The waiting was the worst part of their mission. It gave them too much time to think. Yousef had no qualms, however, about the men and their commitment. Every man taking part in the attack was handpicked based on their demonstrated vow. Even though none of them wanted to die, each was prepared to meet Allah “Inshallah”—if it was God’s will.
Yousef watched the spectacle for another thirty minutes as the crowd grew larger and larger. Then at exactly eight-thirty a.m., the driver of the truck in which Yousef had arrived started his engine. Yousef calmly climbed down from the truck’s cab pulling an UZI .40 cal machine pistol and two extra clips of ammution from behind the seat and exited the cab. As Yousef began walking towards the mall, he watched in fascination as the truck roared away towards the mall’s entrance doors.
The three other tanker trucks waited for the fateful signal per instructions before beginning their own charge to the mall. The first of the four tanker trucks was already barreling down its aisle towards its designated entrance. As it went, it slammed into a half dozen cars in its path that were trying to park. The chain reaction of collisions created mass confusion in the truck’s wake and drew the attention of people from across the parking lot. Many people stopped and pointed or just stared but did little else, though most paid no attention at all; such was their focus on going shopping.
Halfway down the aisle, the truck began to encounter dozens of people, mostly women and children, walking across the parking lot towards the mall entrance. As the truck approached, most scattered out of its way, but some simply turned to look at the truck roaring down the aisle at them and stopped. They froze—apparently unable to comprehend what was happening—and they were mowed down by the behemoth vehicle without mercy. The driver of the truck began screaming “Allahu Akbar!” as he shifted gears and increased his speed, racing for the entrance.
When Yousef reached the point where the truck had first encountered pedestrians, he began shooting at anyone who was standing around or within range. His first targets were the women and children that had safely scattered out of the tanker’s path.
Forever etched in Yousef’s mind would be two women he saw standing near the end of the aisle. They had stopped in the middle of the aisle, frozen in fear, with incomprehension etched deeply on their pitiful faces as the truck bore down on them and then over them.
These infidels, Yousef thought, they don’t even have enough sense to get out of the way of a speeding vehicle to save their own lives.
The truck continued forward, and as it reached the curb in front of the doors, the driver leapt from the cab. Upon landing on the asphalt, the driver rolled several times before jumping up and sprinting around the corner of the mall to the small entrance where he was to assist in keeping the mall patrons trapped inside the building.
The shoppers paying attention dove into the landscaping to avoid being run over by the truck as it jumped the curb and slammed into the mall’s entrance. It smashed its way through the outer doors of the mall and continued inward for almost two dozen yards before stopping. Those who weren’t paying attention were again mowed down by the runaway vehicle.
The cab and its tanker trailer filled with gasoline were now wedged tightly in the entranceway. Time seemed to stop as the roof and walls crashed in around tanker. Then, for a brief moment, there was an eerie silence before the wind slowly began to carry the sound of shouting men and crying women and children to where Yousef stood. He couldn’t help but smile.
Sensing the impending blast and tasting the air quickly filling with gasoline fumes, Yousef ducked down behind a large car. There he flattened himself on the ground and covered his ears. A moment later, the first tanker truck exploded.
Despite being a hundred yards away and flat on the ground, the blast wave rocked Yousef and knocked the wind out of him. The roar of the blast was so loud it left Yousef’s ears ringing, even though he had covered them with his hands before the explosion. Then the heat wave washed over him. He smelled the harsh acidic odor of the burning gas and thought for moment he might be set on fire it was so hot.
For a moment, having sucked in a lung full of the acidic air, Yousef almost vomited; but he held it in and slowly grew accustomed to the stench. A moment later, debris began to rain down around him as the sounds of terror slowly returned to his overwhelmed ears.
The other tanker drivers, feeling the vibration of the explosion and seeing the billowing smoke raise into the sky, took only a moment to react to the signal. Each truck began rolling towards its designated mall entrance, building speed as it went. The timing was designed to catch people attempting to flee the fires caused by first tanker crash.
Fifty yards from the each entrance, the truck drivers jumped, landed on the asphalt, rolled several times before springing up and running for shelter behind the corner of the mall. As soon as they felt the blast wave from the explosion pass, they began firing towards the two remaining entrances not affected by the explosions, killing or driving back those trying to escape into the blazing inferno that had once been the mall.
Yousef picked himself up, gathered his bearings and began to trot in the opposite direction his driver had gone. As he trotted, he marveled at the destruction that just one tanker truck had caused. Not only was the mall on fire, whole walls had been blown out and most of the cars that had been parked within a hundred yards of the entrance had been seriously damaged or destroyed. Bodies of infidels were scattered everywhere. “Allahu Akbar! Allahu Akbar!” he shouted joyfully as he ran.
To Yousef’s delight, when he glanced back towards the entrances to the parking lot, he saw people were still driving in. It reminded him of moths being drawn to a flame. The cars kept driving in, though once they’d pulled in, many stopped and stared in disbelief at the spectacle before them. This in turn was causing a huge traffic jam which would delay any response from the authorities.
