Jihad

CHAPTER 102

Dr. Saed Ramil lay on the bed in his suburban Baltimore home, staring at the ceiling fan as it spun in an endless circle. He’d been married for a few years after Vietnam, but the marriage had fallen apart for numerous reasons, and ever since then he’d lived alone, without even a pet to keep him company. He was used to silence, long ago realizing that it was composed of many sounds: the slow swish of a fan, a distant car door slamming, the flutter of a bird hunting for food before dawn.

The voice had not returned since he left Detroit. He was glad — he didn’t want to be insane.

If he’d had a blow to his head, a shock to his brain stem, he could understand it. Pulmonary disease, anemia, a central nervous system disorder — a wide range of conditions could cause auditory hallucinations. Unfortunately, none applied.

Lack of sleep, food or water deprivation — these might explain it. Yet they did not seem satisfactory excuses, either.

Psychological stress. Well, he couldn’t argue against that. But if it was stress, did it mean he’d never be able to do his job? Would he have to give up being a doctor entirely?

And if it was stress, why didn’t he hear the voice now?

He couldn’t argue that what the voice said was false. Asad bin Taysr was an enemy of Islam, and the world was surely better that he was no longer here to spread his hate. Ramil knew this in his heart.

God spoke to the Prophet, Peace Be Unto Him. So why did Ramil dismiss the possibility that Allah was speaking to him? If he believed in God — and he did — should he not accept the possibility that this was God talking to him, not stress, not something caused by a random bump on the head?

Ramil was a good Muslim, but he was not a prophet. What he had heard must be the result of stress and perhaps his own wishful thinking.

He continued to stare at the fan, not quite sure what to believe.