The Uvalde Raider by Ben English (great books for teens TXT) 📕

“My father was one of those Christian holy men,” replied Max in a steady, nonconfrontational tone. “A Lutheran minister who tried in vain to make a headstrong son understand what I am now attempting to tell you. He was a better man than I, and far wiser. Remember my warning, Yahla al-Qassam, please think upon it with scrutiny and reason.”

Pointedly ignoring Max’s last remarks the terrorist leader said something to the guard, who began herding the three prisoners back into the adjoining smaller room. Ezekiel Templar stood on his own and hobbled slowly in that direction, grimacing with each painful step. Walking awkwardly, he limped over to a wall and managed to sit down in a semi-reclined manner.

Max Grephardt watched the retired Air Force colonel as he did so, alert to any further signs of bleeding or other complications. Once satisfied and knowing he could do nothing more to help Ezekiel at this time, Max sat near him and began losing himself in thoughts of both past and present.

The old German mused to himself how strange the workings of the human mind could be. The memories now spreading forth had not been considered in some time, nor the life lessons learned. There were things in a man’s life which were just too hurtful to be explored too often, one tried to make some good of them in what was termed as experience and went on.

Yet briefly speaking of that past brought so much of it into the present, especially when one had time to examine such sad souvenirs in minute detail. More so, there was much to consider than just the memories themselves.There were the past evils so firmly enjoined to them, the evils that he had both looked upon and been a part of during his younger years.

And then there was the present evil he had just shared a conversation with, an evil that would never rest and could never be anything else.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Micah Templar sat on the cold concrete floor, doing his own thinking to size up the situation as best he could. He had seen more than his fair share of violence, and how some seemed to thirst for any opportunity to work the worst depravities imaginable on their fellow man. Between two years as a grunt in Vietnam and some twenty years in the highway patrol, he had seen all manner of human wickedness and what it was capable of. But in all those years, he had never seen someone with such an impossibly cruel and calculating intellect as Yahla al-Qassam.

The former Marine was not familiar with this nerve agent that Qassam possessed, and only had a general idea of how it would be distributed from The Uvalde Raider. He did know his uncle well enough to tell when he was concerned, and Tio Zeke became gravely so as the terrorist leader explained his plan. Moreover, Qassam had left Micah Templar with no doubts as to his intent to commit mass murder on a scale that boggled the mind. Nor could Micah entertain any doubts as to whether Qassam possessed the needed capabilities in carrying out such a monstrous act.

The trooper studied their guard, who again stood in the half-open doorway. It was the same terrorist as before, but the AK toting Arab was now at a heightened sense of alertness. Every time any of the three prisoners made an audible sound, the guard provided his full and suspicious attention.

Micah came to the grim realization that even Qassam’s own men were somewhat afraid of him, with the possible exception of that two-legged rattlesnake called Mustafa. What had happened in the adjoining room was an abject lesson to those men as much as it was to anyone else. Their fear would keep them on their toes for as long as Qassam was anywhere around.

Up to this point, the highway patrolman had moved cautiously enough as to not disturb the tension on the handcuffs clamped to his wrists. If they weren’t actually double locked, they still had not tightened up any further. In the semi-darkness he began slowly rotating and exercising his hands at intervals to keep the circulation and feeling in them. Micah was still looking for the opportunity to use his hidden key and he would need his hands as flexible and ready as possible for that, as well as whatever was to come afterward.

“Nephew?” murmured Ezekiel through thick, dry lips. The guard snapped his head around to determine the source. Micah moved as quickly as he could to his uncle’s side, studiously examining Tio Zeke’s wound as if he had been called for that purpose. At the same time, Max Grephardt pressed in from the other side. The guard relaxed and turned back around.

“Same guard?” the fevered man croaked out.

“Same one, but more alert and suspicious” replied Micah in a low voice while Max Grephardt nodded in agreement. “Qassam has them wired pretty tight,” the younger Templar added.

“Yeah” replied Ezekiel slowly, “I think I can understand why.” He managed to grin slightly.

“I’m pretty sure we can talk, as long as the guard thinks it has to do with this hole in your leg” remarked Micah quietly. “You sure pushed his button the hard way, Tio.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.” Ezekiel muttered in half humor. Then his voice turned grave, insistent. “We have to stop him. Somehow, some way, he has to be stopped, or a lot of innocent people are going to die a horrible death.”

“We will, Tio” Micah cast a quick glance at the guard who had turned again and was looking square at them. The trooper made busy as if he was taking a closer look at the bandaging and continued to speak in low tone. “I can get loose, but I need