East of Hounslow

by Khurrum Rahman

  I thought about texting Parker to let him know that I had arrived safely‚ but I knew that they were tracking my phone anyway. I switched it off to preserve my battery as there were only a limited amount of power sockets available and I closed my eyes.

  57

  Not for long though‚ as two short hours later I had been nudged‚ poked and prodded and my cries of five more minutes had fallen on deaf ears. It wasn’t until a bucket full of cold water nearly drowned me in my sleep that I woke up. I shot out of bed and stood‚ seething‚ toe to toe against the perpetrator. My eyes were level with two gigantic mounds covered by a faded‚ tight green T-shirt. My eyes travelled up. Then they travelled up some more‚ until I was craning my neck and looking up at Mustafa‚ who was looking down smirking at me.

  ‘Morning‚ Jihadi Jay‚’ he said and placed the empty bucket over my head.

  I kept it there for a bit‚ letting my temper simmer. I felt the bucket being gently lifted and Amirah was standing in front of me looking as fresh as a daisy.

  ‘Day one‚’ she said simply.

  ‘Yeah‚’ I yawned. ‘Day one.’ We walked out together into the stunning bright sunrise and I was immediately told to pray on my own as everyone had already woken up and prayed as per schedule.

  Islamic Studies was next and Mustafa explained that it was up to us to take turns at leading the class. Kevin and Salman both volunteered‚ wanting to be the first to lead. A touch of rivalry was clear as they bickered about who was better suited. Then bizarrely‚ they offered it up to each other.

  ‘Please‚ Brother you teach. I insist.’

  ‘No‚ no‚ you stood up first‚ you should do it‚ Brother.’

  This went back and forth for a very long minute before Kevin finally humbly accepted‚ much to Salman’s annoyance. The classes weren’t too different to what we had learnt with Al-Bhukara‚ and I found myself drifting.

  Physical training was next. I was in good shape due to my daily five-mile runs‚ and I always did excel at Physical Education at school. I was quite competitive in that manner. Mustafa started us off quite easily‚ some star jumps‚ which were a breeze‚ followed by some basic stretches to loosen up our muscles. It was a walk in the park and that’s exactly what I found myself whispering to Parvez.

  ‘Something you have to say‚ Jay?’ Mustafa asked.

  ‘No‚’ I replied‚ pushing my elbows through my shoulders. ‘Nothing.’

  ‘He said it’s a walk in the park.’ Parvez grinned at me.

  Mustafa nodded thoughtfully‚ as he fingered his goatee. We continued to stretch for an obscene amount of time‚ punctuated with press ups and sit ups‚ but still easily manageable. We had a two-hour slot and I wondered how we would fill it.

  ‘Right‚ soldiers.’ Mustafa echoed. ‘Relax yourself. Our friend Jihadi Jay here is under the impression that this camp is a walk in the park.’

  ‘I didn’t mean that exactly. I was just saying—’

  Mustafa gesticulated a digging motion with his hands. I got the impression that he could actually dig a grave using his bare hands quicker than I could with a JCB.

  ‘The next part of our physical training is one-on-one combat training. Jay‚ as you are evidently having the time of your life‚ please step forward.’

  ‘Me?’ I said‚ just as Parvez nudged me forward towards Mustafa. What was up with him? He seemed to have developed some confidence in this place‚ confidence that he had never expressed back home‚ as though he was in his element here. I looked up at Mustafa‚ balled my hands and put my dukes up and waited for him to kick the shit out of me.

  ‘Please don’t hurt me!’ Mustafa mocked and the rest of the group sniggered. ‘Turn around Jay‚ you’re not fighting me.’

  I turned to face the group and sized them all up. Now‚ I ain’t no slouch‚ I’ve been in a fair share of dust ups in my life‚ and I could handle myself‚ and looking at these Pakis lined up in front of me I fancied my chances against any of them.

  ‘Irfan. Please step up‚’ Mustafa instructed.

  Irfan? Irfan! Please. Don’t insult me. At least give me a challenge. He was shorter than me‚ skinner than me and in the time I had known him‚ slightly intimidated of me. He stepped up quite confidently. I looked at Mustafa and my open palms communicated to him how I was feeling about the mismatch. Really. This guy. I could see him pursing his lips‚ trying to contain a smile. Okay‚ so be it.

