Black Christmas

New York City would be their first choice if an alien civilization from outer space wanted to place their people somewhere on Earth where they would be unnoticed. They could beam people right into the middle of the busiest places, say Grand Central Terminal or Times Square, or a subway car during rush hour, and no one would notice. The fact that one moment there was no one standing in a particular spot and the next moment there was someone there meant nothing. They probably did not even have to look human. People in New York City accept everyone regardless of what they look like or where they come from. Life in New York City is exactly like that. People come and go, and no one notices. You cannot beam people into the middle of a sold-out sports event without starting a fight over seats, but other than that, New York City is fair game. If you need to have a meeting that will go unnoticed, will not raise eyebrows, and will remain completely clandestine, you do it in New York City, out in the open. You pick a beautiful summer Sunday afternoon when both hometown baseball teams are playing and get together in one of New York’s countless busy restaurants or pubs. No one, absolutely no one, will know you were there. It is the easiest place in the world to hide in plain sight. Today, there will be one such meeting among four men. The four men have never seen each other before. They do not know each other’s names. They know nothing about each other. Yet, to the casual observer, this will be a meeting of four long-time friends to chat over a burger and a beer. Beer, a classic American drink, used to socialize, to share stories. Some claim it is refreshing and especially delightful with a good meal on a hot summer day. The best thing is drinking it at a stadium while eating hot dogs and watching a baseball game. Three hours of watching grown men swing a stick at a ball, running around a field trying to tag each other, and earning astronomical amounts of money. Half of the spectators in the stands are drunk by the middle of the game. They cannot tell who is playing and what the score is. By that time, they no longer care. They jump up and scream when the sober half jumps up and screams. They act like fools, mimicking each other. Everyone has a great time, enhanced by the flow of beer. American fun is so strange. What do Americans see in beer? Europeans too. Well, they are all infidels. And beer, one of their favorite drinks, shows their poor judgment. Beer; looks like piss; smells like piss; tastes like… What is that old American expression? “If it looks like a duck, walks like a duck, and quacks like a duck…” Whatever. For today, the four men will indulge. They need to fit in. They must look American, sound American, and act American. There is that expression again. The irony is that they are American. Born, raised, and educated in the United States, they are legally, technically, in every way American. No one would ever suspect these four men of doing anything borderline illegal, much less of committing treason. And yet, today, in the middle of New York City, they will swear an oath that will soon send repercussions worldwide. That is precisely what makes each of these men especially dangerous. On the surface, these men are exemplary. They all served in the American military and had spotless records. The American military is excellent at training, but Americans lack the passion that drives people dedicated to a cause. None of the men had ever had a citation for anything, not jaywalking, not speeding. They have never bounced a check, have good jobs and an excellent credit rating, own a home, always pay their taxes, and vote in every election. By American standards, they are not just Americans. They are model citizens. What appears on paper, though, does not describe what lives in the heart. One’s public image does not necessarily reflect one’s real makeup. Sure, America has been good to them, and they have faithfully paid their dues. But they have a belief they are willing to die for. If you were willing to die for a cause, then it stands to reason that you are willing to kill for it. And while dying might bring personal satisfaction and personal reward, killing makes a much bigger statement. They will kill for their cause. They will kill many. And, if in the process they should die, well, one could not wish for a better reward. Honor. That is important. If they died, their actions might bring them honor. Honor that their families would enjoy for generations to come. The honor, though, might have to be silent. People, even those closest to them, might not realize they had anything to do with the tremendous victory they were about to accomplish. But that is okay. Honor with humility is even greater than honor alone. And as far as rewards are concerned, the only rewards that truly matter are the ones in the world beyond. And with God, nothing ever goes unnoticed. But is there honor in killing cowards? After all, that’s what Americans are: cowards. Whenever someone attacks them, they retreat with their tails between their legs and try to make believe that everything is normal. They rationalize that continuing their daily lives is the best way to show the world how tough they are. The truth is that they go on with their daily lives so they can make believe nothing has happened. Sure, the people directly affected by the attack might bear pain for some time, but they will do so alone and in silence. For the rest of the Americans, life goes on. But things are about to change.