by Ryan Garner
“Ama!?” Carla shouted now more confused than ever.
“La Hawla Wa La Quwwata Illa Billah” Salib stated, There is no power and no strength save in Allah. Salib’s face maintained the same blank expression. She slowly stood from the driver's seat and turned to look at Carla and the children who had grown quiet after seeing her strike one of their teachers.
“Ama, what are you doing?” Carla asked now highly perplexed. Salib slowly raised her hands above her head and stretched them out towards the seated children. This action further exposed the wires and detonator which she held in her right hand.
“La Hawla Wa La Quwwata Illa Billah!!!” Salib shouted at the top of her lungs. Carla finally realized what was happening and was instantly gripped with terror. She stumbled backwards away from her friend trying to make her escape down the center aisle of the bus, but she tripped over a book bag that one of the students had carelessly placed on the floor behind her. She tumbled backwards towards the black rubberized floorboards and struck them with a thud. She was only a few feet away from Salib who still held her hands spread out in the air in front of all of them.
“Ama no!!!” Carla shrieked as Salib depressed the red button on the detonator. A split second later a massive explosion tore through the interior of the school bus.
….
Abdul-Muhsi Fathi Najjar drove eastward on Piner Road towards Myrtle Grove Middle School. It would not be long now. He pressed down hard on the gas pedal of the school bus and pushed it into the floorboards. The engine of the old vehicle groaned and moaned as its body shook. It slowly accelerated along the small two lane road. Najjar's heart rate increased as his excitement grew. Soon he would reach the infidels’ school and carry out his mission. Soon he would be greeted in paradise by Allah and given his reward for “purifying” this world. He watched the double yellow line in the center of the road separate into a divided pattern, signaling the approach of the turn lane which would lead him to the school's main entrance.
“And kill them wherever you find them, and turn them out from where they have turned you out. And fight them until there is no more disbelief and worship is for Allah alone.” Najjar thought to himself, quoting Qur'an 2:191-193.
….
Forrest Keller stood carefully in the center of Piner Road directing traffic both into and out of Myrtle Grove Middle School. Due to the early release, traffic on the small road had become quite congested and he had decided to help reduce the gridlock by taking control of the roadway. Keller, a black male in his late thirties wore a gray and black security uniform and over top of that a high visibility green traffic vest with silver striping. Across the road from him, he had parked his Ford Taurus security vehicle with its bright amber LED lights flashing vividly in the afternoon sun.
Before becoming a volunteer armed security officer with the New Hanover County School District he had been an MP stationed at Fort Bragg near Fayetteville North Carolina. It was far from a dream position. Heck he didn't even get paid for his time, but he hoped that it would one day afford him the opportunity to be sworn in at a local or state police department. The position also gave him the opportunity to possess and carry a firearm, a rare instance for civilians in this day and age.
Since he had begun work at Myrtle Grove he had seen very little action. A few fights and skirmishes, some minor drug and alcohol violations here and there, but Keller had spent the majority of his time directing traffic, observing a few school sporting events, and checking to make sure doors were locked and vehicles were secured. There were days when he wondered if he should have stayed in the army as a Military Police Officer. Still he took his position seriously and especially in light of recent events he always tried to make sure that his school's security was paramount. His mind wandered slightly as he casually waved vehicles into the main entrance of the school.
Just then Keller glanced up and saw a school bus slowing behind the line of cars that he was directing into the school's parking lot. He found this to be slightly unusual. Most of the buses in the school were leaving so having one trying to enter was a little out of the ordinary. However, Keller mused that there were any number of reasons a bus would be returning to the school; a mechanic bringing it back from repair or possibly it had been called in from another school to help assist with transport. There were a multitude of reasons. Keller brushed off his suspicion and continued to wave the vehicles into the parking lot.
….
Abdul-Muhsi Fathi Najjar observed the security guard directing traffic into the school. There were several cars between him and the armed man and Najjar momentarily fought the urge to run the infidel down as he began his final approach. He held back the desire because he knew this action would only draw immediate attention and he wanted to maintain his stealthy approach for as long as possible. Still, it was a tempting idea, one that Najjar found almost humorous in nature. He allowed the bus to coast and slowly drove past the guard. Najjar even waved and smiled at the man as he made his left turn into the school's parking lot.
….
Keller politely waved back at the Arab male driving the school bus as the lumbering yellow vehicle made its turn in front of him. He was just about to shift his attention to the cars behind the bus when he was suddenly struck with the overwhelming smell of diesel fuel. He knew the school bus obviously used this fuel, but the smell was nearly overpowering. Was the bus leaking fuel? If so the driver needed to be notified immediately. But, there was something else that Keller couldn't quite put his finger on, something unusual about this situation and the driver that just didn’t feel right. He had learned a long time ago while in the army to trust his instincts and even though he did not know what it was, he felt that something was wrong. Keller stepped away from his position in the middle of the road and began to walk towards the bus. Given its slow speed he thought he might be able to just jog up to the vehicle and signal the driver to stop. Keller picked up his pace towards the bus.
….
