Islam Rising

by Johnny Jacks

  “That’s quite a pick-up line you’ve got there, cowboy.” She smiled in the dusky evening.

  “I’m a real charmer.” A Harrison Ford grin grew on his face.

  Grayson lifted Millie into the passenger seat and said bye. The grin remained plastered on his face all the way to the farm. The calf hadn’t been born, but something had.

  Chapter 29

  Could She Be The One?

  Year 3

  Grayson pulled into Laura’s long driveway. The house was a modest ranch in a neighborhood of homes with a couple of acres each. Walking towards her house, he was startled when an aged, half-bald man came out of the house next door pointing a 12-gauge shotgun at him.

  “What are you doing over there?”

  Grayson automatically reached for his 1911 .45 ACP, but he’d left it at home to prevent scaring Laura on their first date.

  Laura opened a window and shouted. “It’s okay, Mr. Becker! This is my friend, Grayson.”

  “Okay, Laura.” Becker lowered his shotgun. “We’re sort of protective of Miss Laura since she lost her husband.”

  “No problem, Mr. Becker.” He was miffed the old man got the drop on him, but put on his best manners. “My name is Grayson Dean. I recently purchased the Smith place.”

  Becker placed the 12-gauge on his porch, walked briskly over to Grayson, and offered his hand. “Sorry for the shotgun, but you can’t be too careful these days.”

  “I understand.” They shook hands. “I’m sure Laura appreciates you looking out for her.”

  Mr. Becker lowered his voice. “Actually, she can outshoot me, but I can’t help myself. Laura is like a daughter to us. If this were a few years earlier, I’d want to know where you’re going, what you’re doing, and what time you’re returning.”

  “Sir, we’re going to the Round Up to have dinner and do a little dancing, then to a movie. I’ll have her home by midnight.”

  “None of that close and up-tight dancing, and you’ll have her home by eleven, young feller.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Their laughter lingered as Laura exited her front door and locked it behind her. A small boy, wearing pajamas and flip-flops, held her hand. “Grayson, this is my son, Austin. He’s four.”

  Grayson took the shy little boy’s hand offered him. “Hi, Austin. It’s nice to meet you.”

  Austin looked wide-eyed and open-mouthed at the big man. “Are you my daddy?”

  Grayson looked to Laura and she picked up the boy.

  “No, sweetie. This is Mommy’s friend. Now, go with Mr. Becker. I’ll come over in the morning and get you.”

  She put him down and the old man took Austin’s hand. “You kids have fun. Austin enjoys spending the night with us when Laura is on call at the hospital.”

  Under Becker’s watchful eye, Grayson offered his arm and escorted Laura to his pickup. He opened the door and held her hand, as she stepped on the running board and up into his big pickup truck.

  “Well, you’re a gentleman, and that’s a good thing. Take care and have her home before eleven. I don’t want to have to come looking for you, boy!” Becker’s gruff tone threw in a chuckle.

  “Sir, I don’t want you to come looking for me with that 12-gauge.”

  “Earnest Becker! Get yorself over here with the boy and leave them young’uns alone.”

  “I’m coming, Bertha,” he grumbled. “See y’all later. Nice to meet you, Mr. Dean”

  “Same here, Mr. Becker. Please call me Grayson.”

  Grayson and Laura drove out of sight before cracking up. “I told Mr. Becker about our date this afternoon. He knew who you were. An old Vietnam War veteran, he’s seriously protective of Austin and me, but he also loves pulling practical jokes. That rusty old shotgun hasn’t worked for years and wouldn’t fire if loaded.”

