The security men ran like devils, chasing them from the vast grey building toward the noisy queues of taxis and buses outside. A trio of police ran with the security staff. The police wore helmets and carried powerful automatic weapons like the soldiers they had faced in the Middle East. The security guard with the silver hair led the chasing pack – he was the one had who spotted them.
They had been standing in the middle of the coffee area like ordinary passengers waiting for a flight. But they had felt the eyes of the silver haired man upon them the whole time. Maybe he was like this with every Muslim he saw. When the police woman approached and asked them to go with her to a side area, it was over before it had begun. The fire of glory would have been smothered. Taken by the police, there would have been no victory in death. They had no choice but to run. Instead of fulfilling their glorious destiny they fled like children with guns at their backs. They ran until their lungs burned, and left their heavy backpacks on the floor behind them. When they reached the unmarked grey van behind the queue of taxis, the waiting driver looked at them as if they were traitors. All three of them leapt inside and the van pulled away, screeching into the street.
“They saw us somehow. They guessed! We could not do it! If we had died here it would have been in vain... this country, these people are too well prepared for us.”
The man at the steering wheel watched the police fade out of sight in his wing mirrors. But to escape he would need to drive as never before.
“No one is too well prepared. We are called to this. This is our destiny.”
“But it didn’t work. We failed...”
“No. You failed. You didn’t work. But the raging fires will still come to this land.”
“But they’ve seen our faces!”
“There are others,” said the man at the wheel. “There are always others. We have only just begun...”