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Book 2 - Chapter 3
🕑 Added 2020-05-06 10:38:38 +0000 UTCMandara Mountains, Nigeria
Boko Haram’s Camp
At some point, Michael had to lower the sound level in his helmet, since Abubakar Shekau was hitting some extremely high notes. With his newly found and untrained falsetto, he was tearing his vocal cords to shreds. Tyron quickly said he would go outside and make sure that Pete and Al do not get themselves into trouble. He could understand the big guy, a few times his own hands subconsciously moved to cover that sensitive part of his body, it was instinctual.
Alice’s expression was still unchanged, not one single emotion showed on her face. All that time, the terrorist leader was doing little else but screaming, not that anybody cared. The sound suppressor was worth its weight in gold, without it, every single terrorist in the valley would know that their leader was not having a good time.
When she finally started to ask questions, Shekau was more than willing to answer them for the even slight release of pressure; Michael suspected that it was after something tore in that particular region.
He had a lot to say; unfortunately, it wasn’t what Michael wanted to hear. Dr. Emma Williams was not in Boko Haram’s camp, they missed her by a whole day. Shekau had an agreement with the slave buyer for all white women he acquired, and he had already sold her for a very large price.
Shekau didn’t threaten anymore, but he begged and even offered large sums of money just for Alice to let him go. In all fairness, they did take the money; Max diligently checked all Boko Haram’s accounts Shekau had access to and made a withdrawal. As they suspected, the village was attacked because his band of murderers’ needed new slaves, which was one of their main sources of revenue. The list of monstrosities he confessed was damning. Rapes, slaughter, brainwashing children and making them into suicide bombers, decimating entire populations that did not subscribe to their particular brand of Islam. Abubakar Shekau and his followers were proud of how much misery they brought to this world, and there was no redeeming justification for their actions, no saving grace. All they did was simply because they could; with superior numbers and weapons, the peaceful population could not oppose them. Religion was a robe they put over themselves, so the world would not see their true face.
Also, this was only one of their camps, specialized in slavery, but there were others.
“Is there anything more you want to ask him,” Alice inquired.
“Yes, one more thing. What is the name of your deputy, the one who carries out your orders?” Michael asked.
“Yusuf!” The man yelled, after a small incentive from Alice. “He always does what he’s told, why?” Shekau confusingly asked.
Michael smiled at the bound man. “Don’t worry about it, it’s no longer your concern.”
He nodded at Alice, signalizing that he had nothing more to ask.
She turned to the terrorist leader and looked him in the eye. “How many?”
Shekau looked back at her without comprehension. “What? I don’t understand what more you want from me?”
“How many girls like her,” she pointed at the young woman on the bed, “have you raped?”
She emphasized her question with additional pressure.
Screamingly, he answered, “I don’t know, dozens, hundreds.”
Alice stopped the pressure.
He took a few relieving breaths. “What is it to you? There were only slaves.”
Michael saw that for the first time since the questioning began, Alice’s face showed emotion. It was a profound disgust mixed with something else, something dangerous.
“They were not only slaves; they were human beings who were unfortunate enough to fall into your hands. But I can tell you one thing…”
“What?” he sneered, still showing some trace of defiance.
“No more.”
With that, Alice yanked her hand back… except she did not unclench it.
It took a moment for Abubakar Shekau to realize what had happened… she had emasculated him. The piece of flesh that Alice tossed in his lap was all the confirmation he needed, that and the excruciating pain his mangled nerves were sending to his brain.
The scream that followed was truly impressive; there were Hollywood scream queens, which would be quite proud if they could replicate it. His blood gushed down the chair legs and started filling indentations on the rock floor.
Alice and Michael didn’t pay any more attention to the screaming man. However, they did adjust the sound suppressor field to cover only the area around the chair and leave them out of it.
After Alice cleaned up, Michael called Tyron, Pete, and Al to join them.
He gave them all a solemn look, wanting to ask them once more the question, to give them a choice, even if he already knew the answer.
“You know what the plan is, what I feel must be done. But I want to give you all one more chance not to be part of it, this is a burden I decided to carry, you don’t need to. This is about justice and revenge, about the promise I made to the spirits of the dead villagers.”
Pete was the one who spoke for all the rest, “Mike, we were in that village with you, so let’s stop talking like old ladies in a baking contest and get on with it—we have work to do.” The others nodded their heads in agreement.
He smiled and picked up the long carrying case from the floor. It was one of the cases they lugged on their backs, all the way from the transporter.
This was one of the additional things Alice had brought from the island when they realized that their opposition might be quite substantial. It was a new weapon Max built; a variation of their assault rifles. Not very practical to carry all the time on account of its size, except in situations like this when it was quite appropriate for the job at hand. One of the differences compared to their guns was how much heavier it was, and that was its greatest drawback. With the weight close to 350 pounds, it was not something one would casually carry around, even with their enhanced strength. While their assault rifles had magazines with 250 flechette rounds, this one had 2500, and they were a lot bigger and much deadlier. For that reason, Max had named it the Pacifier. As he elaborated, ‘once you use it, the other side becomes quite peaceful’.
