Fan Fiction ❯ Rebus Knight ❯ Kashim's Crusade Begins ( Chapter 9 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Rebus Knight..........................by ConfirmTheOriginOfFire

Note: I am not anti-Semantic, anti-Israel, etc. Caution for strong material later in the story. If you don't understand certain aspects of the story, email me at Broccoliforest@aol.com and I'll explain it.

Note: Yesterday was the first year anniversary of the September 11 tragedies. I was deeply affected by these atrocities, and my prayers are with the families of the victims and everyone who has been touched by the tragedies. And when it comes down, that means all of us. So here's a prayer for us all now, no matter what religon, race, or color we are:

~ a p r a y e r t o t h e r o a d t h a t c a n l e a d a n y w h e r e~
may we always have love. love is all we need to have peace too. love the world each and every special day. people are the key to both war and peace. please pray that you nor anyone you love will ever be seduced into opening the door of war. pray that everyone will someday realize that there is room for all of us in the beautiful, blessed peace. pray that the pain will soon subside. pray that nothing like this will ever happen again. pray that the proverbial road will lead us to an open field of sunshine. pray that we can all live as one people of the same land. and pray that prayers like this will someday become obsolete.
Amen.

~ConfirmTheOriginOfFire
Remember 9.11 Forever

-Chapter Nine-

Kashim's Crusade Begins

By noon, the Israeli army was searching for terrorists in the refugee camps. They stormed several houses and had already killed one person and arrested three. They didn't seem to be slowing down either. Mahmud and Kashim watched from his bedroom window. They had taken the carved wooden frame from the kitchen and placed it there. It allowed them to see, but didn't let anything on the outside see inside.

"Are they going into Mullah's house?"

"Yeah, I think so . . . dammit, they are! Damn, what did he do? That guy is a saint. He's . . . he's . . ."

"Not like us."

Mahmud turned and looked at Kashim strangely. "Excuse me?" he asked.

"Mullah's not like us, Mahmud. He is Palestinian too, but he doesn't resort to violence like we do."

Mahmud shook his head. "Violence is our only resort. I don't like it either, but it sure beats standing around and doing nothing! I mean, look what happened to Abdullah's family! Don't tell me that such an atrocity should not go unpunished."

"I won't. But the thing is, that wouldn't have happened in the first place if someone hadn't done something violent."

He shrugged. "That's true too."

Kashim began nodding and couldn't stop. "Poor Amira . . . and I can't even get flowers for her."

Mahmud put his arm around him. "We'll do something about it."

At two in the afternoon, two more had died and seven more arrests were made. Kashim and Mahmud weren't even tallying the raids anymore. They were too busy digging a grave in the backyard, under a tree. Too busy searching Amira's room for her burial shroud. Too busy pulling some paper and silk flowers out of the storage cellar. Even though they didn't have a proper casket or an Imam to help with the funeral, they gave Kashim's sister a proper but honest burial, next to their father's resting place. Although they were pious and prayed and attended mosque faithfully, neither one had memorized much of the Qu'ran. But they recited what they did remember, and somehow that felt right.

They pulled up the bushes in Kashim's backyard and buried the man who'd killed her in the hole. Then they put the shrubs back in the ground.

Later, they returned to Abdullah's house, where a small group had already formed. They were discussing the continuing raids when Mahmud and Kashim entered through the same back window.

"We're glad you're here, boys," said a young adult woman wearing black hijab. Kashim looked around and saw Tahir and Jafar, as well as a few other adults he recognized.

"Yes indeed," said Tahir. "Al-Hussein, profuse apologies for your loss."

Kashim nodded sadly. "We are all praying for you," another adult said.

"Israelis have been commiting atrocities all over this camp all day," Jafar said loudly and intrusively. "We must find a way to guard against their raids and try to drive them out of this camp. Then we must take revenge!"

"That's far too rash, Darktree," the dark-hijabbed woman rebutted. "Of course, we need to protect this camp and everyone it in, but exacting revenge will only mean more deaths."

Another man shook his head rigorously and looked angry. "You've never been too objective about the Palestinian cause, Shadowstalker. They're going to try and kill us anyway, so why not try to kill them too?"

"You've got it all wrong!" another yelled.

"Let us try to keep some facade of civility!" Tahir ordered. "And let's open this to deliberation. Whoever agrees with Shadowstalker's stronger defense tactics, go stand with her. If you agree with Darktree's more agressive plan, please go stand with him. If you have another plan, please speak out."

The adults looked around nervously, but it only took each of them a moment to decide where they belonged. None spoke out with a new plan. "Well," Tahir said, "there certainly seems to be more support for Darktree than Shadowstalker, so . . ."

"Wait!" Kashim exclaimed. Every eye in the room turned on him and stared viciously. Even Mahmud didn't look very happy with him. "I . . . have another idea."

Jafar replied in a derisive, sneering voice. "What idea could you-"

"Now, now, Darktree, this debate is open to all present. And if these boys have what it takes to be my students, they must have something good to say." Jafar grumbled an agreement. "Make it quick."

"Kashim, what do you think you're doing?" Mahmud whispered loudly, elbowing him. "Don't worry, I really do have a plan," he whispered back. Then he turned to the congregation of adults.

