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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1839438
Rated: 13+ · Novel · Action/Adventure · #1839438
Something is answering the prayers of man, and it isn't God.

By Terrance Davis


The word Kafir is more of an epithet when spoken by a True Believer. The title is Arabic and means “obliterator”, “rejecter”, or “one who covers up”. For the Muslim it is an all-encompassing word that is applied to anyone that does not believe that there is One God whose personal name is Allah and that Muhammad, peace be upon him, is his last slave, servant, Prophet and messenger.

Abdullah sat motionless and watched the dirty Kafirs as they walked by, their fat bodies saddled with the harim, or forbidden foods that they killed themselves with.

Kennedy Airport was electric with activity. Abdullah gave these infidels credit; they were nothing if not ingenious. Kennedy Airport sat on what was once Idlewood golf course in Queens. When it was first being constructed in 1942, the designers had in mind a small regional airport, not the international hub that it has since become.

“Your flight is delayed too?” The female disbeliever beside him asked.

Abdullah studied her for just a second. Had she wore a Hijab, or head covering, she would have been very attractive, but her uncovered head made her look like the Western Christian harlot that she surely was. Abdullah imagined slapping her so hard that she disappeared from view. The smile that the image gave him was mistaken by the woman for a sign of friendship.

“It seems to be a custom now to sit for a day or so in the airport,” Abdullah remarked with a heavy accent. He was from Nigeria, and although English is the official language of his country, his mother tongue was Yoruba. Abdullah spoke several languages, including Arabic and English, and was fluent in each one, but his accent remained, to his frustration.

Abdullah was very handsome, with dark brown smooth skin, a baldhead, and an athlete’s body. Had the unsuspecting woman chatting with him knew that Abdullah was also a Mujahid, or “freedom fighter”, and the leader of a cell of deeply embedded Mujahideen, she might have ran from him as fast as humanly possible.

Abdullah chatted with the Christian whore pleasantly, but his mind was miles away. Since his Akees, or brothers, had struck a blow against the Western Crusaders in the day of glory that these infidels called September 11th, the Americans organized a new agency called the Transportation Security Administration. Contrary to what many in the public thought about the TSA, they were responsible for protecting all forms of transportation in the United States, not just air travel. This made striking the Shaitan Al Akbar, The Great Satan, a much more difficult task for the soldiers of Allah.

So the Mujahideen had infiltrated the TSA.

This was done shortly after the birth of the TSA, and American born Mujahideen were some of the first employees of the new agency. The goal was to have cell member’s man checkpoints into the airport at just the right time. This was a tricky exercise, since only a dozen or so Mujahideen were employed as security, of the hundreds of screeners that the TSA had at Kennedy Airport. This meant that the odds of having True Believers manning all checkpoints at the right time was nearly statistically impossible.

But Allah answered the prayers of the faithful.

Abdullah had waited patiently for years for the call to be made. When he received the coded message he walked out of the meeting at the marketing firm with barely a word. He knew that all of the cell members had done the same, leaving families and lovers to fulfill the duty that they were bred for.

Abruptly, Abdullah's cell phone vibrated. He excused himself from the Kafir and looked at the screen. The text he read made his heart race with elation.

“Excuse me, my flight is boarding now,” Abdullah said before grabbing the heavy duffel bag and heading for the screening area.

He calmly walked into the long line that marked his boarding area. Abdullah knew that he would have to be in total control of his emotions, the infidels had agents among the passengers that looked for unusual behavior.

Even from his place in line he could see the Mujahideen manning the screening areas. When Abdullah and his brother in the struggle briefly locked eyes, they exchanged a friendly nod that was so slight that only the two of them noticed.

“Allah u Akbar,” Abdullah whispered to himself.


Coincidence is the noteworthy alignment of two or more events or circumstances without obvious causal connection. At least that’s what Wikipedia says.

Had Asia McKinney known what events would be set in motion today and how she would be a central person in a struggle between powerful forces, she would certainly agree with the definition.

