A Piercing Aquaintance

Reader discretion is adviced, this story contain graphic content depicting violence which may not be suitable to all readers. This is a fictional story and do not portray real events or real persons.

Hameed’s half-brother, Jameel, opened the gate with a click upon the switch at his door, expecting the Buick, but, Jameel, not informed of the failed jihad, also assumed the lack of advance word had to do with phone charging, or merely an indication things were going fine — the short bus had only just rolled in about half hour earlier. They were also engaging in a afternoon prayer as Master Charles rolled up to the building, and only 16 hours since the jihad had occurred.

Moving quickly in these matters wasn’t lost to Master Charles either, in his military experience. Information dissemination on both sides was often sluggish, but it was a happening, inevitable, and crucial activity on both sides of any conflict, and Master Charles had won the day.

When he opened the unlocked door, to the blaring recorded chants of islamic prayer, he found them all praying toward Mecca, totally oblivious of him. Some of the children became aware, not being particularly into the practice of Islamic devotion, and Charles put his finger to his mouth to shush them from giving away his position and presence. As he did so, the two girls closest him quickly slipped past him, and out the door joining slave Paul.

He first went to Jameel who was praying at the front of the assembly, cocked his pistol to his ear, getting the man’s attention, and pulled him up from the floor; while he looked for the woman, Hameed’s wife, amongst the others — She, as expected, was at the back of the room; but, she lurched up screaming Allah Akbar, pulled up a long gun that had been at her side, and even got off a burst, before Master Charles shot her in her black masked face; and, she dropped down, as might a big, completely black, sack of shit.

Jameel then began a struggle to which Master Charles pistol whipped the man and he went down. All seemed under control as Master Charles surveyed the room with his boot upon the Muslim’s face.

There could be heard a sound of cries and relief from the children; but out of nowhere; as, Master Charles had turned to look at slave Paul, still at the door, who then abruptly began yelling ‘’watch out!’’ he just caught a movement behind him.

Just as he did, he was stunned with a blow upon the back of his head. He’d been hit with a large crescent wrench from a red-headed boy of fifteen; who, unknown to Master Charles, had been converted to Islam at 12, and was being used for the past three years by the slavers, as a straw boss, to manage the other abductees, in the business of making sex toys.

The red-head actually looked forward to his eventual journey to Afghanistan — A boy named Sean; and, in his life prior his welcoming experience from the Muslims at the mosque, his life had been hell at the hands of everyone else prior. Johnny Walker Lindh had nothing on him.

Jameel then quickly obtained the gun from Charles, and the boy, Sean, got the long AK-47 from the dead black clad woman. Slave Paul was the first to have a gun trained upon him, and he joined the other abductees.

Jameel figured he had to act quickly to forestall what he figured would be a raid of other kafir soon upon his tire business; so, he planned to murder them all — and burn the bodies with a pile of tires and gas.

With Sean having marched the children to a large pit surrounded by a mountain of old tires, Jameel got cans gasoline and poured the contents on the tires. He then began rolling the tires down upon the children with the red head’s help. He ordered the children to lie in the ditch, as he fumbled for a match.

A shot rang out, and Jameel’s head exploded in chunks of bone and brain; and the match book he’d lit, fully ignited, and fell into gas drenched tires. Sean then quickly pointed the rifle at the sound, but he was shocked to have a tire dropped over his head; and, as he twirled back around, his arms bound at his side, gun shucked from his hands by a tire, sloshing gasoline, to see who; the tire imprisoning him then burst into flames!

The two girls stood, beautiful brunette and plain Jane, glaring hatred toward their Allah spouting tormentor and raper for the past year. They pushed him and the burning tire encircling him, into the pit, and watched merciless, contemptuously, as flames engulfed his horror stricken face and contorting body.

Flames quickly encircled the pit too; and, the children had to run up over and around the writhing boy in flames to escape the fire that engulfed the other gas drenched tires in the pit.

Alpha and John then ran to the scene — John, carrying a long rifle with a scope. They assisted the children out of the growing conflagration. Slave Paul ran to the building with Alpha and dragged Master Charles from the building that was doomed to burn too.

* * *

Most the children would be sent back into their foster homes with lazy, fat, venal caretakers on the government dole, or hellish families of drunks, drug addled siblings, and abusive fathers, but the life for most was better than life as Islamic slaves, they’d almost all agree. There was another ten year old boy who’d remain in the Islamic fold of believers for the rest of his life.

The beautiful brunette was reunited into a loving family, to embrace loving parents, a good future in a safe suburb, with college, and a good marriage with adorable children — she was to always be armed and vigilant to Muslims presence, and vans with sliding doors. The ugly one became a whore and died a toothless crack head.

Master Charles would recover with a short hospital stay. Alpha and slave returned to his estate. After a week the two went to pick him up and as they returned and drove into the property Charles noticed a bright light from behind his house.

He walked through the front door and a crowd shouted ‘surprise!’. They gave him a hero’s welcome.

When Master Charles returned to pick up his Harley at the closed down hotel, he asked slave to ride with him back upon the Harley, and Alpha took off in the van in advance of them.

The bike had been parked around back, next the stair well; and, the Yaris, slave Paul noticed, still sat at the front office, just around the other side.

Crime scene tape still covered the door way but Master Charles kicked the door open and tore the tape aside. He took the boy through into the room and told him to strip.

‘’Come here and let me undo that collar.’’

Master Charles unlocked the the small padlock and pulled the collar off slave Paul. Upon examination the collar had a snap leather fold that when unsnapped revealed the circuitry much as that of a cell phone and which, in fact, tuned in from the Verison server. Evidently the device had been appropriated from another small cellular phone and the inner flexible sheet somehow tuned as in broadcast mode only. Small watch batteries in tandem were lined along a neat cut into the thick leather to power it.

‘’Ge on your knees boy,’’ and as he did so, in walks the proprietor and Hameed.

‘’Here’s the five hundred as the deal for the slave boy,’’ said Hameed, his face and nose in bandages. Charles accepted the money.

‘’What’s going on?!’’ Yelled slave Paul; looking between them in utter shock.

’’We see he still has much to learn of being a good slave. But he’s still young enough to learn and learn the Pashto dialect, as well. We’ll supply the opium as agreed in exchange…’’

Slave Paul bolted from his position past Hameed to the outside and ran around the building stark naked, and realized his situation, hearing the men in close pursuit. He stopped at the Harley and drapped himself over the seat bawling as a child. The others were not far behind, and Hameed said; ‘’Hold the boy till I can get my restraints from my car.’’

Master Charles said,

‘’ We might meet again someday if I get to Afghanistan — could be a lucrative venture.’’

Master Charles held the boy against the rear seat. The two Muslims were returning with some chains and pad locks.

‘’Fuck NO!’’ Yelled Paul, as he twisted over, facing Master Charles, holding the 9 mm he’d pulled from the rear satchel bag on the Harley, and he fired Lee’s gun into Master Charle’s belly three times, sending the two hundred and fifty pound man back on his ass.

He then shot Hameed in the chest and caught the proprietor in the back as he attempted to flee. He shot them all twice through their skulls and rumaged their pockets. Between them he acquired 4000 in cash and some gold jewelry. He took the clothes from Master Charles, and left his dead ass stark naked on the pavement. He hopped upon the Harley, and took off onto the freeway at full throttle.