Sylvia and the other girls had been watching the fight from the corner of one of the buildings, waiting for the right time to speak to their men. Having watched the carnage lay out before her, she could no longer stand back and watch. She stormed into the centre of the fight, the other girls behind her, rushing to catch up.
“That’s enough Vince. This is all wrong. Look how many of you are hurt already. You need to stop this now. There's always a better way than this,” Sylvia bravely said leading the girls closer, her hand gesturing to the boys lying on the ground.
She moved to stand between Vince and the young stranger, barely noticing his existence.
“Something has to change. You need to grow up Vince. All of you do. We're not going to keep standing by while you all get yourselves killed. Stop this now!” The wine fuelled her inner anger and she knew this was dangerous, standing up to him in front of his friends. The other women dropped back, soberly realizing that this was a mistake and Sylvia would be the one to pay.
She barely got this demand out when Vince slammed his fist into the side of her jaw, knocking her to the ground.
“You stupid bitch there is no better way. How dare you tell me what to do?” He raised his hand to strike her again.
The stranger reached out, grabbed his fist, and gently held it. “I wouldn’t do that ever again if I were you,” he said quietly to Vince.
“She's my bitch and I’ll deal with her any way I want," Vince snarled.
Sylvia had managed to crawl a few feet from Vince and the girls surrounded her hoping to shield her from the beating they knew she was going to get.
As Vince pulled his hand out of the stranger's grasp, he turned his full attention to the stranger. "I don't know what your problem is and I don't care, I've had enough out of you." He drew his knife again, this time nothing would stop him.
The young stranger shook his head and sighed. “I'm afraid I've had quite enough of you as well,” he said to Vince and as the others watched the young man, they saw his eyes glowing. They looked back towards Vince and realized that he was no longer there. On the ground where Vince had been standing, were lying a pile of clothes, his leather jacket on the top with the bloody ‘Z’ facing up. Lying near the clothing lay the switchblade and his gun.
Sylvia’s eyes grew large and she screamed in anguish.
In her world, she knew she had overstepped the boundaries and embarrassed Vince. To keep face with his gang, she knew she had given him no choice but to punish her severely. In her heart, she knew this was not what either of them wanted but life was not always about what you wanted, but was about dealing with what was thrown at you.
She jumped to her feet and ran to the clothes. “Where is he?” she screamed looking at the men around her. When no one could answer her, she focused her attention on the young stranger.
“What did you do? Why did you kill him? He didn’t deserve that...I deserved to be beaten,” she screamed with rage and jumped at the stranger slapping at him until JoJo stepped forward and physically pulled her away.
Sylvia sobbed and asked the stranger again, "Why did you do this?"
A strange light in the stranger’s eyes flared and he replied, “Because he needed it.”
"How could you tolerate such abuse Sylvia? Do you not feel you deserve better?" he asked her.
She sobbed, "I loved him."
He nodded his head sadly, as if expecting that response.
"For now Sylvia, you must believe," he said gently, his voice barely above a whisper.
The stranger continued to study the young woman standing before him. She seemed intelligent and yet was willing to submit to a beating from someone who professed to love her.
"Should not the abuse have decided which one you needed less of?" He pointed out to her and with that, he stepped back into the shadows and was gone.
The young people stared down at the pile of clothes, the gun and knife, fear and confusion clearly etched on their faces. In the distance, they could hear sirens and without another word, their dispute forgotten, they grabbed their fallen comrades and slipped into the shadows. The women were quick to follow their men leaving Sylvia alone. Just before she left, Shondell touched her shoulder in sympathy and then turned and slipped into the darkness.
Sylvia sat on the ground and hugged the clothes to her chest, turning the gun over in her hand and touching the handle of the blade. This is where the police found her, incoherent and visibly shocked. Evidence of a fight surrounded the area but there was no one else there but the young girl and this strange pile of clothes, gun, and switchblade.
She did not acknowledge the police officers and did not speak. She could hear them but all Sylvia could think of, was what had happened to Vince and what did the stranger mean by what he said to her.
The ambulance took her to the hospital. At times, she was babbling, "Where did he go?" Other times just silent, staring as the attendants tried to encourage her that she would be all right. Finally, unable to get through, they admitted her for observation.
Chapter 19
It was an idyllic life for Brian, growing up on a farm in the Midwest. His earliest memories were when he was around five years old. He created many lasting memories he shared with his parents and his two siblings, a younger sister and an older brother. He spent very little time with his little sister but his brother who was six years older than Brian had quickly become his hero. He was so much older than Brian that he became more of a father figure to him. They used to spend many hours together and his brother would teach him about life. Brian always felt safe and protected when he was with him and he never expected life to change anytime soon.
