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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 5
* * *
The Donovans lived on a farm near Mississauga, just outside Toronto. Ali and the two other Harb members burst in their front door while Marty and Phil waited in the car.
“What the hell’s going on?” Phil demanded at Marty.
“Ali wants us to participate in this arrest. The people who live here have been breaking the law.”
“What have they been doing?”
“Preaching Christianity.”
“Those Harb sons-of-a-bitches,” Phil said between clenched teeth. “What I wouldn’t give to put a bullet between Ali’s eyes.”
“You’d better watch your mouth,” Marty said. “You jeopardize your life and mine with talk like that. You need to decide whose side you’re on.”
“I know which side I’m on, Marty. I’m a collaborator, just like you. But not for much longer.”
“And what do you mean by—”
Before Marty could finish his question, they were interrupted by Ali tapping on the window of the SUV.
“Get out, you two.”
Phil and Marty complied. The Arabs had the now apprehended Donovans in tow. They were a late middle-aged couple, perhaps in their late fifties or early sixties. Mr. Donovan had a fresh gash across his forehead. Marty surmised that one of the Harb members—probably Ghazi—had nailed him with his rifle butt.
The Harb member who had served as driver opened the rear doors of the SUV. He retrieved a videocamera, a tripod, and what appeared to be a massive sword contained within a sheath.
“What are you doing?” Phil asked Ali. “What is this?”
“Didn’t Marty tell you?” Ali was obviously taking a certain delight in Phil’s discomfort.
Phil turned to Marty, then back to Ali. “No. Marty didn’t tell me anything, except that we were making a routine arrest.”
“This arrest is more important than most,” Ali said.
“Why are you setting up that camera? What’s going on?”
“The Donovans here are guilty of working against Islam, in blatant disregard of Harb regulations.” Ali said.
“And?”
“The penalty for their actions is death.”
“Death? Why? You can just burn their religious pamphlets, like you’ve burned bibles and churches all over Ontario.”
“I’m afraid it’s not that simple,” Ali said.
Then Marty intervened. “Phil, Harb has duly promulgated the rules against proselytizing faiths other than Islam. Everyone knows what the penalty is.”
“Marty, you’ve gone crazy. Don’t let them do this. These two people--” he gestured to the Donovans. “They remind me of my freaking grandparents. I think we’ve scared them. Now enough is enough.”
“Phil, they won’t—”
“That’s bullshit, Marty. Don’t go along with them on this. If we just—”
Phil’s tirade was cut off when Ghazi rammed the butt of his AK-47 into his stomach. Phil doubled over in pain. Then Ghazi hit him on the side of the head with the gun.
Ghazi drew a dagger from his belt.
Marty realized that Ghazi intended to slit Phil’s throat. He stepped forward between Ghazi and Phil. His voice quivering, he appealed to Ali.
“Ali, Phil is my subordinate. I’ll handle this.”
Ghazi shoved Marty back, but Marty stood his ground.
“Ali, we’re all on the same side here,” Marty said, doing his best to ignore Ghazi.
“Are we Marty?” Ali asked. “You know, sometimes I wonder about that. I especially wonder about Phil here.”
“Ali, let me handle this. Please.”
Ali rubbed his chin. “You people try my patience, Marty.”
Finally he nodded and said something to Ghazi.
There was a brief and heated exchange between the two Arab men. Then, with pronounced reluctance, Ghazi returned the dagger to its place on his belt.
Before Phil could regain his composure, Marty removed the pair of handcuffs that he kept on his own belt for making routine arrests. He pulled Phil’s hands together and attached the cuffs behind his back. Then he pulled his still dazed friend to his feet.
“Okay,” Marty said to Ali and Ghazi. “Let’s get it over with.”
As the Harb members turned their attention back to the Donovans, Marty added in Phil’s ear: “You may hate me now, my friend; but I’ve just saved your life today.”
Ali gave orders while the other three Arab men bound the Donovans’ hands behind their backs and forced them into a kneeling position. The Harb driver moved the camcorder and tripod back a few paces, sighting the Donovans through the eyepiece.
Ghazi took hold of Mr. Donovan’s collar and yanked it backward, exposing his bare neck. A shirt button fell loose onto the grass. Marty shook his head incredulously as Donovan smiled defiantly up at Ghazi. I can’t believe this, thought Marty. Donovan is embracing this as martyrdom. Who does he think he is? A modern day St. Bartholomew bearing the Armenian whips—or maybe a Daniel staring down the Babylonian lions?
