Dead Watchers
- The Beast of Chernobyl -
By
Robby Richardson
[2nd Edition]
Caitlin Richardson
&
My Daughters
“So Kings May Rise Stars Must Fall”
- Robby Richardson -
Creature of the Night in Dead Watcher Sight
It was a quiet night over the lonely, evacuated city of Pripyat, Ukraine. The buildings lay rotting and crumbling as nature seemed to be winning its fight against the industry that had once threatened to destroy it. The silence of the night was shattered by a lone man running down the broken and abandoned street. He was dressed in green camouflage and his footsteps seemed to die in the night air. He was running harder than he had ever done before. His dog tags clattered against his chest with every stride he took. “Please god…help me,” he begged with every gasp of air he took. He stopped in his tracks. He could not take another step. His hand ran over his chest as the stinging pain in his lungs had returned. The adrenaline he had been feeling minutes ago was now gone. He knew his current situation had now become a dire one as he withdrew his hand from his shirt.
His hand had become soaked in blood. He returned it back onto his bloody chest. He felt his fingers hit four large deep gashes. “It got me,” he muttered as he decided to use one of the buildings as refuge. Maybe he would be able to lose the monster in one of them? He crashed through a mysterious door. Struggling down a flight of stairs and running down another large hallway. He stumbled into a door that was covered in mold, dirt, muddy hand prints, and even blood. He slammed the door and slouched into the corner. He fell to the ground and stared down at the gashes in his side. The blood had made his pants soggy and soon a panic began to fill his already thumping heart.
A loud howl was heard right above him, “oh…god!” The panic that had filled him was now replaced with sheer terror. He reached over to his breast pocket and withdrew his hunting
knife fearing the end had come. He watched the ceiling as heavy footsteps shook the floor above him and a low growl rattled the walls. Soon many footsteps could be heard as a soft moaning came from his undead partners. The creature roared into the night and soon chunks of the ceiling came hurling to the floor. A loud CRASH could be heard as the stairs shattered under the creature’s steps. A body seemed to be thrown against the wall and another tumbled down the flight of stairs just outside the door. “He’s coming…they’re all coming,” said the soldier.
Maybe the creature would not be able to find him in the darkness? Maybe he could actually survive this by sheer luck? However, nobody else from his group had survived unless you counted the ones’ that became an undead walking corpse. There had to be one, somebody had to survive this hunt. The creature moved down the hallway as it’s raggedy breathing could be heard outside the door. It sniffed the air with every step stopping outside the soldier’s door. He could hear the creature’s mouth open. The creature seemed to taste the soldier’s smell in the air.
A loud march of footsteps could be heard from the stairs. The gang was all here.
The creature’s claws raked softly on the door. The soldier raised his knife which was like bringing a toothpick to fight an army. The guns he had once possessed where all gone, and now it had come down to this. He was ready for the fight of his life. He gripped the knife tighter and knew that hand to hand combat would be his final act. The door smashed and a giant piece was torn from it. "GO AWAY,” yelled the soldier who now realized that the creature could smell his blood. “Please oh god, go away,” the outline of the creature could be seen through the hole in the door.
It’s long fingers gripped the edge of the hole and ripped the door down to the ground splintering it into kindling. The creature’s figure could be seen through the small light that entered the window of the basement room. The moon seemed to disappear behind a cloud as if
not wanting to witness the event unfolding before it. “You have taken everybody, and if you want me…it’s gonna cost ya!” The outline of the creature stood larger than the door frame. A single glowing mechanical red eye focused directly on him. It’s ragged breathing sent spit to shower over the room.
“What are you waiting for” yelled the soldier. The massive creature roared and leapt on top of the soldier overpowering him easily. Before the creature could sink its claws into the soldier’s shoulders, his teeth had clamped onto his face. The creature released the soldier as his knife had found its way into the creature’s side. The creature reared back and howled in pain.
The soldier withdrew the knife and repeatedly stabbed the creature harder each time digging into its thick dark fur. He felt the knife go deep into the creature sliding between a set of ribs. The creature’s claws landed in the soldier’s face and pulled out the front of his skull with little energy or effort. The soldier’s hands fell as the creature reared its head back and victoriously roared into the night.
Meanwhile hundreds of miles away, a vast group of men were sitting in a large dining area. They were screaming at numerous flat screen televisions that ran across every inch of the surrounding walls. Smoke curled from cigars as other men raised their glasses of brandy in triumph and others angrily threw theirs against the wall. A man began to curse in Italian yelling at one of the televisions. The lights dimmed as a spotlight was focused on a stage at the other end of the room. The men grew silent as a lone man approached a microphone in the middle of the stage. “Attention my fellow Dead Watchers attention, I am of course your Speaker for this season’s Hunt,” all the men in the room turned to the Speaker. “It is my duty to officially tell you that the Elites have announced this year’s Hunt to have officially concluded. This marks the
end of another memorable season.” The reactions from the crowd seemed mixed. Some men booed loudly, while others gave a polite applause thanking the man for a pleasant weekend.
“The Elite are concluding the official raffle for next season’s Hunt after we’ll announce this year’s Skull and Bones Awards. Now as everybody knows if your number is called you will report to the conference room at the back of the ship. There the new Voice will inform you of the details and stipulations on next year’s Hunt. I am afraid all the rest of you fellow Dead Watchers must wait until next season's Hunt for all those little details. Lastly, we will be taking reservations for next season’s Hunt so make sure you sign up today. Once again, this concludes the 2004 Hunt. Thank you and I hope to see you all next season.”
The Speaker was about to walk away, but stopped “oh and I almost forgot, if you picked Sergeant First Class John M. Steele of the 2nd Ranger Battalion to be the winner. You can collect your winnings in the Wagering Room.” The Speaker walked away from the table as another man approached the microphone. This man was younger and a lot pudgier than the other. But this man was different because he carried a remote with him. “Hello everybody, the Elite have just concluded next year’s lottery drawing and selected the ten sponsors for next season.” The group of suits clapped respectfully, and the man continued. “The Elite have informed me that next season is going to be different from previous seasons. So, make sure you reserve your spots today.” A whir of a projector could be heard as a list of names appeared on the back wall. “If your name appears you know the drill. I have officially been told by the captain that we will be pulling into port in the morning. Thank you and I hope to see you next season. The Hunt will begin as usual on Oct. 31st.”
The man gave a little bow and exited the stage as all the suits began to shake hands. The room filled with chatter as people began to file out of the room. Meanwhile many other men were reading the list off the projector as ten men were escorted around the side of the stage and through a set of black doors. The pudgy spokesman escorted the men to a room that was encircled by a glamorous view of the ocean. The ship gave a blow of its horn as the pudgy man gave a squeak, “please gentleman, the Voice will be with you shortly.” The pudgy spokesman gave a little bow “good evening to you gentleman. I look forward to seeing you all next year.”
All the men sat around a black table imprinted with the Dead Watcher symbol. A large All-Seeing Eye Pyramid with a demonic skull contained within it. The men began to take their seats and some already began to lean back comfortably in the luxurious padded office chairs.
A few minutes passed before one of the men rose from his seat. He had gray hair slicked back with what looked to be Crisco oil. He smiled as he twirled his gray mustache. A monocle hung from his right breast pocket and glimmered in the sunlight. He smiled serenely as he stared around at the nine other men, “I think introductions are in order? After all few of you I haven’t met,” he stared at several of the men. “And most of you I have,” he turned to the other people that seemed to nod their head in acknowledgment. “I feel that since I have the most money and highest rank of our little social club.” He giggled a little and continued, “I feel that it is only proper for me to take charge until the Voice formally enters.” A broad-shouldered Russian man, whose cheeks hung like a bulldogs yelled, “How dare you! I MAKE twice as much money as you!”
The man gave another soft superior giggle, “oh please Ivan you couldn’t sell shit to a farmer.” Another man stood under-dressed from the rest of the group with his red bow tie and began to protest. “I know who you are Pascal and it’s not hard selling oil now is it?” Pascal
slammed his large fist on the table as the man giggled again twirling his mustache. “Before I was so rudely interrupted…mind you…” his head tilted towards Ivan and Pascal. “I am for those who I don’t know am Lord Otto Wolfe Browne Beytout.” He paused as if waiting for an applause that never seemed to come. He giggled again as he straightened his tie. “I think we should all go around and introduce ourselves and our ventures.” He gave a superior smile as he said, “I inherited my money. My father and mother have been Dead Watchers since its inception.” He gave a final superior chuckle as he turned to his left. A man with white hair that seemed to mimic the shade of freshly picked cotton. His black suit was made from the smoothest fabric. His sliver mustache was combed perfectly straight. His face glared at Lord Otto like he was a used piece of tissue paper.
