Author’s Note: If you have not read part 1 of the story, Click here before you continue reading part 2.
His heart was beating fast but hoped the tension would not show on his face. The disinterested policeman asked a few routine questions and then waved the van by. A check of the van’s boot would have revealed the deadly merchandise on board. But with thousands of vehicles passing the picket, angry impatient horns blaring continuously, the police had limited time and energy to decide. They often made judgments looking at the face of the driver. They did not think a 20 year old driving the van posed a threat. It was a lapse they would regret.
Once he passed the picket, he audibly sighed. Relieved on the police not inspecting his vehicle, he drove on to his destination in the heart of the city. The preacher had chosen the location- a buzzing street with shops and hotels and people milling around. He looked around to see if anyone was suspicious but found nothing disturbing. He eased the van into street side parking slot, walked into a store pretending to buy something and emerged from the other side. The bomb would go off an hour later.
He was back in his room watching the news on the TV. All channels were covering the horrific blast in the city. The body count was piling up. There was mayhem. The images showed wailing cries, severed limbs, shattered glass, blood caking dry on the ground. He had successfully avenged his community.
The next morning, he was reading the newspaper. It had a list of people who had lost their lives in the blast. His eyes caught the names of his parents and sister. He felt like a thunderbolt had hit him. Just then his door crashed open as the police stormed the place. He took a stream of bullets in his chest and stomach. Blood spurted out and he fell down still clutching the newspaper. His parents and sister had wanted to surprise him and had checked into a hotel near the blast site. As his eyes dimmed and life ebbed away, he realized the irony of his success. In gaining something for his community, he had lost his own family. Life in exchange of another life wasn’t the path to heaven. Only love can be that weapon.
This is my #Post9 /#Week4 for the #MyFriendAlexa campaign. If you liked this fictional story, please share your comments with me. You can read my previous posts for the campaign as well.
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