Fifty Falling Stars Read online

  The convoy made their way to the United States over the next seven hours. They followed winding, dry riverbeds and canyons that led from the compound, across the border, and into New Mexico. Whenever they crossed a fence or other obstruction, the cartel members moved a section of the obstacle, passed through, and replaced the barrier as it had been. They left no trace of their passage. Once they entered New Mexico, they found their rendezvous point and concealed the ATVs. Within minutes of waiting at the rendezvous point, a farm truck pulled up. The cartels sprang into action. In less than two minutes, Khalaf, Layth, and their precious cargo rode along the county back roads on their way to their next meeting.

  Within the next hour and a half, they met with their new contact outside of Deming, New Mexico. Their contact provided them with a fairly new van into which they loaded the casket. He explained that the van was clean but should be dumped when they got to their final destination. Khalaf and Layth began their long drive to Maryland.

  When they reached Maryland, Khalaf stayed with the van while Layth made contact with their brother at the mosque. The man provided them with a list of people who were known to rent houses to illegal Mexican workers for cash and asked no questions. After much discussion, they decided on one of the properties about thirty minutes away in West Virginia. The brother gave Khalaf a disposable cell phone and the location of where they could find work. He told Khalaf that he would call when he had made the arrangements for the property and a new vehicle.

  Khalaf and Layth lived in the van for the next two days until they received the call from the brother at the mosque. He gave them the address of the house and told them they were to meet the owner at three thirty the next afternoon. He also brokered a trade for their van.

  The meeting at the house in Martinsburg, West Virginia proved to be an interesting experience. The man arrived thirty minutes late. Layth did all of the talking. They were both nervous about this meeting since it was the first one that they had had with someone who wasn’t part of their mission. As Layth began the conversation, the old white man talked over him. “Hola.” The man said. “You boys bring me five hundred dollars in cash on the first of each month. You go break anything, you fucking fix it. You got it. You late on the rent, I’ll call INS on your ass and get you kicked back to Mexico faster than you can flip a tortilla. You understand me boy?” Whether it was Layth’s lighter complexion or the intermediary their contact had used, Layth could not say, but this idiot thought they were Mexican. All the better. Layth thought. He had picked up bits of Spanish on their journey from Guatemala.

  “Si, senior. We pay on time and no break no…thing.” Layth responded.

  “Good.” The old redneck said. “I don’t wanna be bothered with you. You just pay up and don’t bother me with shit and we’ll be all right.” The man gave them the keys to the house and left.

  After the old bastard left, the partners pulled the van behind the house and waited until nightfall to unload their cargo. The house was a small two bedroom in horrible repair. Holes glared in the sheetrock and mold grew in the living room. The men found no good place to hide their cargo. They stashed the casket vertically in the closet of one of the bedrooms until they could find a more permanent solution. They left and met their next appointment, trading the van with an older Hispanic man who needed a better vehicle for his house painting business. He sold them his early nineties model, blue van.

  Now established, Khalaf and Layth began their lives and preparations for the signs. Their security pattern kept one of them at home at all times to secure Allah’s tool. The other went to work or purchased supplies. They always worked odd jobs for cash only. Several places in the surrounding towns served as gathering points for undocumented workers. Almost every town in the area had one within a quarter of a mile from the local home repair stores. People would hire them for the day to do everything from yard work to construction. Khalaf found regular work with a moving company. Sometimes he even went into people’s homes to help them move. He found the decadence of the Americans hard to stomach. Their homes seemed shrines to materialism and greed.

  Through the next few months, they cut a hole in the concrete slab in one of the bedrooms and built a false floor to conceal their coffin. They slept in the other room since neither felt safe being so close to their package. They lived their lives with as little interaction as possible from outsiders. They were vigilant about never speeding or breaking any minor laws that might result in a traffic stop, since that was about the only way that they would be caught.

  Every week one of them would make a run for supplies. Over the months they collected large amounts of household cleaners, fertilizer, and diesel fuel. They knew that the government tracked some of these items so they only bought small quantities at a time from several different sources, some over an hour away.

  They received two more messages from their contact. They met an unknown contact set up by their former contact and were given seven pounds of plastic explosives and detonators. They never knew who the man was, but he said their ‘mutual friend’ had settled the payment. They never heard from the contact or the brother at the mosque again. They continued their lives and preparations. Their hatred and faith sustained them in their isolation.

  Khalaf finished his morning prayers. His thoughts ran over everything that had led to this point. Today, Saturday, 15 March 2014, would be the day that he would enter paradise.

  Layth stood and looked at Khalaf. “My brother, do you remember what the imam said to us when we began our pilgrimage into glory?”

  “How could I forget?”

  “Do you believe the signs have been fulfilled?” Layth asked.

  “I do… Today is the day that we meet Allah. Come, we only have an hour before daylight. We should make preparations for the tool Allah has delivered to us and be ready to go after the noon prayers. The protests will be largest this afternoon, giving us the best distraction to strike.”

