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Five hundred yards from the mobile command center, Shakey shifted to the back of the van and sat on his knees, his prayer mat on the rusted floor beneath him. In these final minutes, he knelt toward the east, bowed his head, and prayed, Allah give me strength. This is the moment I’ve been waiting for. This is what I am prepared for. Your retribution is near.
Something pounded against the van door. Shakey froze, not wanting to move. The rear door handle clicked and squeaked as it was pulled from the outside. His heart leapt in his chest, and he scanned for the handgun. The rear door did not budge. Just underneath muted tones of music, he heard footsteps walk up the side of the van towards the driver’s door. His heart thumped again, and his eyes followed the footsteps. He looked at the