  “Well, I guess Mr. Becker just made me an accepted member of the community.”

  ~~~

  The Round Up was the special type of restaurant rarely found outside the Lone Star State. They always offer steaks or barbeque and have a dance floor with a live Western band. It’d been a long time since Grayson entered one on a date with Margaret.

  Grayson and Laura started their date on a fun note thanks to Mr. Becker, but once seated at the table, Grayson couldn’t think of much to say. Laura stumbled to keep the conversation going. He refused to discuss Margaret, Amanda, or Daniel. She didn’t offer any information about her marriage or dead husband. An old couple, also not talking, watched them. Probably think we’re an uncommunicative married couple, too.

  They both managed to drop their napkins on the floor and food in their laps. After Grayson asked her the third time if her steak was tender, she turned to concentrate on the people dancing.

  Grayson decided it would go down in history as the most boring date ever and spread through the community with him as the butt of the joke. How in the hell had he dealt with Shannon Fisher in such an unflappable way and couldn’t put ten words into a decent sentence with Laura?

  As their silence grew too obvious, Grayson asked her if she knew how to do the Texas two-step.

  “Do dairy cows give milk?” Laura shot back and blushed. “I mean yes. Do you?”

  Grayson stood to take her hand and led her to the dance floor. He kept a respectable separation between them and danced like a robot. It was obvious she wasn’t enjoying herself.

  Laura checked her watch for the tenth time and noted it was time for the movie. They engaged in forgettable, stop-and-go chitchat over the half-hour drive. At the theater, he made an awkward attempt to let Laura select the movie, but she deferred to him. Good planning, jackass.

  He selected a movie he guessed she might like. Ten minutes in, it was apparent his choice was a sappy attempt at a love story.

  Laura leaned over. “Would you mind if we leave?”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes, it’s—”

  Somebody behind shushed them, and they slipped out.

  Laura began laughing the minute they were in the lobby. “I’m sorry.”

  “Whew. That was hard to watch. What do you say to coffee?”

  “I’d love a cup.”

  On the way, he asked about Austin.

  “Sorry about his reaction. Mack was a big man like you, and you sort of look like him in a picture Austin has on his nightstand. He doesn’t really remember him, so that photo is all he’s got.”

  “Austin’s a good-looking boy, sort of reminds me of my son, Daniel, when he was little.” But don’t ask me any questions about him.

  ~~~

  It was almost midnight when they pulled into Laura’s driveway. The easy conversation over coffee was gone and Grayson was back to edgy. “Laura, uh…I’ve enjoyed this evening with you and….” He stopped in midsentence and expelled a deep and long belly laugh.

  “What the heck’s so funny?”

  “Me. I’m funny. Well, not funny funny.”

  “Okay?” She looked at him curiously.

  “Laura, Margaret was the only girl I ever dated. We were together from kindergarten. This evening, I’ve been as nervous as a school boy on his first date.”

  Laura nodded. “Mack was the only man in my life, beginning with when I first took an interest in boys. You and I are like a couple of old fashioned sixteen-year-olds.”

  “Yeah. It sort of feels good in a way.”

  Grayson added a little tease with the deep voice of a narrator. “The boy’s heart throbbed. He had never kissed a girl before. What should he do? Will she slap him if he tries? What will she do if he misses her lips and kisses her nose or accidently touches those bumps on her chest? How do you kiss anyway?”

  “Does he like me?” Laura spoke in a girly voice. “Is my hair okay? He hates my hair. He hates me. Gosh, I hope he kisses me. I don’t know how to kiss but maybe he does. I just hope he doesn’t squeeze me and make me fart.” She caught Grayson by surprise and he choked.

  “Too much?” She laughed.

  “Perfe
ct end to a perfect evening.”

  Grayson walked around and opened her door. He lifted her from the cab by her waist and placed her gently on the ground. They walked to her door holding hands. She took her keys from her purse and was about to unlock the door when he put his hands on her shoulders and turned her towards him.

  “He does know how, and he won’t squeeze you too tight.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, and they shared a short kiss, then a longer kiss. Taking time for a breath and a lingering, penetrating look, they wrapped their arms around each other and kissed passionately.

  Grayson’s thoughts rushed to the error he made in Vegas. “It feels good to hold you, Laura, perhaps too good. Couples relate differently today than they did several generations ago. What is taking place right now is as old fashioned and wholesomely Americana as it gets. The fellow walks his date to the door and gets a goodnight kiss. It feels good, but it needs to remain at the front door, at least for now. Is that too corny?”