  Layth and Khalaf had felt the time had been coming for the last few months. They had upgraded the shocks on the van to make sure it could handle the weight they would place in it today. They loaded the canisters into the van. They loaded buckets of fertilizer and diesel fuel. They placed the plastic explosives on top of the first layer. They ran the detonator cord to the front of the van, removed the cylinders from the coffin, and secured them to the walls and ceiling of the van. One of the canisters ruptured and a small amount spilled onto Khalaf’s arm, burning him. Layth was worried, but Khalaf just wiped it off and wrapped the wound. He said to Layth, “What does it matter? Tonight I will have new arm in paradise.” Layth smiled and continued securing the canisters to the van. Once they had secured the canisters, they loaded two full propane tanks into the front and rear of the van’s cargo bay. They filled any residual space with more buckets of the fertilizer and diesel mixture. Once they ran out of space for buckets, they filled the smaller spaces with two-liter bottles filled with gasoline.

  When they finished around ten thirty, the finished product looked horrible but should prove effective. Khalaf revered it with awe, appreciating that almost everything here had been procured and fabricated with readily available products. His and Layth’s ingenuity had made this possible. The irony that the Zionists had provided the means of their attack was not lost on Khalaf. It was time. They went back into the house, purified themselves, and observed the noon prayers. All of their preparations complete, they made their way to the van and left.

  The drive into Washington, DC took two hours. They learned on the news that a large anti-war/Occupy protest was scheduled for Lafayette Square. Tens of thousands of people were expected to attend. Khalaf and Layth discussed the merits of attacking the Capital Building, the Occupy protests, or the Pentagon. After a heated discussion on the drive in, they decided that their tool was not enough to affect the Pentagon, nor would it be productive to strike the Capitol building on a weekend. They decided to target the protests since they would provide the highest body count, contamina
te the most people, and cause the most fear and chaos. After all, those were the Imam’s instructions all those months ago.

  The weather forecast for the day predicted partly cloudy skies with wind coming out of the north-west around five miles per hour. Considering this, they would blow their van as close as they could get to the north-east of the White House, as close as they could get to the protest. With luck, the radiation would spread through the crowd of protesters and into the White House. Many unknowns clouded their path, but their faith guided them.

  They encountered no issues on their trip into DC until they came to Washington Circle. As they entered the round-a-bout, they saw that the police had closed off the roads east of the circle, blocking their exit. Layth began to get nervous. He swerved the van and almost clipped the sedan in from of him. “What do we do now? There are police and people everywhere!”

  “Take the exit to the north there. We will try to find another way around.” They did as Khalaf suggested and headed north on New Hampshire Avenue.

  Patrol Officer Mark Reilly, one of the officers at the Washington Circle barricade, made note of the erratic driving. He turned to his superior, Master Patrol Officer Johansen. “Hey, Jim, did you see that blue van? He freaked out when he saw us blocking the road.”

  “Nah, I missed it. I’m more worried about all of these dipshits out here marching. This is bigger than we thought. I just hope none of these assholes start throwing shit at us like they do out in Oakland. Did you get the plates on the van?” Jim asked.

  “Just that it was from West Virginia.” Reilly said.

  “Probably just some guys from out of town trying to get to the protest. Wouldn’t worry about it. Keep your eyes on these folks behind us. That’s where the danger is. Keep your eye on the ball, Mark.”

  “I don’t know. Something about that van just doesn’t seem right.” Reilly said.

  Khalaf and Layth drove several blocks north but found no open, eastbound roads. “Where do we go?” Layth asked.

  “Take the block back around to Washington Circle. We will bust through the Pennsylvania Avenue barricade. There are people everywhere. We cannot help but kill dozens. Just drive straight until we hit the White House. We will meet Allah there.”

  Layth made two left turns and soon entered Washington Circle from 23rd Street. He accelerated as he came around the curve and aimed for the Pennsylvania barricade.

  “Jim, there’s that van again.” Reilly called out. “He looks like he’s…Oh shit!” He exclaimed as he heard the van’s engine rev and the vehicle pick up speed.

  “Stop it!” Jim said as he stepped into the middle of the barricade. He tried to dodge to his right as the van accelerated into the barricade. He failed. The van clipped his hip and threw him several feet onto the sidewalk. The van broke through and barreled into the crowd, headed for the White House.

  Reilly sprinted to his downed supervisor screaming into his radio. “Eleven ninety-nine! Officer down! Older model blue van broke through the barricade, heading south-east on Pennsylvania Avenue! Two male suspects in front of the van! Possible attack! Stop at all costs!”

  With the exception of the cop, most of the crowd got out of the way. The van hit some, but most avoided the speeding vehicle. When the van came up to the corner of James Monroe Park, a woman herding a group of children across the street blocked their way. Most of the children screamed and scattered out of the van’s path. One little eight-year-old girl wearing a yellow hoodie froze in terror. The van centered her. The bumper lifted her, allowing her face to smash into the windshield before the impact threw her forward. She landed a few feet in front of the van and rolled once before the van passed over her. Layth felt the bump and soft squish as the back left tire ran over her. He focused on the road, looking past the lock of blond hair the girl had deposited in the now-broken windshield.

