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Authors: Jeffrey Small
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announced that their call center was moving to Chennai, India. They offered to retrain many of the employees but told Tim he wasnât âa good fit going forward.â His penchant for emailing the other employees his political and religious ideology had resulted in more than one reprimand from his manager. He was happy to leave behind the bureaucracy of the call center, not to mention their bullshit sensitivity training classes. Shortsighted idiots, all of them , he remembered.
He had next moved to Birmingham to take a job working in the IT department of the UAB Hospital. That job lasted eight months after similar misunderstandings, plus accusations of missing medications and supplies. But those accusations were never proved.
Tim glanced at the glowing dial of his watch. Just under three hours. Not bad for sticking to the speed limit. The last thing he needed in his moment of glory was for the police to catch him speeding in a stolen van, especially one that contained a two-hundred-gallon plastic tank filled with ANFO in the strippedout rear passenger area. He and Johnny had stolen the black minivan just after midnight from the long-term parking lot of the Birmingham-Shuttlesworth
International Airport, driven it to their hunting trailer in the woods in the Sipsey Wilderness Area, removed the rear passenger seats, and then installed the tank. This had taken just under an hour, just as Tim had rehearsed it several times. Tim had been hesitant about including Johnny in his plans, but the simple doofus was good at taking orders. Even better, he was a true believerâa lifelong member of Reverend Bradyâs New Hope Church.
Unlike others Tim had teamed up with over the years, Johnny sat with rapt attention as Tim explained the things that werenât taught in churches because the ministers were afraid of offending the fragile sensibilities of their congregations. Just yesterday, he had explained to his groupie the tenets of British Israelism. Like much of his knowledge, Tim had uncovered this fascinating tidbit during the hours he spent every evening researching on the Internet while others slept.
Tim recounted for Johnny how, after the ten lost tribes of Israel were freed from their captivity by the Assyrians, they migrated to Europe rather than returning to Israel. Therefore it was people like him and Johnnyâwhite American Christians, through their European forefathersâwho were the original Old Testament Jews that God had picked as his chosen people. Those who called themselves Jewish today were actually the progeny of Cain. When Tim had read this account, he knew in his heart its truth. He had always felt that he was chosen, and now he understood the history behind that feeling.
After Tim had read Reverend Bradyâs new book for the second time last month, he emailed the minister links to this same research. Bradyâs book had spoken to Tim, especially the predictions that the End Times were near. When Tim read the chapter about the Book of Revelation predicting that the rebuilding of Babylon would occur before the Second Coming, a chill had crept along his spine. Ancient Babylon was located in modern-day Iraq, and Tim had been part of an operation in that area and had seen firsthand the American efforts to rebuild the city. An hour south of Baghdad, the U.S. military had established Camp Babylon early in the occupation. Tim had been shocked to learn that the huge palace behind the high wall in the center of the city was Saddam Husseinâs attempt to reconstruct Nebuchadnezzarâs palace. He had relayed all this to Brady in subsequent emails, but he hadnât yet received a reply. The reverend was a very busy man.
Tim glanced in the rearview mirror at the tank in the back of the van. He had practiced for the past two weeks getting the mixture of ammonium nitrate and fuel oil, or ANFO, correct. The recipes Tim had downloaded from the Internet each differed on the proper ratio of
He had next moved to Birmingham to take a job working in the IT department of the UAB Hospital. That job lasted eight months after similar misunderstandings, plus accusations of missing medications and supplies. But those accusations were never proved.
Tim glanced at the glowing dial of his watch. Just under three hours. Not bad for sticking to the speed limit. The last thing he needed in his moment of glory was for the police to catch him speeding in a stolen van, especially one that contained a two-hundred-gallon plastic tank filled with ANFO in the strippedout rear passenger area. He and Johnny had stolen the black minivan just after midnight from the long-term parking lot of the Birmingham-Shuttlesworth
International Airport, driven it to their hunting trailer in the woods in the Sipsey Wilderness Area, removed the rear passenger seats, and then installed the tank. This had taken just under an hour, just as Tim had rehearsed it several times. Tim had been hesitant about including Johnny in his plans, but the simple doofus was good at taking orders. Even better, he was a true believerâa lifelong member of Reverend Bradyâs New Hope Church.
Unlike others Tim had teamed up with over the years, Johnny sat with rapt attention as Tim explained the things that werenât taught in churches because the ministers were afraid of offending the fragile sensibilities of their congregations. Just yesterday, he had explained to his groupie the tenets of British Israelism. Like much of his knowledge, Tim had uncovered this fascinating tidbit during the hours he spent every evening researching on the Internet while others slept.
Tim recounted for Johnny how, after the ten lost tribes of Israel were freed from their captivity by the Assyrians, they migrated to Europe rather than returning to Israel. Therefore it was people like him and Johnnyâwhite American Christians, through their European forefathersâwho were the original Old Testament Jews that God had picked as his chosen people. Those who called themselves Jewish today were actually the progeny of Cain. When Tim had read this account, he knew in his heart its truth. He had always felt that he was chosen, and now he understood the history behind that feeling.
After Tim had read Reverend Bradyâs new book for the second time last month, he emailed the minister links to this same research. Bradyâs book had spoken to Tim, especially the predictions that the End Times were near. When Tim read the chapter about the Book of Revelation predicting that the rebuilding of Babylon would occur before the Second Coming, a chill had crept along his spine. Ancient Babylon was located in modern-day Iraq, and Tim had been part of an operation in that area and had seen firsthand the American efforts to rebuild the city. An hour south of Baghdad, the U.S. military had established Camp Babylon early in the occupation. Tim had been shocked to learn that the huge palace behind the high wall in the center of the city was Saddam Husseinâs attempt to reconstruct Nebuchadnezzarâs palace. He had relayed all this to Brady in subsequent emails, but he hadnât yet received a reply. The reverend was a very busy man.
Tim glanced in the rearview mirror at the tank in the back of the van. He had practiced for the past two weeks getting the mixture of ammonium nitrate and fuel oil, or ANFO, correct. The recipes Tim had downloaded from the Internet each differed on the proper ratio of
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