Islam Rising

by Johnny Jacks

  “What else?” Scott asked.

  “You might define the mission need for a big store like Walmart requires ten guards per shift in eight-hour shifts. Roads must have physical barriers and roving patrols between them to maintain civil order and arrest criminals. You are limited only by your imagination.”

  Wayne began to laugh. “Your theory sounds good and probably works with a battalion of marines. We’re small in number. As you were speaking, I envisioned at least ten mission needs. We’re a tad short to even save Walmart.”

  “Speak fer yorself,” Elmer Martel slung at Wayne. “Ain’t nobody gittin by Old Bess and me.” He held his granddaddy’s 12-gauge high and gave it a pat on the barrel.

  “The answer to your manpower issue is rooted in the fact that everyone in your community will be scared to death. They’ll respond to those who know what to do, have a plan, and supply leadership. The better prepared you are, the greater the chance others will follow you and offer to help.” He zeroed in on Elmer Martel. “You have to be quick, before the community goes into panic mode, running all over the place, shooting everyone that looks cross-eyed at them. Moving slow makes things ten times more difficult. That’s why being prepared ahead of time is vital to the success of your mission.”

  “You can lead a horse to water but you can’t make him drink. Some folks won’t appreciate setting ourselves up as their saviors.” The man in a back corner with his John Deere cap pulled low triggered the cop in Grayson. Patently territorial, his voice deep, resonant, he spoke with authority. He’d slipped in silently with two Sumo wrestler-sized men after Grayson started his presentation. A monied man not used to being told what to do.

  Someone cleared his throat, and Grayson realized everyone was waiting for him to respond. He didn’t break contact with the John Deere cap man.

  “Your neighbors will follow anybody who exhibits leadership and has a clue what to do. Once the SET Patriots are a well-trained militia with well-defined mission needs and requirements, your neighbors will step up to the plate to follow and assist you.”

  “Do tell,” Laura said. He pretended not to hear her.

  “Each of you would be responsible for specific requirements. Establish yourselves within the community. Let them know who the Patriots are, what you’re capable of, and why you’re a blessing not a threat.”

  Side conversations filled the air. Wayne stood. “Let our neighbor finish.”

  “Quick example. The collapse occurs. You rush and pass out flyers to meet at the high school football stadium at 10 a.m.”

  Wayne walked towards Grayson. “The poop hits the fan, everyone is armed and scared to death, and we’re going to pass out flyers.”

  Elmer Martel and his cronies got a good laugh.

  Grayson smiled. “The flyer gives people a focal point. It’s like an emergency hurricane plan, but in this case, you notify them to bring their weapons with extra ammo.”

  “Almost everyone will show up, but I honestly wouldn’t know where to begin.”

  “Imagine the SET Patriots are on the high school football field lined up about ten feet apart when the people gather.” He pointed to Lucas. “Let’s say you’re in charge of Walmart security and need thirty militiamen. Pick thirty folks and have them leave the stands and line up behind you. Do the same for each of your member’s area of responsibility.”

  “If we do that, they’ll come out in droves. We’d have folks left over. Can’t leave them out of the action without hurt feelings.” Who gives a shit if their feelings are hurt? You’re talking life and death. Cool it!

  Laura saved him. “They’ll be the reserve to fill in for regular team members that can’t make a shift and for a quick reaction team to reinforce trouble spots.”

  “Good thinking, Laura. Each team leader gives a quick training session. I know this sounds simplistic, but it gives you an idea of how to maximize your community’s security.”

  “Grayson, you’re a genius,” Wayne grinned. Comments of agreement bubbled up from the group. Laura beamed with pride at the man she’d grown to like more every day.

  “I appreciate it, but my background gives me insight, nothing more. You’ll also need rules of engagement that explain the lawful use of deadly force, to keep folks from shooting everyone that crosses their path.”

  Elroy blurted out, “I’ll shoot any SOB that messes with me and mine!”

