Archive for the ‘Acid Rain’ Tag
They stood with others solemnly by
saluting the fallen and the brave
risking life and limb to bring about a promised peace.
Listening to the strains of, “Amazing Grace,”
flag draped coffins are carried under a guarded sky
across cemetery lawns to their final resting place.
Eulogies and names; so many to honor, too short a time,
families of victims pray their loved one’s story lives to remain
a memory, not forgotten, and why they gather today
because of terror unleashed like the rampant spread of disease.
Eloquent words gracing memorial walls and stones
don’t bring closure nor adequately explain
to those suffering loss with unfathomable pain
why a tragedy of this kind strikes with evil intent,
leaving more unanswered questions that remain.
How can there be those who choose
to live with such prejudice, and hate
towards others whose lives they count not
worthy of grace, mercy and love,
but think it better they not live at all.
In a world broken, where strife and anger exists,
rising animosity and distrust is given to believe
there is no hope, and people succumb
to the chaos and confusion that rises up like an ugly fist.
Joyce E. Johnson 2017
Footnotes; The story above is fictional, but the situation is real every day, here and elsewhere. There will always be hate and evil that rears its ugly head, even as we think things will, or might improve. The increased anti-Semitism and hatred towards groups in our country and others continues, even while our president works to set in place measures to stop that. Two years ago I posted fictional stories under the title, “Acid Rain” about two brothers, both having the same mother but different fathers. One brother took the path of a terrorist, and the other an officer with the Israeli Defense Forces. You can find their stories here under the Acid Rain fiction heading in the menu on my site. The prequel to this story series began with Brothers Divided. Their stories are fictional, but the one of Isaac and Ishmael are not which I used as inspiration for the stories of Sam, and Gamal. The recent events of increased vandalism and terror threats to the Jewish Community centers in our country and increased anti-Semitism throughout the world prompted the poetic fictional story above.
Tel Aviv, Israel
After the hijacking of the Chinese freighter, Black Dragon security modifications were made on freighter and cargo lines. Swat teams and undercover agents were posted to every ship, cargo and cruise line for all scheduled crossings. The impact was felt in the once friendly skies of air travel, too. Ticket sales were down. Airlines reduced their fares significantly to entice travelers with bargain deals, but people were afraid to fly. Trains were routinely checked and swept for devices, bags, even trash disposed while on board. Railway and Amtrak routes were routinely checked for bombs or devices hidden under or near tracks.
There was no exact number to determine how many active terrorists’ cells were in the U.S., Middle East and Europe, but estimated to be in the thousands, all trained, committed, and devoted to their mandate; to kill any and all not converted or sympathetic to Islam, whether Jew or Gentile, American or otherwise. Educated and highly skilled in chemical, biological and nuclear explosives, experts were brought in to train teams sent out to places wherever opportunity existed, all under the command and ‘head’ of one, known as ‘Goliath’.
They infiltrated themselves into society, many involving themselves in civic or charity organizations, churches, or synagogues. On the surface they were Christian or Jew, purporting to be patriots of their resident country. But, to the soul they were fanatical, committed Islamic jihadists. They spoke fluent English or were fluent in the dialect of their assigned location with no prior foreign accent. Those in the U.S. were in fact born and raised in the U.S. They would martyr themselves for Allah.
Tel Aviv, Israel
Sam entered the home of his old friend and mentor, Eli. Eli was a retired army commander with the IDF. He shook hands with Eli’s bodyguard and was escorted into his study.
“Samuel, it is good to see you my friend.” Eli embraced Sam, greeting him with the traditional Hebrew kiss on each cheek. “You look good, except for the lines of stress around your eyes. I suspect this is not just a social visit, is it? I see it in your eyes. You have something on your mind.”
Sam smiled. “You know me too well, Eli.”
“Sit down. Let’s talk. I sense your current mission has not been going well. I assume your unit is working with the U.S. teams on this stream of recent attacks?”
“Trying to. But, their American president is none too happy with the way we do things here. It has not been determined for certain who carried out the San Francisco attack and hijacking of the Black Dragon. They cannot find those responsible. Their disappearing act was flawless, no trace, but it stinks of Hamas’s hands all over this. I am not so sure we will have the U.S. support and cooperation much longer with the animosity their president feels toward our PM and Israel. The U.S. administration wants to cut a deal with Iran too.”
