Islam Rising

by Johnny Jacks

  Shocked faces watched to see what would happen next.

  When the rabbit stopped quivering, Mark reached for it, but Yolanda pushed him aside. Tears pouring, she moved at top speed, released the rabbit from the hook, grabbed the knife from the table, sliced open its belly, removed the gallbladder, and slung the rest of the innards to Millie. Intensely focused, she cut off the rabbit’s head and skinned it the way Yeung demonstrated. It wasn’t the prettiest job, but Mark was pleased that she conquered her emotions and took a step closer to becoming his homesteading partner.

  She slammed the knife on the table. “Satisfied?”

  Everyone broke out in cheers and hugs while she held her arms with their bloody hands extended.

  “I’m proud of you,” Mark said. “You just became a bona fide survivalist.”

  Yolanda glared at all of them. There were no words for what she was feeling. Intellectually, she understood the act of killing animals as necessary to her survival. Regardless of her acquiescence to that reality, it didn’t relieve her of the knowledge that a certain innocence she retained from childhood had just vanished in the flash of a bloody knife. She could no longer feel affection for the beautiful, innocent animals that would keep her alive.

  “Okay folks, we’re burning daylight,” Ramirez said. “Finish skinning these critters and pack them on ice. We’ll can them tomorrow. Grayson has a report for us on the local prepper group. Let’s move it! This will be our first meal in the new lodge.”

  “Hand me another one,” Yolanda said, her voice shaking.

  ~~~

  On the way to the lodge, Ramirez pulled Grayson aside for a small chat. “It’s none of our business, but Mama and I are concerned for you. We have a friend in Houston you may be interested in that we can bring for a short visit. A man needs a mate.”

  Grayson startled himself with his quick reply and the misgivings it stirred within him. “Actually, Chief, I’m dating someone local.”

  Ramirez cocked his head and squinted his eyes. “Did I detect a little hesitation, son?”

  Grayson’s reply spoke for itself. “She’s a great gal, Chief, but…I guess...well…I can’t seem to commit myself to her and don’t want to jinx it by saying anything more...in case it doesn’t work out…you know.”

  “This coming from the most impulsive man in the state of Texas,” Ramirez said while shaking his head, releasing one of his famous belly laughs.

  “Something keeps nagging at me, holding me back.”

  Ramirez patted Grayson affectionately on his shoulder. “Mama and I are always available if you want to chat. Now, let’s get to the lodge. Just think, son, except for the cake, every bite of this meal was produced right here, even the cornbread.”

  ~~~

  After a quick meal of green salad, grilled chicken and rabbit, okra, squash, cornbread, and one of Grace’s big caramel cakes, Ramirez called the MAG to order for their monthly meetup. “Great job today, guys, and we’re especially proud of you, Yolanda. Survival entails performing unpleasant tasks at times.”

  Still pale, her eyes swollen from crying, she’d refused to eat any of the meat at supper. She nodded. “Thanks for being patient with me.”

  Ramirez motioned for Grayson. “Give us a quick overview of the new lodge.”

  “Glad to, Chief. The fireproof Hardi planks on the outside make it appear to be a wood structure but the concrete walls are thick enough to stop a 30-06 round. The second floor is for overflow sleeping quarters. It has cots but you’ll have to use your own sleeping bags from your BOBs tonight. It also has gun ports for fending off attackers; ground level has the kitchen, dining, and general assembly areas. The belowground area is where we store our two-year supply of food, firearms, ammo, medical supplies, and Faraday cages with electronics equipment with concealed access through the kitchen pantry. Any questions?”

  “I’m confused,” Charles said, and he pointed to the back of the lodge. “I went downstairs through the stairway. Nothing secret about it.”

  “You entered the TOC,” Grayson replied. “There’s a solid concrete wall between it and the hidden storage area. Access is through a concealed door in the kitchen pantry.”

  “Do we have a tick for the tock?” Charles asked.

