Islam Rising

by Johnny Jacks

  “Self-pity, huh? How did you put up with me this long?”

  Joe bumped Grayson’s shoulder with his fist. “You’ve been an ass at times, but you’re coming around.”

  “Margaret really was my other half. It’s as if God sliced the core of my being in half and she took the good half with her to Heaven. How do I get it back and become whole again?”

  “As I told you earlier, the answer will find you. Your job is to recognize it when it presents itself.”

  Grayson silently acknowledged Joe’s advice and prayed again for guidance. They rode the last few miles to the farm in peaceful contemplation.

  ~~~

  “Let’s explore the property while we wait on the realtor,” Grayson said. The two friends walked through the fields to the outer limits of the property, according to the plat they copied from county records. Returning towards the farmhouse, they waved to the real estate agent.

  “Joe, let’s stop here for a minute. Look around. What do you see?”

  “Trees? Fields? Grass? Cows? Chickens? A donkey? A spring? A pond? A dilapidated old windmill? That’s about it.”

  “Look again. From this prominence, the entire farm is visible. We could defend ourselves from here during the die-off with plenty of open space for shelter and excellent fields of fire. Between the fertile pastures and abundance of water, we could produce enough food to live on during and after the die-off and sustain our group indefinitely.”

  Grayson pointed to the lake at the rear of the farm. “There’s food there. I saw fish rising to feed on bugs in the water. The creek running at the back of the property is deep and flows fast, ideal for hydropower. Timber covers the hill on the other side of the creek, giving us all the firewood we’ll ever need. I bet it’s loaded with deer and other game for meat. The elevation is high with plenty of wind to pump water, once we replace the old windmill. We can add wind turbines for power.”

  Joe chuckled. “From Mark’s instructions, I noticed a few tactical advantages, but nothing like the scope you see.”

  “Where we’re standing is the highest point with a good place for the rustic cabins we need to survive the die-off. We could easily arrange them in a defensive configuration to counter attacks. There’s another big security advantage. Look on the map when we get back to the truck. The farm is on the inside of a huge curve in the Trinity River, a natural barrier that will help divert refugees and bad guys, providing us with additional security.”

  All Joe could say was, “Wow!”

  They walked toward the farmhouse and Joe asked, “Have you thought of a cover story? He’s bound to ask.”

  “I’ll tell him the truth, for the most part. We want to produce our own organic food as well as hunt and fish for chemical-free meat. I’m a recent widower in need of a new home and change in my life.”

  “You’re a smart man, Grayson.”

  “I appreciate your faith in me, Joe, but you’re smart and wise. I can’t thank you enough for the support you’ve given me during this terrible time. But you could back off the kicks to the seat of my pants a little.” He clapped Joe on the back. “Let’s go buy a farm.”

  ~~~

  Back home, Grayson settled deep in his recliner, his favorite place to talk to Margaret. “Hi, baby. I love you and miss you. What do you think of the farm? We both know my atonement bill is huge. Buying the farmhouse is a good way to give back. We can help Danny and others to survive so they can rebuild New America. I went from dirt-poor farmer to Green Beret to street cop to detective, and now full circle back to farmer—although not a dirt-poor farmer. I guess it’ll catch up with me, but I’m not feeling it yet.”

  Islamic State of America - 7

  Texas State Prison

  Year -4

  Murtadha heard his name from a distance and jerked away when someone grabbed his arm. “Carlos, are you okay?” Miguel asked.

  “Suéltame, Hermano, let go of me, brother!” He stared at his younger brother who had just told him he would be a musulmán with or without him. Akeem’s black eyes examined him. He flexed his powerful shoulders.

  “I’m fine, hermanito, little brother. I was just thinking ahead to when I will be a powerful soldier for Allah.” He spoke to Akeem with respect. “I will work hard to become a musulmán. I will talk to my men to follow me and become musulmán.”

