Gabriel: Only one gets out alive.

by mike Evans

  Akbar, who did not want to scare his children, lied. “Don’t be silly, son. Why would they want to hurt us? We have done nothing to harm them, have we?

  The boy shrugged, looking at the men and seeing that there were no signs of kindness in their eyes or expressions on their faces. The fact that they wore masks made the child even more nervous about them. The boy yelled one last question as the men approached, “If they do not come to harm us, Father, then why are they here? What do they want?”

  His father raised a firm hand and snapped, “Get inside now, or feel pain, boy! Go now. I do not know the answers to these questions, but I will soon. Get moving and do it now. Go… Go! Take your brother and sister upstairs and hide. I will come and find you later. I need you to move, and I need you to do it now.”

  The boy wasted no more time turning and running. Akbar watched as the young man obeyed, gripping the two little ones by their small hands, and dragged them upstairs to the bedrooms. Akbar screamed, “Do you hear me? Do you hear me? I will call the police! I will call right now if you do not leave. I am a very important man and you will be sorry if you do not go. Go now!”

  The two men stood at the now open gates, aiming their rifles at Akbar. They looked behind them as the truck came to a stop and everyone, but the driver, came out of the truck. They disconnected the cables from the gate while another hit the winch to retrieve it. Six of them sprinted to the front of the door. Akbar saw the masked men coming at him, carrying assault rifles, and wasted no more time waiting. He turned and slammed the door, securing all of the locks. He hit the emergency alarm switch and prayed that there would be enough time before these men infiltrated the house.

  He sprinted up the stairs as quickly as he could but did not make it halfway up the flight before machine gun fire erupted. He crouched on the stairs. The door handles all but vanished as blasts fired, one after another. He looked over his shoulder and saw the door fly open and a black military boot coming through. Akbar stopped trying to flee the men. He came down the steps slowly but cautiously. Four of the men ran up the steps and pulled him down by his shirt, his feet dragging down the steps. Akbar was screaming, “What? What do you want, god damn you?”

  Akbar tried to push up to his feet and one of the men pushed him back down with a heavy foot. Akbar saw the men heading up the steps and he screamed, “No!” as he tried to push back up. This time the man took the butt of his rifle and brought it down hard against the side of his head. Akbar dropped to the ground; his head was swimming as he fought to stay conscious. He tried lifting his head, but the man put a foot on top of his chest, which took little pressure to keep the doctor down at this point.

  This all changed when they dragged a soaking-wet Abrisham, who had nothing more than a towel that she was clinging to for dear life. Two men clung to her arms leaving marks as they dragged her down the steps, leaving a water trail. “Akbar, Akbar… What did you do to him? Why is he bleeding, you monsters?”

  The men dragging her felt that women were little more than a vessel to produce offspring, and they ignored her screams and pleas. When she wouldn’t end her screams, one of the men brought up a large hand and punched her in the face, splitting her cheek open. They threw her in the corner, keeping a gun trained on her, and telling her to not move.

  Akbar shook his head, knowing that the blood was not flowing through his brain like it should be. He was confident that a concussion, if he lived through the day, was going to be inevitable. He could only watch as one of the intruders threw his wife into the corner.

  Imad walked, in looking around; he saw the wife in the towel and the bleeding doctor on the ground. Imad screamed, “What are you doing? Did I tell any of you to hurt him? He is a doctor! If you damage his brain, what good is to me? I do not need any more brainless men working for me.”

  The doctor pushed up and sat where he fell. “I do not and will not work for you. I do not know who you are and I do not care. You need to leave and you need to do so now. I have set off the police alarm and they will be here soon. I think that you are making a grave mistake. One that I think you will regret for many moons to come, sir.”

  Imad shrugged and knelt down next to Akbar. Imad handed him a folded silk handkerchief for his head, which the doctor took with a shaky hand. “We know exactly who you are, Dr. Akbar Abul. You are head of the Hematology Department for the Department of Health and Standards. You are a quite talented doctor, especially when it comes to diseases and how to cure them.”

  “What do you want? You waste my time. You frighten my family and disrespect my wife. You need to leave now. I will do nothing that you ask of me.”

  “You do not want to think over what I propose? You are so quick to deny, without knowing what it is that I require.”

  “There is nothing you will want that will not be filled with sin. You scream bad intentions.”

  Imad pulled his pistol and aimed it at his wife. “You are sure that you will not change your mind, doctor? There are no second chances when it comes to life and death. Can you handle living without her?”

  Akbar screamed, “You don’t have the—”

  Imad never let him finish his sentence. He aimed at the wife who was on her knees, clutching the towel to her chest, screaming “No!” Imad pulled the trigger once, sending an echoing bullet noise through the home. The large-caliber pistol round slammed her back against the wall. She went instantly limp as her head exploded from the back. Akbar screamed in rage, sounding more animal than human. Imad never raised his pulse; he knelt back down by the doctor and patted him on the shoulder. “I am very sorry that we had to do this. But, doctor, I need your help, and you are not being very helpful. You will not even be rational about listening to me.”