  Three police officers at another barricade in front of them saw the commotion coming and, thanks to Reilly’s warning, were prepared. About forty feet in front of the barricade, the officer’s opened fire. Khalaf and Layth ducked as the forty caliber rounds slammed into the cab of the van. The van served to the left and hit several people before glancing off of the building and continuing forward on the sidewalk. Layth looked up. They had passed the police and were running over several people now. He maneuvered the van back onto the road and kept the accelerator pressed to the maximum. The van bucked as bodies passed under the tires. He could heard bullets impacting the rear of the van. He looked over to Khalaf and was about to ask if he was ok when he noticed the two growing red spots on Khalaf’s chest. He began to pray and continued on.

  The crowds had heard the commotion and were now thinning as Layth approached the intersection of 18th Street. The police had erected concrete barriers at this intersection. The cops manning the barricade opened fire. He did not duck this time, he had to get around the barricade. He swerved to the right to go around the barricade and between the building and the sidewalk on the south side. He barely registered the heavy thumps in his chest. As he neared the barricade, fire erupted in his left cheek. His vision went red, and he felt a hard thump from the back of the van. The rear of the van struck the barricade, ripping off the left wheel. The van fish tailed, its momentum carrying it several yards down the road in s shower sparks from the missing wheel. The rear slipped to the south side of the road and the van flipped. It rolled three times before sliding the last ten feet on its side.

  As Layth regained his senses, he realized that he had been shot in the left cheek and several times in the chest. His left eye no longer functioned. His struggled to breathe as his lungs filled with blood. He noticed that the van was now burning. He looked down to Khalaf and found that he was alive. He reached for the detonator, but it lay out of reach. With his last remaining strength, Khalaf grabbed the detonator and lifted it to Layth. They both closed their hands around the detonator. Layth looked at his friend. He had taken a bullet on the chin. The remaining bones of his jaw flapped over to the side of his face. He looked in his friend’s eyes and whispered, “Allah akb….” His last word interrupted by the explosion.

  Reilly, not trying to be a hero, just doing what most cops would do, ran toward the danger. He left Jim and decided that he had to help stop the van if he could. When he heard the other cops open fire he ran faster, adrenaline spurring him to more speed than he had ever known. He had just reached Monroe Park when he felt the explosion and saw the flames lick the sky. He stopped, stunned to his core. He gazed for a few seconds longer, stuck in disbelief. He had to help, he realized, and began running again. Before he had passed the park, another officer came over the radio. “Stay back! For the love of God, stay back! Eyes burning, I can’t see. Help me Jesus, I can’t see!” Violent coughing carried over the radio. “Lungs burning. Can’t breathe…” more coughing. “Oh fuck! It’s chemical….it’s chemical!”

  The words scared Reilly to the center of his being. Visions of his comrades on 9/11 ran through his mind. He didn’t know what to do. The streets filled with panicked people. The protestors become a violent wave of human flesh, trampling everything in their path, other people included. Terror coursed through the streets. He thought back to 9/11 and found courage in the memory of his peers who had ran into the burning towers. He would do what he had to do. He had friends, coworkers, and innocent victims in the blast zone. He was going in to save as many as he could, chemicals be damned. The smoke rose into the sky, staining the beauty of the bright blue sky and soft, white clouds. The gentle breeze that had felt so nice earlier took on a sinister feel as it carried the radioactive particles into the heart of the nation’s capital.

  Chapter 4

  Will Baker was working in his garage when he heard someone knocking on the door. It was Sunday, and his shop was closed. He wondered who would bother him here on a Sunday. He went around to the office and opened the door. “George! What the hell are you doing here?” He asked. “I thought you were up in Minnesota this week.”

  “C
hange of plans, buddy. They cancelled my seminar. I had a few days off, and thought I’d swing down here and visit mom and dad. I called your mom, and she said you were probably up here working on your four wheeler. Thought I’d come surprise you.” George said as he hugged his cousin.

  Three years older than Will, George had been a like a big brother. They had been best friends their whole lives. Their mothers were sisters and lived about thirty minutes away from each other. George and Will grew up helping their grandfather run his small auto-body shop in Lake City, Tennessee. After graduating high school, George had gone off to college and became a salesman in the medical industry. Will spent four years in the Marines until returning home to help his grandfather in the shop. His grandfather had passed away last year. Will inherited the shop and couldn’t be happier keeping it open.

  “That’s awesome. It’s good to have you down here. How long you gonna stay?” Will asked.

  “The seminar was scheduled for all week. I figured I’d come stay a few days here, check on the folks, make sure you’re staying out of trouble, and get back to Miami on Friday. One of my buds is opening a new club down there Saturday night. Should be a good night.” He said with a wink.

  “So, you still selling those medical drills and drilling the young ladies?” Will joked.

  “You know it.” George said. “Speakin of drilling young ladies, where’s my new cousin-in-law? I haven’t seen her in a year or so. I was thinking we could all go out and get some dinner one night this week”

  Will punched him in the shoulder playfully. “Jenny’s doing an internship at one of the big hospitals over in

  Knoxville. She’s working tonight, tomorrow night, and Tuesday night. I’ll give her a call and see if we can do Wednesday.”

  “Sounds good. So, how’s business?”