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THE CALIPHATE
an online short story..
When a terrorist group establishes an Islamic republic in Canada, two friends are forced to confront their own loyalties---and each other
Part 3
* * *
Still half lost in his recollections, Marty could overhear the half whispered conversation of two Canadian men seated on the bench just behind him.
“I read on the Internet that the Americans are threatening to invade again.”
The speaker sounded fiftysomething and well educated.
“Yeah,” his companion scoffed. “Only if they want Detroit and Chicago turned into radioactive parking lots. Face it, Bernie. Harb is here to stay. And it might not be so bad, if that’s the way it’s to be. Islamic rule has certainly cleaned television up, if nothing else. You’ve got to admit.”
“Well, I miss my beer.”
“Beer was giving you a gut, Bernie.”
Marty speculated that the two men did not realize they were sitting so close to an officer of the Islamic Guard. Otherwise they would not have spoken quite so freely.
The exchange reinforced an impression that had been building in Marty for months now: Most residents of Ontario were adapting to the new regime. Oh, sure, there were a few complaints here and there. On one hand, everything had changed. But on the other hand, much had stayed the same. A semblance of normal routine was gradually returning to Ontario. Harb was in this for the long haul now, and they permitted daily life and economic activity to function—with many restrictions, of course. Indiscriminate bombings were now a thing of the past, but they had been replaced with public hangings, firing squads, and the occasional beheading on the steps of city hall.
These extreme punishments were reserved for diehard resistors, or “freedom fighters,” as they called themselves. Minor violations of Harb regulations were punished like parking or litter infractions were penalized under the old system. A man who failed to grow a beard was fined a hundred dollars. Possession of a banned music CD might mean a night in jail. Harb was brutal—but practical. They realized that they couldn’t shoot everyone.
Moreover, extreme and indiscriminate reprisals entailed the risk of a mass uprising, which Harb did not have the manpower to quell. They relied on selective terror, combined with the proven tendency of the average man to accept the path of least resistance. Harb had to pick its battles.
The new state, with its many dress codes, prohibitions, and daily prayer obligations required a security and administration apparatus. This was where the Ontario Islamic Guard came in. Realizing that there were only so many of themselves, Harb was scrambling to build a grassroots organization. There were opportunities for Canadians who wanted a place in the new order.
Is that what it is? Marty thought. The new order? Wasn’t it true that tectonic power shifts sometimes occurred in world? Was it wrong to cooperate with the new men in charge—to be a collaborator, as some called it?
But wasn’t it always true that you could do more good from inside the system than outside it? According to one point of view, Harb represented just another form of government, an alternative form of arranging society.
Just then Marty’s coffee break was interrupted by his cell phone. It was Ali.
“We have a major problem, Marty.”
“What?”
“I got a call from headquarters yesterday morning. City hall.”
Marty groaned. City hall would mean Mustafa al-Benah. He was one of the chief clerics of Toronto, and he treated all Canadians with contempt.
“What’s wrong at city hall?”
“Someone has removed one of the passkeys to al-Benah’s office.” Ali spoke rapidly. “Wasn’t your group posted over there from last week until just yesterday?”
“Well yes, but I certainly didn’t take a key to al-Benah’s office.”
“Marty, I’m not accusing you. But don’t forget that we’ve recently made you a squad leader. What about one of your men?”
A sudden queasiness filled Marty’s stomach. Was Phil up to something?
“Ali, I know all of my men: Wes, Tim, Rob, and Phil. All of them can be trusted. Are you sure the key wasn’t simply misplaced?”
“Marty, the key was removed from a locked security cabinet in the main security office. Only security personnel have access to that area.”
“Ok, Ali, I’ll look into it.”
“Do more than look into it,” Ali said. “Mustafa al-Benah is a member of Harb’s Supreme Leadership Council. His office contains highly classified information.”
“I know. I know. Was anything taken?”
“Not that they can tell. But they can’t be sure yet. I’ll be frank with you, Marty. I don’t trust Phil Scherer. We need to question him. And I mean really question him.”
Marty had an idea of what Ali meant by “really question him.” Many Harb soldiers had served in the militaries of Saudi Arabia, Egypt, and Jordan. Some of these men were skilled in the professional arts of torture.
“Ali, let me talk to Phil first. Please. If Phil had anything to do with this, I’ll get to the bottom of it.”
“I’m going to have to think about how much latitude I can give you on this one, Marty. This is a very serious matter.”
“I know.”
“You should also think about yourself, Marty. If the Harb leadership has reason to believe that you have been protecting a traitor, you could be shot along with your friend. In fact, I could guarantee it.
Marty felt as if he might vomit at any second now. He set his half-finished cup of coffee down on the bench. “I know.”
“And I wouldn’t be able to save you, Marty, although I personally believe that you have great potential in the service of the Islamic Revolution.”
“I know. I know.”
“We’ll talk about it more at one-thirty. Be on time.”
Then Marty launched into an effusive expression of thanks, and other words of assurance that would hopefully convince Ali of his trustworthiness. He had been talking for the better part of a minute before he stopped. The other end of the line was silent.
Ali had hung up after issuing his final command.
* * *
Excerpts from the online encyclopedia Wikipedia.com:
The Islamic Republic of Ontario
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
The final phase of the Harb takeover, September – December 2012
“The Canadian government declared martial law in Ontario on September 10, 2012.
The day before, Harb fighters had detonated a kiloton of high explosives beneath a shopping mall just outside Toronto. The shopping mall was quite literally turned to powder by the force of the explosion—it ceased to exist.
Most of the shopping malls were now deserted, so only a handful of administrative personnel were killed in the blast. But Harb had a point to make. They announced that they had planted a network of bombs under the city: thousands of them, they claimed. If the regular Canadian military moved in, they would get another demonstration.
The Canadian Prime Minister faced a difficult dilemma. The national military forces could easily have beaten Harb in a battle on open ground; but it would be difficult dislodge them without significant loss of life in a city wired with explosives.
There were bombs beneath apartment complexes, bombs beneath hospitals, and bombs beneath ordinary city streets. Authorities in Ottawa were rapidly running out of time. While the Canadian government debated various responses to the crisis, Harb was solidifying its positions in and around Toronto….”
The exodus and the Harb reaction
“Some local residents managed to flee by highway before Harb completely closed off the city. To stop the exodus, Harb set up roadblocks on all the major arteries in and around Toronto. On September 5, 2012 they ordered the Toronto airport closed. A day later, on September 6, Delta Airlines flight 4526 tried to take off in defiance of the order. A shoulder-fired rocket launched by a Harb fighter scattered the remains of the 747 and its passengers across five acres of farmland south of the airport. There were no more takeoff attempts.
People still managed to escape on foot; but Harb regularly swept the woodland corridors leading out of Toronto with helicopter gunships. They had plenty of these, having commandeered them from a Canadian military base in the district……”
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