  After the laughter died down, Grayson explained. “It’s spelled T-O-C and that stands for tactical operations center. It’s where we monitor and direct field activities, like security patrols, counter- attacks against bad guys, or send reinforcements to weak spots. We’ll furnish the TOC with an off-grid power system, topographical and road maps of the area, military surplus field phones that connect to all the buildings, and short-range radios. There’s a communications room, too. Keep your eyes open for a ham operator who knows how to operate shortwave radios.”

  “I’m starting to feel good about our secret BOL,” Samuel said. “We’ll be safe holed up here during the die-off.”

  Grayson almost mentioned again his desire to combine with the SET Patriots, but caught himself in time not to allow a shouting match to ensue. “It’s been a great day, guys, but still a lot of work left canning meat tomorrow. Grab your BOBs and find a room. Lights out at twenty-two hundred hours.”

  Islamic State of America - 11

  Islamic Social Center in Monterrey, Mexico

  Year 1

  Tired from travel, Carlos and Miguel stepped from the taxi with their recruits from Houston and entered the Islamic Social Center. Imam Omar and Akeem eagerly greeted them. “Welcome, brothers, As-salāmu alaykum, peace be upon you,” the holy man said and gave them a kiss on each cheek, his eyes wide with awe at these descendants of Mohammed standing before him.

  “Alaykumu as-salām, and upon you, peace,” they replied.

  Hearing of their arrival, Muslim brothers that composed Carlos’ jihadi cell came pouring from the meeting room to greet their leader. Many were his former inmates but others he did not recognize.

  After exchanging introductions, Imam Omar reminded them of their limited time. “We are scheduled to depart for Cairo in two days. Let us retire to the meeting room and I will explain the Master Plan.”

  The men situated themselves comfortably and every eye focused on Imam Omar.

  Speaking in Arabic, he began by praising them. “Akeem, you have done well, Alhamd lilah, thanks be to god.” Looking over the group, he continued, “You have studied diligently and are ready for the next step, to begin training as soldiers to serve Allah in holy war.”

  Akeem and the group beamed with pride at the holy man’s words.

  “I and my men are pure. We give ourselves to Allah and are not afraid to die. We will continue to do His will until martyred in battle and enter Paradise, Allahu Akbar, god is great,” spoke Carlos with pride. I have done the will of Allah. I killed the infidel wife and daughter of that gringo detective, a worthless woman that got in my way, and a family of apostates that turned from Islam. I will return to Houston and kill the detective.”

  Carlos’ bravado showed no fear externally, but deep inside he knew Grayson Dean was also fearless and sought to kill him. The thought bore Carlos an unexpected shiver of fear.

  “You are truly a descendent of Mohammed—peace be upon him,” Imam Omar said and then gave Carlos a dead stare. “But be warned; do not return to Houston until the time is right. Your personal enemy can wait.”

  Akeem flinched and prayed that his primary understudy kept control of his emotions.

  Carlos did not disappoint him. He now held control over his old instinct to retaliate immediately when attacked. For now, he thought of the chase and his narrow escape and conceded control to the holy man. “I understand, but one day I will cut the head from that detective. I will remove it slowly with a dull knife and listen to him squeal and beg for his life as I slice into the back of his neck, down to his throat, taking much pleasure in the moment his last stinking breath escapes from his lungs and sends him into hell.”

  Imam Omar was pleased with Carlos’ response, but changed the discussio
n to his primary purpose for being there by asking questions. “When will there be peace?” he asked and waited for someone to respond.

  Expecting instructions instead of a question, the men, caught off guard, looked around at one another. After a few seconds, Miguel spoke, “There can be no peace until Islam, through its holy law of Sharia, rules the world.”

  “Ah. Very good. Now what are we and our brothers doing to achieve peace?”

  Marco answered, “Our brothers are conducting jihad against the infidels, killing them throughout Western Civilization through terrorism. We will soon join the holy war.”