Refocusing his attention back onto the group, his disgust in Lord Otto seemed to be felt by a majority of his fellow members. He rose to his feet as Lord Otto sat straightening his pants unnecessarily. “My name is Harold Rosenberg the third. I think most of you have heard of my diamonds?” They all seemed to nod their heads politely. Lord Otto gave an obnoxious giggle of comprehension. Mr. Rosenberg sat as the next person rose from his seat. His brown hair seemed to take on the shape of a football helmet. The wrinkles in his face gave him the appearance of being older than he appeared. “My name is Joseph Michael. I am lawyer.” “A lawyer,”
whispered Lord Otto. He gave a soft girlish giggle as Joseph scowled returning to his seat. An older gentleman whose face seemed to sag with tiredness rose from his chair. He seemed almost too tired to stand, “Conrad F. Mansbridge…I own many correctional facilities in Rhode Island, New Jersey, and most predominantly in Maryland. Ivan…”
Ivan still displayed disgust at Lord Otto and for a second seemed unwilling to participate.
Conrad nudged his large shoulder almost sleepily as Ivan gave a stern “Ivan D. Dimitri, I sell
vodka…that is all!” A calm dark-skinned man with buzzed black hair sat crossing his cigar like fingers together in polite interest. A large gruesome scar ran from the left of his face to the right.
It stretched as he gave a firm and direct “Thorbjorn Olofsson I’m a member of parliament and member of the Grand Coalition.” A chubby cheeked man with a blue tailored suit and a silk red tie followed Thorbjorn. He had a stern look about him and he gazed at every member before he spoke, “My name is Ron Reid Edwards. I am a Deputy with the Mexican Sessions, three-time Assistant Coordinator to the National Action Party Parliamentary Group, two-time Coordinator for the NAAPG, two-time Coordinator for the Population Commission. I am also on the National Executive Committee for the…” “Jesus,” yelled the man to his right. “We get it alright Ron!” Ron gave the mousy man a blood thirsty stare, “don’t you silence me Gordon you prissy little prick! It’s bad enough I have to put up with Mr. Snobby over there!”
Lord Otto was not even remotely paying attention to Ron, absentmindedly picking at his fingernails giggling at the simplicity of it. His eyes rose as he noticed the room staring at him.
He gave a smug smile as he said, “I am sorry did you finish talking Ron?” Ron was silent as the small mousy man spoke with a soft almost sleepy, “is it my turn…Gordon Wim Ford.” He straightened his small glasses and added “let’s just say that I have held many diplomatic positions at the European Union and the United Nations.” The man next to Gordon stared at him politely as his eyes traveled towards each member, “where is the Voice? He should be here by now shouldn't he?” Everybody grumbled until the man gave a snide, “alright, alright, Jesus…my name is Pascal Bolkestein former Secretary General of NATO and the tenth largest private owner of oil.” Head like a large cabbage he leaned back in his seat which seemed to protest under his overly large stature.
The last man sat in his seat still and quiet as a dead night. His voice was no more than a whisper “my name is…” The whole room seemingly bellowed in unison, “louder!” The man had an unshaven face with eyes that gave off a plain sort of feel. His hands ran together as he seemed nervous about addressing the group. “My name is Jango Cassidy. I own several newspapers and magazines.” Jango fell silent as a door crashed open revealing a man being escorted by two other men in black suits. The man in front was clean cut and stood with a posture that you could only find with the most respected leaders of a country. He had combed back gray hair and gold rings on his fingers. His teeth sparkled in the sunlight as he gave a polite nod to his fellow members in the room. “Sorry to keep you all waiting gentleman…since you’re all intuitive men can I assume that introductions have been made between all members?” They all nodded in agreement. Lord Otto gave a small giggle as he beamed at all the members. “I am afraid that I don’t have much time. I must begin preparations for next season’s Hunt.” Every member nodded as the Eye continued, “I am the current Eye of the Elite for the 2005 Hunt. I have come here to notify you of the official rules for the next Hunt. And I must say my fellow Elites and I are very excited…many of the rules will remain the same, but one has changed with unanimous approval.”
They all stared at each other wondering what the difference with this hunt could be. “We have seen the best soldiers, hunters, and fighters all fall to Creature X.” All the members smiled at each other as if reliving a fond memory. Lord Otto giggled absentmindedly as Ivan glowered.
Thorbjorn’s fingers were still crossed in polite interest at the Eye continued. “We have seen brave men and women all fall to the creature including many of our personal nation’s heroes.
However for this upcoming hunt the Elite feel that it would be interesting to see the most
dangerous, or most evil person that you personally know fight against the creature.” Lord Otto gave a wide smile as he gleefully giggled, “oh how delightfully fun!”
The Eye raised his finger and said, “Rules are simple gentlemen you must know the person or have had personal contact with them. The Elites have initiated the Department of Gatherers to do extensive background checks on each of your candidates at the official weigh in.
If no previous interactions or contacts were made with your candidate, you will be fined heavily.
Additionally, your collateral will be seized by the organization. The candidate you choose to sponsor must not have any formal military training, belong to any country’s military organizations, and originality counts. We can’t have any duplicates either! I don’t want ten serial killers or ten cartel members. Resistance fighters are fine as long as there is no formal military training…any questions?” They all glared at each other as if they were trying to figure out their fellow member’s next move.
There came a loud grumbling as if a motor was trying to turn off “wha…wha…what you mean collateral?” The Eye turned to Ivan, “can I assume this is your first-time sponsoring?
Every sponsor Ivan must submit something to the group to show their integrity in their candidate.
If the Gatherers find no connection or interaction between you and your candidate, then your collateral will be seized. And surely to answer your next question, collateral can range from anything to a business, house, money, or anything valued over ten million dollars.” Many members of the group began to clamor in argument, but Lord Otto sat still picking at his nails giggling slightly as if the collateral meant nothing to him.
“I understand your concerns…I understand them. My fellow Elite and I have increased the collateral because this is not like looking up files on our usual military soldiers. There is
much more risk involved when dealing with society’s scum. To reiterate the Elite want you to find candidates that are the worst, most dangerous, or most evil people that you personally know…any more questions?” The Eye seemed to take the group’s silence as comprehension and clapped his hands together. “Wonderful you will present your candidate at the weighing ceremony next year on Oct. 24th. Medical exams and any enhancements needed will be given at that time. Those Gamer Guides don’t write themselves! You will also receive next year’s rules before you disembark. If help is needed in requisitioning your candidate Rounders are here around the clock to help you. Collateral must be submitted before we pull into port tomorrow morning.” The Eye scanned the room and bounced on the edge of his feet “thank you for your time gentlemen. I personally am very excited about this new idea and you all should be too…”
He turned from the spot and began to walk from the room. He stopped and turned back to all his fellow members. “I am sorry but mercenaries also will not count since their lifestyle is considered military.” Ivan slammed his fist on the table as Ron gave a loud “Chinga!” Many members of the group seemed hurt by this sudden rule. The Eye smiled at all of them, “I am sorry, but we think it will make the Hunt a lot more interesting and unique for all of us…don’t you? Also, we’re adding a new award to the Skull and Bones Awards. Any sponsor receives an extra $500,000 for the most original candidate. We’re calling it the Diamond in the Rough Award.”
Despite all the disappointed faces most of them nodded their agreement. “It will bring originality to our little competition and move us all away from the monotony of soldiers and military training.” Everyone rose as the Eye gave one final smile and left the room as quick as he had entered. Lord Otto rose from his chair, “thank you gentlemen for a lovely three days. I’ll see you all next year for the Hunt.” Everybody else began shaking hands as Lord Otto gave his
girlish giggle with every hand he shook. Soon the room dispersed, and the next morning the ship crudely named THE GETAWAY pulled into port. Each of the ten selected members of the Dead Watchers were released to find the most evil and dangerous people they have ever personally known.