Alice had not brought one; she had brought four of them.
The next step of the plan called for some subterfuge, a part Michael would have done himself, except Al was more of Abubakar Shekau's size. Al put on the terrorist’s clothes and headgear over his combat suit, and Max projected Shekau’s face on Al’s helmet; it wasn’t perfect and it wouldn’t fool anyone in good visibility, but at night it had a good chance to work.
Then Al went out to the mouth of the cave. The plan was for Max to use external speakers and talking in the Hausa language, imitate Shekau’s voice.
“Yusuf!” Even Al was impressed by how close to the original that voice was reproduced.
It took a minute for a disheveled man to exit from a nearby tent. He was obviously sleeping, if judging by the state of his clothes he was still trying to put on.
“Yusuf, I have a proclamation to make, it involves all our people, something that will change our path in the future. Order everybody to gather around that rock at the south side of the valley, those that are not there to hear my words will be considered traitors and infidels.”
Max perfectly mimicked Shekau’s voice, all Al had to do was make a few hands and body gestures, to make it more realistic.
“Abubakar, it is night and most of our people are sleeping… and what about the slaves?” The confused man asked, looking up at his leader.
“Do not question my order! If they are not all there in thirty minutes, then they do not believe in our cause. Leave two guards with the slaves, only they will be exempt and the slaves will not dare to do anything. Yusuf, if you fail me, I will have another deputy in the morning, and you know what happened to your predecessor.”
Yusuf bowed his head, looking at the ground. “It will be done.”
Directed by Max, Al, turned around and went back inside the cave.
That was a chink in their armor Michael planned to exploit… fear. Abubakar Shekau used fear to control his people; if his orders were not obeyed, the punishment was severe and often deadly for those responsible. That same blind obedience would now be their undoing.
After a short wait, they left the cave with the dead body of the terrorist leader still bound to a chair. The girl was sleeping in the bed; the anesthetic Alice gave her would last for a few more hours, and by then, the entire situation should be resolved.
Michael had chosen the location for the terrorist gathering very carefully. It had the ideal placement for him and his team so that they were not in each other’s fields of fire, and at the same time, making sure that no slaves could be accidentally hit with a stray friendly round.
Alice was climbing to a higher elevation to reach her vantage point since her mission was to use her sniper for more precise elimination of targets.
As they were moving towards their assigned positions, Michael could already see terrorists gathering at the prearranged location. Someone had lit a huge bonfire close to the stone outcropping that they thought would be used by their leader as a platform from which he would speak to them.
To be on the safe side, the team approached their positions from a wide-angle; their camouflage made them almost invisible but there was no reason to risk a collision with some insomniac terrorists that couldn’t see them, or if the suits refracted light in a weird way. Max kept a tally of each individual using the satellites above their heads. He would be the one to give a signal to start.
Almost half an hour had passed since Max and Al issued their orders to Yusuf; Michael could acknowledge that the terrorists had one virtue… they were very punctual.
***
Mustafa was not feeling very happy at the moment since he was rudely awakened from a very nice dream. In it, he was a rich man with hundreds of slaves catering to his every need, and most were young beautiful girls. They were not like those miserable wretches they kept in animal pens. Crying, and begging to go home all the time, like if anyone was left alive there. No, the girls in his dream always smiled and looked at him in adoration.
Not that he minded the slave girls held in the valley, they served their purpose well. Not the most beautiful ones, Abubakar Shekau always separated those since they would bring higher prices, but the ugly ones were free for the taking. And Mustafa sure took his share; a few hours ago, he had enjoyed a well-built girl, even if she was a little too young to appreciate a man like him. She did scream and cry at first but after a few well-placed slaps, she quieted down, closed her eyes, and kept silent. He would never dream of doing something like that to an obedient Muslim girl, but this one was a mere unbeliever and should have been more appreciative that a strong warrior like him was even giving her some attention.
He wondered what their leader was going to say, and hoped that it would be some great plan of attacking an even greater settlement; Mustafa loved to kill those too old to be slaves. That look of desperation in their eyes when he extinguished their light always made him happy.
As he was getting annoyed at standing outside in the middle of the night, a strange, loud, booming sound attracted his intention.
***
It was time; Max had confirmed that every single terrorist in the Valley was gathered at the place they chose, all except two guards patrolling the slave pens. The show started when Alice took out those same two guards by sending two high-velocity flechette rounds, straight to their hearts.
The Pacifiers were not quiet weapons, without ear protection, a normal human standing too close to one would have a good chance of losing a substantial percentage of his hearing. There was no subsonic switch on them since they were not created with subtlety in mind. Round after round, breaking the sound barrier in such close proximity to each other, made an awful amount of noise. Michael was glad he was lying down on the ground with a tripod to stabilize the gun; even without recoil, the sheer amount of air pressure the flechettes were making in front of it would be enough to even stagger him.
