even with a thousand men against him, Heru believed that he was right, and in his righteousness, he would continue to fight them until every drop of blood in his body had been spilled for the love of his mother, the vengeance of his father and as a champion of the silent people.

  Chapter 32

  The Shocking news from the International Suites had begun to reach the cities, provinces and the Palm Island fronds, through phone calls, texts and pictures, including the gas station convenience store where Basim worked.

  “What?!” he responded to the news from his co-workers and manager. Basim had still not heard a peep from his cousin, and he had called and texted her several times before even hearing the news. He ran toward the front door and told his boss, “I dropped my cousin Ramia off at the International Suites earlier today, and she has not called me back yet.”

  The manager ran out behind him, not only concerned about the young man’s beautiful cousin from Jordan, but about Basim’s safety in trying to drive to the hotel.

  “Basim, surely the traffic is backed up. You will not be able to get in through the commotion.”

  Basim ignored his boss and made his way to his car in the parking area beside the gas station.

  “I must try anyway. En sha Allah,” he responded anxiously while climbing behind the wheel. Basim was also secretly upset with the manager for not agreeing to hire his cousin. She could have been working there with him that day instead of downtown searching desperately for a second job.

  Merciful Allah! Basim thought to himself as he drove recklessly through the traffic. Every light and slow-moving car ahead of him had quickly become a nuisance.

  *****

  Back at the hotel, Ramia and Johnny were now accepted by the UAE soldiers and the police as they continued to walk the tourists, families and children out of the hotel. Ramia’s gentle, kind and compassionate presence was indeed an enhancement to keep the hostages and children calm throughout the process.

  “It’s okay, it’s okay,” Ramia said, hugging a crying daughter. They had worked themselves up to the eleventh floor, and as she continued to think about the American tourist, her duty for the safety of the people had become her first priority. She only hoped that the handsome and courageous American would survive.

  Johnny continued to watch her while he carried children and babies out of the building. He could not believe her energy and nerve to help so many strangers regardless of her own safety. His apprehension of her actions had turned into awe. Not only was she beautiful, she was worthy of his utmost respect.

  She is so amazing! he began to tell himself, changing his earlier opinion of her. And he was glad that he had decided to help her.

  *****

  Gary remained conflicted about his next move inside of the staircase to the lobby. He understood that charging the room full of hostages and more immigrant gunmen could only cause more harm than good. That was why the UAE soldiers and police had not attacked them again from outside. Heru’s lieutenant had successfully fortified their position at the entrance of the hotel, where they were obviously now beginning to plead their case to the world. So instead of forcing himself to be a foolish hero who endangered more lives, Gary returned to the surveillance room to figure out his next move to save lives.

  While viewing the many cameras throughout the building, he looked first for his Pakistani ally, who was climbing on top of the service elevator on his way up to face Heru on the top floors. He then looked again for Ramia and Johnny, who continued to help hostages out of the building down the left staircase. The soldiers and the police were helping them now.

  Instinctively, he wanted to see them and thank them for their bravery. He did not expect it from them, but he respected it and wanted to help. But then he thought again about the embattled revolt leader, Ra-Heru Amun. Despite the man’s noble mission, Gary realized that his extreme ideas had to be stopped. They involved too many innocent people. He also admitted to himself that he craved to see the man in action before he died, as if it was a creed of warriors.

  Gary had often thought in his restless dreams and nightmares about facing the Colombian man who had killed his best friend in Medellln. And as he had faced the surviving West Virginia fugitive who had murdered his mother, he felt that by facing Heru and surviving it, he would make himself stronger. So he took off running for the left staircase to see Ramia and Johnny before helping the Pakistani and the UAE soldiers with Heru.

  *****

  On top of the service elevator, Saleem first planned to avoid the many soldiers who might have confused him for the wrong side, so he was very careful to avoid them when he finally arrived at the top of the building. He even put on some of the soiled and bloody clothes of a gunman who had been shot and killed inside the service elevator below him. The stench of murder was everywhere.

  As Saleem climbed out of the elevator shaft and into the hallway of the twenty-seventh floor, he could hear the furious sounds of the helicopters and the gun battles that were taking place on the roof. And there was a hallway full of dead men.