Along Came A Spider
[Candidate: Nicole “Nikki” Ann Iosif Dzhugashvili]
(Present Day)
“Vat da ell do vou tink vou’re…” Nikki was thrown into an empty prison cell. She threw her golden locks out of her face as she yelled “Vo do vou tink vou are?” The correction officer was a dark-skinned woman that gave a frustrated, “I know exactly who you are dear!”
She began to walk away as Nikki yelled “Vell den vou are idiot…can’t ev’n ollow imple enructionz!” The guard just laughed as she began to open a jail door at the opposite end. Nikki yelled, “I von’t alk o…” but the guard gave a rude “I know! Who do you think is here?”
Nikki turned in her spot and watched another door open at the opposite end. “Vell, vell, vell,” she said as she glared at the newcomers like a cat watching a mouse. The cell door opened with a loud… CREAK! “Vell ef et izn’t mi blood zucking nake en de grazz usband and mi ov’r aid blood zucking nake en de grazz lawer.” Her lawyer had slicked back greasy black hair and his pin striped office suit hung from his scrawny body. Sweat glistened down his crooked nose as he moved aside to let in an older gentleman. His brown hair was shaped like a football helmet and his wrinkled face made him appear ancient compared to her still youthful looks. “Well, the supposed love of my life,” he snarled as Nikki added, “I’m sill vaiting on apers from vo Yoseph!” “Well, that is what I am here to discuss,” her lawyer invited her to sit as they all took a seat at the metal table.
“I am afraid dear that your upcoming trial will not be as fortunate as the one I tried over.”
“I’ll andle et” she shot back to her husband. “Yes, but this is not some silly misdemeanor or a telemarketing scam that you pulled. However, despite everything that you have done to me Nikki…” Nikki huffed, “Oh dat es noting arling cumpared vo vat I cood ave don. Did…vou not ze de list?” Joseph nodded, “I know…I got a hold of your record. Your WHOLE record…you have a very impressive rap sheet. I must say it was foolish of you to come back. I wish I would have known all that before I married you.” She crossed her arms, “Sum of et appened vhile ve vere married…but I glad oo ze vou’re emprezzed.” “So, what do you plan on doing while you have been remanded to jail until the trial?” Sneering at her lawyer, “Vell if omebody ad done deir yob and…” A hand raised as Joseph said “whatever the case you’re still here and are going to be here for the rest of your life this time. I got you off last time, but like I said this is not a simple telemarketing scam… only this time I am working against you.” “Vou alwavs id bore me, o vou ave a point or are vou oing oo cuntinue oo amble on?”
Nikki’s lawyer brought out a thick manila folder and opened it reading aloud “Nicole Ann Romanov,” “Es Nikki vou ov’raid zuit! Remend me ow I ot ztuk vit vou?” Her lawyer just continued “Nicole Ann Romanov born May 12, 1979 in Boksitogorsk, Soviet Union…now Russia.” Her lawyer continued, “escaped from Bedford Hills and fled the country, recently recaptured at Plattsburgh International Airport. Charges including the first trial were as followed five counts Grand Larceny, five counts Identity theft…” “Vat es all bout Yoseph, I ave bedder tings vo do!” “Well, I think that you even realize that you can’t weasel yourself out of this one, nor escape again.” Nikki tossed her blonde hair back “Vell ef vou are offing a yeal I am all earz.” He leaned in and whispered, “I do have an offer…not that you deserve one after what you did to me!” “Ef et meanz yaylight or reduzed entence I kan pare a youple zeconds,” Joseph
leaned in even closer. “What if I told you that I could promise you your freedom?” Nikki gave an interested “jo on.” “My firm has recently decided to go international, and we plan to buy out another large firm. However we’re having problems on the settling cost.” Brushing her hair back again, “Vou alwayz id ore me vith vour yories. Vhy vood vou tink I vould fane even da slitest inerest…especially afer all da yarges vou filed on me.”
Joseph’s face had grown sour, and Nikki could not hide the small bit of pleasure that it brought her. “The point is Nikki that you possess a certain set of skills that I find suitable for this line of work. This set of skills can be used to convince a certain somebody on merging our two law firms together…quicker” she stared at him. “Vell dat is a veri dantalizing ofer but I iz fraid vou are en for a long and iresome rial…danks by da vay for all vour phanancial zupport.”
She glared at him adding, “making me youze ze public efenders ike I am zum animal! Vhen da divorce es final I can ake dat money, fire dis joof and et myself a real lawer!” “I know your tricks, and I know all your secrets Nikki! I am making sure that you aren't getting a dime of that…” Joseph sniffled grabbing the bridge of his nose as she slyly smiled again, “and vo es da one eeping ecretz?” They both stared at each other with mutual hatred. Nikki could see the hidden anger in his face. He was a snake in the grass. Why would a man that she tried to kill offer a helping hand? “How’s vour ack by de vay?” His teeth seemed to clench, “you left me to die!” Fluttering her eyes as she began to sprout fake tears “ut arling I vas raped, istraught…how cood vou zay dat I ave ecretz?” “Secrets…your rap sheet speaks for itself! I don’t think rape sounds like…” he pulled back and gave a snarling “give it to me really hard! I heard you darling as I was walking into the house…was he good?”
(09/21/2001)
They both seemed to dwell back on the event that had plagued them four years ago. The estate gardener Jimmy was giving her the usual good stuff, when a car door slammed in the distance. She stared up into Jimmy’s sweaty face. His crooked teeth made Nikki almost gag whenever she caught a glimpse of them. However, Jimmy served a purpose and love had nothing to do with it. If she felt any pleasure that would just be an added bonus. Footsteps could be heard under the window it was time to put her plan into motion. Giving him a false, “ive it vo me reelly ard!” Jimmy began to go harder with every rock of Joseph’s bed. She slapped Jimmy’s face playfully, “Vou amazing,” she lied. She heard the front door open in the distance.
Jimmy’s heavy breathing seemed to drown out his senses. She slapped him again playfully but this time getting a little harder and rougher. Soon, she was slapping him hard as he grabbed her throat holding her down. She nodded, “ust ike dat, zqueeze arder!” His grip tightened as she whispered “on’t…et… jo.” Her nails dug deep into his back, and she began to choke, “ease on’t vo dis!” Suddenly, her attitude had taken an abrupt change. “I ave an usband, et me jo,” she screamed. The bedroom door swung open, and a voice yelled, “Get off of her Jimmy!” Jimmy froze as Joseph pulled him off in an utter rage. False tears filled Nikki’s eyes as she cried, “e vas raping me!” Joseph took a swing at Jimmy, who yelled, "wait I wasn’t…” Joseph’s hand missed and crashed into the mirror. He let out a howl of pain as Jimmy pleaded, “She seduced…” but Joseph tackled him. They crashed against the wall with a loud… BANG! Whispering softly,
“Et’em Yimmy…et em!” Jimmy began sending shots into Joseph’s gut. His muscles began to ripple, and Nikki knew that their “love affair” was not going to be in vain.
Jimmy pulled Joseph’s hands apart twisting on the spot. They both stumbled to the window. “I’m taking you with me you son of bitch!” Jimmy gave a giant thrust, but Joseph’s good hand grabbed his at the last moment. They toppled through the window falling with the
raining glass. They twisted in the air and Joseph was able to land on top of Jimmy. They crashed on top of Nikki’s blue Lamborghini. He heard Jimmy’s back break at the moment of impact. Joseph slammed with such force he flew over the roof crashing to the driveway. He smacked his head on the bricks staring up at the third-floor landing. Nikki stared down at him with a sheet wrapped around her naked body. “Call... 9…1…1,” he muttered weakly. A hidden pleasure appeared as she began to retreat from the window. “Help me,” were his last words as he stared up at the now empty window. Joseph had lost track of time as he lay motionless on the driveway. Soon, he succumbed to the oncoming darkness that he tried to resist.