Before giving Alice a signal to start, he took one long look at the sea of bodies in front of him. Living, breathing human beings who decided to throw away their very humanity and indulge in base desires. He wondered how someone could do that? Was there a moment when they decided to become monsters? Ultimately, that is what they were; religion, ideology, political inclinations, and many other excuses were empty rationalizations that did not really mean anything. Words were often just noise; deeds, on the other hand, defined you. But it wasn’t something new, humanity had from its very beginnings, followed that mindless drive towards violence and destruction. All through history, people had turned one against the other. The Nazi atrocities being one example in a long list, one of the most exposed. A part of him feared such behavior would never stop.
Those before him were about to die, and not in a fair fight. There will be no arrests and trials, a chance for them to be set free and continue with their evil ways. This was an execution, plain and simple. When a body develops a tumor, the surgeon does not try to reason with it, so it would change its ways—he cuts it out.
Michael’s finger increased the pressure on the trigger and the Pacifier began wailing its death song. A split second later, three other instruments joined his, creating a symphony of noise that sounded like never-ending thunder.
All the terrorists were standing on the killing ground; boxed in from four sides, with Alice bringing death from above. The speed and size of larger flechettes ensured that each one would pass through several bodies before it stopped. After a few seconds, the terrorists figured out that they were being attacked, and a few even managed to return fire. But then, they weren’t sure where to aim, their enemy was hidden by the darkness of the night. Those who tried to organize some sort of order, received preferential treatment. Alice did not want a stray bullet to fly in the direction of slave pens, and she never missed.
The Pacifiers on full auto were not very economical with ammo. As Max later informed them, they collectively fired close to eight thousand rounds, only stopping where there were no more moving targets. For most of the time, Michael didn’t even aim at individuals, he was focusing on whole sections as a fireman would when directing the water hose to quench the fire. It took far less time than Michael thought it would be needed to extinguish one thousand lives.
An eerie silence enveloped the dark valley, the Pacifiers song stopped. Not one moan or cry for help could be heard from the terrorist… not one was left alive.
Michael looked at the scene before him… it was a portrait of hell. Blood and body parts were everywhere, their heat creating a faint mist that the cold night air was carrying away. He knew he would have nightmares about this night, but he would not change a thing.
He hoped the souls of these people would have a warm welcome in hell.
Not saying a word over the comms, the team picked up their weapons and started walking towards the slave pens.
***
Since more people began arriving at Pagan Island, the demand for bigger transporters increased. The regular ones were simply not enough, so Max created a larger version that could accommodate up to one hundred passengers. He did not make many of them, only a few to be used when the need arose. Three of them descended towards Boko Haram’s camp, carrying a group of doctors and helpers, which immediately provided water and food to scared slaves. Michael planned for that, even before they came to the camp. While their mission was going on, those transporters hovered ten miles above the ground, waiting for a signal to descend.
It took an entire hour to take care of, and transfer all the slaves into the transporters, with Max providing a translation in several local languages. Tyron brought the unconscious girl from the cave and released her to the doctors’ care. As soon as they were done, transporters left this desolate place. All the slaves would be transferred to the island where they will get medical help and respite, before being transported to their homes.
***
“We are not done. There is one more task we need to do before going after Dr. Williams,” Michael said, looking at the others.
They took Abubakar Shekau’s body and made improvised gallows, at the center of the field of corpses, and then they hoisted him up.
Michael made a sign, written in several languages; it was their version of the ‘Rosetta Stone’. It was done in that particular way to make sure the message was understood by everyone who saw it.
“Max, I want you to use drones and make a recording of all this… get all the gritty parts. It should be as gruesome as possible and finished with a shot of Shekau’s body with the sign. Right after we rescue Dr. Williams, I want you to release it into the world; with all the information who they were, what they’ve done, and why this happened to them.”
“That may create some negative response; people are not used to such sights,” the AI responded.
“The civilians may bury their heads in the sand if they want, but this is not a message for them. This is for the ones who are not unfamiliar with such scenes, this is for the ones who made similar ones, without fear of repercussions. Reason and compassion do not work with them, it is not something they care about or understand. This they cannot ignore; it speaks the language they understand. If violence and death are the only things they comprehend… then that is exactly what we’ll give them.”
After finishing with recording and packing their equipment, the team boarded the transporter that brought them here. It was about time to pay a visit to the man that purchased Dr. Williams.
On the valley floor, standing in the sea of dead bodies that were left for scavengers to feast on… was a sign. It was not very complicated, easy to understand for even those with basic literacy.
In bold black script was written:
SLAVERY = DEATH
MURDER = DEATH
RAPE = DEATH
TERRORISM = DEATH
IF YOU ARE GUILTY OF THESE SINS — WE WILL COME FOR YOU TOO.
Comments
M van Dongen
Well, that should be clear enough.
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Null
Not bad not bad.... a little pacifism but not bad, they are learning.