However, nothing stays the same forever and it all changed one day when his brother gathered his family around the kitchen table.
He told them, "It is my patriotic duty to enlist and take up arms in our fight. I will be leaving the farm first thing in the morning."
His father took the news calmly, believing that his son was doing the right thing. Brian's mom and sister cried and begged him not to go.
Brian did not say anything; he was not sure what he could say. His faith in his brother was unconditional and if his brother truly felt this was the right thing to do, he should support him.
His brother packed his bag and left the farm the next morning and that was the last time Brian ever saw him. The news came that his beloved brother had been killed, dying tragically but heroically for his country. He was only twenty-four.
As the years progressed, it became apparent that soon it would be Brian’s turn to face the same decisions as his brother had in his time.
Brian did not hesitate to make the same decision.
His basic training was almost over and it wasn't quite what he had expected it to be. The physical side of the training camp was not that hard. He had always been active and fit before he joined and he didn't have to work very hard to keep up.
He excelled in sports and was one of the top athletes in the all American Collegiate Wrestling program. They used to call him the "lean, mean brown machine". He practiced continuously and it showed.
He was also very proud of the scholarships he had earned, the achievements that followed graduation and more importantly, that he had made his parents proud. They were equally proud of his desire to stand and fight for his country, he felt their love, and support for what they knew was a difficult decision to make. Reminded repeatedly about his patriotic duty to protect the laws of the country that he loved so much, its ideals of religion and the rights of its people, he wished he could have shared it with his brother. His belief was so important in fact that he would gladly give up his life if asked to do so, just as his brother had. He was not only making a personal statement for his country, but his family as well. It was important to him that his hopes and beliefs passed down to his own small family and he knew his legacy would help keep his nation stronger.
The American way of life, land of milk and honey, apple pie, the American dream, kee
ping up with the Jones, were things that for most of his life, he had heard about but he did not necessarily support this lifestyle or way of thinking. His indifference taught him that he must decide on his own values. Growing up on the farm taught him that making decisions had to have importance not only to him but to his family as well.
Being able to participate in the sports he enjoyed, and attend College to earn his degree had been much needed distractions after the death of his brother and he made the most of the opportunities they provided him.
He believed he had built lasting friendships among his classmates, but as times changed, it became easy for these supposed friends to become judgemental after they found out, and they soon stopped calling him Brian, referring to him instead by his real name. It grew harder for Brian and he felt so alone. If not for his family, it would have been intolerable.
He thought of them often, especially when it was quiet and he was trying to study. He missed them very much. They talked often through the telephone and the internet, making the distance not seem so far away. He tried to make the two hour drive as often as he could to see them but it was not always possible. The strain on his nerves from the constant judging by others was too much to bear at times. Ostracized by your peers was hard to understand when they had shared so much together.
His opportunities were good and he was generally happy during his years at the College, at least until they discovered his past then everything changed. All because of that fateful day in September, but time passes and it had now been several years since that day. He remembered being as shocked as the rest of the world at the senseless tragedy but he became more desensitized with each new article or news report as time went by.
He learned what hatred was that day but he also felt shame and despair for his family, for wherever they went they were watched with fear. As he watched each new injustice, he became more and more obsessed with the cause. It threatened to consume him, body and soul. He now understood why his brother had given his life for his beliefs and his country. He had been a true martyr and be remembered as such.
His thoughts were chaotic and he was angry, a deep burning passion that threatened to destroy all that he was or would ever be. It was during that time he met her. If there ever was an American cliché, it was the phrase "fell head over heels", but in truth, that is what happened to Ibraham, who had abandoned the American name of Brian in favour of his birth name. She was beautiful and highly intelligent, and they spent many hours sharing passionate debates together. They were married soon after meeting and moved back to their birth home. He hadn't been back since his parents moved him to America to find a better life for them. He understood their reasons but did not share the same vision as them.
Maybe that was why his family couldn't fully understand how Ibraham could leave the comforts of America to return to a war infested country they chose to no longer call home. Maybe they were questioning his beliefs because he had appeared so americanized that he didn't really know life was not the same here in his country as it was in America.
What they did not understand was that the struggle of an occupied race of people for their freedoms was always worth the fight. American schools taught the lessons of how America won its independence on the back of its wars, and the deaths of their own people. They had struggled and sacrificed their lives for the right to be free and believe in their own ideologies.
However, lately things had changed for Ibraham with the birth of a beautiful baby girl. From the first moment he laid eyes on her, he knew how good a father he would be. He would watch her grow and give her love every day, provided he survived the war of occupation.