(Present Day)
“You guys…hey, wake up!” A snapping of fingers from her lawyer seemed to bring them both out of their stupor. An awkward silence grew in the room as Nikki just leaned back in her seat. “Zo….” Nikki said gazing back with a slight snarl. “Will you take the deal,” asked the lawyer who tried to keep the train on the tracks. “I aven’t eard de rezt of et. Vhat vo I et ef I zeduce dis juy and et vou vour erger?” “We are prepared to get most of the charges dropped and some to misdemeanor assault. We’ll think of something for the Capital Murder charge, but all you’ll have to do is community service.” Nikki gave a loud laugh as her husband coughed loudly. She fell silent as he reluctantly said, “I will also offer you a cash total of twenty thousand dollars…plus expenses.” “Vow,” Nikki exclaimed sarcastically “Vou vere all vays dullest bulb in da bunch veren’t vou?” Joseph was frozen on the spot as Nikki continued, “I don’t ean rain on paraid but dere es small roblem of up oming rial phor all oter arges and fact dat I urrently locked up til dat rial.” “If we can’t get the charges reduced or removed your lawyer will ask for a continuance which the judge will grant…an old college and fraternity buddy of
mine. Think of this continuance as a chance to take a vacation…a permanent vacation. On that note you’ll never be able to come back to the United States.”
Nikki began to rub her chin in thought. Her mind dwelled on the promise. The offer was tempting but it might as well come from the devil himself. Still Nikki did not want to go back to prison. After all, she had done everything she could do just to stay out. She knew that this time there was no way out and no way to escape. The result would surely be life in prison. “Alright, vat oder choice vo I ave?” Nikki watched Joseph hide his jubilation with a “smartest thing you ever did Nikki. I’ll take care of the paperwork for you. In the meantime, I would start practicing your art of seduction.” Nikki laughed, “I on’t eed ractice It vorked on vou idn’t et?” Joseph straightened his suit, “I wish you loved me as much as you wanted my money…representing you in that case was the worst mistake I made.” Nikki stood up and yelled “juard!” The jailer came from behind the door and headed towards the cell door. “I vant alf da ash upfront and de ivorce en vriting. So, I juess I vill ee vou at rial?” She laughed a little as the guard began to shackle her up. Joseph and her lawyer left out the other cell door. Joseph gave a small almost triumphant smile with a soft, “I’ll see you soon…darling.”
As the guard walked Nikki back to her cell her mind dwelled on the following incident.
Why would a man that she tried to kill ask for her help? It didn’t make sense. Why would her husband make her an offer like that? How did she end up in this mess? Even if the offer was true, Nikki didn’t expect it to come. She had to think about the upcoming trial and her survival.
It seemed like survival was a family tradition ever since her grandma pushed her mother from their house in Boksitogorsk in 1921.
The day when Soviet soldiers burst through their small, secluded cabin in the woods.
The day when Stalin ordered the capture and the safe return of his first-born son, her uncle Yakov in 1921. She believed he was 14 at the time. Nikki was told that this was done to avoid a national scandal and bury Stalin’s adulterous ways. How often she remembered reading her mother’s letters from prison bragging to her about being a direct descendent to Joseph Stalin.
Her mother used to exclaim, “you should be proud I am the daughter of the great Joseph Stalin…in your blood runs the blood of the greatest leader the world has ever seen.” However, Nikki knew deep down that her grandmother was just a mistress at best. After all, Stalin didn’t want to have anything to do with Nikki's grandmother or mother. Nikki’s mother Vera told her that Soviet soldiers were sent to take him back to Stalin from their home in Boksitogorsk in 1921. She never saw her brother again.
Her mother told her again and again the story of how Nikki’s grandmother had gotten pregnant by the great dictator twice in over a 47-year period resulting in two children. Nikki’s mother Vera and an uncle named Yakov Dzhugashvili. Nikki’s grandmother always stayed in contact with Stalin over the years. Nikki had heard that her uncle Yakov had committed suicide while being held in a prisoner-of-war camp in 1943. Vera had never known or remembered much about her older brother Yakov. She was born on January 11th, 1915. Vera’s mother stated in her diary that she was “Yakov’s REAL mother and Stalin’s REAL wife no matter how much of a secret their love was.”
Vera’s mother had spent all her life surviving Stalin's constant avoidance. His hidden little secret was masked behind his two marriages. At ten years old Nikki remembered how her mother used to say, “that thing between your legs can rewrite history, change hearts, and reshape minds.” She would throw up her fist and say “ultimate power to those who could harness it!
Boys want it and will do anything for it!” When she was young, she didn’t understand. After all, how could she have understood?
Nikki recalled the last night with her mother and grandmother in Bryansk before they were thrown into the Vorkutlag Gulag. How her mother pushed her out the back door with a terrifying “run Nikki…run!” Her mother and grandmother were taken by Soviet soldiers and eventually hung as traitors in 1964. They buried the secret that Stalin had kept so well hidden all those years. Nikki was left all alone in the world. Raised in an orphanage her only link to her past, her mother’s ranting prison letters and a diary that her grandmother had kept. A diary that spilt the dark secrets of Joseph Stalin. These were her only proof that revealed her blood relation to Joseph Stalin.
Nikki was thrown into her cell, “ey,” she yelled uselessly at the guard. The guard smiled widely at her as if daring her to complain. She slammed my iron door, “ey juard?” “Yeah,” she snarled. “Vat are vou macking e phor inner do night?” “How about a nice bologna sandwich and then for breakfast a bologna sandwich, and for lunch? Hey, guess what Nikki how about a bologna sandwich?” She walked away from the cell laughing as Nikki grumbled disappointedly.
All she could do was sit on her bed and stare at the wall. The prison was dirty, and it was not a place that she wanted to stay. Nikki’s mind began to wander thinking about the times she went to only the finest restaurants and popular parties.
(06/22/2005)
I remember one party in particular I had gone to. It was a couple years after I fled America and escaped the American prison Bedford Hills. With the help of my good looks and make up I could appear fatally attractive. Although, no one would know that. It was a trait that
helped me escape and fulfill my thirst for revenge. I was in the most famous restaurant in Romania whose name translated to The Ice Bird. I sat at a table with a man that was barely recognizable from his once menacing youthful looks. His now thinning grey hair, overlarge nose, and lopsided scowl made me shiver remembering that fateful night in 1964 in Bryansk. He wore an antique gray Russian uniform, and his breasts were each covered in rows of different medals.
“So, Colonel Kakava please finish telling us that incredible story about that family your father encountered in 1921.” “Family…” he spluttered as he raised another glass filled with red wine. “Ah yes indeed…so, my father told me the mother claimed to have slept with the great Stalin hundreds of times. She even claimed that she was Yakov’s true mother and that Ekaterine wasn’t. I believe she even attempted to take the great dictator’s last name. Insulting…her name was, um…Zenya that’s it…anyway!” He waved his hand taking a large swig of his wine. “It is absurd anyway! Stalin loved Ekaterine and Nadezhda…that woman…that incorrigible woman was just another common whore!” He began to laugh, and his pudgy hand clapped me on the shoulder. “Zenya was hoping that Stalin would pass on the leadership of the Soviet Union to their supposed daughter before he died…like an heir to the throne kind of thing! Zenya wanted Stalin to make sure that a position would always be held for her until she became mature enough to take it. What was her name again?” He began to wave his hand trying to recall it, “Vera,” I whispered. He stopped and stared down at me in surprise. “Yes, how did you know that?” I shrugged “Luky uess, an I try two por two?” He glared down at me again and then began to smile, “by all means please Milaya Moya!” “Her daughter’s last name was,” I waved my hand like he did pretending like I was taking a stab at it. “Maybe… Dzhugashvili …” I was prepared to hear, “how…did…you?”
However instead, the Colonel shook his head “No, no last name started with a S. Oh, what was it…family name too…it was…Svanidze!” He laughed, “I knew I would get it!” “Are vou ure et vasn’t Dzhugashvili?” The Colonel gave a bellowing bark like laugh. “Ha, Ha, Stalin’s surname! No, my dear Milaya that would have made my search for them much easier.
My father made sure to never forget traitors to our motherland!” He nodded at every person,
“His patriotism was recessive onto me as well. I want to see who is stabbing our country and me in the back. That way they can be dealt with like the dogs they are!” Everyone began raising their glass as the Colonel bellowed “May Russia return to its former glory! Long live the Soviet Union and the motherland!”