The difference, Marty thought grimly, was that Daniel survived the lions. Donovan was not going to survive this encounter with Harb.
Then Marty and Donovan exchanged a brief glance. Each looked at the other as if to say, Why are you here, doing what you’re doing?
It was Mrs. Donovan who spoke directly to Marty.
“You’re a traitor!” she screamed. “All of you collaborators are!”
Ghazi gave her a hard slap across the face. She continued to shout at Marty. “You’re helping these monsters destroy our civilization! You think that buys you time? You’re already dead!”
Another slap from Ghazi—this one much harder—and Mrs. Donovan was silent.
Mr. Donovan surveyed the Harb members and their Canadian companions, turning his head to meet each of their eyes in turns. “How dare you come here and do this. We’re peaceful people. We’ve harmed no one. You’re all animals. Lower than dogs.”
The last insult had likely been calculated to be as offensive as possible. Dogs were an especially unclean animal in Islam, and to call a Muslim a dog was an unforgivable offense. Ghazi gave Donovan a swift kick in the ribs that caused him to cry out. He kicked him three more times, until interrupted by a stern rebuke in Arabic from Ali.
Ghazi gave Donovan one last kick before moving away. He spat over his shoulder and stood with his arms crossed, waiting.
The hooded Harb member unsheathed the large scimitar. Marty had never actually seen a sword like this; he knew it only from the movies. This was the sword that had saved Sinbad’s life in a dozen old adventure films. The blade was long—perhaps four feet in length. The end of the sword flared into a wide convex surface before tapering back down to its extremity.
As the driver hunched over the camcorder, Ali gave a short statement for the eventual viewers of the video, enumerating the Donovans’ crimes against the Islamic Republic of Ontario. The Donovans had preached Christianity against the laws of the state. They had worked to undermine Islam. For these crimes they would have to die, in accordance with the code of sharia and the sacred words of the Quran.
Ali stepped out of the camcorder field. The executioner raised his sword above Donovan.
“Allahu akbar!” he shouted.
The sword descended in a blur. There was a brief sound of moisture and breaking bones as Donovan’s neck was severed. In the next moment his head toppled from his body.
The body fell forward and blood began to spurt from the headless corpse. Mrs. Donovan shrieked at the sight of her decapitated husband.
She did not shriek for long. A second later the sword descended on her.
Marty was overwhelmed by the sudden carnage. He had never seen a headless body, much less two. He had never seen so much blood. The remains of Donovans assaulted his sensibilities. The transformation was too sudden and drastic for him to process. A minute ago the couple had been hurling accusations at him, and now they were almost unrecognizable as human beings.
His head begin to swim. He feared that he would pass out at any moment.
Marty turned away from the dismembered bodies of the Donovans. He placed one hand on the Suburban, then leaned over and retched in the grass.
When he recovered himself, Phil’s gaze was locked on him, his face dominated by an expression of cold, unyielding rage. Marty knew at that moment that Phil would never forgive him for failing to give a warning about the purpose of this trip. Whatever friendship there had been between them, it was over now.
* * *
Excerpt from CNN.com
updated 7:55 a.m. EST, Wed November 19, 2015
Islamic Republic declared in the Netherlands
AMSTERDAM, The Netherlands (AP)
“The Netherlands was once renowned for its liberal, live-and-let-live approach to social and political issues. In what may be history’s greatest irony, the country will now become home to Europe’s first Islamic republic since the Middle Ages, when Muslim emirs ruled in Spain…”
“Conservative Dutch politicians charge that this development was inevitable.
‘Our country’s government has tolerated the activities of violent Islamic extremists for decades now’ said one member of the Dutch parliament, who wished to remain anonymous. ‘We saw this coming and we did nothing to prevent it. If you spoke out against the Islamists, you were automatically derided as a simpleton or condemned as a bigot….”
“Leaders in surrounding European countries are divided regarding the significance of the new situation.
Conservative British Prime Minister Elaine Boswell has called for a united European front against the New Islamic Republic of Holland.
On the other extreme, Jean Duvall, a European Union spokesperson based in Brussels, asserts that ‘The spirit of European multiculturualism demands that we give the Islamic Republic of Holland a chance to prove itself as a viable and contributing member of the global community.’”
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