Trevor and Tyler did a great job of not spilling anything on their nice outfits and actually passed on dessert in order to save room for popcorn at the theater.
After paying for the tickets, Mike handed one to each of their sons and allowed them to hand them to the ticket taker, who tore them in half and guided the family to theater number six.
“Anybody want to play some video games before the movie starts?” Mike asked.
Trevor looked at him. “Dad, first we’ve got to get our popcorn and then we have to get our seats.”
“Yeah,” said Tyler. “If you don’t get your seats early, you have to sit in the front row and you end up with a whole creek in your neck.”
“Who told you that?”
“Grandpa,” the boys said in unison.
Mike looked at his wife and shook his head. Shannon’s father lived with them and the boys never made a move without conferring with him. They’d wanted him to come along with them tonight, but his emphysema had been bugging him and he didn’t have the strength to drag his oxygen around with him. Mike loved the man like he was his own father, but he was enjoying its just being the four of them tonight.
“Well, I don’t want anybody getting a crick in their neck,” he said, winking at Shannon, “so I guess we’d better get our popcorn and hurry up to our seats.”
When asked by the concession stand attendant what size popcorn they wanted, the boys each requested an extra-large. Shannon tried to talk them out of it, but they had brought money along from their piggybanks, wanting to help pay for the evening, and they insisted.
“If they don’t finish them, they don’t finish them,” Mike whispered to his wife.
“And if they get sick in the car on the ride home,” she replied, “Daddy gets to clean it up.”
Mike smiled and gave Shannon a pinch right in the spot that always made her yelp. She laughed and slapped his hand away, then told the boys they could each have their own popcorn bag if they ordered the small. Negotiations began in earnest and Shannon caved, allowing each of the boys to have a medium.
Popcorn and drinks in hand, Mike Bentley led his family toward theater number six. As they walked in, the boys’ eyes widened at the enormous space. Despite what Grandpa had said, both of the boys said they wanted to sit in the front row. Though there was no such thing as a bad seat in a modern theater like the Century, Mike was happy when Tyler spotted a group of four seats about halfway up and close to the middle. When it came to seats, he’d always been a middle/middle kind of guy, and he was pleased to see that it was obviously a characteristic passed down on the Y chromosome.
A lot of families had turned out for the movie. The theater was quickly filling up and more families were still pouring in.
The Bentleys settled into their seats and Mike began fielding questions from the boys about all the pre-movie ads playing on the screen. During a lull while something onscreen had captured the boys’ attention, he leaned over to Shannon and kissed her. As far as he was concerned, this was just about the perfect evening.
When the lights began to dim, the boys nearly leaped out of their seats, they were so excited. Mike was so focused on his family that he never noticed a North African man carrying a backpack who walked into the darkened theater all by himself and sat four seats away.
CHAPTER 43
Qusay Ali Atwa had been waiting for this moment for years. There were times when he thought he had been forgotten about, but they had told him that that would never happen. He had been instructed to blend into American society as best he could and to wait. He was to pray and maintain his faith. Above all, he was never to reveal, and also never to forget, why he had been sent to America.
In exchange, Qusay’s family in Sudan had been well looked after. They received monthly payments that allowed them a much better standard of living than they ever could have realized had he stayed behind in their village. Qusay’s standard of living had been considerably improved as well. Even the poorest of the poor in the United States lived better than the majority of the Islamic world. They had cell phones, air conditioning, flat-screen TVs, satellite service, food, clothing, cars, and shoes. It was all the more reason to hate America. They hoarded the world’s wealth and placed man-made law above God’s divine law. Qusay had to work every day to conceal his hatred for them.
Des Moines had not been his choice. It had been chosen for him. The winters were unbearably cold. No matter how many layers he wore, he spent nearly half the year chilled to the bone. He was an extremely slim man in his thirties whose appearance reflected the effects of starvation and malnourishment in his youth. His eyes were sunk deep into their sockets and his cheekbones were severely pronounced. The brown skin across his face was drawn taut. His skull appeared misshapen and his twiglike limbs appeared impossibly thin, as if they were ready to snap at any moment.
But despite his outwardly frail appearance, inside Qusay Ali Atwa beat the heart of a warrior. He believed deeply in Allah and the messages he had conveyed through the prophet Mohammed.
As the holy Qur’an instructed, Qusay took neither Jews nor Christians as his friends. He had been taught since childhood that they were perverted transgressors. They were unbelievers, and unbelievers were like panting dogs. They were the vilest of creatures and it was his duty to fight them.
Sometimes, he had to work extra hard to remind himself of these facts. At the poultry-processing plant where he worked, he saw incredible acts of kindness and even love between his coworkers. Such acts had even been directed at him. In inclement weather, he had been offered rides. At holidays, though they knew he was a Muslim, they had invited him to their homes. On one occasion when he had been very sick, several of the women had cooked for him and had dropped the food off at his home. They had even included lists of ingredients for each dish in order to demonstrate that the meals had been prepared with his halal dietary restrictions. He threw all of the food into the garbage.
Qusay consoled himself with multiple verses from the Qur’an that clearly stated that good deeds by unbelievers made no difference in the eyes of Allah. If they refused to submit to Islam, they were destined for the fires of hell. There was no redemption for them.
The Qur’an was also clear that people of religions other than Islam were to be violently punished not only in the afterlife, but in the here and now. Non-Muslims were to be fought with every tool available until there was no other religion but Islam. It was Qusay’s duty to pursue the unbelievers, to seize them wherever they could be found and slay them. Allah was strict in his punishment and Qusay accepted willingly his fate in carrying it out.
When he received the phone call, he was very excited. He was told to put his affairs in order. He was told how soon before the attack to make his martyrdom video and what to do with it. His handler cautioned him not to speak about his assignment with anyone, lest the infidels discover their plan. Qusay took every word seriously and followed the instructions to the letter.
He selected the materials just as he had been taught, breaking up the purchases among several stores so as not to attract attention. They were readily available, everyday items, and no one gave any of them, or him, a second thought.
Back in his apartment, Qusay combined the ingredients and assembled his package just as he had been shown. He had been told to start detaching himself from this world and to begin thinking of what awaited him in Paradise. Two days before he was to carry out his assignment, he received a package in the mail. It was a small vial of pills sent from a supposed Internet pharmacy. He was instructed how and when to take the pills and was told they would help make his assignment easier, as he would be more relaxed.
Finally, it was explained to Qusay one last time what would happen to his family if he did not successfully carry out his operation. He understood, and he vowed that he would not fail. The only thing he wished was that he could have contacted them one last time. He would have liked to have spoken with his father and his two brothers. To his disappointment, it was strictly forbidden. Qusay could only hope that they would be proud of him.
He prayed and took strength reading from the holy Qur’an before leaving. In the theater parking lot, he removed the orange vial from his pocket and consumed the last of the pills. Twenty minutes later, he purchased his ticket and entered the multiplex.
The lights had already been dimmed when he entered the extremely crowded theater number six and took