Yousef, a smile beaming from ear to ear, began shooting at everyone who was foolish enough to stand still in the mayhem. He was extremely confident that he was killing dozens as he ran. They were, as the American infidels say, “sitting ducks.”
Suddenly, a rapid series of three, ear-shattering explosions ripped through the air. The explosions were followed by a strong concussion wave that, despite the mass of the mall standing between him and the actual explosions, caused Yousef to stumble and fall. As he fell, his gun slipped from his grip and skittered away, slipping under a nearby car.
After a moment, despite being stunned by the blast wave, Yousef’s training took hold, and he quickly searched the area for his weapon. Unable to locate it, he drew his backup nine millimeter from the waistband of his pants and began firing once more at the hapless mass of humanity staggering about the immediate area or sitting in their cars, dumbfounded.
The other members of his team were also gathering their bearings as they recovered from the blasts and quickly resumed their deadly attacks, as well. Yousef found it surprising that there was no resistance. There were no policemen or security guards in sight. No one made any attempt to stem the slaughter.
The panicked crowds began streaming through the only doors not blocked by fire, only to be cut down in a hail of bullets by the men waiting for them. It took several minutes before any of the panicked crowd realized that the people exiting before them were being shot down within a few steps of the door.
Yousef was amazed yet again at the number of people who, despite the person in front of them having fallen at their feet, just continued to push and shove their way forward. Their sense of panic was so great, they were oblivious to what was happening around them. He even saw a mother let go of the hand of her own child that had tripped and fallen. She never even looked back at the small tow headed boy of maybe four or five. Yousef shot her and felt good about having cleansed the world of such a disgraceful mother.
Then, abruptly, the flow of people fell to a trickle. Yousef’s men began firing single shots at lone targets staggering about. Taking a hard look, Yousef could see figur
es silhouetted against the flames within the mall, but they remained away from the doors. He called out to his men over the wireless comlinks and told them they had five minutes. The men ran towards the mall doors. They had five minutes to kill as many infidels as they could.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
It had been by sheer luck that Nichol had dragged her mother and brother to the back of the toy store where her favorite storybooks were located. It had saved their lives initially. The first blast had shaken the entire building. The glass storefronts had been blown out, sending splinters of razor sharp plate glass flying through the stores. Although the blast had jostled them, the family had been far enough back in the store to hear the glass break, but not to have any land near them.
After the blast, Mom began easing her way, with the kids in tow, towards the front of the store. Halfway there, she began to see the devastation the flying glass had wrought. She did her best to keep the children from seeing the bloody mess that a moment before had been other shoppers and store employees.
“What happened, Mommy?” Ryan asked in a quiet voice, dripping with fear.
“Stay behind me.” Mom ordered.
“But, I’m not done,” Nichol protested as she trudged along behind her mother, her brother attempting to help move her along by pushing her from behind.
Mom gasped as they came around a large display case that only moments before had held large plush toys and found a young teenage store clerk impaled by a large shard of glass though his neck. His eyes wide with fright were frozen open in death. His torso and the floor around him were covered in blood.
Upon seeing the body, Nichol screamed before Mom could shield her eyes. Ryan choked out the word “nasty” as he quickly turned away. Mom grabbed up Nichol and pulled Ryan close, doing her best to shield them from the dead clerk and continue towards the front of the store.
Every few feet she told her children, “Don’t look,” as they passed another mutilated corpse, but Ryan peeked just the same, uttering the word “gross” each time.
Before they could reach the front of the store, Mom and the children were rocked by a series of three sharp explosions, rapidly following one after another. Each blast was as powerful as the first explosion that had rocked the building and caused the devastation around them. This time the ground shook so violently that Mom and the children were slammed to the floor and the air was filled with debris once more.
For several moments, Mom lay there stunned, her ears ringing, the wind knocked out of her, unable to move. Finally, the sound of a fire alarm drew her back to the moment, and she realized that she was sprawled on the floor. In a panic she groped for her children, needing to know they were safe. She found Nichol lying next to her, stunned and staring blankly into space, but with no apparent injuries. Nichol began to cry once she realized she still could and clung tightly to her mother. Ryan had not been so lucky. He had been slammed against a display rack. Ryan had received several nasty lacerations from the pegs that had once held the merchandise—now strewn across the floor.
Mom quickly tore her shirtsleeves off and bandaged the wounds as best she could in an attempt to stem the blood flow. As is always the case, the cut on the side of Ryan’s head was bleeding the worst even though it wasn’t all that deep. She wrapped each wound with strips of cloth from her shirt sleeves. She used his belt with a wad of cloth underneath it to stem the flow of blood from a large gash on his arm that was sure to need several stitches to close.
As she worked on Ryan, she tried coaxing him to speak to her, but he never made a sound despite the large tears streaming down his face. She assumed he was in shock, for he appeared to be unable to speak. Nichol, on the other hand, was now crying loudly due to lack of motherly attention and fear as she clung tightly to her mother’s leg.
