“Okay, Angela, that sounds nice.”
Chrissy helped the old woman to her feet, and they shuffled from the truck and stood in line. Everyone was staring at the ground, terrified to speak or move a muscle.
Chrissy held the old woman’s hand as they waited quietly on the second row. Chrissy’s mind was racing, trying to figure out what she would do if the old woman made a scene. If she couldn’t keep her quiet, she wasn’t sure if she was brave enough to stick her neck out and run the risk of getting shot.
Chrissy cautiously raised her head and surveyed the scene around her. They had stopped in the biggest parking lot she’d ever seen. There were signs all around. The one that caught her eye said “We Hope You Enjoy Your Stay at the Magic Kingdom.” There was another one with a picture of Mickey Mouse on it but she couldn’t make out the words.
The bad guys brought us to Disney World?
The group waited in silence for several minutes while the slavers talked with another group of men with guns. Then they just stood there and said nothing; it looked like they were waiting for something to happen. Chrissy began to shake. Are they going to kill us?
Chrissy glanced to her right and saw the apparent cause of the delay. An important-looking man was slowly walking toward the group. He shook hands with one of the slavers. The slaver gestured toward the group and the two men started to walk up and down the rows of frightened people. As they made their way down the second row, Chrissy let go of the woman’s hand, tears of shame streaming down her grimy face. She didn’t know what she would do if the old woman got confused and drew attention to herself. She prayed harder than she ever had before that the old woman would remain quiet. If they shot her, Chrissy would blame herself for the rest of her life. Chrissy heard the two men talking as they approached.
“You should be able to get a lot of work out of them. Plenty of good, healthy men to do some labor; plenty of women to fuck when they’re not cleaning.”
“Why’d you bring kids? What am I supposed to do with kids?”
“I’m sure you’ll find use for them; they’ll grow up soon enough. Better to train ’em now so they learn what’s expected of them when they get older. You can also train them to do other things… if you catch my drift.”
“How much you want for the lot of them?”
“I have a list of things in high demand on our routes. We can discuss that over dinner.”
“Of course. How many men you got with you?”
“Six.”
“Round ’em up and we’ll take them to the chow hall. I bet you guys could use some drinks and time to unwind after your long trip.”
“Damn straight! Lead the way.”
The men were herded toward a building a hundred yards away.
The man in charge walked to the front of the group of slaves he had just agreed to purchase. He said something to two of his men and shook his head. The two men ran forward ten yards, stopped, and raised their arms, pistols in each hand. In a deafening roar of bullets, all six of the evil monsters that Chrissy had feared with every fiber of her being dropped to the ground.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, the Unified American Empire has decided to put an end to the slave trade. I never tolerated it, and I think it’s time they did something about it. You’re all free men and women. My name is Benjamin Black, and I’d be pleased to have you join our community.
CHAPTER FOUR
Kaliz Mubbarak stopped his pickup truck in the parking lot of an apartment complex in Sausalito, California. He didn’t honk the horn or get out of the vehicle. He and his partner sat in silence, waiting for the other two members of their team. Kaliz discreetly scanned the crowded parking lot for any sign of movement and found none in the hushed, shadowy hour before sunrise. A minute later, his teammates exited their apartment and climbed into the back of the oversized cab. No words were spoken for a full ten minutes. They had learned to leave the talking to Kaliz. They didn’t even know each other’s real names, only the aliases they had adopted to maintain their cover. All four were American citizens. Their families had immigrated to the former United States when they were small children, and they had grown up behind enemy lines. All had attended American schools, played sports, had girlfriends, and voted in local, state, and national elections. Kaliz had even spent two years as an infantryman in the United States Army. They’d spent their entire lives hiding their true nationality and passed themselves off as Spaniards. In their youth, they spent many long hours learning to speak Spanish and had mastered the accent, even their English tainted by a touch of the foreign tongue.
Behind closed doors, however, they diligently practiced their Islamic faith. They prayed to Mecca five times a day, observed Ramadan fervently every year and, most importantly, their parents trained them to join the ranks of The Silent Warriors. All four men were experts with pistols, shotguns, and rifles. One of their favorite childhood pastimes involved competing to see who could reassemble weapons the fastest after their parents took them apart and scrambled the many pieces. Kaliz won every time.
When The Star of Allah brightened the night sky over the Eastern Seaboard, Kaliz and his team were fortunate enough to watch the entire event unfold live on television. They celebrated for the better part of a week as they watched the country crumble into ruins. Kaliz’s teammates could barely contain their excitement, eager to execute their plan immediately. They’d spent years preparing for The Day of Judgment and couldn’t understand why Kaliz wanted to wait. Kaliz told them that patience was now the only plan. The Star of Allah didn’t cripple the West Coast, and they didn’t have the luxury of darkness and confusion like their brothers on the other side of the country. They simply needed to alter their agenda. The crippled nation would not be repaired anytime in the near future; if anything, it would only get worse before it got better. Kaliz spent eighteen months crafting his plan to perfection. Every member of his team not only knew his own role, but had memorized the responsibilities of his fellow teammates as well to ensure that every facet of the plan would be carried out should one of them fall.
The day had finally come. The destruction they would unleash would not only further cripple the infrastructure of the country, but it would also deface a national icon, a symbol recognized in every corner of the land. Kaliz’s men were not aware of the entire operation; they had no idea they were only one half of the plan. Another cell leader would execute the same scheme from the opposite end of the bridge.
Kaliz’s two-year stint in the infantry had been part of this covert operation. He used his military connections to smuggle the equipment he needed for his plan. He managed to steal a dozen grenades, assorted weapons and ammunition, and the grand prize – a case of C-4 plastic explosives. His counterpart on the other team had managed to do the same. Kaliz had manipulated and bribed many people to acquire the items and had even killed two men to do so. He was meticulous in his planning and was never a suspect in any of the thefts or murders.
The truck traveled south down the 101 and waited patiently in line at the checkpoint to the Golden Gate Bridge. With much of the interstate highway system in ruins on the other side of the country, Regional Governor Jimenez closely guarded critical bridges and freeway intersections in his territory. The Golden Gate Bridge had a platoon of soldiers at both ends. Every vehicle was stopped; the driver and occupants required to show identification in order to pass. For the initial six months after The Day of Judgment, every vehicle was thoroughly searched. The process took hours; angry citizens had to add at least two hours to any trip that required transit across the bridge. Kaliz simply bided his time, waiting for complacency to kick in. Slowly but surely, the thorough searches became less and less diligent. Without a single incident on The Golden Gate Bridge in eighteen months, the soldiers began to relax. They saw the same familiar faces day after day and recognized the same cars traversing the bridge. Kaliz’s only purpose for driving back and forth across the bridge every day was to bolster his position as a regular to the soldiers guarding the bridge. At first, his truck was searched five days a week, both coming and going. As the months passed, five days became four, then three until it become once a week, if ever. Kaliz became so familiar with the guards that when he pulled up to the checkpoint, he would roll down his window with his driver’s license in hand and the soldiers would simply wave him through without even stopping him.