  “Considering that we’re not a couple of kids, it’s perfect, Grayson. Today’s ethical standards and, honestly, our base natural instincts encourage me to invite you in and let the devil take tomorrow. You likely agree…and don’t deny it, cowboy. You’re holding me too tightly against you not to notice. But we both know it’s not the right thing to do.”

  He took her keys and opened the door. “Let’s keep this evening one to remember.”

  They kissed again before she entered and closed the door. He waited until she locked it before getting into his pickup and driving away.

  Sitting in their swing on their dark porch and wrapped together in a warm blanket, Bertha and Ernest Becker held hands and smiled.

  Islamic State of America - 9

  Texas State Prison

  Year -4

  When Akeem arrived for his daily session, Murtadha was bragging about killing the infidels and getting his seventy-two virgins by dying bravely in battle. “…and when me and my men kill the infidels, they’ll go to El Diablo, and everyone will know us as brave warriors who fight for Allah.”

  He addressed his men with the wrath of a god. “Leave now if you are afraid to die. I’ll not have cowards for soldiers.” Every man held his place, heads high as an indication of their resolve.

  Akeem greeted the men and asked if there were any questions from the previous instruction.

  “I understand who the infidels are you talk about,” Marco said, “but who are the apostles?”

  Marco was the one man in the group Akeem wasn’t sure he trusted. “The word is ‘apostates’, not apostles, like the weak men who followed the prophet, Jesus.” Akeem spoke with hardened disgust.

  The men stared at him with blank faces.

  “Understand, we are Sunni Muslims. We are Pure. Shiia are the apostates, the same as the unbelievers—the infidels—and must be eradicated. Allah commands it.”

  Carlos was confused and wondered how to ask his question without sounding stupid. He took a sidetrack. “Is Mohammed the same for both?”

  “There was only one Mohammed,” Akeem said then went into detail about the differences in Sunnis and Shiites. His effort ended in more confusion. He changed directions to avoid losing them. “As you can see, there is much to learn.”

  To regain his footing, he asked, “What are you thinking now?”

  Miguel shook his head. “An imam is a Sunni holy man, but what is a caliph?”

  “A caliph is a special imam, selected from a council of imams. He is the head civil and religious ruler of an Islamic state, which we call a caliphate. It can be a very large area of land.”

  “You mean like Texas?” Miguel asked.

  Akeem stroked his long beard. “Yes, but it can also be larger.”

  Marco remained confused. “Akeem. I thought all Muslims were the same.”

  Carlos intervened. “Don’t get too deep into it right away, hombres. Let Akeem teach us as he sees fit. We got mucho tiempo, much time. We will learn.”

  Marco started to say something but Carlos’ glare cowed him into silence. Carlos was as confused as Marco, but he wanted to get to the killing of infidels and his seventy-two virgins.

  Akeem gave Carlos a look of approval and decided to keep an eye on Marco by retaining him in Carlos’ cell instead of giving him one of his own to lead. A decision he would come to regret.

  The jihadist recruits sat on the prison yard ground. Akeem’s ploy to bring the group together in a cohesive bond was proving successful. “Did you know that we—you and I—all share the same blood?” Akeem asked.

  Carlos and Miguel knew their connection. What was Akeem doing now?

  “You are from Egypt; we are from Mexico. How can we share the same blood?” one of the men asked.

  Akeem directed a question at the man. “You have Spanish blood, right?”

  “We all do. Indian blood, too.”

  “Our Muslim brothers, the Moors, ruled Spain almost three hundred years from 711 to 997. During the Crusades, the Christians murdered the Moors they couldn’t drive back to Africa and the Middle East. Ah. But our Moor brothers left their Muslim blood in Spanish children. You are sons of the Moors, and the Moors are descendants of my Egyptian ancestors. That, my brothers, means you and I share the same bloodline through our Spanish heritage.”

  Nods of understanding showed all around. The men were beginning to gain a sense of unity they’d never known in their gang affiliation.

  “Those who live through combat will be soldiers for Allah. You will return to America, brave warriors, to make ready for the time to cut off the heads of the infidels and implement Sharia, the law that pleases Allah. Carlos will be your leader, and each who proves himself a worthy leader will be his deputy, with cells of your own.”