It had been a great week in her native New York. Asia was currently a senior at Spelman College in Atlanta, but she regarded the Southern city as a poor imitation of the Big Apple. Now she waited in the long line that led to the screeners station where her bags would be x-rayed and she might get a once over by a horny TSA worker before being waved through.

Just moments ago Asia had tried to engage in conversation with a handsome man in the waiting area by asking him if his flight had been delayed like hers. While his conversation was enjoyable enough the gorgeous man seemed distracted. Asia knew that she was exceptionally beautiful so it came as a mild shock to her that the man, whose name was Kevin, abruptly ended their conversation without asking for her number.

Oh well, she had a way of mistakenly picking gay men lately.

Asia could hardly believe her eyes when she saw Kevin standing a few people ahead of her in line.

Should she try to get his attention?

Asia was amazed that Kevin was taking a flight to Atlanta's Hartsfield Jackson International Airport.

After a moment Asia decided against trying to make further contact with the handsome stranger, she had just gotten out of a relationship and was still in love with Jamal, her ex-boyfriend.

Thirty minutes later Asia had a window seat in coach class. A smiling middle-aged man began making light conversation with her, to her annoyance. After exchanging a few pleasantries Asia opened a magazine that she had stored away in her purse and pretended to read. It was not long before the pilot announced that the plane was ready for takeoff.

Asia took a deep breath. She hated flying.


The Scorpion machine pistol is probably the most well known of its kind in the world. Originally made in Czechoslovakia, it fires .32 ACP rounds. It is easily concealable like a handgun but can fire 850 bullets per minute. The Scorpion can hold either a 10 or 20 round clip.

Abdullah's Scorpion held a 20 round clip. The other nine members of his team also had the same weapon, but two of them also were blessed martyrs. They had martyr vests that were packed with enough C4 to obliterate the aircraft, should the plan fail. Abdullah had a cell phone toned to the frequency of the martyr vests detonator, in case the blessed martyrs had second thoughts, he could activate the explosives remotely.

Abdullah sat in couch class, almost near the very back of the crowded airplane. His aisle seat was truly an omen from Allah, because it meant that he could immediately move down the length of the 747 without stepping over other passengers. Abdullah sat by a muscular kufar (same as kafir) who had a buzz haircut and was in his mid-twenties.

Abdullah would have to kill him immediately.

After the airplane took off and the “fasten seatbelt” sign went off, Abdullah eased out of this seat and got his bag from the overhead ben. Abdullah saw the other Akees doing the exact same thing all around the cabin.

The moment had arrived.

“Excuse me Kevin”, came the familiar female voice. Abdullah turned to see the beautiful girl he had chatted with earlier slipping past him on her way to the bathroom.

Abdullah hesitated briefly while watching her perfectly shaped form move smoothly towards the latrines.

Abdullah pulled the heavy black weapon from the duffel bag and smoothly fired three bullets into the head of the kufar with the buzz haircut, sending blood and brains flying through the air and onto the face and clothes of the passengers seated beside him.


Asia heard three loud pops behind her, and she instantly knew that they were gunshots (she had grown up in the mean streets of Brooklyn, after all). Screams erupted immediately all around Asia, and people jumped to their feet or dove to the floor almost instantly. Asia did neither, she ran headlong towards the bathroom, even as more gunfire exploded throughout the airplane, from seemingly different locations.

Who in the hell would be shooting on an airplane?

Asia had her path to the bathroom blocked by scores of panicking passengers, so instinctively she looked back, and what she saw sent a shock through her body.

Kevin was holding a heavy black gun in his hand, and he was shouting for the passengers to be seated. Throughout the cabin there were other men with the same weapon in their hands trying to get control of the terrified passengers.

Asia collapsed to the floor and began crying uncontrollably.


Andrew Davis watched the dozen or so men sitting in front of their banks of monitors with a sense of bored detachment. He had been an air traffic controller for more than twenty years, and although the technology had evolved, the science of guiding aircraft out of and into Kennedy airport had not changed much.