Najjar was inside the perimeter of the school and the time for concealment was over. He would more than likely need the full length of the parking lot to build up enough speed in this old vehicle to ram his way as far as possible into the main building. Najjar slammed his foot down onto the gas pedal and again heard the engine groan and moan as the heavy bus began to accelerate. The fifty-five gallon drums clanged and rattled loudly against each other as the vehicle bounded roughly over the first set of speed bumps at the entrance to the school.
….
Something was wrong. Buses don't normally try to accelerate as fast as they can the moment they get into the school's parking lot. Keller postulated as he chased after the vehicle. He was considering going back for his security vehicle when it happened; a minivan pulled out in front of the school bus from one of the side parking lots. The front driver's side portion of the bus impacted the rear driver's side portion of the minivan and produced an immediate and very loud crash. The collision was so powerful that it spun the minivan completely around and almost turned it over onto its side. The driver of the bus never let off the gas and continued to accelerate towards the school.
Something is most definitely wrong... Keller thought as he took off in an all-out sprint, chasing after the bus on foot. Going back for his car was no longer an option. By the time he did that whatever was going to happen would already be over.
The bus drove up the curved public vehicular area towards the main building, its overburdened engine roaring as the driver forced the vehicle to move faster and faster. Students, teachers, and parents who were milling around the area moved quickly trying to get out of the way of what they believed to be an out of control school bus. Keller continued his futile pursuit of the vehicle.
….
Najjar turned his steering wheel to the right, aiming for a large group of students and teachers that had assembled about one hundred feet out in front of the school's main building. They were all waiting for buses and parents to pick up the children. A moment later
he felt the tires of his lumbering vehicle strike the curb and the bus lurched as it easily cleared the small concrete stopgap.
By the time most of the teachers and students in the waiting crowd realized what was happening it was already too late. Najjar heard hollow thudding sounds and felt the bus jostle and bounce back and forth as men, women, and children were plowed over. He observed their bodies being catapulted out in front of him from their impact with the large steel vehicle and heard the screams of horror as he continued on his vicious route.
“Al-Hamdu Lillahi Rabbil 'Alamin!!!!!” Praise be to Allah, the lord of worlds! Najjar shouted, as he crushed the fleeing individuals beneath the bus's tires. He was now driving on the large flat sidewalk area and would reach the school building in just seconds.
….
Keller was running through the grassy median that was surrounded by the traffic way when he saw the school bus jump the curb and begin to run down the awaiting teachers and students.
No!! He thought to himself as he drew his Beretta 92FS out of its holster. He was about fifty yards away from the bus, not an impossible shot for a 9mm, but certainly a difficult one, but he knew he had to do something. Keller slid to a halt and brought the firearm up to his eye line and focused in on the front sight post. He took careful aim and pressed the trigger of the weapon until he heard the loud pop of the firearm as it discharged. After firing the first round he quickly allowed the trigger to reset and then squeezed off a second round.
….
Najjar was still screaming, “Al-Hamdu Lillahi Rabbil 'Alamin!!!!!” when he saw the windshield on the passenger's side portion of the bus crack and split into a form resembling a spider web patter. The cracks protruded outwards from a small bullet hole in the glass. Someone was shooting at him. Najjar was slightly surprised. He had expected to encounter little if any resistance at all on his mission. However, this thought was short lived as his vehicle struck the front of the elongated brick school building just a split second after the bullet hit the windshield.
Najjar was violently thrown forward by the impact which in turn pulled the ignition cable that he had attached to his body and ignited the detonation cord. Instantly, a streak of hot orange light flew down the center walkway of the bus. The ignition was so fast that the rear of the bus did not even have enough time to completely rise up off the ground from the impact when it detonated. The massive explosion nearly cut the entire school building in half and caused a mushroom cloud of hot fire, smoke, and debris to rise into the air. The sticky make shift napalm diesel fuel along with the homemade shrapnel were thrown out in all directions by the concussive force. The teachers and children in the immediate area that had not been killed by the explosion were suddenly covered in a sticky and burning gel that adhered to their skin and could not be removed no matter how hard they tried. Others were spared the hellish death of liquid fire and were instead shredded and killed by the thousands of tiny pieces of metal that burst outwards in all directions.
….
Almost the second after Keller had fired his two rounds he saw the bus strike the school building and immediately after there was a massive and deafening explosion. The shockwave was so powerful that it hurled him backwards and into the air before allowing him to crash back to the earth. He felt the impact reverberate through his chest when he struck the ground.
The concussive force of the explosion was so strong that Keller could already feel his consciousness being pulled from him. He was only able to hear the ringing in his now bleeding ears as he stared up at the sky watching bits and pieces of the building, cars, bus, and people come falling back to the ground around him. His vision was narrowing into a dark tunnel and he felt pain coursing through his body. He tried to look up at the school, but his injuries were too severe to allow movement. The only thing he could do was stare up at the blue sky as blackness enveloped his vision.
….