When the toast had been finished another soldier at the table asked, “So Colonel what happened in the end with the Dzhugashvili family, the mistress, and the daughter Vera?” The Colonel waved his glass as he replied, “tragic just tragic. Stalin’s mistress Zenya and her daughter Vera began selling secrets to the Americans after he died. I know that because I was the one who made the arrests. Although when Stalin died, Zenya continued to try getting her daughter Vera a guaranteed political position with the party. When Khrushchev took over after Malenkov officially resigned, he ordered them both to be hung as traitors. She was the oldest woman in the country to be hung as a traitor. I always have trouble with the year…1964? Was it 64’ when I made that arrest? I would have been only 20 at time. Eto zhizn’…Zenya was 76
when she was hung, and Vera was 49.” He took a little sip of his wine as he seemed to dwell on the incident as if replaying it in his head. The Colonel gave a mournful, “As for Vera, I'm afraid bad blood is contagious my friends. During her trial, she mentioned about an eleven-year-old daughter she had out of wedlock too.” “Reele,” I asked trying to hide the fact that the truth of the story was already known to me.
The Colonel’s gray eyes narrowed as he leaned into the table and whispered softly, “it is rumored that Vera had gotten pregnant by Prince Philip the Duke of Edinburgh.” Leaning back, he waved his drink at every member of the table. “You didn’t hear that from me now friends!”
“And vhad bot de ove chiled Vera ad? Vhad appe’ned vif er?” I asked trying to sound mildly interested about what he was going to say about me. The rest of the table erupted with a “yeah, yeah, what happened with the child…and Stalin’s son?” “Stalin’s son, Yakov…I heard committed suicide while in a German prison camp. Stalin wouldn't even consider a prisoner exchange to get him out. He told my father PERSONALLY about what a disappointment he was. How he never wanted to see him again. He called him a mere cobbler! As for Vera’s daughter, she went to an orphanage. I don’t know her name nor do I care…probably dead by now.” “Dead,” I repeated as he turned to me and gave a final “dead…mertvyy…kaput!” One soldier leaned into the table, “wait Yakov that is not…The Butcher of Bolkhov is it?” The Colonel nodded, “the same…an ultimate disgrace to Stalin and to the motherland...glad he’s dead.”
After several more minutes of polite conversation, the Colonel waved his old hand goodbye at everyone and left. Now was my time for action, I excused myself from the table. I followed the Colonel through the large dining room as he headed to a large white marble staircase which led up to the many luxurious hotel rooms. “Colonel…” I called out when he reached the top of the stairs. I grabbed the banister as the Colonel replied, “oh Milaya what are you doing?” “Vell,” I said batting my eyelashes flirtatiously at him. My charm had turned to seduction as I traced my hand over the banister. “Vell, I vas vondering if vou vould are phor any dezert?” He chuckled, “No, my dear I couldn’t possibly have anything else to eat!” I tried not to roll my eyes. “No zilly, Colonel I tought vou vould vant sum dezert rought vo vour room.” “Oh,
Milaya you don’t need to see to that! I am afraid the wine has gotten to me. I couldn’t possibly eat anything else.” I gave a little groan of frustration, “et e put it dis vay Colonel…vhy don’t vou ake me upstairz and ve can zpend da vhole ev’ning together.” The Colonel gave a devilish smile and replied, “but I am so much older than you my dear! It must be the uniform!”
I didn’t think the hour could go by fast enough. The old overweight leather skinned Colonel lay sweating under the white bed sheet. I on the other hand wanted to take a shower but survival had its ugly side. I hated doing stuff like this, but revenge was something that I took personally. However, this wasn’t revenge just for me. This was revenge for my family too. It took me years to track down Colonel General Aleksandr Kakava. I had only discovered it was him when I heard him speak at a conference that I was attending. I was still moving up the social hierarchy. I began to leave the bed, “oh my dear Milaya” the Colonel said still out of breath. “That was absolutely amazing!” “Da,” I whispered back at him as I motioned towards my purse, “vas et jood?” He whispered, “It was truly wonderful.” “I am lad vo ear dat,”
withdrawing a small knife from my purse I turned to the overweight Colonel.
“Zo Colonel ell ee bout de doughter,” “daughter?” “Yez Vera’s daughter…vhat ever appened do der?” “What about her? I told you everything I know already…went to an orphanage and died somewhere in Europe.” “Ow owd zhe die,” I asked clenching the knife tighter in anger. “How should I know Milaya now please shut up!” “Ar vou zure dat vou on’t know ow Vera’s daughter vas killed?” His eyes were closed as he growled, “of course why do you ask such stupid questions? I’m trying to sleep Milaya if you can’t shut your trap, I am going to ask you to leave!”
“Stop…calling me…Milaya…do vou know ow long I zat en da cold when you arrested Zenya and Vera in Bryansk? Do you know how long it was befour a na'bor ame and dook me do de uspital? Vou eft me out der do die. I ad do vatch mi endire amile be ung vhen I vas jus elaven. Eft do be raized en a filthe orfanage phorcing me do bery my phast. I ad do shange my nam en dat zhitty orphanage to Romanov. MY OWN NAM! Vou ade me azaimed vhen I shood ave emraced…zcared of vho I reele am…of my phast! Zcared dat vou and vour men vould unt me don lake vou id vit mi amile.” “Excuse me,” he said finally opening his eyes staring up at me. His eyes focused as if trying to remember that fateful night. “I vas der ven yoo nd yor solders kam. I ad do isten do vou beet my grandmoder…and den vou and vour zolderz raped mi mother before you brought her to Stalin. Vou ied abot dem zeling ecrets do da amirecins.” “Y-you…you’re…the…daughter…Vera’s daughter? I never lied about them selling secrets,” he whispered in a trembling confusion. “De docdor zaid dat I ad jone dayz vitout phood or vater. I am lukey do be a'live…not deed, not kaput!” “They were both threats to the motherland.” I shook my head in a rage “vhat dreat...vhat dreat? De druth es my amilie vere de derdy little zecretz of vour jreat Yoseph Ztalin…gust anoder ztain dat eeded do be roobed out and kleaned up. Dat’s vhy vears befour vour fader dook Vera’s broder…my unkle, Yakov. Ztalin fourmalle adoptid em…erazeng es phast and kreading a new one phor em!”
I came closer to him the knife raised high in the air. He stared at it blankly muttering “I-I…I-I w-was just following orders!” The knife came down hard into the Colonel cutting right through his hand. He howled in pain as I put my hand over his mouth and began jabbing the knife into his gut. I felt the blood explode like a volcano as his eyes were wide with fear. I removed my hand as I heard his final breaths being taken “W-who, who are you?” “I Nikki Romanov ut m reel nam es Nicole Ann Iosif Dzhugashvili …de Ruzzian Blak Vidow…de lazt
leveng dezcendaunt of Yoseph Ztalin!” I could almost feel his soul leave him as his eyes rolled into the back of his head. My hand shook the entire time the knife left his body.
It took me awhile to adjust to the sight of him. I had finally gotten my revenge for my mother, my uncle, and me. He was my fourth victim and not to be my last. Now it was time for me to return to America. I began to dress tossing the knife onto the bed. Gathering up my things I had to make sure that I made it safely out of the party. After all, I never thought that far ahead.
I always figured getting to the point was necessary, and I'll deal with the consequences later. I had gotten my revenge and that was all that mattered. I was about to head to the door and leave when a thought had occurred to me. I didn’t really have much money anymore. That was the very reason for my return to America and well after all, the Colonel was dead. I might as well rob him too. I turned and began to search through the drawers and his suit pockets. “There we go,” I said pulling out a wad of rubles. I flicked through it and counted it, “skryaga.” My return to America would now begin and all I had to do was walk out the door.
(Present Day)
There came a knocking at my cell door. I saw one of the prison guards holding a metal food tray. The slot opened and a tray of food was set. Groaning I made my way over. The only activity I would have all day a simple task of eating dinner. “Great,” I said seeing a stale bologna sandwich, some salad, a carton of milk, and liquid peaches. Grabbing the sandwich,
“God, I could really go for some escargot right about now…maybe a nice bottle of Merlot…mm…yeah.” I bit down into the bread and instead of the usual softness my teeth hit against something solid. I recoiled the sandwich opening it to find a small folded up note. I
dropped the sandwich and began to fumble with it. It trembled in my shaking hands as I kept gazing towards my door’s small glass window.
Nikki…I bribed the guard to give you this note. Your trial will begin in a week do not speak unless spoken too. Your lawyer will do all the talking.