  Saleem then dropped to the hallway floor to crawl forward while peeking underneath the locked room doors for the unfortunate hostages. He could see under the door as a lone man tiptoed from the bathroom, too fearful to flush the toilet and bring too much attention to himself and his woman inside the room who he whispered to upon his return.

  “These people will never forget this when it is finally over,” Saleem mumbled to himself.

  The next minute, three immigrant gunmen ran down from the staircase that led to the roof and started grabbing loaded guns from the dead men who lined the hallway.

  “Hurry up! Hurry, hurry, hurry!” one of the men shouted. But it was not the voice of Heru.

  Quickly deciding to play dead, Saleem closed his eyes and remained still on the floor while one of the men attempted to pull his own assault weapon out of his hands, like they did with the rest of the men they presumed to be dead.

  Surprising him, Saleem shot the man several times in the chest. He then aimed up the hallway and shot the others before they could realize what was happening and recover.

  *****

  Heru heard the gunshots right above him from an empty room on the twenty-sixth floor. When he heard them, as he had for the past three hours, he grabbed his weapons and left quickly to investigate.

  Heading to the staircase, he first wanted to check in on the positions of the soldiers below, and he found that they were getting closer, but not close enough to panic. So he continued on his way to help out his men on the roof.

  *****

  As soon as Saleem heard the footsteps in the staircase down the hall in front of him, he played dead again with his gun.

  Heru looked up the hallway and saw nothing, but he remained suspicious. He continued up to the roof and decided to stop and wait inside of the staircase.

  All the while, the furious battle continued on the roof, where the helicopters had to refrain from using heavy artillery out of the fear of killing hostages in their rooms on the top floor. And as more of Heru’s men retreated from the roof to retrieve more guns filled with ammunition, when they spotted him waiting inside the staircase, Heru quickly signaled for them to be quiet in their work.

  “Go,” he said quietly, and pointed to the twenty-seventh floor.

  His men obeyed him nervously, afraid that their fearless leader had caught them in a retreat, but Heru was more concerned about the gunshots and the silence inside the hallway. So he listened again and waited.

  On cue with new gunshots, Heru leaped into the hallway and fired at everything within earshot. Expecting as much, Saleem covered himself with the body of a dead man and fired back.

  Heru jumped back inside the exit doo
rway as the return of accurate bullets just missed him. And he knew immediately that he was up against a more experienced foe.

  “Another traitor,” he told himself back inside the staircase.

  He thought about helping his men back out onto the roof, but decided against it. He understood that his new foe would be too dangerous to leave behind, so he retreated to the lower floors.

  Saleem continued to listen to as much as he could through all of the gunshots on the roof, but as more of Heru’s men continued to retreat to the twenty-seventh floor, he continued to shoot them down.

  Meanwhile, Heru made his way down to the twenty-fifth floor and ran to the right staircase of the building to double back up to the twenty-seventh floor from the opposite side. This new traitor was in his way and stopping him and his men from securing the roof. But by the time he had made it back into the hallway, the man was gone.

  Heru proceeded back up the hallway of the twenty-seventh floor cautiously and back toward the exit door to the roof. However, as he neared it, he could no longer hear the sounds of battle up on the roof, which was surely a bad sign. He knew that he had finally run out of able men. Not trusting the prospect of stepping back through the exit doorway, he picked up one of his dead men from the hallway floor and pushed the body through the exit. Shots rang out immediately and riddled the body.

  Determined to win, Heru leaped through the doorway right afterward and fired several accurate shots up the stairs, hitting several UAE soldiers who had barely made their way into the building.

  Heru dove down into the staircase right onto the backs and bodies of more of his slain men as he continued to fire bullets upward at more of the soldiers who were entering the building from the roof. And as he dove there onto the backs and bodies of the dead men, one of them moved and aimed to shoot him.

  The traitor! Heru told himself.

  Close enough to grab the gun, he pushed it away in close range as more bullets riddled the staircase wall.

  Heru then attempted to aim his own gun at the traitor, only for his foe to grab it and push it away as well, with more bullets ricocheting up the wall.