“Yes. I know.”
They talked for another couple hours. When it was time for Sam to leave, Eli said. “Don’t go out the front, the way you came in. Let me take you out through another exit from my home. Where did you park your SUV?”
“Six blocks down and two streets over from here. I was careful, Eli. I don’t think anyone was tailing me.”
“Nevertheless, let me lead you out the back way. Then you can switch back, and get back to your car from there.”
To be continued…
This is a work of fiction and a continued story with parts 1 & 2 previously posted under the same title, Acid Rain Feedback and comments are always welcome.
Joyce E.Johnson (2015)
San Francisco Bay – 2:00 a.m., present day
The fog in San Francisco can always be counted on to hide things in its hanging mist. Tonight it hung over a freighter in the bay’s recessed pier. But it did not hide all in its shadows.
A guard standing watch at the pier’s receiving station noted its arrival. Moisture clouded the lenses on his binoculars, making it difficult to read the name and markings on the freighter.
He checked the vessel schedule, then lifted his phone to his ear, but never spoke a word. When he turned to a sound behind him a black shape emerged from out of the dark. A small canister thrown at his feet spewed its contents into the room. Before he could get off a shot, the black shape disappeared as fast as it had come.
He raced towards the alarm, but his body felt the heat and sting of the combustible discharge emitted. He stumbled. His face contorted, red and blistered. Tears welled up in his burning eyes. Blood dripped from his nose. His throat and tongue swelled up as if he would choke. Smoke filled the terminal. He had to get out. He couldn’t see anything past the fog like fumes. His lungs felt as if on fire stinging with every breath. Collapsing to the floor, he knew he had only minutes to live.
The killer reappeared on the freighter minutes later.
Unmarked trucks backed up to the receiving dock on pier #94. Men on the freighter wasted no time. They worked methodically making little noise. Gaping doors opened to the empty trucks and loading began. “Speed it up. We’re running behind. I want those trucks gone when we pull out.”
“Sims? It’s Captain Treadwell from Bay Breeze nine. Do you show a freighter due in tonight? Any ships making late night deliveries?”
“Not that I know of, but wait a second. I’ll look. What’s her name?”
“I can’t find one. Can’t see her markings. Can’t raise a response over the radio either. Seems to have evaded our detection. The guard on duty is not answering his phone.” Captain Treadwell waited.
“Captain? I checked this week’s arrivals and departures. All are accounted for except one.”
“It’s registered to China’s, Sea Serpent Lines under the name, Black Dragon.”
“Have you made contact with China’s ports about their ship’s delay?” asked Treadwell.
“That’s the weird part about it, captain.”
“Well sir, when we contacted China’s port authority to ask about their ship they said they had no knowledge, or contact. They said it left their port on schedule.”
“OK. Check all incoming deliveries and shipments in the last twenty-four hours. Nothing is to be allowed in or out of port until further investigation. Whatever this freighter was carrying, its been unloaded because it has turned around and headed out to bay. Alert the Coast Guard, DHS, Navy and port authorities. Find out what was on that ship and where it’s been taken. And send your ‘welcome committee’ over to that ship, now!”
“Yes, sir. I’m on it.”
A Coast Guard cutter was dispatched, but it was too late. The freighter exploded sending shrapnel and twisted hunks of steel into the sky. The sounds of sirens wailed and the port came alive as the terror rained down over the skies of San Francisco Bay.
To be continued.
This is part 1 with upcoming continued parts. All future and continuing parts will be under the heading and category of, Acid Rain. This story is only a work of fiction. My purpose in writing this story is not intended to frighten, be prophetic or factual. It is only a story to bring to light what does exist. The terrorist threats to our country, the U.S., to Israel and to others as well. Wishing that every country and its people could be at peace, prosper, get along with the rest of the world without hate, and live in harmony would be a wonderful thing. But, that just does not happen and will not happen as long as evil lurks about in the lives of those who invite it in, and when that happens there is death, destruction and chaos. But, we can turn our eyes and hearts to God in these times and ask that He give us strength, courage and wisdom in all things and to learn how to love others, respect their faith, their culture and all that He blesses.
Joyce E. Johnson (2015)