  Grayson saw a chance to emphasize his point. “Okay, Elroy. You see someone stealing food from your garden. What’d you do?”

  Elroy threw out his chest. “Well, a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.”

  “Are you saying you’d shoot the person?”

  “Damn tootin!”

  “The thief is a four-year-old girl. Do you shoot her in the head or the chest?”

  The blood drained from Elroy’s face.

  “That’s why you have rules of engagement.”

  “You’ll also need to establish good rapport with law enforcement. It’s essential that they think of you as an extension of their force. You pick up a criminal, turn him over to the sheriff or Palestine police.”

  “The sheriff ain’t no problem. He’s my brother-in-law and only arrests me when I’m too drunk to remember his name,” George said.

  Wayne closed the discussion. “Grayson, you haven’t spoken more than thirty minutes but gave us more information than we came up with over the past four years. You’re welcome to return and share your thoughts, even if you don’t join us.”

  A round of applause told Grayson he had been successful establishing himself with the SET Patriots, but there was one more item to address.

  “Take ten and then we’ll practice tactical maneuvers.”

  Wayne looked at the troublemakers and pointed them to a place for private conversation.

  Grayson moved to join them but Laura grabbed his arm. “Let Wayne handle this. It’s not your place to interfere in local business.”

  “I am local business and I’m going to communicate with those boys in a language they understand. If I don’t, I’ll remain an outsider and continue to have problems. It’s a man thing. Stay here,” he ordered and walked away.

  “Male chauvinist pig,” she muttered angrily under her breath, and then was shocked at her primal sensual attraction for the man.

  Wayne didn’t pull punches. “What the hell is going on with you three? You acted like idiots. We asked a neighbor that can help us and you treat him like shit.”

  Elmer Martel looked up at Grayson. “It ain’t nothing personal, mister. It’s just that you ain’t from here, and we don’t need no outsiders butt’n inta our business.”

  Wayne started to say something, but Grayson held up his hand. “I’m the new dog in town, and you three don’t want me pissing on your trees. As a man, I understand that. Respect it, too. What you forget is that I’m a Texan, same as you, and have my own tree. Don’t think you can piss on it. As long as we have an understanding, we’re okay.”

  Leaning his formidable presence slightly toward them and balling his huge fists, Grayson did something he hadn’t done since high school. “You assholes interrupt me again, and I’ll drag all three of your sorry asses into the woods.” Giving each a dead stare, he finished. “You won’t like what happens after that, but if you want, we can take care of this little problem right now.”

  They studied the bulk of the man.

  “We ain’t lookin fer no trouble. We just wanted to get our opines in,” a cowed Darnell said. “No hard feelings, mister?”

  Wayne noticed the rest of the group watching them and defused the situation. “You three have a choice. Join us for our tactical exercise or leave the SET Patriots. We don’t have room for anybody that disrupts the organization. What’s it gonna be?”

  Without a word, the three men turned and walked towards the group, mumbling as they went. Out of range, Elroy boasted, “We could’a took him.”

  Elmer Martel grunted. “I ain’t the best educated man, but I ain’t no fool ne
ither. Rekon he ain’t all that bad.”

  “Grayson, I apologize for these idiots. Good men, but not the brightest bulbs on the Christmas tree. I hope this doesn’t sour you on us.”

  “I come from a long line of rednecks and understand those boys. They’ll be alright, now.”

  Wayne chuckled. “They may still cause a little trouble until their egos smooth down.”

  Grayson looked around, but couldn’t find the man in the John Deere hat.

  “What’s the story with the guy who came in late, the one in the John Deere hat?”

  “Don’t know much, other than he’s exceedingly rich—rumors are he’s a billionaire—married to a Middle Eastern woman, and has an adult son. He bought a thousand acres ten years ago and built a huge compound in the middle of it. He comes to meetups but doesn’t train with us. It’s a short walk through the woods to his place. You’re welcome to join us for training and the cookout after.”

