Death Song Coda-Fiction. About Me Warren View my complete profile. In frustration he flung the covers off and got out of bed.

He slipped out the front door and jumped lightly from the front porch steps to the ground. He stood still for awhile and watched the lightning strikes, listened the thunder crashing around him.

Then the mass of clouds finally released the rain, falling hard and furious. A nearby lightning bolt suddenly cast an eerie glow around him as he watched it hit close by to the south, causing goose bumps to break out along his back and the hairs on his arm to stand up at attention.

Jimmy both loved and respected thunderstorms. Smell it, almost taste it; it was all around him.

He crawled back into bed with his wife Karen and finally at last fell asleep. And then he dreamed: He dreamed of a battle. Jimmy found himself in the heavens and the stars near him began to shine brightly.

The light increased and began to weave and dance into colorful patterns. Then it dove through the darkness, and as it did so more stars became a spinning blur around it and a trail of light following behind like a comet’s tail.

Increasing in speed the light creature folded its wings, falling. The sound was piercing, echoing through space, defiant. It was almost as big as the eagle and made of flame and darkness.

It was darker than the darkness of space but at the same time bright with inner flame.

Regaining his composure he looked up at her and angrily shook his fist while he hurled abuse at her. She leaned over and could see Chris standing there unsteadily on his feet launching a triad of abuse up at her. Blush long sleeve lace insert high leg cupped body 4×4 Again Cally coughed and this time the obstacle that almost slid down her throat nestled firmly on her tongue.

It struck at the eagle with its fangs and badly wounded it. It struck again and began to squeeze the earth. Jimmy saw the world bruising, cracking Spinning as it fell, writhing in agony.

The eagle screamed yet again, wounded, poisoned. It let go of the world and the light of which it was made began to break apart, returning to the stars it had sprung from.

Then the image vanished and the dream changed. He turned to Jimmy, knowing he was watching and said, “help me. Then he awoke. His faith was beyond questioning, and his goals were clear.

If there was a reason for his current anxiousness, it was also the only glaring weakness in the plan. Now, having spent the last hour alternating between looking through the lens of his night vision monocular, swatting at constant mosquitos, and sweating in the stale and humid Florida air, he now sighed and felt the tension begin to go out of his body.

The boat had arrived at last. This was the last delivery of several, and now the slow meticulous plan could proceed to the next stage. This one was over fifteen minutes late, and in this business, that might as well be days or years; it was simply unacceptable.

He expected promptness; certainly he was paying enough money to demand it. This was insulting, and he felt the first stirrings of anger within, the tension returning in a different form.

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He mopped at the back of his neck and then his forehead with his handkerchief and slipped it back into the pocket of his sweat stained dress shirt. No matter how long he lived in this country, he would never become accustomed to the humidity.

He hated it and longed for the dry desert heat of home. Yet, soon it would all be finished and just maybe he would be able to return when his task was accomplished.

Abdullah was both grudgingly respected and feared amongst his followers. While not intimidating in size, he possessed a certain coldness in his black eyes It was rumored among some who had been with him for awhile, spoken of in whispers in the training camps and around campfires on cold winter Afghani nights, that Abdullah was a master of torture.

For him it was a passion. It was told as legend that he had once carved off a prisoner’s face, one piece at a time, with a razor. This was in order to extract information, not directly from the victim, for he soon died, but from the fellow prisoner seated near him who was next in line.

And the Iraqi swine had squealed like the unclean infidel lover that he was, and had revealed the planned route of a US supply convoy, allowing Abdullah to ambush it at just the right place and at just the right time.

It was simply just another stone in the building of myth which surrounded him.

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Malik Akbar muttered in Arabic next to Abdullah. Interrupted in his thoughts by the voice of his companion, Abdullah turned to him, a dim outline in the early morning darkness.

It is in the Oneness of all Truth. There is one Allah, and his prophet is Mohammed. There is one True interpretation of the Holy Texts and those we follow.

There is only one War and that is our Jihad.