Major Mark Tyler, Wilmington PD's head of the Field Operations Division was a tall, husky yet muscular, white male in his early fifties. He walked in his crisp black dress uniform at a brisk pace across the expansive parking lot of the main station towards his Police Explorer. The outbreak of riots and two sudden school bombings back to back had thrown the entire city into a state of bedlam.
Worse yet, with the assassination of Deputy Chief Schenberg, Chief Stickel now expected him to lead the charge in the “ground war” against whoever was responsible for these attacks while at the same time holding the rioters at bay. Tyler fully expected that Stickel would remain hold up in his office at the main station or if absolutely necessary cower in the mobile command center surrounded by officers and NGP soldiers until order could be restored. Truth be told though, Tyler couldn't blame Stickel for doing this. Heck, he'd do the same thing if he could. Screw the grunts! His own safety was his paramount concern.
Personally, Tyler believed that he shouldn't have to handle any type of situation this dangerous. This responsibility should fall to federal officials, the National Guard, the National Governing Police, and other similar agencies. If he could, he'd hold everyone back until the violent fires of this civil unrest had burned themselves out. Only then would he send officers in to sweep up the mess and take the necessary reports for investigative and court processes, civil liability matters, and insurance purposes. If any of the hoodlums tried to hold up anywhere, he would simply surround the area and if necessary send in the department's Selective Enforcement Unit; which was a more tactful way of referring to Wilmington's SWAT team. It had been determined that the latter description had too many negative connotations and the city had therefore chosen a less threatening name for its tactical unit.
Tyler continued to bemoan the situation as he reached his police cruiser. He had never liked being an officer. He found the job burdensome, stressful, and far too dangerous. For goodness sakes, he had a Masters in English from UNC Chapel Hill. He should be a professor at some prestigious college somewhere. He deserved to have a cushy office with an endless stream of loose and willing coeds at his disposal. He shouldn't have to deal with Wilmington turning into Fallujah; that should be someone else's job entirely. His thoughts were briefly interrupted as the thudding blades of Wilmington’s SABLE helicopter unit quickly flew over the parking lot, headed towards one of the school bombing areas. The sound of the chopper’s blades reverberated across the city’s skyline.
Tyler continued his self-centered lament after the temporary interruption. He would never even have become an officer if it hadn't been for his father, a former State Trooper. It was he who had suggested that Tyler take a job in Law Enforcement after his graduation from college because even back then, stable, well-paying employment was becoming harder and harder to come by. Tyler had initially assumed it would be a temporary position, one that he would quickly escape once a more agreeable offer came along. But, that day never came and with the economic situation only growing worse he found himself gaining more and more favor with the command staff. Soon he managed to catapult himself to a major's position and the substantial salary that went along with it.
Most days this was an easy enough job. He remained hidden in his office working banker's hours and was more than content to spend his time reviewing Internal Affairs reports, recommending officer’s disciplinary actions to the deputy chief, and flirting with his married secretary. Still, there were days such as today that reminded him of just how much he hated everything about this career. He was just over a year away from retirement and he couldn't get away from this place fast enough. He planned on taking his wife (and possibly even his mistress if he could somehow work the details out) to Florida or some other warm state. Wherever he ended up he planned on staying as far the hell away from Wilmington and police work as he possibly could.
Today though, he was being forced to lead the fight against brutal terrorists and general civil unrest; as if he gave a damn. Of course he wasn't about to stick his own neck out for anyone. He would ensure that he was nowhere near the front lin
es, remaining as far away from harm as possible. Hell, that hazard should fall to the line officers, not command staff like him. Nevertheless, having to leave the “fortifications” of the main station to help coordinate Wilmington PD’s response plan was ridiculous. Even if Stickel needed a fall guy, Tyler knew he could accomplish most of his leadership duties from his office. Sure there may have been a little bit of a lag time when it came to relaying information, but that wasn't really his concern. He was going to go home at the end of the night no matter what.
Tyler slammed the door to his Police Explorer and started the engine. Even more infuriating to him was that he had already begun to hear rumors of some officers speaking of abandoning their posts or not coming to work entirely should the riots make it to their neighborhoods; choosing instead to stay at home to protect their own families. Tyler knew he would be recommending those individuals for disciplinary action or termination at a later date, but for right now he would work with what he had while at the same time ensuring his own safety. He shifted the sport utility vehicle into gear.
Suddenly, the windshield of the Explorer fractured violently as a 7.62mm hollow point round burst through the glass sending out cracks in all directions. The 174 grain projectile barely slowed down as it easily shredded Tyler's soft body armor and entered his chest cavity. The hollow point bullet rapidly mushroomed open after penetrating a few inches into Tyler's body causing massive trauma as it continued along its path through internal muscles, organs, and bones. The bullet finally exited its victim's body, tearing through the rear section of Tyler's bullet resistant vest and then continuing on through the seat of the Explorer before finally becoming lodged in the metal frame of the police vehicle.
Major Tyler immediately grabbed his chest as blood began to gush from the bullet wound. Shock gripped his psyche and he began to panic at the realization that he had been shot. This wasn't supposed to happen to him! He was a major, he was supposed to stay as far away from the danger as possible, but somehow he had not been spared this fate.