The Insurrectionist (2 page)

            “Don’t play dumb Daudov; you’re smart.” Heather got herself another beer. She walked back out onto the patio and sat on a plastic cushioned bench.

            “That’s a nasty thing to say to someone you hardly know!” Deni shouted from inside the house. He couldn’t believe the nerve of that girl.
Who the fuck is she to go calling me out like that?
He was going to show her.

            Monday morning rolled around and Deni took his seat next to Heather in advanced history. She glanced over at him and noticed he had his calculus and physic books wrapped in plain brown paper. She laughed out loud.

            “What?” he asked innocently.

            “Subtle dude, but seriously, plain brown paper will always arouse suspicion.”

            He wrapped his arms around his books. “Perhaps people shouldn’t be so nosey about other people’s business.”

            “Perhaps people shouldn’t be ashamed to be what they are,” she said smartly.

            “Have I done something to offend you?” he asked.

            She laughed. “You think I’m offended. No, you got it wrong. You entertain me.”

            Deni slumped in his seat and stared ahead at the chalkboard. “Whatever.”

            When class was over, Deni and Heather walked out together. “So what class do you have next?” Heather asked.

            Deni peeked underneath the brown paper of one of his books. “It’s either calculus or remedial math.”

            “Have fun nerd,” she replied with a wink and a smile.

            Deni watched Heather walk away and disappear into the crowded school hallway. She was a dangerous girl. She was the kind of girl who could easily break a guy’s heart if he let it stray. Her smile and her laughter could make a guy believe he even had a chance. At that moment, Deni convinced himself he didn’t have a shot, so why bother trying.

 

            If he felt any remorse at the moment, it was for Heather. It was a choice on his part not to fall in love, or try not to. Perhaps in hindsight, it was a bad decision as now he was alone and handcuffed to a hospital bed. He figured there would be plenty of time to ponder regrets. He closed his eyes and fell asleep.

            It was later in the night when he a stab of pain woke him. He lay in bed and glanced over at the morphine drip; he didn’t even have the energy to press the button for the nurse. “Everywhere,” was all he could mutter.

 

            Under the glaring bright lights in Norristown, Pennsylvania, Deni caught the football. He was immediately sandwiched between two defenders and then shoved out of bounds. He fell onto the gravel sidelines and skinned his forearm to his elbow. The pain was excruciating, but it was the sight of blood that caught the attention of his coach and team doctor.

            He winced when the trainer applied antiseptic to the wound and then wrapped it in gauze and white first-aid tape. It wasn’t too long until he was back in the game taking more punishment from the opposing, molesting defense. He loved football and finding cunning ways to escape a tackle, but tonight, the Norristown defenders knew his every move.

            After the game, Deni’s entire body ached. Norristown was always so hard-hitting and he had mentally prepared for the hits, but still, the fatigue and physical pain existed. He never really felt any pain while on the field, normally all the pain came right as he stepped out of the shower. As soon as he was washed clean of the grime and grit of the playing field, the pain hit him.

            Players were beginning to fill the bus’s seats. The cheerleaders were seated waiting eagerly for their favorite player or boyfriend. Deni headed towards the back of the bus which was where T-Bone usually hung out, but three-quarters of the way back he saw Heather seated alone with her bag marking the seat next to her. When Deni made eye contact with her, she removed her bag and nodded to the seat.

            “What the heck,” Deni said, spinning into the seat. He grabbed a water bottle from his backpack.

            Heather studied him carefully. His hood was pulled over his head and his eyes were dark. She could see the fatigue and pain in his expression. “Rough game.”

            “We lost,” he replied.

            “I know; I was there,” she said with a wink.

            He slumped in his seat. “Give me a break, will ya? My body aches everywhere.”

            “Everywhere?” she questioned.

            “Ev-ver-ry-where,” he repeated and took a swig of water.

            Heather sunk in her seat. “Well, have a shoulder. We have a long ride home.”

            Deni slid down in his seat and rested his head on her shoulder. It was so nice to sit there silently. He glanced down at her perfectly manicured nails and the rings on her fingers. They were like the hands of a doll. He wanted to touch them, but didn’t dare. When he looked upward he saw Heather watching him through the reflection of the bus window. “What are you looking at?”

