“Who is it?”
“Don’t know. It’s a white van. Know any white vans?”
“Nope.” Tommy wandered over where his wife and daughter were looking out the barn doors.
The van pulled up twenty-yards away next to a large grain silo. The occupants didn’t seem in a hurry to get out. Tommy walked out into the yard, where he saw the writing on the side of the van. “The Galloping Caterers? You know any caterers, Jess?”
Jess shook her head. Bobbie-Jo pulled away from her mother’s hand and went to pick up something inside the barn that caught her eye.
Inside the van Bomani was telling the others why they were here and what they were going to do. “Our weapon, our virus, will work on pigs just as well as cattle. Once I have taken out those two, take one can and spray any pigs you find. Then we leave, quick and easy.”
Bomani eased himself out his door then started walking over towards the barn raising a hand and waving it while softly calling out, “Hello, hello.”
Bashir was like a boy watching his favorite action hero. “He’s a real soldier of Takfir. Watch him, as he kills the infidels, watch how he does it. Yusuf, look…”
Yusuf wasn’t looking, his eyes were closed and his head tilted back. He had no wish to see the inevitable, no stomach for any more horrors. He felt only pity for the man and woman about to die.
Bashir’s friendship with Yusuf had lasted many years; it had been enduring through good times and bad. But now, for the first time, he felt cool towards him. Yusuf had turned into a coward. How could he not want to do Allah’s work, and do it with pride? He turned away in disgust from the person sitting beside him. Bashir watched as Bomani edged closer. As he had only a pistol he would need to be close. Suddenly a child emerged from the barn door and ran to the woman, grabbing her around her thigh. “There’s a kid!”
Yusuf’s eyes snapped open. A child, a child in the killing zone! It was something he couldn’t explain. Something took him over, a force so strong he couldn’t stop it — even if he had wanted to — and he did not. What was playing out before his eyes was wrong on all counts, wrong in every religion, every cause, every possible principle in life, moral or otherwise. He opened his door. His feet touched the ground and his feet walked. They kept walking, right towards Bomani.
Bashir couldn’t believe his eyes. What could he do? What should he do? “Yusuf — you infidel!”
Bomani spun around. He saw Bashir leaning out the cab of the van yelling at Yusuf, who was fast approaching him. Yusuf had broken, he had seen it coming but had left it too late to rectify the problem. Now the problem was nearly on him. Yusuf must die as well. Bomani reached for the pistol in his belt and brought the weapon up to fire. Yusuf rushed forward committing himself to attack, his arms and legs pumped, there would be no turning back, no return. His day was now and it was going to be his day!
When a shot erupted as if from nowhere, Tommy pushed his startled family back into the barn, his daughter falling over in the chaos. He scooped her up in his arms. Inside he placed her on her feet and yelled out for his wife to take Bobbie-Jo to the back of the barn. He scrambled to the doorway and looked out.
Two men were rolling on the ground grabbing, tussling, punching. The younger of the men, back on top, looked up towards him and yelled out for him to run and hide. Tommy’s gut reaction told him the younger man was protecting him and his family. But why? Tommy had almost decided he couldn’t stand back and let the young man be hurt when the older man on the ground twisted and swung around and he heard the weapon fire again. Tommy rushed forward.
Bomani was too experienced to lose against the likes of his opponent; he was instantly on top of the now bleeding Yusuf, wielding the pistol like a club, pounding Yusuf’s face. He didn’t notice the stranger rushing down on him until it was too late. Tommy’s work boot drove into Bomani’s stomach like a runaway train, sending him flying. Winded by the kick, he momentarily lost himself in pain but quickly regained his composure. He felt for the pistol in his hand; but it wasn’t there. Tommy had seen it and flew through the air like an all-star player, landing heavily on the gravel yard. Bomani tried to reach the fallen weapon — but he came second. Tommy pointed the barrel in Bomani’s face while the Takfir scrambled to his feet. Bomani spat his anger. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and slowly stood up, never taking his eyes off the farmer.
“Get off my land. Get away from my family.” The voice was low. Bomani had no choice: he backed off, watching, waiting to see if the man with the gun would make a mistake; he didn’t. He reached the van and got in. The engine started and the van turned away, back the way it had come into the farm. Back out onto the road.
Tommy’s hand holding the pistol started to shake; it shook the whole time he had the weapon pointed towards the van disappearing out his road gate. He turned towards the other fighter, the younger man. He was still on the ground lying on his side, his legs tucked up. Tommy approached him cautiously; he hoped his gut reaction was correct and they had nothing to fear from him. He studied the fallen man: darkish olive skin, he looked Middle Eastern. The clothes he wore were what city people wore. The man looked up at him, he wasn’t old, early twenties. Their eyes met. Tommy felt as if the young man’s eyes were trying to say something… but he couldn’t make out what. The man didn’t say anything, he blinked quickly a few times, then lifted a hand from around his stomach and brought it up to his eyes. The hand was dripping bright red blood. Tommy’s mouth fell open, the man was gut shot.
“JESS! JESS! I need help.”
The woman appeared at the barn door, brandishing a pitchfork. “Jess, where’s Bobbie-Joe?”
“She’s safe at the back of the barn. I put her in the cab of the old truck.”
“The man’s been shot, Jess. He’s been shot!”
Jess ran over and stood beside her husband. The pair looked down at the stranger lying on his side. “He’s trying to say something… Oh my God… What do we do?”
Tommy leaned down. Yusuf made a guttural sound, but no actual words came out. The frustration could be seen on his face; in his eyes.
“What are you trying to say?”
Yusuf mustered every ounce of energy he had left. The words came out weak, but this time they were audible. “I’m sorry.” A smile enveloped his grimy face, a smile that would last forever in the minds of the two people whose lives he’d just saved. Yusuf gave a small cough; blood oozed from his open mouth and trickled down his cheek. His head rolled back. Allah had reclaimed a lost soul.
Chapter Twenty-four
The white van sped down the road, its driver following the directions from the GPS. Bomani glanced at his wristwatch. It was getting late in the day; another couple of hours and the sun would set. It had been no more than five minutes since the farmer’s boot had buried itself in his stomach and sent him flying, his muscles were still sore. But that wasn’t what made him squint his eyes and grip the steering wheel as if he was choking someone to death; he had left the farmer and his family alive. The more he thought of it, the more the anger welled up. He knew he should have been more professional, he knew the consequences of leaving witnesses alive, he knew it, he knew IT, he KNEW IT! “Arrgh.” The van braked hard then skewed off line as Bomani plunged his foot hard down on the brake pedal. As the van came to a complete stop, Bashir fell back into his seat, lucky not to have been catapulted through the windscreen.
Bomani was like a wounded buffalo. He thumped the steering wheel with both hands, unlatched his door then flung it open, throwing open the door with a fury that took Bashir completely by surprise. Bomani picked up a large rock, the size of a large grapefruit and with another forceful cry of effort hurled it as far as he could. The rock shot through the air arching upwards before gravity took over. With every yard it covered rationality returned to the man who heaved it until it finally landed with a thump. Bomani exhaled loudly, and turned back to the van.