  “I appreciate the invitation, but I’ve got a lot to do at home. Jack puts up quite a fuss when I’m late with his daily treat, and I have to get ready for my organic farming club. They’ll be here tomorrow to slaughter rabbits and chickens to take back to Houston.”

  Grayson socialized with the SET Patriots for a few minutes and offered his hand to all, including the three dissenters. The group grabbed their rifles and headed toward the woods.

  Laura took Grayson’s hand and walked him to his pickup where she jerked his arm. “You’re so full of it.”

  “What?”

  “These guys may buy your BS about not being a prepper, but not me. Don’t worry. Your secrets are safe with me.”

  “Laura, I don’t know what you’re tal—”

  “Yes, you do know what I’m talking about, mister. I’m proud of you and glad you’re here to guide the SET Patriots.” She looked up into his blue eyes. “We need you…I need you, Grayson Dean.”

  “Then why did you give me such a hard time today?”

  “I had you figured out before the meetup and wanted to give you some jazz to keep you on your toes, see if you’re worthy of a good woman. You may want to move your prepper books into your office instead of leaving them in your man cave for everyone to see.”

  His face flushed and he chuckled. “Did I pass your…hmm…evaluation?”

  Her answer was a big hug and kiss to send him on his way. Grayson appreciated the action of her slim, well-formed body jogging across the field. Never seen camouflage pants fit so well.

  Laura didn’t look back but held a finger in the air and wagged it at him, letting him know she was aware of his naughty thoughts.

  A flashback to following Shannon into the casino sent an unexpected gush of deep yearning and an intense urge to see her. Their entanglement surged through him and a hot passion hit his nether regions. One night of illicit hot sex, and an archenemy overpowered him. You’d better come up with some tactical maneuvers to get that hot-blooded woman out of your system.

  No matter how hard he tried, he wasn’t able to convince himself she was nothing but a pleasant memory. It wasn’t over, not by a longshot.

  Driving home, Grayson contemplated the silent man in the John Deere cap and made a mental note to have Joe check him out.

  Islamic State of America - 10

  Islamic Social Center in Monterrey, Mexico

  Year 1

  Two months ago, the State of Texas released Carlos Murtadha. Unrecognizable as the illiterate, aimless gangbanger who entered four years earlier, he walked out an educated man focused on his new and depraved life’s mission. His knowledge of history from the Islamist’s perspective permeated his psyche, eliminating any conflicting truths.

  The wickedness that invaded and controlled his soul imbued him with an evil presence that no longer required bare knuckles and a forged swagger to impose his will. Now, other men—the infidels—robotically sidestepped his path and averted their eyes for fear of making direct contact and becoming a target of his Islamic ire. Yet, with his own—his Muslim brothers—he was genial, his voice indulgent and hypnotic.

  Imam Omar had just arrived from Cairo and he was anything but pleased. He expected Carlos and his men to be ready for their initial briefing and training to build their team integrity and cohesiveness.

  “Akeem, it’s been two months since Carlos was released. You ordered him to report here immediately, to the Islamic Social Center. Where is he?” he demanded.

  “He told me in an email yesterday that he is on his way from Houston and will arrive in four days,” Akeem replied.

  Imam Omar took a deep breath. “Houston is a dangerous place for him. Why did he disobey your orders?”

  While Akeem understood Carlos, it was still difficult to explain the man’s character to this holy man who only knew the Islamic ways. “After his father was killed, he was not raised as a Muslim as were we, but lived without direction and discipline. He has made much progress but it will take a little more time with this one.”

  Imam Omar was not pleased. “What has he been doing for the past two months?”

  “After being deported, he re-entered America to search for and kill the detective that put him in prison.”

  “That was foolish and causes me to wonder if he is truly the chosen one, this descendant of Mohammed—peace be upon him.”