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There is one certainty and that is our victory. What else matters? Nothing, not life or death or pain or set backs.

She smiled at him and shook he hand slightly causing Chris to jump back onto the cabinet. Dresses for Women, Mini Club Dresses different sizes, designs, cuts Lengths: 6’3″ – 7’6″.

Yet it remains Remember this. He was often underestimated and he preferred it that way. The jet black speedboat of the new arrivals had cast anchor not far offshore, and was rising and falling in the gentle Atlantic swells.

Was he really that edgy? Just a little, he had to admit and he had no idea why. The Zodiac raft covered the distance to the speedboat in little time, and Akbar studied the sleek craft while approaching.

As they drew closer he noticed that the aft of the vessel had been modified, even more so than the last time he had seen it, to hold the present cargo and it also possessed a mounted machine gun which had not been there the last time and of course, was not only manned presently, but was tracking their arrival.

The raft pulled alongside the speedboat and Akbar’s crew tossed heavy ropes over to secure the vessels together. Akbar quickly ascended into the other craft, and was followed by two members of his team.

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One remained in the raft, clutching his rifle and looking as intimidating as he could, even though it was dark and facial expressions would likely not be seen.

Akbar ignored the insult of the greedy man as insignificant and not worthy of his attention. He felt himself begin to sweat heavily, a long time problem of his, and he turned back to Ramon feeling both somewhat disoriented, and nearly euphoric.

Soon, Allah willing, so very soon, thought Akbar, and this will be finished. The quicker the better!

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Two of Akbar’s people and two of Ramon’s crew moved around the crate, grabbing at each corner of the aluminum bottom frame to which it was attached, they lifted it up and then tossed it over the side.

The crate settled in an upright position and steadied in the water. It so often betrays. Akbar’s crew had already swiftly secured the crate to the Zodiac by tow lines and now headed toward the shore with the outboard revving out at maximum RPMs.

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Abdullah Mohammed was pacing up and down the beach, and ran up to the waterline anxiously as the craft was beached. The nails groaned in protest, finally separating from the frame.

He peered inside to insure he had not been deceived. He was soon satisfied he had not been. The s era warhead was easily recognizable, even though only the dull gray pointed tip was visible; sticking up out of the close cell foam it was packed in.

Abdullah pressed his extended finger tips on top of the tip of the weapon and reflected a moment on the miraculous journey the device had been on. From gathering dust in a small warehouse in Kazakhstan to Tehran.

Then by ship to Venezuela. From there to Colombia via a private yaught.

Lastly from that same yaught, the Rios Atlas, loaded onto the speedboat and finally here. Here where it belonged, in the hands of someone who was not afraid to use it, along with the others, for the greater good.

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He closed the lid and verbally dispatched several of his followers to wrestle the crate onto the waiting cargo truck, and then he turned to speak to Akbar.

He stared as if mesmerized by the faintly glowing green button. At that moment, the Cargo truck behind them fired up with a low diesel growl and began to rumble.

Akbar nodded and he turned his gaze back to the eastern horizon, which was now rapidly lightening with the first rose flush of the visible sun.

Akbar now grinned quite openly obviously elated as he climbed into the cab of the truck. Abdullah knew that nothing in this world gave Malik more satisfaction Truthfully, he knew Malik Akbar had always preferred to not use the term ‘bomb’ as he considered it to be an inadequate and too crude of a word to describe such works of art.

He much preferred ‘high explosive device’. And the device he had wired into that briefcase, consisting of a military grade C-4 explosive inserted into the lining, was a piece of art that Akbar was proud of.

He had boasted as much to Abdullah on more than one occasion, nearly boring him as he had explained the minute details of how to maximize the explosion given the limitations of having to be packed into the narrow confines of a briefcase.

On that morning the messages would be sent out to the other scattered followers as well, the command to go forward, each having their own small but essential part to play in the days to come.

Even the ones he considered the bastard children of the faith; the American born and recently converted. What disturbed him most right now was that he wished to see one more sunrise, and he knew the chances were very slim.