After attending to Ryan, Mom took several deep breaths and pulled herself to a standing position with only minor difficulty. Her left hip throbbed badly as she moved having apparently been bruised by the fall; but other than that, she had sustained only a few minor cuts to her arms and face that were barely bleeding.
Gathering her strength, she pulled both children into her arms, and slowly began moving towards the front of the store. As she walked she prayed she was heading towards safety and not deeper into the mayhem. The people she stepped past and over all appeared to be dead. Even if they weren’t, she wasn’t going to stop until her children were safe.
The closer she got to the front of the store the more difficult it was to breathe. A thick gray smoke hung in the air. It was a foul smelling smoke. A mixture of burnt meat and gasoline she thought. Then it occurred to her that might well be exactly what it was. She fought back the urge to vomit and quickened her pace forward, angling for the store’s entrance off to the far right hand side. She knew the mall’s exit was to her right, and she wanted to come out of the store as close as she could to it.
The closer she got to the front of the store, the more treacherous the footing became, and her pace was slowed to a stagger. Traversing the store’s floor—covered in all manner of debris from broken glass and destroyed merchandise to blood and bodies—was made more difficult by the weight of the children. Ryan was a dead weight, a limp rag, and made no effort at all to hang on, and Nicole was wiggling and shifting constantly while practically strangling her mother out of fear.
Finally, when Mom reached what she thought was the entrance to the store, the thick, heavy smoke making it all that more difficult to be sure, she was stunned to hear someone yell, “He’s got a gun!”
She hesitated for a moment not sure she’d heard it right, but when she heard the unmistakable sound—pop, pop, pop—of a machine pistol from somewhere off in the distance, instinct and her military training took control. She dropped to the ground, pulling her children with her, behind a large display of what had been a collection of the latest Star Wars characters.
“Mommy…” Nichol started to speak. Mom quickly told her in a whisper, “Shhhh!” Mom held her and her brother tightly as she tried to listen for more gunfire over the intense roar of the growing flames. She didn’t have to wait long before another burst of gunfire punctuated the roaring of the flames; the shots were closer this time.
Mom tried to extricate herself from Nicole but the child wouldn’t be moved. The harder Mom tried to remove her, the harder Nichol tried to melt into her mother for comfort. Mom was able to slip Ryan off her hip, though he remained listless. She propped him against the display case next her.
She could tell the fire was getting closer. Its roar was slowly overwhelming all other sounds, even drowning out the sound of the gunfire. With every breath it was becoming harder and harder to breath. She knew she had to move and move now or die here. Yet she remained frozen in place, unsure if she should risk moving, not knowing where the gunman was. She tried to convince herself that the fire department would be here soon and they’d put the fire out before it reached them. But when the flames began dancing across the ceiling tiles off to her left, she knew she was out of time and had to move.
The fire was even closer than she’d thought and within seconds the flames began dancing across the ceiling tiles directly overhead. She quickly grabbed up Ryan and struggled to her feet where she was met with a surreal scene. Thick smoke blanketed the ceiling and rolled like thunder clouds prior to a heavy summer storm. The flames flicked and flashed creating a strobe effect as if she was the subject of a crowd of paparazzi. It made seeing where she going almost impossible.
She stumbled forward over the bodies and debris, careful not to move too fast so as not slip and fall on the viscous pools of blood that dotted the floor. If she fell, she and her children would die here as the fire was advancing rapidly through the highly flammable store. Whole racks and piles of merchandise burst into flames just yards behind her.
Then, just steps from the exit, just when she thought she was going to make it, she suddenly found her way blocked. Standing before her was man dressed in all black from head to toe. He was
wearing a scarf wrapped about his head and face covering all but his eyes which were covered by what appeared to be safety glasses. His eyes were gleaming and she could tell he was smiling beneath his makeshift mask. She glanced quickly to his hands and found he was holding a machine pistol leveled right at her. She turned her back to him quickly, trying to shield her children.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Yousef honked the horn several times and each time the sound died in the roar of the flames. He called over the comlink but received no response. He checked his watch once more then took aim and shot a woman who had staggered through the smoke-filled entrance with her clothes ablaze.
Through the smoke he could see another figure about to emerge from the inferno and he took aim, but then held his fire. He recognized it was one of his men and behind him were two more of them. The three men stumble quickly towards the van, wheezing and coughing as they tried to clear their lungs.
As they climbed into the van, the fourth member of the team staggered from the entrance. His shirt and pants were on fire, he had stayed too long. Instead of running to help the man, Yousef quickly raised his gun and shot him. They had no facilities to care for him, and he would slow them down. He staggered another step or two and fell face first on to the concrete.
“Allah be merciful! Salim shall dine tonight in Paradise and sleep with the virgins. Allah be praised!” Yousef stated flatly as if he had learned the words by rote and did not completely believe them.
“Allah be praised,” the men in the back of the van repeated as they closed the van’s door and gulped the cool air from the van’s air conditioner which Yousef had switched on full blast.
Reprisal!- The Eagle Rises Page 14