  Imam Omar responded, “You are partially correct. It is not possible to kill all of them now. They are many and we are few.” He gave them time to think about this dilemma before continuing. “The real battle is going on under the noses of the infidels without a shot being fired or a bomb being detonated. As long as we keep the infidels focused on terrorism, others work quietly in the background to overwhelm them. How will this take place?”

  Carlos provided clarification, which pleased Akeem. “Allah will rule the world. As long as we are few, we cannot insist that the infidels eliminate their laws and follow Sharia. We will use the liberal politicians, the laws of the West, and their welfare system to establish Muslim neighborhoods where the infidels dare not go. We will breed Muslim children under Sharia. We will systematically take control of towns and cities until we become the majority, such as our brothers are doing now, and expand through immigration and high birthrates until we outnumber them. When we have control, we will bring Sharia on the infidels. They will become Muslims or they will die.”

  “Akeem has taught you well, Carlos,” Imam Omar turned to the group. “As we speak, our brothers are invading and conquering Europe. In America, Canada, and Australia, we established communities where we ignore the infidels’ laws and where they dare not go, the fools. Allah blinds them.”

  Marco raised his hand. “With much respect, Imam Omar, I am compelled to ask: Since it will take many generations to outbreed and conquer Western Civilization, is it not logical to conclude that we will be long dead before that happens? What then is our purpose? Are we to become jihadist and use terror tactics to slowly kill the infidels?”

  Akeem felt uneasy and made temporary eye contact with Carlos but Imam Omar’s response eased his anxiety. “You have directed us to the next item of our discussion, but it is almost time for evening prayer. We will continue tomorrow.”

  After evening prayer, Imam Omar motioned to Akeem to follow him.

  Chapter 33

  Their Special Day

  Year 5

  “Laura, what a marvelous candlelight dinner. You’ve made the whole day feel special.”

  She gave him one of those looks that, as soft as it appeared and combined with a certain sweet tone, strikes fear in a man’s heart. “It is a special day, sweetheart.”

  His face went blank and warning flags began popping up. Crap! I’m in trouble. What did I forget? Margaret always gave me hints.

  Laura handed him a card and a small box perfectly wrapped in baby blue paper and tied with a matching ribbon. “Happy anniversary, love.”

  His ears flushed with embarrassment, he stared blankly at the gift and card but didn’t open them. Did we celebrate our first year? Who makes these rules, anyway? His time in the Army taught him that immediately admitting to mistakes was the only way to correct them and, in some cases, avoid disciplinary action.

  “Laura, I’m sorry. I completely forgot.”

  She didn’t look at him and her voice was flat with a hint of irritation when she replied. “Last year, our first year, we went to dinner and dancing, so I thought this year, we would do something a little more intimate. Can’t say I’m not disappointed that you forgot, but I suspect there’s more to it.”

  The same doomed feeling he got when a teacher sent him to the principal’s office hovered over him. The teacher sent a note outlining his current infraction and a recommended reprimand, making it a long walk to the office.

  Laura’s unopened envelope in his hand suddenly felt hot. He laid it on the table.

  Grayson knew this feeling far too well. He’d spent his life as an alpha male. Letting someone down and being less of a man was foreign to him. He was accustomed to facing any foe or problem head on and without fear. When a teacher sent him to the principal, he got a lecture and a note sent home. His father counted on him to be the first in their family to go to college, and Grayson was determined not to fail him, but the little boy in him kept getting in the way. He welcomed the taste of the belt. It brought him restitution through penance and bolstered his resolve to walk a straighter line.

  More than his father, he hated disappointing Margaret. Her lectures, even in elementary school, stung more in his heart than his father’s belt on his bottom. They both helped him learn to stand strong and be a leader. Did losing Margaret, his partner in life, have that much of an effect on him?

  “Stop worrying about it, cowboy. Every man, and frankly, some women fall victim to forgetting a special day sometime in their life.”

  “I’ll make it up to you, baby. I promise.” His hands were ice cold as he reached for her.

  She teasingly pulled back and laughed. “Yes, you will, and big time, too.”

