The wind blasted against the tarp with violent indifference. Abdulrahman hung his fabric close to his eyes to avoid sand locking in his eyes, mouth, and nose. He rushed toward his camel, unhooked its reins from the ground, and rushed it inside with him. Man and beast were covered in dust. Abdulrahman whipped his face and then whipped the snout and eyes of Caleb.
Inside his makeshift tent were enough rations to last the trip to Qatar. So long as he could make it to the military base, he’d be safe. Abdulrahman rushed to secure the bolts that held his tent down. He fastened the strings, positioned the rocks, and covered the holes. With his abode now finally safe, he and Caleb finally started relaxing.
He opened a metal box and pulled from it a Coca-Cola, drinking half of it and giving the other half to Caleb. Outside, the dust storm still whipped, but had lensed to a more bearable degree. He looked at his AR-15 and cleaned it of sand. It wasn’t really his AR, it had been Caleb Brewster’s. A year and a half ago, Abdulrahman was a translator for the Americans and grew a close friendship with Lieutenant Caleb Brewster, until Daesh mercenaries killed his squad and left Abdulrahman as the last man standing. He stole a camel that same day and named it after his friend.
The storm was over by morning and Abdulrahman moved onward to Qatar. He stopped by a Saudi village and attempted to buy some bread. “Heard the Coalition is moving on to Syria and Afghanistan,” he overheard one man say, “To find Bin Laden and kill him.” Abdulrahman bought his bread and moved on. And then a gunshot echoed across the town.
On instinct, Abdulrahman took cover. The AR in hand, he crouched behind a house made of bricks and wood. “Attention! This is the Greater Islamic Caliphate of Arabia! We have come here for the arrest of a traitor to God by the name of Abdulrahman-e-Muhammed! He has sided with the invading Americans and coalition, and has helped in the destruction of your lives! Come out with your hands up and no one will be hurt!” said an insurgent through a speaker.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
This group was likely just a smaller group that al-Qaeda or the Daesh armed and propagandized, they meant less than nothing in the grand scheme of things. Still, it didn’t make them any less dangerous. “Very well, if you will not show yourself, then we will do it for you.” The screams of a child and mother were then heard in the courtyard. And then came the shots of gunfire, and then silence.
Abdulrahman clenched his teeth. Once again, people were dying for his sake. He moved across the houses and shot one of the militia in the head. Then another, and another. A truck with a mounted gun then rolled into the town center and began firing, destroying countless houses and two men, before stopping. Abdulrahman gasped for air when above came the beating of helicopter wings. The black hawk fired its machine gun at the truck and any man wielding a gun.
The truck destroyed and the town decimated, the American soldiers came out and landed, weapons raised. Abdulrahman breathed a sigh of relief. “Star!” he yelled a countersign. The soldiers heard and responded “Texas!” Abdulrahman raised his arms with the AR strung around his neck. “Thank Allah, am I glad to see you boy—” He was cut short by a gunshot entering his head. Where the shot came from, he did not know. For a single micro instant, he wondered if it was the Marines who shot him, or if it was a sniper, or a single remaining insurgent. But that no longer mattered anymore.
The last thing he perceived was the sound of gunshots, the feeling of explosions, and the sight of a little girl's blood-stained shoelaces.