  I started to play up to the audience‚ touching my fists together as I circled Irfan. He watched me curiously for a moment before removing his kameez and standing topless in front of me.

  The skinny bastard was ripped. Taut‚ wiry‚ eight pack. Trust me‚ I counted.

  I stopped showboating. He stepped forward and I instinctively stepped back. Shit. Not a punch had been thrown and he already had the upper hand. I threw a couple of quick air jabs at him‚ just inches away from his nose. On the second jab he grabbed my arm and dragged me forward whilst bringing his forehead down on my face. I went down on my haunches and put my hands up to my face and felt blood. Something was bleeding‚ maybe my nose or my lip‚ it was hard to tell as my whole fucking face hurt. The sneaky fucker went in for the kill just as I was getting warmed up. I was fuming‚ I bounced back up on my feet and charged at him‚ bent low‚ my head targeting his midsection. He sidestepped and locked my head in his arms by his waist and delivered a donkey kick to my already battered face. The kick wasn’t hard and I knew that he had been holding back but my humiliation was complete. He removed his grip from around of my neck and I dropped face first into the dirt. I stayed rooted‚ letting my body rest‚ I could have actually fallen asleep right there and then‚ so exhausted was I.

  ‘Alright‚ guys. What did we just learn?’ Mustafa asked.

  ‘Always be ready to retaliate‚’ somebody answered‚ I think one of the Luton lot.

  ‘Right.’ Mustafa said. ‘Two very significant words. Ready to retaliate. That is exactly what young Irfan demonstrated. This is what thousands of young Muslims around the world are demonstrating. Always be ready to retaliate.’

  Irfan offered me a hand‚ I took it and got back up to my feet. I stood in front of him and patted down the dirt from my clothes and wiped the crap off my face. His face looked like it held a touch of arrogance‚ as though he had been waiting for a while to get one over on me.

  So I kicked him as hard as I could in the nuts.

  He grabbed at them before dropping in slow motion to the ground and curling up like a ball.

  ‘So much for being ready‚’ I said‚ spitting blood from my mouth. ‘Don’t really see much of a retaliation coming anytime soon‚ either.’

  58

  Aslam had returned from the long drive back from Islamabad and without missing a beat he cooked us all lunch. I use the word cooked loosely. It was a soggy omelette and it was raw in places. I used the two pieces of bread provided to turn it into a sandwich‚ with a dash of Tabasco which I’d had the foresight to pack‚ and washed it down quickly with a glass of what I hoped was water.

  ‘What’s next?’ I asked‚ burping the meal away.

  ‘Military Training‚’ Amirah said. She was sitting closely next to me. It had not gone unnoticed by the rest of the group‚ but no one seemed to mind or think ill of it.

  ‘What does that include?’

  ‘Could be anything‚ Brother‚’ Kamran said. He had the photo of his wife and kids out again. It was leaning against his glass. Once again I mentally questioned his motive for being here. ‘In the past we had sessions on building explosives. But I don’t know what Mustafa has in mind.’

  ‘In Jalalabad‚ Afghanistan‚ the training camp was tough‚’ Kevin said. ‘The trainer would instruct us to make live bombs and then trap us in a cave with them. He would set the timer for sixty seconds in which we would have to disarm them.’

  ‘Well‚ I’m not doing that!’ I said and immediately regretted it.

  ‘I don’t think this is that kind of trai
ning camp‚’ Parvez said. ‘I too‚ have had intensive bomb training; building‚ disarming and disposal.’ He lifted his shalwar halfway up his leg to reveal… nothing. Just a hairy lower leg.

  ‘Thanks for the leg tease‚ Parvez‚’ I said. ‘Very titillating.’

  He pointed to just below his knee and past the wispy‚ curly black hairs I could see tiny little holes‚ less than a millimetre wide and the same again deep. ‘Nail bomb‚’ he said. ‘I built it and I didn’t connect the timer properly‚ I walked away confident‚ arrogant even‚ thinking that I had time. I was wrong‚ it went off sooner than anticipated. Thankfully I was far away enough from it to cause any real damage.’ He smiled at the memory. ‘It was a sure sign from Allah.’

  ‘What do you mean‚ sign?’ I asked.

  ‘He was telling me to focus‚ to give my all to my jihad.’

  Yeah‚ that or He was telling you not to fuck around with explosives.

  ‘They didn’t let me near the bomb making kits.’ Akhtar said‚ sheepishly.

