Wrong Town: A Mark Landry Novel

BOOK: Wrong Town: A Mark Landry Novel
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Wrong Town

A Mark Landry Novel

 

By

Randall H. Miller

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Copyright 2015 by Randall H. Miller, LLC

 

This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents contained in this book are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

 

I would like to thank Maggy and Michael for their endless patience. I love you both very much. I would also like to thank Eric Curtis, John Irving (not that one), Colonel Don Paquin (U.S. Army), Lieutenant Colonel John Palo (U.S. Army, Retired), Robert Hennessey, Michael McCarthy, Brian T. Witkowski, Steve Tarani, the Sig Sauer Academy, Rob Pincus, Steven Branca, Mary Beth Autry, Todd Bennett, Michael McLain, Richard C. Miller, Chris Halleron, and many others who were kind enough to contribute to the creation of this story in some way.

CHAPTERS

One                 

Two
             

Three
             

Four
             

Five
             

Six
             

Seven
             

Eight
             

Nine
             

Ten
             

Eleven
             

Twelve
             

Thirteen
             

Fourteen
             

Fifteen
             

Sixteen
             

Seventeen
             

Eighteen
             

Nineteen
             

Twenty
             

Twenty-one
             

Twenty-two
             

Twenty-three
             

Twenty-four
             

Twenty-five
             

Twenty-six
             

Twenty-seven
             

Twenty-eight
             

Twenty-nine
             

Thirty
             

Thirty-one
             

Thirty-two
             

Thirty-three
             

Thirty-four
             

Thirty-five
             

Thirty-six
             

Thirty-seven
             

Thirty-eight
             

Thirty-nine
             

Forty
             

Forty-one
             

Forty-two
             

Forty-three
             

Forty-four
             

Forty-five
             

Forty-six
             

Forty-seven
             

Forty-eight
             

Forty-nine
             

Fifty
             

Fifty-one
             

Fifty-two
             

Fifty-three
             

Fifty-four
             

Fifty-five
             

Fifty-six
             

Fifty-seven
             

Fifty-eight
             

Fifty-nine
             

Sixty
             

Sixty-one
             

Sixty-two
             

Sixty-three
             

Sixty-four
             

Sixty-five
             

Sixty-six
             

Sixty-seven
             

Sixty-eight
             

Sixty-nine
             

Seventy
             

Seventy-one
             

Seventy-two
             

Seventy-three
             

Seventy-four
             

Seventy-five
             

Seventy-six
             

Seventy-seven
             

Seventy-eight
             

Seventy-nine
             

Eighty
             

Eighty-one
             

Eighty-two
             

Eighty-three
             

Eighty-four
             

Eighty-five
             

Eighty-six
             

Eighty-seven
             

Eighty-eight
             

Eighty-nine
             

Ninety
             

Ninety-one
             

Ninety-two
             

Ninety-three
             

Ninety-four
             

Ninety-five
             

Ninety-six
             

Ninety-seven
             

Ninety-eight
             

Ninety-nine
             

One hundred
             

One hundred one
             

One hundred two
             

One hundred three
             

One hundred four
             

One hundred five
             

One hundred six
             

One hundred seven
             

One hundred eight
             

One hundred nine
             

One hundred ten
             

One hundred eleven
             

One hundred twelve
             

One hundred thirteen
             

One hundred fourteen
             

One hundred fifteen
             

One hundred sixteen
             

One hundred seventeen
             

One hundred eighteen
             

One hundred nineteen
             

One hundred twenty
             

One hundred twenty-one
             

One hundred twenty-two
             

One hundred twenty-three
             

One hundred twenty-four
             

One hundred twenty-five
             

One hundred twenty-six
             

One hundred twenty-seven
             

One hundred twenty-eight
             

One hundred twenty-nine
             

One hundred thirty
             

One hundred thirty-one
             

One hundred thirty-two
             

One hundred thirty-three
             

One hundred thirty-four
             

One hundred thirty-five
             

One hundred thirty-six
             

One hundred thirty-seven
             

One hundred thirty-eight
             

One hundred thirty-nine
             

One hundred forty
             

One hundred forty-one
             

Epilogue
             

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music.” – Unknown

One

“Pick one,” said the black-robed imam after opening the door to the packed gymnasium-turned-prison. “They are all virgins.”

The sound of Amir’s combat boots against the hardwood floor announced his arrival and sent chills through the building. 

Submission came easier to the older women, but the younger girls grew more frantic each time a warrior entered—and with good reason, as they were more likely to be chosen.

Amir took his time and examined a dozen different candidates like cattle before deciding on a young girl with chestnut eyes, long black hair, and nascent curves.

“She has no experience, so she may need to be encouraged to please you,” he was advised.

Amir’s encouragement came in the form of strangulation as he writhed on top of her, tightening his grip the more she resisted. Jealous warriors would later erupt in laughter as he joked about the moment when the flicker of light in her eyes went dark.

After bathing her filth from his body, he stood before the bathroom mirror and began the lengthy process of shaving his thick, long beard as he had been instructed.

Three years.

Three long years of fierce, righteous combat not seen since the Prophet and his companions had fought for the same sacred soil. And Amir’s ferocity in battle and fearlessness under fire had not gone unnoticed. When other foreign recruits had hesitated, he had charged forward to kill the enemy and ceremoniously executed the cowards in his ranks afterwards. To him, displaying the slightest hint of disloyalty or fear, on or off the battlefield, was simply unforgivable. Yet he had no real authority—only the power of his presence.

His reward was ceaseless praise and respect from everyone who fought alongside him. “You should star in the execution videos, Amir! We can only imagine the prayers your actions would inspire, and how many hits you would get,” they would say.

Hits. This war is not about hits.

“I am here to serve at the will of Allah. Whatever best serves him and the Caliphate, I will do out of honor and love,” he had said modestly around the fire. Deep down, he had known that being passed over for video production was a blessing and further evidence that God’s plan for him had yet to unfold.

Anyone who appeared in official videos instantly became a global reality star and therefore less useful outside of Islamic State–controlled territory. Facial recognition. Gait recognition. Thermal fingerprints. Spectral and chemical imaging. Their fates were forever tied to the soil underfoot. Several who had enjoyed folk-hero status for their video performances were then publicly executed for the sins of arrogance and pride. Amir silently questioned such charges.

Are they arrogant and prideful? Or simply giving their brother warriors the inspirational leadership they crave?

Regardless, his anonymity outside the Caliphate meant that he was still eligible for the holiest of missions. The ones that required fierce close-quarter combat experience, a keen intellect, unshakable faith, and a Western passport.

The most righteous battles are fought in the West—the Dar al-Harb—where heroes become legends.

If martyrs are the crown jewels of the faith, the warriors who strike directly at the heart of Satan are the sparkling emeralds. When the State’s chief spiritual guide had tapped him on the shoulder, he felt as though the hand of God had reached down from heaven and touched him. He had been chosen.

Amir tossed his tattered black uniform onto the floor next to the girl’s corpse and put on Western clothes. He brushed back his blond hair and rubbed his hands against his smooth face. Slinging the backpack over his shoulder, he looked into the mirror one last time and smiled wickedly. The transformation was shocking. He was reassuming an identity he had renounced long ago.

BOOK: Wrong Town: A Mark Landry Novel
12.14Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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