He was concerned and saddened about the life he would be exposing this precious little girl to, the knowledge that once their side won the war and they prevailed, his daughter would never go to school, vote, or even drive a car. It seemed here equality between men and women didn't matter to most people, and hadn't for almost a thousand years, so why would it change now?
Torn, he realized that his little girl would never have the freedom of choice; decisions always made for her. How could this be the will of Allah? Is Freedom just a word, or is it an ideal that people have fought so hard to protect and for which they would gladly sacrifice their very lives. Should not freedom include equality for all?
His daughter was only a week old. Would anything change before she grew into a young woman?
Since coming to the camp, he knew he would need to find a quiet spot to clear his thoughts. It didn't take long to find this small shelf overlooking the valley below. Here he could be alone to contemplate his future path and that of his family.
His training would be complete in less than two weeks, and then he would do what his people have asked of him, stop the occupation and senseless slaughter at any cost.
The drone strikes were taking its toll. Each day these weapons of war were indiscriminately killing not just soldiers but also the innocents, women, children and the old; six children just last week, for a death count of twenty-seven.
If some foreign country attacked America in such a cowardly fashion, would not America stand up and retaliate or seek revenge? Would they not get back at those who would murder their mothers, fathers, brothers and sisters, and the babies...?
In the land of the strong and free they say one thing and do entirely another. When their American president says "God Bless America", is God only on the side of those who have better weapons? Is God not there for everyone...such arrogance and ignorance? Such a one-sided way of thinking has toppled many regimes including the Roman Empire and the Nazi's of Germany.
There are even people within the shores of America who hate their own. They go around hating people of color, people of religion, even people who believe in the same God as they do. They get the inspiration for their hatred and justification for it through the book they follow, their bible. They claim that because God separated the races at the tower of Babel, it is God's will, not theirs. They claim they are just following his holy word and instruction...God, a killer of humanity. If a group of people can read and interpret the words in their book to mean that, then they have truly missed out on the meaning of God's love and their own love for others.
Ibraham wished that somehow he could change the way people thought from a level of authority. That he could reach out to people and offer them a new way of thinking, but how? Two weeks from now, he would be in the corridor, a valley that served as a pathway for those incoming drones. His mission would be to strike down as many of them as possible. His mission made easier by recently acquired Russian ground-to-air missile launchers, a sweet irony. Another Godly cold war fought by the Americans.
God........God, he thought, most Americans do not even know. They think we worship an entirely different God than theirs and we call him Allah, when in fact Allah is Arabic for God, just like in the French language God is Dieu, in Italian he is called Dio, in English God is called God. God is Allah, the same God as theirs, the God of Abraham. Ibraham, named after the same Abraham. I am sure most Americans have heard the Hebrew way of saying God, Yahweh and I'm sure they don't think it is a different God. Such ignorance from such narrow-minded thinking countries, but isn't that the reason why they are here, why some must die? That's the way it is is it?
When he needed time to reflect he came here to look out over the valley. It was high above a forested area and below a river gently flowed, meandering its way through the valley gorge. The military training although serious, had a relaxed somewhat informal attitude, which allowed him the time to get away and some days he really needed it. In an hour, it would be very dark but the camp wasn't far away. Though it was easy for him to find even in the dark, it was well hidden and protected from the enemy. He knew he should head back but here he could think about his wife and new daughter. He couldn't wait to hold them again.
He sensed someone approaching him from behind and a voice called out, "It really is a very beautiful spot."
Ibraham's tr
aining took over and he swung around, his rifle quickly trained on the stranger's stomach, his finger ready to pull the trigger. The man standing in front of him was young and neatly dressed, but unarmed.
Their eyes met and held.
"Don't worry Ibraham, I mean you no harm. I am here to bring you a message to believe in," said the stranger.
Ibraham stared at the young man, and then called out nervously, "You speak English. How do you know my name? What are you doing here? You shouldn't be here." His finger was shaking on the trigger but he was ready to squeeze if the stranger did anything threatening. His heart was racing from the adrenalin rush.
The man did not answer him just smiled back.
Ibraham gestured with his rifle. "Don't move or do anything sudden or I will shoot you."
"Your rifle will not fire Ibraham," the man stated quietly as he paused, and then continued, "These days your thoughts have been filled with many conflicting emotions. I can offer you a solution to everything, a brand new start for you, your wife, and daughter, even for your country. Over time it can replace one law for another law, without hatred and violence or any fear from both inside and outside your borders.”
The New World Covenant Page 14