  ‘Akhtar‚ Brother‚ there is a path set for you by the Almighty‚’ Salman said. ‘And making bombs is not it.’

  ‘Parvez‚ what did you mean that this isn’t that kind of training camp?’ I asked.

  ‘Guns‚ Brother‚’ Kevin answered instead. ‘Do you remember our trip with the Imam?’ Parvez’s face fell slightly. He had made it clear on more than one occasion that he should have been present for that trip.

  ‘Yeah‚’ I said. ‘I remember.’

  ‘Well it’s a reasonable assumption that we’re going to be heavily trained using those particular models. The AK47 and Glock 19.’

  ‘Any of you fired a gun before?’ I asked. ‘I haven’t.’

  ‘This is exactly what I mean.’ Parvez sighed‚ excused himself‚ and walked off in a huff.

  ‘What’s his problem?’ I asked.

  ‘He doesn’t mean anything by it‚’ Kevin said. ‘You see‚ Jay‚ this is a very important part of our education. And you are‚ to some extent‚ not on the same level as us.’

  ‘But here you are‚’ Irfan said‚ with a touch of antagonism.

  ‘Yes‚ Brother‚ we have all‚ previously‚ had arms training‚’ Yasir said‚ gently touching his brother’s arm in a calming gesture. ‘This time it is not about how you handle a gun‚ it’s how to inflict the most amount of damage with it.’

  ‘You have a lot of catching up to do‚’ Irfan said. ‘If you are going to walk with us we have to know that you are capable.’

  Mustafa did not join us for breakfast. He probably had his eggs liquidised in the form of a protein shake‚ but he joined us after in the blistering morning sunshine. At each of our feet lay a Glock 19 and a sawn-off AK47.

  ‘Jihadi Jay.’ I hated being called that‚ but I took it with the mocking humour that it was intended. ‘I want you to pair up with somebody and observe carefully. Later I want you to be able to do this by yourself.’

  ‘Do what?’ I asked‚ cradling my guns and standing next to Parvez.

  ‘Brothers and‚ of course‚ Sister Amirah‚ apart from Jihadi Jay‚ you have all had levels of weapon training. For this exercise we are going to disassemble and check the Glock for any faults. You have ninety seconds starting…’ Mustafa looked at his watch and smirked. ‘Well‚ it started twenty seconds ago.’

  Parvez was down like a shot‚ on one knee‚ hunched over the weapons. ‘Alright‚ Jay. I’m going to talk fast‚ so keep up.’ He picked up the Glock. ‘First remove the magazine.’ He pressed a button and the magazine fell smoothly out of the handle. ‘Retract the slide‚ check that there is no ammunition in the chamber. Then pull the trigger to its rear and retract the slide a touch‚ about a quarter of an inch‚ at the same time bringing the slide lock down on both sides.’

  I was still trying to get my head around what he had pressed to make that magazine drop out like that.

  ‘Once unlocked‚ remove slide‚ remove the recoil spring and barrel.’ His hands were moving too fast and I could hear him explaining but the information wasn’t getting past my eyes and into my brain. The gun was coming apart piece by piece easily in his hand‚ each part carefully inspected and placed by his side. ‘I knew it‚’ he said‚ holding up a small spring. Look at the recoil spring‚ it’s too short and it’s too light. I did notice a difference when I retracted the slide.’

  I nodded knowingly but I was lost.

  I took the spring from his hand and studied it. I compressed it a few times before it bounced away out of my hands. Parvez shook his head and stood up. He nodded to Mustafa that he was complete‚ and looked pleased as he realised that he was the first. I stood next to him hoping for some of the glory to fall on me. A few seconds later Akhtar stood up wearing a lopsided grin on his face. Maybe bombs weren’t his thing but guns certainly were.

  ‘Twenty seconds.’ Mustafa shouted.

  Amirah was next‚ followed by Kamran‚ Yasir and Irfan.

  ‘Ten seconds.’

  Salman and Kevin were again competing with each other‚ not wanting to be the last.

  ‘Time.’ Mustafa announced‚ just as they finished disassembly. ‘Okay‚ good job‚ guys. Now each of you tell me what you noticed.’

  ‘Recoil spring was too short causing friction in the slider‚’ Parvez said.

  ‘Well done‚’ Mustafa said.

  ‘The ejector pin was bent on my one‚’ Akhtar said‚ carefully.