J.M.
I crumbled up the note and flushed it down the toilet. I decided to lie down and just go to sleep hoping Joseph’s offer was real. Just before I lost my vision, I thought about how stupid it was to return to America. It was in that moment that I found the peace I had been searching for.
Joseph thought that he had an upper hand over me. I couldn’t help but smile. At that moment he didn’t know about the deadly virus that brewed deep inside me and now within him. It was the poison from a spider or venom from the snake. He carried it since the first time we made love.
It was beautiful in a way, a beautiful tragedy and I laughed. In the end, I would always get my revenge and do what I needed to do to survive.
Date: 06/20/2005
From: First American Charter Bank
Dear Mrs. Nicole Ann Hinden,
This email is to inform you that your failure to continue your dues for safety deposit box
#837-392 will forfeit the contents of box. If the amount of $500.00 is not paid within 60 days, the contents shall become property of First American Charter Bank. Your request for withdrawal of
contents requires your signature and the completion of Withdrawal Form T-4201. Please contact me at your earliest convenience to halt this action, wishing you a pleasant day.
Sincerely,
Thomas R. Howell
Vice President First American Charter Bank Branch # 452
The Wolf of the Desert
[Candidate: Mwai Haji Njenga]
(Present Day)
The weather was hot some would say abnormally hot. However, growing up in Kenya I would say that it was almost cool. The sweat seemed to sizzle on my body. I took off my black beret and removed my cigar which I was smoking merely out of boredom. I told my men what would happen if they were late, but here I was sitting back in my gigantic tent in the middle of the Ethiopian desert. There was so much work to be done. Lowering the cigar, I stared up at the top of the canopy. Several flies buzzed around the top trying to catch a much needed second of shade. My two guards were playing a game of poker as my mind began to drift to better days.
The days of fine wine, beautiful Kenyan women, stacks of blood money, and many treasures from the East. The capital city of Nairobi was in the palm of our hands, my hands. Our family began to grow into the thousands. As we began to set our sights on bigger slices of the pie, nature began to take effect. Greed began to spread across my family, which my father had always called “the nature of man”. He would fumble through stacks of money that he would say was made by paying the ultimate price. “Blood money,” he would whisper to me as the money never stopped coming in. Over the bloodshed years my father had grown religious and became a
“born again Christian”. Trying to curb the violence and establish peace in Kenya, my father tried converting the entire family. To stop the inevitable bloodshed and fighting that this would cause, my father officially “blessed me” as the leader before his conversion. Greed helped us survive, but Christianity became our cancer.
When this disease hit our family, it drew on the dark times. Now our family is feuding within itself. We are starting to show visible signs of division into two factions. One faction loyal to my father willing to change and the other loyal to me willing to make money. The Kenyan Government with the assistance of the United Nations was able to release our families’
grip on the capital city. After the arrest and slaughter of hundreds of our family members we were pushed back to the four corners of Kenya. Finally, the majority faction, the real faction, my faction was exiled to Ethiopia and other countries. My leadership and power is waning every day. I can feel it in my very bones. It would only be a matter of time before our great Mungiki family would begin to splinter even more. It is my destiny to bring the family back together and reclaim our land, our home. We must eliminate those that wish to tear us from within and build us back up to our former glory. We must recapture our home of Nairobi and eliminate the traitors including my own father.
The cigar began to feel warm between my fingers as the guilt crept over me. It always seemed to come when boredom set in. Maybe that is why I am in this cursed place? I saw my family, my real family beginning to fall apart, and I tried to repair it. I shook my head, “no, I will repair it.” The cigar roasted between my fingers, unity would be achieved with the beheading of my father. The disloyalty made me sick. I stared at my bloody machete on the opposite table with a custom grip. It had been a long time since I was able to wield it again. In truth, I was surprised that it was even still around held by a dear friend of the family. A now turned spy in the Kenyan police department. My stay in the American prison named Attica was a long stretch, but I was able to make it. After a few conflicts were settled, I breezed through my stay. The United Nations, what a joke! I felt a sneer appear on my face. It took two trials, but I was able to return home with an “acquittal on all charges”. Man was that a head rush. I returned
home and walked into a mess. Unable to handle the business, I have become more of general leading troops into battle. Allah let me slide by once, he wasn’t going to give me a second chance.
“Mwai, Mwai,” came a panicked voice as a tired soldier stumbled into the tent. His sweating hands clenched a muddy pistol. I lowered my cigar placing it in my ashtray. I stared at the man as his presence disgusted me, “how…dare…you enter my tent without announcing yourself!” The man stood as his eyes trembled in fear, “I…so sorry, but you said to tell you the moment when…” A body was thrown into the tent as a voice yelled “Mwai it is us!” My eyes focused on the trembling man who lay choking on my sand covered oriental rug. “Well, well, well if it isn’t my father’s right-hand man!” My attention was drawn to a man that was covered in mud and dried blood sticking to his arms. “You boys didn’t even clean yourselves up,” the larger of the two men just stood in polite respect. “You said to bring him the moment we caught him.” I waved my hand, and the men gave a nod departing the tent.
“Mr. Huanji Nerabo, the man of a thousand faces, you know how long it has taken me to track you down to that village in Zimbabwe? It’s almost as if you were hiding from me!” The tiny man began to tremble harder now rising onto his bony knees. He shook his bald head, “n-no boss never hiding always building.” I smirked, “I know you are building! You’re building for my father still when your loyalty should be towards me and the family. I think YOU want to be the savior of this family. I think you are hoping to take my position. You want to be the big boss? Maybe you become the infamous Black Wolf huh? Convert us all to Christianity make us appear weak to our enemies…to the world!” He shook his grape like head at me “n-never boss!”
My black military boot moved over towards him. He fell forward cowering, “I only ever served the Mungiki and your father! My life is for the family!” I began to crush his hand like a bug. I
heard knuckles cracking under my military boot as Huanji whimpered in pain. “And that is the problem! You want to be at the top Huanji…don’t you? Dividing us will hurt, but you and my father are splintering us…like a termite. An insignificant insect feeding from within.” Huanji whimpered harder as the bones seemed to crack under the increasing pressure. “I must unite the family back together and bring us back to our former glory,” Huanji gazed up at me. His face shook “b-b-but what right do you have? Your father is the only leader of the family. If he wants us to change…we…w-we must change with him!” SNAP… I heard a bone break as Huanji gave a howl of pain, “I was put in charge after my father Maina Njenga decided to betray our family.” I reached down and violently grabbed his neck. “My family has been members of the Mungiki since its inception. What right…what right, I have the right! I have EVERY right! I am Maina’s official son and was blessed by my father personally! Just because he converted and wishes to use the family for his own personal gain doesn't mean everything my family has built should be torn apart. I am taking back what is rightfully mine…rightfully ours!” “But…it…it’s, not rightfully yours Mwai, it’s your fath…” “I’m not good enough? The son of the leader Maina isn't good enough for you…perhaps you think you’re smarter than me? That’s what you’re telling me,” I shouted back.
The tent flap began to open as one of my guards exclaimed “boss, we've got a problem!”
“Well fix it,” I growled, but my guard just shook his head. “An armored hummer is pulling into camp flying a white flag.” “A white flag,” I repeated. The guard nodded “he is also flying the flag of the United Nations on his antenna.” “Man, every station! I want eyes everywhere!” I removed my boot, “Open the tent so I can see!” The guard acknowledged opening the tent wider to reveal a sand-colored hummer. Sure enough, a white flag was being flown by a giant antenna in the back. The front antenna contained a blue flag with the letters UN on them. The door
opened and a dark-skinned man stepped out of the passenger seat. The man was insane. He had black sunglasses, buzzed hair, and sported a disfiguring battle scar across his face. His black suit seemed to resemble the color of charcoal. His white shirt was stained with sweat as he gave a hateful glare up at the “cursed” sun.
Another man walked around the car dressed in a uniform that I did recognize. It was the dark jungle colors of a Kenyan Militia member. However, what he was doing with this mystery man was certainly an interesting question. The most logical answer to my question was the suit must be the man in charge. Although any man that would dare come into my camp with only one guard was a man that clearly had no fear.
He walked towards the tent and the two guards that had brought Huanji to my tent glared as he tried to enter. They stopped him as I heard one of their voices say, “Who the hell are you?”
