A Wave of Fear

He hated all them for, unlike him, they were a just bunch of uncouth, poorly educated fanatics. He could not stand them even for a few minutes. But he needed them to do what believed he had to do.

‘Brother, is it done?’

‘Yes. Soon our enemies will learn a lesson that they dare not forget. Their leaders will forever regret their folly; their people will dream only of pain and death,’ he said and silently cursed himself.

He had never allowed himself to get carried away. What he had planned was beyond the imagination of his enemies. The wheels had been put in motion. Now no one could stop the inevitable. He felt overjoyed and, for once, he had let down his guard.

On way to his home he thought of his wife and daughter. He would take them out for a dinner.  They had not dined out for quite some time. His little girl loved going to fancy restaurants. He wished he could call his wife. But he never used mobile phones; he distrusted electronic devices.

The wife and daughter were not at home. She had pasted a message on the refrigerator. Her mother was in the hospital. She had left for Paris by the first flight. She had suggested that, if possible, he should follow her on the earliest flight.

A wave of terrifying fear surged in his heart when he read the flight number written in the note.

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A post for Flash Fictionfor Aspiring Writers on a picture prompt