"Things are getting really bad now," he started, "and they're probably going to get worse very fast."

"Of course!" Shadowstalker interrupted. "We're already anticipating Jenin-like tactics from the Israeli side. Please try not to exploit the obvious."

"That's part of my plan," Kashim said, growing bolder. "We'll use what they did at Jenin as a model. The thing is, though, at Jenin they made one fatal mistake. We won't make the same one. And we do have a certain advantage that the people in Jenin didn't."

"And what, pray, is that?"

Kashim paused, barely trusting his own voice. Could this work? He was pretty sure it could, but that brought him to the next question. Would it work? There wasn't time to answer that mentally. The congregation of adults was waiting for him to finish outlining his plan. "In Jenin, they made the big mistake of setting themselves up for vulerability. They didn't concieve the idea of a fortress, a large, inpregnable stronghold. Instead, they fought out of small houses that could easily be destroyed or raided. That's how they were hurt by the bulldozers.

"And here's the advantage they didn't have at Jenin-we are a smaller refugee camp. They wouldn't have been able to round up their whole population and fit them in a single area. But we can. We're small enough for that, but large enough to be capable of fighting back."

The room was hushed. All looked at him in amazement. It might work. But Jafar was still in doubt. "And where, pray, will this stronghold be?"

"It needs to be a big building," interrupted Mahmud, catching onto Kashim's plan. "Big, like the mosque, but that won't do because we can't secure it. It has to be a stone building, difficult to penetrate. I say our best bet is the High School. What do you say?"

Astounded silence. None of the adults thought Kashim's plan was going to be a useful one. Most of them held a growing favor for this radical course of action. Jafar, however, hated to give in. "And what if they decided to resort to rockets?"

Kashim hadn't thought of that. But Tahir took it from here. "That will not be a problem," he said. "I already have an idea, but this must remain in the inner sanctum. I cannot discuss it here or now."

Jafar nodded grudingly. "You boys," Shadowstalker said, "Help smuggle families out of their houses. Take the mothers and children to the inner sanctum of the mosque, and tell the men to wait in the high school's storm shelter. I will summon the PGOL."

"The Jabbers?" asked Mahmud. "What for?"

"To do the same thing as you. Palestinian girls look more innocent than Palestinian boys, I suppose. But I know they're just as capable."

Kashim and Mahmud doubted this, but nodded anyway. "And bin Durrah, al-Hussein," Jafar added, "tell each family to bring what weapons they have. Gasoline, explosives, guns, ammo, whatever."

They nodded again. "Be extremely careful, boys."

"And leave right after you finish," Tahir added.

"What?" Kashim and Mahmud asked in unison, whirling around.

Tahir stroked his beard, looking like he understood every secret of the universe while they understood nothing at all, not even themselves. "Al-Hussein, I have recieved intelligence that Abdullah's eldest daughter Sadakah was taken hostage by a group of Israeli civilians. I have gotten this from a credible source, and I believe this is a lead you will want to pursue."

Kashim froze inside. His worst fears were confirmed. Not only had he lost his sister and many friends in one night, but now his...his...well, now Sadakah had been kidnapped. "Sir, how will I ever find them?"

"They were headed for Lebanon. You will have to hurry through your job. Then you must leave quickly."

"Alone?"

"If it is necessary."

"It won't be," Mahmud stated firmly, "because I'm going with him."

Kashim looked at him like he was crazy. "It's very dangerous, Mahmud. And I'm not so sure you're up to it, man."

"I am so up to it. Kashim, I'm not as brave as you are . . . you look death right in the face and laugh, while all I can do is giggle and mutter small insults behind its back. But you are my best friend, and I'm going to stick with you through all of this."

For some reason, he felt tears forming in his eyes. He was so lucky to have such a loyal friend. "Thanks, Mahmud." Suddenly, a new thought struck him, and he slapped his forehead. "Ta-Demoneye! I . . . can't do it."

Jafar looked at him with distaste. "And why, pray, is that?"

"Well . . . it's my mother. She should be arriving home tonight or the next night from Tel Aviv. I have to stay here . . . to tell her what happened to Amira, to stand by her . . ."

"No need to worry about her, al-Hussein. We have already arranged for someone to explain things to her and keep her company when she returns. We have every intention of sending you on your way, al-Hussein."

Kashim smiled. "Okay. Let's move out."

The afternoon shadows were beginning to fall across the land when Kashim and Mahmud had evacuated most of the refugee camp. The Israeli soldiers were mostly unaware of any movement in the camp. They had done their job well, and now they were just waiting, waiting in breathless anticipation for the first thing to happen.

The strong, cold wind shook the great bell in the Palestinian Christian church a few streets from the mosque. It tolled time and time again, with a terrible foreboding.

We're going to have one hell of a struggle, it said.

Run now. It's coming. And it's not going to be nice.

"There's gonna be a huge fight here," said Mahmud, watching the camp from a hill outside town. "This is definitely gonna define the Palestinian offensive from here on out." He paused and shivered in the cold wind. "Too bad we're not gonna be here to see it."

Kashim nodded. The camp was silent as it waited for the world to come to an end.

Then Kashim and Mahmud turned down the hill and walked down, backs turned to the camp, the wind in their faces.