Saturday, June 18, 2011

MacAvram: Muslims at the Gate

[MacAvram: from Scottish Mac ("son of") and Hebrew Avraam ("Abraham"); a son of Abraham by virtue of faith in Christ Jesus (Galatians 3:29); a covenantal rather than genetic designation.]

Here's a bit of fiction I dashed off. I do not assert any connections to reality. It may be best to consider it total fantasy.

MacAvram was at war . . . 

He carefully removed the surface divots from the forest floor before he began to dig in earnest. He placed the divots aside and then deposited the earth from the hole on a tarp. 

After he dug down about three-and-a half feet, chopping away tree roots with a hand axe, he carefully place the waterproof package containing the AK-47 and three empty magazines in the bottom of the hole. Next to them, he put another container that contained the 90 rounds of ammo from the magazines along with 100 rounds he had picked up from the compound's ammo storage.

He filled the hole with enough dirt to make a small mound, then pieced the divots back into place as precisely as he could. As he had filled the hole, he put in odd pieces of scrap iron in hopes of fooling anyone with a metal detector.

Then he sprinkled pine needles and mold over the area to approximate a match with the surrounding ground. After he hauled away the excess soil, the average person would not notice the spot unless they were looking for it, and after the first good rain, only someone with the skills of an Apache tracker would find it at all.

Yes, MacAvram was at war. He had not initiated it, nor had he wanted it, but he was at war all the same.


It all started one morning just before dawn. In God's providence, Mac had awakened and, unable to sleep, sat down at his computer to begin sifting through the day's email.

The squeal of brakes drew his gaze up and out the window, where he saw an old three-ton truck rolling to a stop at the chain-link gate out front.On the back of the truck, he saw some figures with Islamic headgear and faces masked by scarves.

Mac immediately picked up his Remington 870 which already had two rounds of #8 shot in the magazine. As he headed toward the front door, he scooped up five double-ought shells and began feeding them into the weapon.

His hours of practice loading the weapon paid off, for he reached his front door in just a few seconds, as he completed the loading process. By now, the dog was barking, and he stepped onto the front porch to find that an intruder bearing an AK-47 had come over the gate and was more than halfway across the yard.

Mac fired through the porch window and scarcely noticed the wood and glass that exploded outward into his yard, as the intruder fell. Another sat awkwardly perched atop the gate, unsure what to do.

A bullet whizzed past Mac as he realized that a terrorist standing on the back of the truck had fired at him. Evidently he had been too excited to take careful aim. Mac's adrenaline was up, too, but he exhaled slowly as he sent a load of double-ought directly toward the shooter.

No sooner had he dispatched that attacker than he turned his attention to the one on the gate, who now attempted to bring his AK to bear. Mac fired at him, and as he tumbled over backwards, one pant leg caught on chain link material, and the sound of ripping cloth marked his slow, head-first descent to the ground.

No more than four or five seconds had passed since Mac fired the first shot. At this point, the truck engine revved as the driver began to let out the clutch. The rear window blew into the cab as Mac fired again. The truck lurched and stalled.

Somewhere in those chaotic seconds, MacAvram had noticed one last terrorist who had run along the chain link fence, using the vegetation that grew there for concealment. By now, Mac's wife had appeared behind him at the front door, carrying her Ithaca Model 37.

He called back to her as he headed toward the gate, "If any of them moves, shoot 'em." Keeping his eyes in the terrorist's direction, he slowly unlocked the gate and pushed it open with the muzzle of his Remington.

A full-auto hail of .30 caliber bullets sprayed past the gate as Mac jumped back. Figuring the shooter's magazine to be empty, MacAvram stepped out the gate and killed the terrorist just as his spare mag clicked into place.

Just a few minutes later, the terrorists' reinforcements arrived. They wore badges and rode in cars with flashing lights and sirens, but their words and deeds did not favor the man who had just defended his home.

Who fired first?

I did.

Why did you fire on them?

Men armed with automatic weapons were coming over a closed locked gate. In my book, that's a home invasion.

Do you have any idea why they would single you out for this alleged attack? 

(Alleged attack?!!)

Well, I've been outspoken on the internet against Islamic terrorist cells that train at more than 30 bases around the nation, including here in South Carolina. Maybe they wanted to shut me up.

After seemingly endless interrogation, the police confiscated his shotgun -- because department policy dictated that they take any weapon used in a homicide. When he protested that the homicide was justifiable, they said it was not for them to decide, and they were just doing their job.

When he pointed out that these terrorists might have friends who would want to finish the job they had started, the police asked if he had any other firearms in the house. At this question, MacAvram decided to just shut his mouth while he was behind, to keep from falling even farther behind.

Mac was not at home when ATF arrived, searched his house and confiscated all every gun there. They told his wife that, as a suspect in a homicide investigation, he was not allowed to own any firearms. They comprised the third wave of terrorist invaders.

MacAvram knew he was at war. The first wave of invaders had failed; their allies in the second and third waves had rendered him helpless for the next attack.


When he arrived home, MacAvram spread the soil from the tarp in his garden. Then he went inside and carefully cleaned his Bowie knife with laundry bleach to destroy any DNA that might hide there. 

He rinsed it thoroughly with distilled water to remove the corrosive bleach and then dried it and sprayed it with WD-40. As he worked, a crackling fire in his grill consumed two bloody arrows.

Later, as he clicked to the online news reports, his horse bow* leaned on the wall within reach, where he once kept his shotgun. The news video began to play.

The FBI reports that it is investigating a break-in at a rural Muslim community where three people were found murdered early this morning. One man's throat was cut, while two others' throats were pierced by what investigators speculate may have been hunting arrows . . . .

The report called it a "community" rather than a paramilitary training compound. It also failed to mention that all three "victims" were carrying fully automatic AK-47 rifles, but of course, before law enforcement arrived,  the training compound's leaders no doubt hid the two assault rifles that Mac had left behind.

Yes, MacAvram was at war. He had not initiated it, nor had he wanted it, but he was at war, all the same. He did not intend to lose.

*A short, powerful, recurve bow, such as used by the Mongols and other mounted archers.


The Warrior said...

Any chance you're going to turn this into a book? I'd so buy it.

Very good story so far, I like the style (how you started especially) and, of course, the realistic subject matter.


Gravelbelly said...

I don't know about a book, bro. As I say, I just dashed it off. I MAY write another installment just to answer some questions raised by this story.

Also, don't forget -- it's pure fiction . . . as if any gov't agency would work against its own citizens while protecting terrorists. Such a situation would be too absurd.

The Warrior said...

Of course, fiction! Yes...but a second--at least--installment qould be desirable.

The Warrior said...

"quold"--sorry, meant that to be "would"!

Gravelbelly said...

I knew that you meant "would", of xourse.