  Akeem’s cold eyes swept over the tall Mexican and glanced at his gang. “Once they step over the line, there will be no return to their past life. The same goes for you. Do you understand?”

  “You said that already. What’s the big deal if one of my men wants to go back to where he was before?”

  “The Quran forbids it. Any Muslim who leaves Islam must die. If you go back, I will personally remove your head, very slowly as ordered by Allah in the Quran.”

  “Don’t worry about me. I ain’t gonna go back. I’m ready to be a musulmán.”

  Akeem turned his attention to Miguel for confirmation of his personal commitment. “Tell me, Miguel, do you think of Americans as your brothers?”

  “If you mean the gringos, I hate them.”

  “Hate is a strong word. Why do you hate these Americans?”

  Miguel slid his eyes to Carlos, still committed to his older brother’s confirmation.

  From his peripheral vision, Akeem saw a barely discernable nod from Carlos.

  Miguel dropped his head to avoid eye contact with Akeem and spoke barely above a whisper. “Gringos that don’t like women came often to Nuevo Laredo. When we were little boys, they tricked me and Carlos with food....” He fought his dry mouth to swallow, as a deep flush lit his face. “The hijos de putas made us do bad things before they would feed us.”

  When Miguel raised his head, the hate embedded in his face froze the blood in Akeem’s veins. Miguel’s venom-filled words hung heavily on the air. “I want to kill them all!”

  Akeem thought better of explaining Bacha bāzī, boy play, a custom Western culture despised. Muslim men had enjoyed sex with adolescent boys for centuries, a customary and acceptable practice not considered homosexuality if the man did not love the boy.

  Akeem spoke carefully to the brothers. “Mind my words. As you will see when we meet with Imam Omar in Monterrey, Mexico, you will be an important jihadi leader. Talk with your men. Let them know that the power of Islam can also be theirs. Tell them we will conquer the Western World and they will have much land and many wives as Muslims, but misery and death are their fates as infidels.”

  “Me and Miguel are ready to become musulmán. It’s up to my men if they want to join us. I’ll tell them about Islam the same as you told me. They ain’t got no Muslim father like me and Miguel. Give me a few days to find those who want to revert.”

  “Be patient with your men and don’t force them. To be pure, they must accept Islam within themselves. I will leave recruiting to you and not intervene. That will cause them to bond closer to you and accept your leadership.”

  “Let us meet in the library every day to study. I will teach you about Islam, to speak and write Arabic, and many other important things. I will teach all who revert, but you and Miguel, I will teach much more. You will be superior.”

  Carlos stood taller. He remembered Akeem’s insults from the previous day and shook them off. He realized the man was right. He could remain stupid and return to being a miserable gangbanger with no direction when he got out. However, the thought of being educated and controlling men with his mind instead of his fists had seduced him past the point of resistance. He closed his eyes and released himself to the evil of Islam, sealing his fate for all eternity.

  Chapter 24

  Farmer Grayson

  Year 2

  Grayson yelled into his cell phone, “Damnit, Joe! If you were here, I’d kick your ass.”

  “You gone completely loco only six months out? What’s wrong?”

  “I was okay until I fell through the shower floor. You SOB! You told me the house needed only minor repairs.”

  Joe ex
ploded with laughter. “You didn’t damage the family jewels, did you?”

  Grayson chuckled. “I’m fine, a few scratches, nothing major. Better than the house. The shower in the master bathroom has been leaking for years. The floor joists are completely rotted away.”

  “I can come up this weekend and help you patch it up.”

  “I’m just ribbing you, Joe. I found a good carpenter, Wayne Clauss. He’s about my age and lives down the road. He’ll have it repaired in no time. He’s an interesting fellow, teaches English at the local high school, but prefers to work with his hands, owns a small construction company on the side.”

  “Whew! You had me going there for a minute.”