Tonight he was starting another shift, which had been cut from twelve to eight, the former being a stupid schedule to put someone on who was responsible for thousands of lives a day, but this change had not come until several air traffic controllers had been caught sleeping on the job, almost causing mid air collisions that could have cost the lives of hundreds of passengers. For years Andrew had railed against the twelve hour schedule and continued to do so as part of management, having just been promoted to supervisor, and was relieved when the changes were finally made. Andrew even had a small office space, but in spite of that he still could not stay away from the workstations were the critical work was done.

Andrews mind began to wonder to his personal life, and how it had fallen apart lately. His wife of over twenty-five years was finally disgusted with his affairs, and had moved out of their home. Andrew did not have the courage to tell his wife that he no longer loved her, they had grown apart many years ago, but when the last of the three children had left home there was nothing to remain in the marriage for, so Andrew began to find excitement in the arms of other women. Now, he was in love with a blond beauty that was twenty years younger than him.....

A new controller was motioning frantically for Andrew to come to his station. Andrew made his way quickly to Dan, and listened to the conversation that he was having with a pilot.

“....this is Delta six one nine, transponder seven five zero zero, I repeat, transponder seven five zero zero.....”

Andrew felt his blood freeze.

Squawking seven five zero zero means that a hijacking is taking place. A small group of controllers, having heard the squawk, now gathered behind Andrew and Dan, listening intently.

“Delta six one nine, confirm squawking assigned code”, Dan spoke urgently into the mike...Andrew reached for the phone on Dan’s desk, anticipating the response.

“Negative Kennedy, negative Kennedy. Disregard squawk seven five zero zero. I say again, disregard squawk seven five zero zero”, came the pilots response.

“Sorry for the scare tower, out.”

When the pilot did not change the squawk, as per procedure, Andrew picked up the phone.

“Give me Homeland Security. We have a hijacked airplane.”


Abdullah and two of his men, Hakim and Rasool, were now in the cockpit. This had not been an easy task, as the doors were reinforced steel. Explosives had to be used to breach them, and time was of the essence, because Abdullah did not want the pilots to alert ground control. Abdullah knew that in a matter of minutes the entire anti-terrorist apparatus in the New York area would be on high alert, and only minutes later, the whole of the United States government would be initiating measures to thwart Allah's plans, but it would be too late by then.

As it happened one of the pilots had begun to send a distress call before Abdullah's men convinced him to change the message at the barrel of a gun.

Flight attendants and pilots had received intense anti hijacking training, so he expected some resistance. The passengers were in a constant state of rebellion, because they suspected that the plane would be flown into some important building.

How right they were.

Every cell phone could not be collected with enough speed to prevent some infidel from calling their family and alerting them to the hijacking, but Abdullah did not need too much time to put his plan into action.

Suddenly the copilot leapt from his seat with unexpected speed and struck Rasool on the chin with so much force that his jaw shattered, sending him to the floor like an unwanted rag doll.

Hakim, under orders to not fire in the cockpit, swung a fist at the copilots head, but the man was faster than anyone imagined, and ducked under the blow with practiced ease. Abdullah wondered briefly if this man was former military.......

It was then that Abdullah felt a burning pain in his left side. The sound of gunfire followed a nanosecond later. Abdullah turned to see the pilot with a pistol in his hand, firing smartly.

The weight of Abdullah’s body caused him to fall to the floor, but he fired his scorpion on the way down, hitting the pilot in the chest and sending him backwards into the command chair.

Abdullah noticed that Hakim had been shot in the head and now lay in a pool of blood and brains, his body twitching eerily. The copilot was moving toward Abdullah, and a certain sense of admiration came over the Islamic warrior for this infidel.

Abdullah fired a burst into the man’s face.


Bodies of dying passengers littered the second class cabin. Asia lay on the floor, in a puddle of black blood. The gunfire was constant, and Asia began to understand that the terrorists were shooting anyone who offered resistance.

People cried all around her, and Asia could see a toddler stepping over the dead, looking for her parents. Finding her mother, who sat against a serving cart, unblinking eyes staring into oblivion, the little girl hugged her, while a terrorist fired away just a few feet away.