            “You,” she said with a smile. “You’re a mystery to me, just trying to figure you out.”

            “Ha!” Deni grunted. “That’s a waste of time if ever I heard.”

            “It’s my time,” she said strongly.

            Deni sighed and lifted his head. He reached in his bag and pulled out a packet of Ding Dongs. He opened the plastic wrapper and offered one to Heather. “You want half of my Ding Dong?”

            Heather laughed and reached inside the packet for one of the cakes. “Sure. It’s nice to see your mother taught you sharing.”

            Deni shoved the Ding Dong in his mouth, licked his fingers and rested his head back on her shoulder. “Sharing is caring.”

 

            It was close to midnight when the school bus pulled up in front of the steps of Reading High School. The team was asleep, including Deni. Heather was wide awake. As they made their way off the bus, Deni let Heather walk in front of him. She turned to him as she stepped from the bus. “Can I give you a lift home?”

            “Sure, why not?” he said.

            As they walked to the parking, Deni saw the lights of a white BMW blink. “This is me,” said Heather as she opened the passenger side door for Deni.

            “Nice ride,” he said.

            “It was my sweet sixteen birthday present,” Heather said as she started the ignition.

            “I gotta cake,” he said smugly.

            “Cake. Is that what we’re calling it these days?” Heather laughed. “From what I hear, you gotta lot more than cake.”

            “Rumors, nasty rumors,” he said.

            “Everything seems to be a nasty rumor with you.” Heather laughed and pulled out onto the street. The drive home was quiet. Occasionally she would glance over to see him shrouded by the hood of his sweatshirt. Deni felt a little more than uncomfortable riding in the BMW. It’s not that he didn’t like Heather or felt he didn’t deserve the luxurious ride; he was just more than suspicious of the gesture.
What does she want with me?

            Pulling to the curb outside the Daudov’s modest income row home in the north west part of Reading, Deni got out of the car. He hesitated before closing the door. He glanced back inside and said, “Uhm, I’ll see you around.”

            “Yeah, guess we’ll see each other in class,” replied Heather.

            “Right.” He paused, tapping his hand on the top of her car. “Thanks for the lift…and the shoulder.”

            She smiled. “Anytime.”

            Deni waited for her car to drive out of sight before walking inside his house. When he entered the house, he turned off the living room light his parents left illuminated for him. Quietly, he tiptoed up stairs and stopped in the bathroom. He gave himself a quick glance in the mirror, wondering what the heck Heather saw in him and then opened the medicine cabinet door for the bottle of aspirin. He swallowed two tablets with water, brushed his teeth, and headed to bed.

            Saturday night, he did something he hadn’t done since he was fourteen¼he stayed at home with his parents. In fact he was beginning to believe he was infringing upon his parent’s mojo. Both were shocked to have him home.

            Shortly after dinner, he filled the tub with hot water and half a carton of Epson salt. Submerged in the water, his mind strayed to Heather. He simply couldn’t stop thinking of her. So captivated by his thoughts, he didn’t notice the bathroom door open.

            “Deni,” said his father, Bashir. “Are you okay? Your mother sent me in to check on you.”

            Deni finally realized his bath water had gone cold and his fingertips were like dried prunes. He reached for a towel. “Yeah.” 

            Deni opened his eyes and saw shadowy figures looming over the foot of his bed. He closed his eyes in an attempt to ignore them. Suddenly, someone pulled his eyelids back and shone a bright white light in his eye. “He’s conscious,” said a female voice.

           
Shit
. He reluctantly opened his eyes and watched a pale bluish blur whirl around his head while two figures shaped in black stood at his feet
. The Grim Reaper is working in tandem these days
, he thought, but instead of scythes these deadly reapers carried briefcases. As his eyes adjusted, he saw that it wasn’t the Grim Reaper after all, it was Federal Agents.

            “I can’t promise how much you’ll get out of him. He’s heavily sedated,” the nurse said.