  “To quote Jackie Gleason, ‘Baby, you’re the greatest.’”

  She tilted her head to the side and gave him a big smile. “Whoever Jackie Gleason is, I accept the compliment. You’re an amazing man, Mr. Dean, number one on my list any day. Now, let’s eat.”

  After dinner, they retired to the living room couch where Grayson pulled her to him. “Thanks for this great meal and thinking of me on this special day. I’m sorry I flubbed it.”

  She put a finger to his lips. “You didn’t flub anything. Aren’t you going to open your present?”

  “I can’t. It wouldn’t be right. Let’s do this over again, that is if you’ll accept a dinner date with me.”

  “I look forward to it.”

  “Where do you want to go for dinner?”

  She laughed. “You’re not getting off that easy. Part of your make-it-up-to-me is to cook us a meal from scratch, the same as I did, and set the table with candles, have soft music playing in the background, and a fire in the fireplace.”

  “You got it. I’ll cook you a meal to remember. Now, what did you want to talk about?”

  Laura looked down at her hands twisting in her lap. “To be honest, I need you to talk to me, to tell me where we’re headed. Everything between us seems perfect, but we’re stuck in neutral. The bottom line is…I want to establish a family and I’m still young enough to have more children…if that enters the picture. I’m not sure that’s what you want.”

  “So, you’re saying that you’re ready to get married?”

  “That would be nice under the right circumstances, if we both feel it and want the same thing.”

  Grayson looked down in thought, then raised his head, looked into her beautiful eyes. “Laura, you’re right. I’m the one that’s been drifting along in neutral and that’s not fair to you.”

  “Tell me your honest opinion, Grayson. Who are we as a couple and what do you see in our future?”

  “Give me a little time to pray on it. Okay?”

  “Of course, and, Grayson, determine what’s best for you. Be honest with yourself. I’m not trying to pressure you into marriage. It would likely end in disaster for both of us if we don’t want the same things out of our relationship.”

  “I agree.”

  “Give it some time and thought and ask God to provide you with the answer.”

  “Speaking of time, dinner will be served tomorrow at six p.m. sharp, and it’s a dress-up occasion.” Smooth transition knucklehead.

  “You don’t have to do this, really.”

  “I want to, really.”

  “Okay, cowboy, I’ll be here at six sharp with a big appetite. And don’t give me that freeze-dried stuff like you did on
one of our tactical training exercises.” Her face looked like she had sucked on a lemon.

  “Hey, that was a gourmet dinner. It said so on the side of the package, right next to where it said, 'Add hot water and stir.’”

  Laura grinned. “Remember the DVD we watched last month of Crocodile Dundee? Well, you can live on it but it tastes like shit.”

  On the way home, Grayson kept kicking himself for not marking this date on his calendar. He would put every bit of cooking ability he could muster into making it up to her.

  ~~~

  Grayson spent the entire day working his way through online recipe books, gathering groceries, and preparing a special dinner for Laura. He had a lot of making up to do and committed himself to putting on a performance fit for his queen. He completed the finest meal he had every prepared in his life: chateaubriand with béarnaise sauce, oven-roasted asparagus, and chateau potatoes, all made from scratch and served with Pinot Noir, her favorite wine. For dessert, he created peach cobbler from Margaret’s delicious recipe, and served it with coffee spiked with brandy. A little trickery to ameliorate his situation was okay, wasn’t it?

  The meal was in warm serving dishes, candles lit, and his suit on just before Laura knocked. That’s when it hit him. He focused on the meal and forgot about a present! No need to panic. He had already placed her present and card to him on the table and she was at the door; he had no choice but to answer it.

  Grayson opened the door to find Laura in a deep-purple silk dress that fit every curve perfectly. Looking her up and down, he whistled. “Hellooo, lovely lady. My but you look stunningly beautiful tonight!”

  “Thank you, Mr. Dean. Your invitation stated that this is a dressy occasion. I must say, you are as handsome as Prince Charming in that well-tailored suit. Hmmm, something smells great.”