  “I really called to give you some Intel to pass on to the group. Wayne, and just about everyone else I’ve met here, are preppers to one degree or another. They feared what was going on with Obama, and even with Crump appearing to turn things around, they’re worried the liberals and establishment Republicans will not allow him to turn things around. Two farms over, there’s a guy who’s been off-grid for the past five years, and there’re a few more like him scattered around the local countryside. Quite a few have more guns and ammo than you could imagine and a store of canned food.”

  Joe’s voice became tinted with anger and somewhat accusatory. “Grayson…you didn’t discuss our MAG or the BOL did you?”

  “Hell no! I was wearing a sleeveless tee shirt and he saw my paratrooper tattoo. He wanted to know about it. Once he discovered that I was Special Forces, he started discussing his prepper group with me. It’s one of those open groups. Anyway, he invited me to their next meetup.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “I told him I wasn’t interested in that doomsday stuff. But, Joe, I’d like to go to their meetup and become acquainted with some of the locals. I left the door open by telling him that I’d think about it. I wanted to discuss it with the MAG, see if everyone’s okay with it.”

  Joe’s voice didn’t soften. “I don’t know, man. That’s a double-edged sword.”

  “I understand, but if the farmers around here are as prepped as they appear to be, and have a survivalist’s mentality, we’ll need their help with our own protection.”

  Joe remained silent.

  “Trust me, Joe. A basic principle of guerrilla warfare calls for gaining the trust and support of the local community.”

  “I’ll pass this on to the others and let you know. I’m not so sure they’ll be happy with it, Grayson.”

  “Tell the chief this is a UW mission waiting for the right guidance. He’ll understand. If he nixes it, I’ll continue to pretend I don’t believe in it and let Wayne think of me as a sheeple, naïve enough to believe the government will take care of everyone.”

  “What else are you up to?” Joe asked.

  “I tilled the compost into the garden and it’s ready for spring planting. Yolanda wasn’t impressed with the size of our first garden. I need another year to expand and build the soil to meet our full survival needs. You guys get your butts up here next weekend to dodge cow pies and sweat with me.”

  Joe relaxed. “Will do. It should be a fun time even if hard work is involved. Some thick rib eyes, baked taters, and a number ten washtub filled with beer and ice will make it easier to get everyone up there.”

  “You got it.”

  “Sounds like you’re adapting to your new lifestyle.”

  “It’s taking some getting used to, but I’m enjoying the physical labor, helps me sleep. The quiet nights away from the city are great for reducing stress. The air is clean and the living is easy, as the old song says.”

  “We’ll be up there in a few days to breathe some of that fresh air, but I can’t sing worth a damn.” The two friends hung up laughing.

  Chapter 25

  The Second Spring Planting

  Year 3

  Grayson toiled diligently all winter to expand the small, starter garden into the three acres Yolanda ordered, ready to plant by April. Everyone arrived eager to get the job done before the weather turned hot. While others planted seeds, Grayson parked the tractor and used a hoe to uproot clumps of grass the plow missed. He was close enough to hear the group’s conversations but kept his distance.

  Yolanda was elated. “Three acres of well-built soil makes a big difference. We’ll need a ton of canning supplies this year.”

  Mark used a broken broom handle to make holes in the dirt, drop a corn seed in each, and cover them over with his foot. “Got to hand it to the first men who came to this part of Texas. They used hay-burners and muscle power for their main farming tools.”

  “Don’t forget the women worked just as hard as the men…you male chauvinist pig!” Yolanda loved to give her man humorous jive—kept him on his toes.

  Her feigned sarcasm caught Grayson in the throat. Amanda, as only a little girl can, used the same tone when sparring with Daniel, a tone no male can emulate. He was glad to have the team at the farm, but he didn’t feel like talking.

  Mark attempted to recover. “You’re right, sweetie. The women actually worked harder. As they say, a man works from sun to sun, but a woman’s work is never done.”

  Charles laughed. “Nice recovery, Mark. Give her a couple of beers, grovel some more, and she may allow you to sleep in the bed instead of on the sofa tonight.”