The man in the suit replied, “I don’t have to answer to you, but I can assure you Mwai will have your hands if you do not allow me entry.” I could almost hear the soldier’s thoughts. Nobody would dare enter my camp and speak that way to one of my soldiers. “Just let him in,” my curiosity seemed to get the best of me. I wanted to see this mystery man for myself. “No,” I said when I noticed his guard walking into the tent. “I am sorry I can’t allow your escort in here,” the man gave a clear dislike for the idea. The mystery man turned back and nodded to the soldier who nodded back.
The man entered the tent alone as he stared down at Huanji who still lay on the ground clenching his broken hand. “My name is…” the man began but I raised my hand “I’m sorry business before curiosity.” I stared down at Huanji, “you’re lucky that I need you or should I say you’re useful to me for the moment?” Huanji just whimpered clenching his hand, “I need you to
give me my father Huanji?” He did not seem to hear me. He laid there babbling and whimpering like a child. I raised my military boot and kicked him in the gut. “Can you hear me little baby?” Huanji rose and nodded frantically “y-y-yes b-b-boss, I hear you! I-I hear you.”
“Good,” I smiled at him as I walked over to my little table and grabbed my cell phone. I threw the phone towards him “call every lieutenant, every person you can think of and get my father to Sonji’s Bar. I will have an escort pick him up and bring him to my camp.” This had caught Huanji’s attention, “but, but…boss…you know Mungiki members can’t go into Nairobi. We have all been exiled.” I gritted my teeth, “I go where I want! My men go where they want because my word is the key to every door!” I tried to hide the faulter in my voice and the flicker of doubt in my eyes. I knew that the minute I walked into Kenya the army would descend on me like flies on shit. However what Huanji didn’t know was that I still ran half of the Mungiki family. Attempting to kill every member who converted to Christianity, every member that remained loyal to my father helped to keep my half in line. Although, I needed to run the whole family. Huanji had it right. I was the boss, the legitimate boss, and because I was the boss, I could have all the privileges. “Make your calls,” I snapped. Huanji reached his good hand and grabbed the phone.
“Hey guard,” I yelled as one of Huanji’s “snatchers” entered “yeah boss?” I pointed to the table over in the farthest corner. The guard must have seen the reason why because his eyes landed upon my blood-stained machete. He nodded and stood by it with an intimidating scowl.
I loved a soldier that knew his place. “Now, why does a man bold as brass walk into my camp of death?” The man did not show the slightest bit of fear just a polite interest as he watched how I handled “business”. He removed his sunglasses to reveal a pair of brown almond eyes. “My name is Thorbjorn Olofsson. I am a member of Kenya’s parliament and a member of the Grand
Coalition.” “Grand Coalition…what the hell are you doing all the way out here Thorbjorn?” My eyes widened in surprise before he could speak. “You’ve come to take me in haven’t you…back to Attica?”
I returned to my chair and leaned back resting my hand on its underside. The underside always contained a small revolver in case something like this was to ever happen. Well, if he was going to take me in, I promised that I would take him with me. Mungiki don’t die like dogs despite my father’s spinelessness. “No, I haven’t come for that,” “boss,” came a soft whimper. I glared down at Huanji whose eyes had become puffy and red. “Please boss,” he cried “WHAT?”
I said almost praying for something to settle the boiling acid in my stomach. “I…I can’t reach him…I-I can’t reach anybody.” I frowned a little and made a motion to the guard to grab the machete. Huanji was more perceptive than his blubbering attitude would have let on. His head shook in terror, “no…b-b-boss p-please!” “You know what Huanji,” I said rising from my seat and grabbing the machete from the guard. Thankfully the guard grabbed Huanji and I motioned for the table. “Wait Mwai you don’t have to…” I raised the machete and pointed it at the man called Thorbjorn. “Quiet,” I said with such menace that he immediately fell silent, a wise choice.
The guard laid Huanji's arm down on the table. “No, the broken one,” I said motioning the guard to hold down the other arm. Huanji tried to recoil as his cries became more panicked.
“N-n-no, Mwai I am trying! I can't get a hold of him…please!” The machete rose high, “you can’t do this I am a public official! I work for the Grand Coalition for Christ’s sake!” The machete still high in the air I ignored Thorbjorn, “your laws mean nothing here! You forget this isn't Kenya…it's Ethiopia. My father believes God can save the Mungiki…save Kenya. Let’s see if he comes down to save you now.” I didn’t even look back as the machete came down and made a sickening THUD as it hit the table. Huanji’s scream was something that I knew I would
remember in my nightmares. I watched as Huanji pulled away blood shooting out of his stub like a geyser. He fell to the ground howling with pain, “oh quit whining! Go grab the pot on the fire, the one that was being cleaned!” The guard held the arm like it was a baseball bat and simply nodded. I liked a soldier that did not say a word. A soldier that followed orders that was the type of man that I needed in my family.
The guard left the tent, which left an awkward silence. Blood began to stain my sand covered oriental carpet. “I don’t have much time Mwai,” I raised the machete to Thorbjorn. The fearless man gulped slightly. Maybe it was the murderous stare I gave him? Maybe it was the fact that I had just hacked a man’s arm off? Maybe it was the machete raised high with blood still dripping from the blade almost like rain? The guard walked through the tent door again this time holding a black pot. “Its hot boss,” I took the pot by the handle and saw smoke rising from within it. “How did you know there was a pot on the fire,” the guard asked. “Because you idiots keep leaving it in the fire when you’re cleaning it,” the guard shook his pudgy face “not me boss!” “Oh, I bet not…don’t think because I’ve been gone that I don’t forget the habits of my men.” I took the pot which made my face cringe a little in pain. “Hold him down,” I ordered.
The guard grabbed Huanji and held the bloody arm. “What…what're you doing,” he said in a blood curdling scream, “relax” I bellowed. The guard held the stump, “I swear I can’t get a hold of anybody…please don’t hurt me anymore!” I lowered the scolding pot towards his stump. “I need you alive and focused Huanji…alive and focused.” The pot lowered to Huanji’s arm and sunk into the stump. Huanji’s scream almost made my skin crawl as it sizzled like steaks on a fire pit. I threw the pot to the floor as I heard the carpet beginning to burn. It didn’t matter anyway the carpet was forever ruined now.
“Let’s try this again ok,” I walked over and picked up the cell phone. I put it into Huanji’s remaining hand. “I want my father…at the bar now!” I grabbed him by his neck, “you got me?” He nodded as I released him disgust clearly etched on my face. I gazed at Thorbjorn who did not appear disgusted, or horror struck just that same simple look of interest. “Why Mwai,” he asked softly. I stared at him almost perplexed by his question. “What would you know about it and why would you care?” Thorbjorn gave a smirk, “oh I know a little more than you think Mwai.” “What could you know…nothing,” I scowled. “I know that your family has been exiled to the four corners of Africa, and your father has become a born-again Christian.”
“Who doesn’t know that…” I retorted. “I know that your family is starting to divide in half and soon will be fighting within itself.” This I did not expect. I had also forgotten about the bloody machete that I still held in my hands.
Suddenly I realized how he must know this information. “So, the United Nations has got to stick its nose in my families’ business still?” “You’re losing control,” replied Thorbjorn. “It won’t matter,” I growled pointing the machete down to Huanji who was speaking wildly in Kenyan. “Once I cut off the snake’s heads the rest of them will fall into place.” Thorbjorn gave a smirk “you don’t believe that do you?” “Are you calling me a liar?” I warned Thorbjorn who stood politely, “no Mwai I am not.” “Then why do you mock me?” “You wouldn’t be having him call up everybody he knows to locate your father. You know that the snake can still move without the head. So, you are going to have to…” “Yes, yes, yes, you’re a very smart man Thorbjorn! I see why you hold great power and influence in our country.”
Giving Huanji a disgusted look his puffy red eyes were a dreadful sight. “Why should I do this if you are just going to kill me?” I pulled up Huanji from his muddy shirt and stuck the machete into his shoulder. It was a shallow puncture, but he screamed in pain as his mouth ran
with saliva. I withdrew the machete and let him fall to the ground. “Hold that piece of shit down,” I yelled grabbing my cigar. It lay smoldering in a mud ashtray that I had made in my boredom. I puffed on it a few times as I watched the guard struggling to hold him down, “please Mwai don’t I beg you!” “Shut up Huanji…” I took the now burning cigar and made sure to put it out in his left eye. I heard it sizzle as the cigar burned deep into his skull. The eye had become black, and the skin looked dead when I removed it. Huanji began convulsing on the floor as his body seemed to be going into shock. I grabbed his shirt “You’re going to do it, or I am going to cut you up piece by piece until you do!”