  “What… what else can you take from me? She was my life… my love… she was everything to me.”

  Imad patted him on the shoulder. He looked to one of his men and pointed upstairs. “Go up and retrieve the children. They were here when you arrived, weren’t they?”

  The man nodded and Imad pointed to go get them and to do it quickly. Akbar could not take his tear-filled eyes off of his wife. Abrisham lay there hunched over in a heap, the white Egyptian towel now soaked through with her blood. Imad asked, “Would this go any easier if we were to just start killing your children one by one? You have three of them, do you not?”

  Akbar could not stop the tears from falling. “Yes, I have two sons and a daughter. But you already know all of this, don’t you? You have something horrible in mind that you are wishing to have happen, aren’t you? You have an evil purpose in mind for which I am specialized.”

  Imad smiled, looking up at his men. “You see. I told you that the doctor was smart. He knows what we might do, what we could think of to do to his children if he disobeys. Oh, the things that creative visionaries like us could be capable of coming up with.”

  “If you hurt any of them, I will slit my own throat and you will not get what you want. At least you will not get it from me. You can look elsewhere, but I assure you that I am the best in my field, and I will be able to do what others only dream of.”

  “You can say that without me even telling you what I need? That is a very impressive statement you are making. We will be filling you in on the plane ride. We need you to be somewhere you will be able to concentrate and have the amenities which you’ll require to perform tests and research.”

  “I have a lab that, I am sure you are aware, is state of the art. There is nothing I can’t accomplish there. You can take me there and I can do what it is that you think you need.”

  “We are going to America. We will be leaving in a few hours’ time. My men will go upstairs and get some things for you and the children. You will need them in the coming months.”

  “‘Coming months’ and ‘America’? What the hell do you think I am going to do?”

  Imad smiled, helping the man to his feet, then put on a pair of handcuffs to keep the doctor from acting out. “That is very simple, doctor. You a
re going to work with a disease of my choosing and you are going to modify it to a point where they will not be able to cure anyone who is infected with it.”

  “You are interested in this being in America because why?”

  “Because they do not deserve to live! We are going to cure the world of their filth and disease. We will cure the world. We will receive much praise from Allah, and we will see the heavens when we are gone from this world.”

  “You are insane! You aren’t thinking clearly! You cannot kill a country.”

  Imad walked to the stairs, grabbed one of the children by the arm, and yanked him down the rest of the way. The small boy began screaming for his father to help him. Imad slapped him and threw him to the ground. When Akbar reached for his son, Imad kicked him in the face, sending blood from a freshly broken nose all across the tiled marble floors. Akbar said, “I will do what you want. I will do what you want… just leave my son alone… please, I beg you… I beg you!”

  Imad held his pistol to the young boy’s temple. “Are you sure that you are going to be able to do what we want? That there will be no more issues from you?”

  Akbar held up his hand. “I swear to you, I will do nothing else. I will be at your command until the mission is complete. I beg you. I promise you! Please do not do that—I would not be able to go on!”

  Imad pulled the pistol back from the boy’s head. He threw him into his father’s chest. Akbar stared with a hatred he’d never known he was capable of feeling while holding his son in a deep hug. Imad screamed to the rest of the men. “Round up what we need! Bring the doctor’s computer and his files and books. I want him to have everything that he needs to have. You need to get moving. The police will be here soon and if we can leave before they arrive that would be best.”

  The crew walked out, escorting what was left of the Abul family. When they made it outside, they saw that the gunshots inside the home had been enough to make the neighbors come outside in curiosity. They stood in the street, speaking to one another and gossiping about what was happening in the doctor’s home. When they saw six heavily armed guards escorting out the family, they turned and ran into their houses, slamming the doors and wasting no time calling the police themselves. Imad ushered the family up into the back of the truck, and as he and his men were climbing into it, the police rounded the corner. Three squad cars sped down the doctor's street and parked at an angle, slamming on their brakes, skidding the vehicles, and blocking the giant diesel military transport truck from going anywhere.

  The squad cars opened their doors and the police officers rushed out of them. They did not know who they were dealing with; when they started yelling orders for them to let the hostages go, and lie down in the street with their hands behind their backs, all hell broke loose. Imad and his men brought up their hands, but only for a millisecond while each of the four men threw a grenade. The small metal grenades flew into the air, bounced along the street, and rolled to a stop beneath the cars. Within seconds, the grenades went off and exploded, followed immediately by more blasts from the cars’ gas tanks. The officers who were still inside the three cars never had a chance. Those who were out of the cars before the grenades exploded were left dazed, confused, and bleeding.

  Imad brought up a large belt-fed machine gun, aimed it at the police and unleashed hell’s fire on them, cutting the men still alive in half with fifty-caliber bullets. By the time the belt was empty, there was nothing left of the men on the ground. At least that would be able to be put back together again. Blood and guts littered the streets. The driver brought the giant diesel to life and they reversed the truck, angling it down the street, and brought it to full speed. The ancient military truck dominated what was left of the small police cars, smashing directly into them and spinning them sideways upon impact.