  “How will we know when it’s time?” asked Marco.

  “That is something to learn when we meet with Imam Omar.” He wasn’t privy to Imam Omar’s Master Plan, but they did not need to know. Akeem described the training while in prison and how they would meet in Monterrey, Mexico to travel to Egypt for jihadi training, then to Africa to conduct holy war.

  When their session was over, Akeem met with Carlos alone. “This man, Marco, who asks many questions, I am uneasy about him.”

  Murtadha shrugged. “That’s the way Marco hangs. He asks more questions in an hour than most men in a year.”

  “He is trustworthy?”

  “Mean as a toro. He never fails me. Always does what I tell him.”

  Akeem’s hooded black eyes scraped over Carlos’ face. “I trust you are correct. Tell me, brother, what are your thoughts now that you understand better about Islam?”

  I would kiss a burro’s ano, anus, rather than lose the chance to become educated and the most important man in Mexico. Traveling thousands of miles to learn about my new life and meet others who think and live as you do excite me.”

  Carlos had not told Akeem, but he was gradually memorizing the prayers as Akeem chanted them. Islam was taking him beyond anything he had ever dreamed. Woe be unto the infidels and apostates.

  Chapter 30

  Guess Who’s Getting Married?

  Year 4

  Grayson relaxed in his recliner with two fingers of Maker’s Mark in a crystal whiskey glass. A newly lit fire pushed a January chill from his man cave and the bourbon warmed his bones. Many evenings, he watched the sun slide behind the horizon through his bay window. Today’s vista painted a soft blue-green background with orange and red hues reflecting off the bottoms of huge puffy white clouds.

  He sipped his whiskey and contemplated the unopened letter from Louise. He worried about her health. She was more fragile since her heart attack the previous year. The unexpected call from the hospital put him in a panic that night, but the doctor assured him the bypass operation went well. She would recover well with proper care. but would need to slow down for a while. Grayson arranged for home health care and cardio rehab for her.

  He hoped she wasn’t writing about more of Daniel’s drinking too m
uch and crashing cars. He admired his son’s determination to work his way through the University of Texas, but he wished Daniel would make things easier on himself and accept money from his trust fund. He and his son had one major thing in common: They were bullheaded.

  Grayson pulled the single sheet of paper from the envelope, and a photo of a grinning Daniel with a beautiful young woman at his side dropped into his lap. His heart skipped at the sight of his grown son. He wished Louise was computer literate and sent frequent photos. Happy to see Daniel smiling, Grayson felt a glitch of sadness. Daniel’s boyhood was over, important years lost to them both. The woman in the photo held the back of her left hand close to the camera to highlight an engagement ring. His son was getting married.

  He looked forward to newsy reports from Louise. Her handwriting had grown spidery, and, as always, her lack of education unfolded in a charming way.

  Dear Nefew,

  I got some grate news fer you. Danny is engajed to be married to a wonderfull girl. Her name is Wanda and she is exactly what you and Margaret would want fer him. Ive been holding off telling you about her until I was sure she wasnt one of them silly girls he dated fer a short time. If you no what I mean. Hes a fine young man after all. Shes a Texas country gal from Comanche County and as smart as a whip. Never seen a girl with such common cents. Shes as pretty as a piture postcard, respectful, and likes to listen to Rush. The boy picked a girl just like his ma. Danny is sure head over heels with her. She takes care of my garden now that my heart wont let me do it no more and cans vegtables and makes jams fer me. She talks Danny into going on them backpacker walks and she shoots guns like Annie Oakley. Like you already no Danny finished hi school a year ahead an hes takin extry college class to finish it a year ahead to. Him and Wanda is gonna marry as soon as they graduate. She takes extry classes to finish early to. They go to church regular and aint said nothing to me but I thank theyre waiting to marry before they get into bed together. More likely than not its her idea not his. That’s just so you no. They show me their reports and make reel good grades. Youd be proud of them. Wanda reads yor letters and Danny don’t care that she does but he wont read them. Hes stubburn like that. Just like you. I’ll send you more on their doings in a couple of weaks.