Al-Raqqah, Syria
“No! Please no! I’ll do anything you ask, I swear!”
Amira Shadid sobbed uncontrollably, her two daughters clinging to her legs as her arms stretched toward her pleading husband. A large group of ISIL soldiers, all laughing at their predicament, surrounded them as their leader, a man whose name she did not know, taunted her beloved. Another man, his face covered by a keffiyeh, his hand badly scarred, directed two others as they stacked tires around her husband.
She dropped to her knees, crawling forward. “Please, sir, I’ll do what you ask, I’ll do anything, just don’t kill my husband!”
The leader pointed at her, shouting at her husband. “Your women, they will fetch a good price at the market in Al-Mayadeen. They will service our warriors for years to come!”
His men laughed, several comments about her body and those of her daughters thrown her way.
Yet she could barely hear them now. The panic that gripped her was overwhelming as she held her young daughters tight to her sides. They were too young, far too young to even understand what these barbarians were saying, too young to know the evil that men were capable of when it came to women they had no respect for.
It was the new reality she had lived under since ISIL had taken her town. Women had no rights, they treated as the property of their men. Her husband had joined them out of self-preservation, the only reason they were all alive today.
But yesterday she had refused a request, and sealed his fate.
“I’m sorry!” she cried, looking at her husband as he stood helpless, tires piled to his neck.
He stared at her, tears staining his face, terror filling his eyes as he tried to get one last look at his girls. “I love you, I love you all! Never forget that!”
“Oh, how sweet,” taunted the leader, approaching her husband, a book of matches in his hand as the scarred man doused the tires with gasoline. “Tender words in your final moments.”
Her husband turned to the man. “Get this over with, you pig! This is not the work of Allah! When you die, you will burn in eternal damnation for what you have done here today!”
“Please!” she cried, “Please stop! I’ll do what you want! Anything you want!”
The leader eyeballed her. “You had your chance.” He tossed the book of matches to the scarred man who removed one, striking it then tossing it at the tires. The gasoline exploded, flames stretching toward the heavens as her husband screamed in agony. His daughters screeched in horror as she tried to cover their eyes, trying to prevent their innocent minds from seeing the evil Shaytan’s work carried out.
Yet she couldn’t tear her own eyes away.
The horror imprinted on her mind forever.
Until the day she died.
Her husband’s cries of agony stopped and her head dropped to her chest as she thanked Allah for taking him quickly, for ending his pain.
Something in the distance had her staring up, as did the others gathered, their laughing and cheering, their shouts of Allahu Akbar, forgotten as several large helicopters whipped by overhead.
Orders were shouted, lost to the rush of blood pounding in her ears, all she could hear beyond that were the crackling flames that was her husband, the love of her life, the father of her two daughters, and her sole provider.
They might as well have killed us all.
She sat on the ground, her daughters holding her, sobbing, not sure of what was going on, as the soldiers rushed around, shouting.
Then there was a loud roar and the ground shook.
And Allah had answered her prayers.
Please take us too.
Tarek Nazari raised his weapon and opened fire as the Russian fighter streaked across the sky. It was a near futile effort, though Allah willing, he might just get a lucky shot off that took down the infidel. Missile after missile pounded the town, a curious turn of events considering it was unimportant, and even housed a small hospital on the outskirts run by infidels. It was tolerated, as it meant a steady source of supplies they could steal when necessary, and skilled doctors were always welcome after a battle.
Yet why the Russians were here today was strange. His men’s presence was nothing new, though another group had come through the town earlier, he himself having checked their IDs. When he had seen the first worked for the Caliph himself, he had immediately waved them through.
That must be why the Russians are here.
He glanced toward the woman and her daughters, turning to grab them when the building behind him erupted in flames, the blast knocking him off his feet. Dazed, he lay still for a moment as shrieks and cries surrounded him, the bombing incessant, the Russians seemingly determined to flatten the entire town for some reason.
Could the new arrivals be that important?
He shook his head, trying to regain his senses as he pushed himself to his knees, staring at the devastation around him. Almost every building was flattened, most of his men lay scattered about, dead or dying.
And the woman and her daughters were nowhere to be seen.
Instead, only a pile of rubble where they had once huddled together.