  ‘Excellent Akhtar‚ that’s right‚ it was. Really good job‚’ Mustafa said and Akhtar beamed at his achievement. ‘And the rest of you guys?’

  ‘Misfed ammunition. One jammed in the chamber.’

  ‘Magazine extraction faulty.’

  ‘The chamber was too small for the round.’

  And on it went‚ one by one. Their attention to detail was frightening.

  ‘Mashallah‚ you have all been taught very well‚’ Mustafa acknowledged. Then he said‚ ‘Jay. Why don’t you show us what you have learnt?’

  59

  Under their judgemental glare and in just under twenty minutes I had managed to disassemble my Glock. There was a collective groan as I lost the spring again. Mustafa sent them all off for some shooting practice and left me to familiarise myself with my weapons in my room‚ so that I was on par with the rest of the psychos.

  By myself‚ from the comfort of my sleeping bag‚ I seized the opportunity to drop Parker a quick text‚ trying to recall the quick-dash code training that I received before I had set off.

  Hey Mum. Antalya is amazing. So damn hot‚ it nearly hit 40 degrees today and its around 19 at night. Made friends with a few locals. Not sure when or where we are heading to next. OOOXXXXXx

  The mention of the temperature told Parker that it was‚ as assumed‚ AK47’s and Glock 19s. The number of kisses at the end confirmed the number of us that had flown out to camp; the small x represented me. The number of hugs represented those additional to us‚ preceding the kisses to indicate that they had arrived first. The not knowing when or where our next destination was expressed that no dates or plans had yet been revealed.

  The clattering of gunshots rang out and I covered my ears with my pillow and closed my eyes tightly.

  I didn’t mean to fall asleep.

  I woke up with a Glock in my face. I flinched and squirmed‚ trapped in my sleeping bag‚ trying to kick my way out of it. He pulled the trigger and I screamed ‘No!’

  Mustafa lobbed the Glock on my chest‚ followed by the magazine. Disappointment and anger blazing in his eyes. He walked out without saying a word.

  ‘Salaam‚ Bruv.’ Akhtar was sitting watching on his sleep bag‚ his fingers moving quickly over prayer beads.

  I unzipped myself out of the mine and stretched out. ‘What’s his problem?’

  ‘You were sleeping. Mustafa was well vexed.’

  ‘Yeah‚ I did notice.’ I yawned. I was so fucking tired.

  ‘You should have been practising. Like Brother Irfan said‚ if you are g
oing to walk with us you need to be on the same level as us‚ innit?’

  ‘What time is it?’

  ‘About midday‚ Bruv. Free time for a bit‚ then prayers and lunch. Probably chicken again.’

  ‘The others?’

  ‘Outside‚ chilling out in the sun. Taking group photos for Facebook and Twitter‚ encouraging the Brothers and Sisters around the world to join us‚’ Akhtar said. His words didn’t fit. Didn’t belong to him.

  ‘What do you do in Luton‚ Akhtar?’

  ‘Me‚ Bruv? I don’t do nothing.’

  ‘You don’t work‚ go to college‚ Uni?’

  ‘Uni?’ He smiled. ‘No‚ Bruv. Just‚ you know‚ hang out with Brother Salman and Brother Kamran.’

  ‘How do you know them?’

  ‘From the mosque‚ innit? They looked after me‚ yeah. Helped me realise my path.’

  ‘Which is what?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Your path?’

  ‘Death to all Kafirs‚ yeah?

  ‘Why?’ I asked‚ curious to hear his personal reasons.

  He just shrugged stupidly at me. ‘It’s just the way it is‚ Bruv.’

  *

  Outside they were all posing. Parvez was sandwiched in between Yasir and Irfan. Arms around each other. Rifle’s hanging off their shoulder with chequered ghutrah scarves partially covering their faces. Kamran was clicking away‚ taking pictures with his phone. It was an unnerving sight. Amirah clocked me and jogged over.

  ‘Jay. Are you all right?’

  ‘Yeah‚ I’m fine.’

  She glared at Akhtar who eventually realised that she wanted him out of the way‚ and he walked off and joined the others. She grabbed my arm tightly and marched me out of ear-shot. We walked behind the large rock only to find Aslam there‚ getting high.

  ‘Get lost‚ Aslam‚’ she said and he drifted away. ‘Jay‚ what the fuck‚ man?’

  ‘What?’