PLEASE SHARE THIS! In case you follow this page and havent read it yet, here is a sample of chapter 8, and a link to a news story from today. Please take the time to read it all. See any similarities? This could be coming soon as well as the rest of the words I penned. theblaze/stories/2014/10/17/gop-congressman-ebola-as-a-terrorism-tool-should-be-on-the-radar-screen/?utm_source=facebook&utm_medium=story&utm_campaign=ShareButtons 8 Cincinnati International Airport 1:30 P.M. EST Samir Mushariff exited a taxicab, paid the driver, and walked toward the airport on shaky legs. He’d been psyching himself up by focusing on the words of the cleric at the training camp. Samir spit on his hand, reached for the door handle at the entrance, and hesitated. Why couldn’t Americans have embraced Islam? he thought. Why have they forced us to this point? Is this what you want, Allah? A well-dressed businessman, talking on his cell phone, rushed passed Samir and knocked him into the door jam. The man never looked up or even broke stride as he hurried into the airport. Samir straightened up. Stupid Americans. Always rushing around with such important things to do. Fools, soon you will feel the wrath of Allah. The Twelfth Imam will crush you under his mighty right hand. He reached out and took hold of the door handle. Somehow this act seemed to make his chills, fever, nausea, and headache retreat a bit. The fact that he felt better confirmed his belief that he was truly sent here by Allah. Samir made his way to the row of kiosks and printed his boarding pass. He wiped his brow and pulled his identification out with slick, sweat-covered fingers. The girl behind the ticket counter didn’t look up when he approached. “Can I help you?” she asked. “Yes, I am checking a bag.” “I will need your boarding pass and some identification.” Samir tried to keep his hand steady as he handed her his identification. “Is Dallas your final destination?” The ticket agent looked up at Samir for the first time and gasped. She dropped his identification on the counter, then picked it up without taking her eyes off his face. “Yes, Dallas is my final stop.” “Sir, are you all right? You don’t look well.” “I am fine. I am just very tired. I ate some bad shrimp last night. I feel a lot better than I did this morning when I got up.” The ticket agent seemed to relax a bit and let out a long sigh. “How will you be paying the bag fee?” Samir removed a credit card and handed it to the agent. “The fee is $35.” “That is fine.” After checking his bag, Samir made his way to the security checkpoint. He handed the Transportation Security Administration agent his ID and damp boarding pass. He made it through without any questions. At the food court, he purchased a sandwich and drink, paying with one-dollar bills as he’d been instructed. “More people will be infected,” the cleric had said. Samir smiled to himself as he handed the cashier his germ-covered money. He dropped his food into the nearest garbage can and made his way to each men’s room in the airport. He spit on his hands and touched the handles of every paper towel holder, as well as the start buttons on every hand dryer. Samir glanced at his watch. He still had an hour before his flight boarded. He would spend his time wandering around the airport, bumping into as many people as he could and thumbing through as many books and magazines as he could get his hands on. He hummed a little tune. I am like the Americans’ Santa Claus, he thought. I have plenty of gifts for everyone. I will give them to all of the good little infidels. Samir passed a toddler clinging to his mother’s leg. He patted the little boy on the head, winked at him, and continued on. He really did hate Americans. His hatred for them was stronger than his sense of self-preservation or his compassion. They were responsible for most of the evil in the world. He would cleanse society of them. Allah had chosen him for this task and he was not going to let him down. When Samir was finished, he would surely taste the pleasures of the virgins that awaited his arrival in paradise. He knew that his brothers were also performing Allah’s duty in airports across the United States, as well as in train stations, bus terminals, and sports venues, anywhere there was a big crowd. Virus-laden envelopes and packages, mailed four days earlier, were making their way through the system. Every member of Congress had an envelope coming, as well as all Supreme Court justices and all fifty state governors and their lieutenants. All state houses and senators were also covered. When phase two was launched, there would be no structure left to govern. Chaos would ensue, the infidels would grovel at the feet of the brotherhood, and the Twelfth Imam would make slaves of them all. Samir checked his watch and made his way to his flight. He boarded, leaned into the corner of his seat, and fell asleep. Nightmares flooded his unconscious mind.. Demons dressed in American flags chased him, pigs chewed on his flesh, and firelight flickered across the faces of filthy Jews as they laughed at him and burned Allah’s Holy Book while dancing around the flames. Samir awoke as his plane touched down in Dallas. His fever had elevated, and he’d left a sweat stain on his seat. He had a hard time focusing his eyes as he exited the plane. For a moment, he forgot where he was. He had to lean against the wall of the jetway to keep from collapsing. After a few moments, his head cleared slightly, and he headed for his final destination. He exited the airport and hailed a taxi.
Posted on: Sat, 18 Oct 2014 00:45:22 +0000
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