  The vehicle sped down the street, not stopping until they reached the hangar of the airplane that was ready to start their long and careful trip into the United States. When they made it stateside, the doctor and his family were locked in a laboratory where all research of the deadly virus would take place. After settling into the facility, Dr. Abul was presented with five different diseases that he could pick from and was made aware that, if he failed, what was left of his family would have indescribable and unimaginable things happen to them, slowly and surely.

  The doctor worked on his own for the next twelve months. The terrorists advised him daily what they would do to his family if they did not see results. The doctor worked to the brink of going insane. He knew in his heart that every day he worked brought them one step closer to the destruction of the government and the crippling of an entire continent… or possibly worse.

  *****

  Imad was going over research reports from the doctor. His ideas were great, his research brilliant, and what he was doing had never been done before. He sat back in his seat thinking about the day that he would bring them to their knees, all because of his ideas. Imad knew he would be curing the world. That when the infidels were cast into hell, and he and his brothers were sent to heaven to live in peace with Allah, it would all be worth it.

  Mohammed knocked on the door. He had been bitter ever since coming here; all of the men had. They had complained about having to shave their beards and hair. They had been made to give up their military fatigues and weapons that they carried around on a daily basis. They had been working in various jobs around the company doing remedial janitorial work while awaiting news from the doctor that he had finally finished what they had asked of him.

  The knock startled Imad out of his trance-like state. He turned around in his seat, rising to his feet and looking down the hall over Mohammed’s shoulder. “Did anyone see you come up to the office? You know that you are not supposed to come here while the staff is working. We are here as a favor to Allah’s Hand. We do not want to make anyone here pissed off. It would not be easy to move the doctor and his family, along with all of the research projects in their current states.”

  “This is important. I did not think that you would want to wait to hear this.”

  “What is so important that you needed to interrupt me? I was looking at Dr. Abul’s research and I was—”

  “Damn it sir, please listen to me, Imad! He has done it. He thinks that he is there. He said that he has a room full of dead animals. He thinks that he is ready to attempt human testing.”

  Imad smiled and his eyes glowed. He walked back and forth, shaking his hands in victory in the air and putting his hands together and praising Allah. “Mohammed, you have made me very happy. I want you to gather the employees and bring them down to the lab.”

  Mohammed turned to leave and stopped, turning back around to ask him, “Imad, I know a person is a person, but was there some sort of type that you are looking at getting? Does it matter what we get for test subjects?”

  Imad stared around the office, thinking of the five hundred and twenty-eight million citizens. He said slyly, “I want you to get all the men with brown hair and brown eyes. I want their women that have blonde hair and blue eyes. We will get Jesus and see if their God can make them live; if their God can save them.”

  Mohammed laughed, smiling ear to ear. “I like that. I like that a lot. We will put their God out there; we will see if they live. What will happen when hell strikes fury down upon them? When it is their time to be judged; will they die or will they prosper?”

  Imad slapped him on the shoulder. “They will die and they will be judged. There will be no salvation for the weak; they will perish. I want you to put them in a conference room, out of the way, until everyone else leaves.”

  *****

  Later that night, when those who had not been called into a special meeting had left the building, the factory had turned into a place of hell. Imad and his men unlocked the conference door. The group had taken the room earlier in the day stripping it of all phones and setting up a cell phone blocker for anyone who had tried to sneak one in. They stared in disbelief when the men who had tak
en them hostage earlier in the day came back in with their military fatigues on and assault rifles in hand. One of the employees understood that something was horribly wrong was but still missed the severity of it. He smiled nervously at Imad and held up his hand. When no one paid attention to him, he cleared his throat. “Uh, hello, sir, do you speak English?”

  Imad stared at the intrusion on him and his men. He walked over to the man who did not understand what was going on and before he could speak, the man looked to another of the hostages and whispered, “I do not think that they speak English. Leave it to terrorists to take hostages and not know the language.”

  The woman he was speaking to said, “Why are you whispering if they don’t speak English?”

  Imad leaned in a little closer, holding his rifle tightly, and in a British accent said, “Because he is a moron and just wants to assume that men from Iran, holding rifles, who have taken him and his fellow employees hostage must be too ignorant to speak English.”

  The man’s mouth dropped. “Uh, yeah, so sorry about that. It was nothing personal, Mr.—?”

  Imad took the rifle’s butt stock and smashed it into the man's ribs. He gasped for air, dropping to the ground and holding his ribs tightly. Imad said, “Did you have any more questions?”

  “I… I just want to know what you want. What are your demands and why are you here?”

  “We have no demands, you piece of shit.”

  “So, if you don’t want anything, then what are we are supposed to do for you? How do we resolve this?”

  “There is no resolve. You can do only one thing for me useful. Now get on your feet and move. We have very much work to do. We have a busy week ahead of us.” Imad pointed at two of his men. “You two make sure we are not interrupted. We will be closed for business tomorrow. Put a sign on the front door; send out an email advising people the plant has shut down because of an accident. If anyone comes to the doors to try and go to work in the morning, put a bullet through them.”