  Laughter covered the field but Grayson only managed a smile. He’d fought all day to keep his anger and grief at bay. Not understanding his reticence, the group left him alone.

  “Isn’t three acres a bit much?” Yeung asked. “What’ll we do with the excess, and why so many varieties of everything? Who the heck eats kale, collards, and rutabagas?”

  As usual, everyone waited for Mark to answer, but Grayson let it slide. “We’re growing varieties to ensure they don’t go extinct after the collapse. Whether we eat them or not, the locals do, making good barter items. We’ll can a ton of them to survive the non-growing season and share with our neighbors if needed during the die-off. A big garden gives us extra seeds to share, so others can establish gardens and keep them from raiding ours.”

  Yeung made an ugly face. “Barter sounds better than eating these disgusting things.”

  “Cut the chatter and wrap this up,” Grayson said, his voice flat. “By now, the chief and Miss Grace will have the steaks marinated for the grill and the potatoes baked.”

  “And cold beer to wet our whistles,” Charles added.

  Grayson looked at the ground. “Don’t over-indulge. We have serious business to discuss at the meetup.”

  Mark whispered to Yolanda, “What’s going on with Grayson?”

  ~~~

  “That was a fine dinner, Chief and Miss Grace.” Samuel patted his protruding stomach.

  The group gave a round of applause.

  “Thanks, troops. Let’s get down to business so we can get back to Houston before midnight. Mama and I appreciate you young’uns letting us do the inside work. We wouldn’t last long in that heat, but don’t let anyone in Houston know I said that.”

  Grayson realized with a jolt that his mentor had aged a lot in the last few years, no doubt due in large part to his own stupidity. He took the last sip of tea in his glass to hide his sudden rush of feelings, the same feelings he had for his own father before he passed ten years earlier.

  “Leave the dishes where they are. I’ll take care of them after everyone leaves. Refresh your drinks, and let’s get on with the meetup. No alcohol for drivers.”

  Joe gave Grayson a dead stare. “You receive bad news, Grayson?”

  “No. But we’ve got a lot to cover.”

  “For a minute I thought I had detention.”

  The others looked at each other, unsure of what was happening.

  They quietly moved to the living room, and Ramirez took the floor. “Grayson, we appreciate what you’ve done over the past year to provide us with this great bugout location. Yolanda, you’ve done an excellent job organizing our garden and supervising the plantin
g.”

  Yolanda tried to soothe Grayson with praise. “Thanks go to Grayson for his hard work to get the field ready to plant. With all his other responsibilities, it was nothing short of a miracle.”

  Grayson nodded at her, but his sour expression didn’t change.

  “Grayson, you’ve been here well over a year,” Ramirez said. “Bring us up to date on what you’ve put in place.”

  Grayson spoke tersely. “I’m no super-farmer, hired some of the work. I used the dozer to push a dam up below the big spring and stocked the new pond with a variety of fish; they’re thriving. The new windmill is doing its job and the water is as pure as it comes. The pond water treatment system, our backup water supply, is complete and under budget. I’ve ordered a five-hundred-gallon water storage tank to place on the high point where we’ll build our cabins. That’ll make it easier to plumb to them. I replaced the old bull and added nine cows and three bottle-fed calves. We have—”

  Yeung interrupted. “Why only one bull?”

  Charles grinned. “Imagine two big dumb fellows fighting over the same girl, because she’ll only mate with the one that beats the other to a pulp.”

  “So we’ll need one rooster.”

  “Charles, you explain the facts of life to Yeung,” Samuel said.

  “I’m a city boy. How should I know?” Laughter spread around the somber Grayson.

  “And that explains why your dating life is at an all-time low,” Samuel said.

  Grayson’s brusque response killed the mood. “You have one rooster per about ten hens. An overly aggressive rooster that continually fights with the others goes in the frying pan.”

  “We need a big frying pan for Grayson,” Mark whispered to Yolanda.