            “Maybe you want to save some of that morphine for the victims,” said one of the agents.

            “This is a hospital not a terrorist detention center,” the nurse replied.

            “A sympathizer, I see,” he said.

            “A nurse, it’s my job.”

            “Tom, I’ll handle this,” said the other agent. Agent Aubrey Andrews was as straight as they came. He grew up believing in US heroes and the justice America spread around the world. Agent Andrews believed the best strategy in any interrogation was calmness. Composure always quieted the most irate and violent offender.

            Agent Andrews stared at Deni. He couldn’t see any expression in his eyes and was curious as to what he was dealing with here—psychopath, sociopath, fundamentalist extremist. “Can I lower this bar of his hospital bed?” he said to the nurse.

            “Yes, of course”, she said lowering the guard rail on Deni’s right side.

            When the nurse and the other agent left the room, Agent Andrews grabbed a chair and placed it by Deni’s bedside. He sat forward and said, “I’m agent Andrews. Can you nod if you understand me?”

            Deni muttered, “Congratulations. You got me.”

            “That wasn’t me, that was the Douglassville Township Police,” replied Agent Andrews. “I do have to give you credit for your creative hiding place—very poignant. Message received loud and clear.”

            “Thank you,” Deni replied with a cough.

            “Now you are here in a nice, cozy hospital bed, being well-taken care of at taxpayer expense. Most people would have preferred you to be maggot food. It doesn’t matter. We’ll fix you up and then stick a needle in your arm. How does that sound?”

            “We are all already dead,” replied Deni.

            “Ah, a philosopher. I should have expected as much.” Opening his briefcase, Agent Andrews pulled out a folder and flipped through the pages. “You had a football scholarship at Temple University. Your major was journalism. Quite a good start for a young man, what happened? Couldn’t get laid? Couldn’t get between a girl’s legs so you had to take out your frustrations on innocent people?”

            Deni choked a laugh.

            “Or maybe, you’re in the closet. Tough guy like you have feelings for your roommate,” pursued Agent Andrews.

            “You stupid fuck, is this the best you can do? You seriously think you can break me by insulting my sexuality. Send in the other guy. Maybe he will have better luck,” replied Deni.

            Agent Andrews collapsed back in his chair. He grinned because he had been called a lot worse by other violent offenders. Being challenged by a teenager was a novelty. “We got your brother real good. While you’re all warm and cozy, he’s laid up on the cold slab in the morgue. I’m not sure which one of you is the lucky one. If you ask me, he got off easy. You’re the one who’s going to have to face judge and jury. He’s greeting his seventy-two virgins and it’s highly unlikely you’ll ever get laid again, unless it’s by your cellmate. Have you ever had anal sex before? What does Islam say about homosexuality?”

            Deni narrowed his eyes and glared at Agent Andrews. “How does it feel to be a complete tool? You’re being fucked every damned day by the country you serve and you don’t even know it.”

            “You think this is a game? This is not some video game where you get to turn it off at the end. Kid, you’re going to face the death penalty. You can save yourself a whole bunch of trouble by telling us your connections? Did you and your brother have help and direction?” questioned Agent Andrews.

            “Connections?” Deni muttered.

            “You know, like Al Qaeda.”

            Deni laughed and it hurt. He raised his arm and crossed his fingers. “US and Al Qaeda are like this. Tight, you know. Don’t they teach you anything in FBI school?”

            “So then why do we have so many Al Qaeda detainees at Gitmo?” questioned Agent Andrews.

            “Why do you have innocent men in prison?” Deni rolling his eyes. “Because they can talk. They’re not a threat to anyone other than the reputation of the US government. The US and the Muslim Brotherhood work together. The US recruits members of the Chechen Rebellion to work as mercenaries in the Afghan war and why not, Chechens are the best fighters in the world,” he said proudly. “The point is, no matter who backed us, there was American money behind it. The US funds most every terrorist organization in the world and then acts surprised when terrorism happens on their soil. Now if you’d like an answer to the question, who recruited and trained my brother¾the US of A.” Deni rested his head on his pillow and turned way. “I guess you’re going to have to kill me now, huh?”