Asia was up and running before her mind registered the fact that she was rushing an armed killer. She passed a group of men who were huddled behind a row of seats, apparently waiting for the gunman to get closer. Seeing this woman rush past them inspired them, and they sprinted behind her, yelling as they went.

The hijacker turned his weapon towards the on rushing crowd. Too late, Asia slammed into him with so much savage force that they both went flying through the air, landing in a heap. Asia was clawing at the hijackers face with one hand even before they both hit the floor, but when they landed half a dozen people began to punch and kick the gunman as well. Asia was pulled from the fray before the men mercilessly pummeled the hijacker to death.

Without thinking Asia ran to the orphaned child, and pulled her from her dead mothers lap. The child did not resist, and Asia found a spot behind a row of seats and crotched down, clutching the toddler to her chest.

“God, please help us”, Asia whispered between clinched teeth.


The F16 fighting falcon screamed through the air at supersonic speed. Three other fighters were in tight formation with the lead jet. Captain Timothy “Buck” Fields knew that he would be able to intercept the hijacked aircraft well before it reached Washington D.C. The single engine Pratt & Whitney F100-PW-200 afterburning turbofan made sure of that.

The public called the F16 the “fighting falcon”, but those who piloted these dogfighters named them “vipers”, because of their resemblance to the snake of that name. And just like a snake the F16 was about to strike a terrible blow to the forces of terror, but they would kill hundreds of fellow Americans in the process.

Captain Fields had been told that the 747 was now under complete control of the hijackers, and that they were killing the heroic passengers as they resisted. Homeland security had received dozens of calls from families saying that their loved ones had called them from the doomed aircraft, describing the events.

The F16 slowed down as it approached the targeted airspace. Captain Fields could not see the 747 through the frameless bubble canopy, but his instruments told him that it would be within range of his Sidewinder missiles in moments.

“Tee minus two minutes sir”, his copilot informed him.

Captain Fields keyed his communication system and ordered the other three fighters to go hot with their weapon systems......


The pain in Abdullah's side had subsided somewhat, but he knew that this was not a good sign. Outside the airplane cockpit he could hear the sound of sporadic gunfire, and this alarmed Abdullah, because the passengers should have been subdued by now.

The airplane had no pilot, but Abdullah knew how to fly the behemoth. The problem was that his legs would not allow him to stand up.

So Abdullah began to crawl towards the pilot’s chair. After what seemed like an eternity he made it to the controls, and had to pull the body of the pilot to the floor before climbing into the seat.

Abdullah looked at the complex controls that were spread out before him, and felt a sense of dread. He said a silent prayer and began to locate the instruments that were familiar to him.....

A bullet ripped into his left shoulder and hit the flight controls in front of him, throwing sparks everywhere. Abdullah dove to the floor as more bullets flew through the air. A passenger was firing a weapon that once belonged to one of his Akees. Abdullah returned fire but missed. His target let off a burst, and Abdullah felt a bullet tear through his chest.

Allah had not smiled on him.

In a moment of desperate rage Abdullah grabbed the cellphone from his pocket that would detonate the two martyr vests.

Abdullah pressed the button that would automatically dial the number that would trigger the vests before three bullets smashed into his chest, neck and head, killing him instantly.

The cellphone dropped to the floor, with only a second before its signal reached the waiting detonators....


Asia saw a blinding flash of light at the front of the plane, and knew the end was near. She hugged the little girl tighter as she felt the plane vibrate violently, throwing passengers, both dead and alive, into the air...

The entire cabin turned dark, and Asia was about to close her eyes when she saw a black silhouette moving towards her. It was then that a second explosion ripped the 747 apart........

Captain Fields saw the two flashes in the night sky. He had not given the order to fire so he knew that the explosions were from on board the aircraft.

Captain Fields said a silent prayer for the passengers before ordering his squadron to stand down and informing CENTCOM of the explosions....
© Copyright 2012 T. Davis (terrance at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1839438