  Akeem’s mind worked furiously to find a way to mollify the holy man’s displeasure. “Carlos attended mosque in Houston, where he acquired several followers. He learned of a family that rejected Islam to become Christians. He led his soldiers to impose the will of Allah on the apostates and left behind an appropriate reminder to other of our Muslim brothers considering such foolishness.”

  Akeem thought it better not to tell about Carlos’ narrow escape from the detective.

  Imam Omar’s face relaxed as he analyzed Akeem’s statement and understood its significance. “He did as the law of Allah commands and killed those who turned from Islam, Alhamd lilah, thanks be to god.”

  Akeem had no doubt about Carlos’ devotion to Allah and knew the holy man would be pleased with this descendant of Mohammed. “Carlos proved himself pure and will lead his soldiers of Allah to victory over the infidels.”

  Imam Omar allowed Akeem his time of glory for allowing himself selflessly to enter prison and accomplishing such an inordinate task. “You served Allah admirably, Akeem. Is your understudy ready to be tested on the battlefield?”

  “Carlos Murtadha, a descendant of Mohammed—peace be upon him—is pure and ready. He serves Allah without question, without hesitation.”

  Chapter 32

  The First Big Slaughter

  Year 5

  Profusely sweating in the cool November air, “I can’t do it!” Yolanda screamed and let go of the beautiful snow-white rabbit’s hind legs. She jerked its head out of the hooks, and held the helpless critter to her chest, caressing its floppy ears.

  Samuel stepped in. “It’s not that difficult. Watch me.” He took the rabbit from her reluctant grasp, placed its head back in the hooks, held its dangling hind legs, and gave a quick, strong jerk to break its neck.

  Yolanda yelped and gave Samuel a dirty look; tears washed her pale face.

  The critter quivered for a few seconds and stilled. “See, there’s nothing to it. Now, hand me the knife and I’ll show you how to take out its innards and skin it.”

  Mark placed his arm around Yolanda’s shoulders. “Baby, I told you not to pet it. You became emotionally attached.”

  She wiggled her shoulders out from under his arm. “Oh, shut up!”

  Pablo walked from behind the barn to the rabbit processing crew, holding a headless chicken by its feet, the blood dripping from what was left of its neck. “The chickens’ heads are chopped off, and they’re hanging upside down, bleeding out. We’ll need some help dunking them in the hot water pot and plucking them after the blood has drained.”

  Yolanda shot sharp daggers at Pablo.

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” Yeung said.
He spoke empathetically to Yolanda. “We city folks think nothing of going to the supermarket and picking out a packet of chicken breasts to put on the grill, because we don’t see the process that got the chicken breasts in the packet in the first place. When the collapse occurs, and our survival is in our own hands, we must have the same attitude toward slaughtering animals as everyone else over the past tens of thousands of years. It will become an unemotional part of the daily routine.”

  “I don’t want to learn how to slaughter animals,” Yolanda said. “They’re so cute. I’ll let Mark do it.”

  “I know it’s tough, but you and Mark may have children someday. They’ll depend on you for survival. If Mark isn’t there, and that is a possibility, you’ll have to either do it or let your children starve.” He eased another rabbit from the pen and held it out for her to take. “Be brave and try again.”

  Yolanda shook her head vigorously. “No!”

  “You’re a tough cop. I’ve seen you run toward the shooting while others ran from it. You can do this,” Yeung said.

  “But I never shot anybody.”

  Everyone’s eyes were on Yolanda. Would she do what was necessary and carry through with the vile act to prepare herself mentally to help her family survive? Seconds passed as hours, but no one moved a muscle.

  Yolanda looked at the rabbit, its sad pink eyes staring at her and its nose wiggling. She took a deep breath, let it halfway out, and held it as if she was ready to pull the trigger on the range. She slowly reached out with shaking hands, snatched the beautiful white bundle from Yeung, and held it at arms-length for a moment.

  In one swift move, she hung its head in the hooks, grabbed its dangling legs, closed her eyes, and gave it a strong jerk, holding it for a few seconds longer than necessary. Then she flung her hands and body away from it.