I threw my destroyed cigar on the ground and grabbed the machete again, “WAIT!” I turned to Thorbjorn whose hands had finally separated, “please I beg you to spare this man’s life.” “HA,” I laughed and reached down to cut off his nose. “I know that the key is Nairobi.” I froze in mid-motion, “what about it?” Thorbjorn began to speak faster hoping to detour me from my action. “I know that if you can get back into Nairobi you can control everything and unite your family under YOUR direct rule.” “My direct rule…what I have always wanted!” “What if I could get you back into Nairobi and bring you your father?” Still frozen in mid-slash I was now curious “oh yeah, how?” “I am a member of the Grand Coalition. I have got a lot of friends in high places. In fact, that’s the reason why I came out here today.” “You are a funny man Thorbjorn…a very funny man! So, I'm supposed to believe that you drove out into the middle of the Ethiopian desert just to offer me the city of Nairobi and my father on a silver platter?” “I'm not offering you the city! I am just saying I can get your exile revoked.” I shook my head “no matter same difference, you’re handing me a city and my father…any man that can do all that is a man I want to do business with.”
I had forgotten that I had lowered my machete. His humor seemed to soften my anger.
“And you’re offering me this out of…charity?” Thorbjorn shook his head, “oh it comes at a price.” I chuckled, “it always does!” “I need you to come with me to Banjul.” “Gambia,” I exclaimed with such a boisterous laugh that I dropped my machete. I wagged my finger at him,
“a very funny man indeed!” I wiped a tear from my eye, “why in Allah would I ever want to do that?” “There's a man speaking to the African Commission on Human and Peoples' Rights to bring to light the violence plaguing his home country. A man that we both don’t care for.” He must have taken my silence as an invitation to continue. “Your father Maina…he’s not in Kenya, he’s in Gambia.” I shook my head. “I'm going to kill him!” “Well, that's the point of the trip.” Thorbjorn smiled wider, which made his face unusually large. Smiles weren’t a good look for him. “I am on the United Nation’s Most Wanted List again, how are we…” Thorbjorn raised his hand “you will be taking a jet with some other people.”
“I knew it! You want to arrest me and put me back in Attica!” Thorbjorn lowered his hand and said “no, you will be flown immediately back when this man is met with his unfortunate accident. If you don’t believe me, you don’t even have to fly. I'll give you a vehicle to drive. Although, it is a very far drive.” “You lie,” I said in such disbelief. “I will be on the plane with you,” I gave a reluctant look. “What if I could promise you that Joseph Michael will be on the plane too?” My reluctant look slackened now hearing that there would be a man I could trust. Joseph Michael was a man that I owed my life too. If he was going, I would know I would be in safe hands. I would never leave my home. However if I was guaranteed what I was promised, “I want a group of my men to come for personal protection.” Thorbjorn said “alright but we have to leave now. I have already set up the proper accommodations for your arrival in Moscow. Everything is taken care of I can assure you. As far as Joseph, I can have him on the
phone in thirty seconds.” I smiled and pulled out my phone, “I can get him in ten.” I gave a laugh and sheathed my machete. I turned to one of my guards “when my brother gets back tell him that he is the shepherd while I am gone.” “I’m sorry Mwai but no machetes are allowed in the hummer.” I took it out and flipped it around my hand several times. “And does the wolf go anywhere without his claws…his teeth?” “Very well, I’m afraid time is short and your window to your father is limited.”
I sheathed my machete again and walked out of the tent with the man. Thorbjorn picked up the phone and began to dial a number, “well let’s go Mr. Black Wolf grab your toys and your men.” Reaching into my top drawer I grabbed my pistol and a little insurance package. If they were going to arrest me, I would never be taken alive. My top drawer revealed a rather large and outdated looking cell phone. I grabbed it and pocketed it smiling as I strolled out the tent.
Causing destruction with the pressing of one button and it was labeled, REDIAL.
“I’m on the phone with Joseph now Mr. Njenga. One man can ride in the car with us, the rest of your men will have to follow in another car. I decided to take “Mr. Loyalty” with me and pointed to six other men that were shining and cleaning large automatic weapons. “Joseph assures me that he will not only be in Moscow, but he will be joining us on the ride. It seems that he has been conducting business out here for the past couple days.” Joseph was a lawyer that I owed an enormous debt too which could only be paid in blood. Allah truly blessed me over two years ago when I was sitting in an Attica jail cell waiting for my verdict. There was not a shred of hope that I would ever breath free air again. I even began to make my peace with Allah, but he had blessed me with a second life. Joseph came into my cell sweating, smelling, tired, eyes blood shot, and yellow pit stains. He smiled as he looked up at me, “I got you off on all counts.” That was the very first time in my life I had said “thank you,” to a man and meant it.
I told him about my debt, and he told me he had been just doing his job. However, it seemed like it was more than that. Even when the curtains were dropped, he was still fighting for my release.
Who would have thought just a year later I would be back on the United Nation’s Most Wanted list for the same exact crimes only different victims?
I was brought back to reality when a cell phone was slapped in my hand, “hello?” “Mwai my friend been a while huh?” “Mr. Joseph been a long time indeed. Does Mr. Olofsson speak the truth. You are here in Ethiopia?” “Technically, I am in Moyale helping represent Oromo Liberation members. Although, enough about me I see we are back to our old selves now, aren’t we?” “Always surviving just surviving…so, this deal…my exile will be expunged?” I didn’t even need to finish because Joseph replied, “yes, I am involved in the proceedings. I am one of the people besides Thorbjorn who will be pleading your case. I should have some paperwork when I arrive barring a few signatures. However, I think with all your previous acquittals it looks favorable.” He must have sensed my hesitation the thought of falling into a trap, “trust in me my friend. Mr. Olofsson stands to gain a lot from this, and so do I. You have told me about your father and if you want, what you want, then this is the only way to get it.” I paused and thought for a long while. The seconds seemed to pass as I heard Joseph ask “well?” I gave a large huff, “alright I’ll be there but no papers or you then I don’t go.” “I’d expect as much, I’ll see you soon my friend,” Joseph hung up the phone and I handed it back to Mr. Olofsson. “Are we good,” he asked, “yeah,” I waved to my soldiers and ordered them to take two cars and follow us. They loaded up high power artillery as I softly patted the explosive cell phone in my pocket. I enter the armored hummer with Thorbjorn and his escort. He smiled as he said, “can I offer you anything Mwai? It’s a long drive to the airfield perhaps a tea, soda?”
(September 1973)
The night was silent as Mwai stared up into the heavens. It was the first and last trip that his father Maina had ever taken him on. Always busy with “work” and meeting with his friends, he never spent any time with him. Most of the time Mwai couldn’t help but wonder if he even knew of his existence. His father had many friends and when he created the family business those friends soon became his family. He was at that age when innocence was precious and could never be bought back. His father had been lazily stoking the fire before striding over to join his son at his side.
“You having a good birthday my son?” Mwai prodded a stick into a large mud pile.
“Yeah, I’m just glad you wanted to spend time with me.” His father’s hand grazed his back with a tired little sigh. “I know I haven’t been around much since your mother died. Although, one day I’ll introduce you to your new family, your future family. Then you and I will be spending all the time in the world together.” “You think that I am going to be ready soon?” His father threw his arm around him and brought him in closer, “not too soon Mwai…not too soon.”
Releasing him Mwai gave a smile, “I want you to enjoy your childhood. This society requires children to become adults at such a young age…child soldiers, child drug addicts. It’s disgusting my son. However as long as my family stays in power every child should have a childhood.”
Slapping his back, “come with me boy. I want to show you your birthday present.”
Getting to his feet, his legs seemed almost unable to support his tiny figure. His father placed his arm on his back and led him down a small hill. “It’s around here son,” they moved down another path and came upon a small valley. “Sit and have a look,” It took a minute for Mwai’s eyes to adjust. In the distance, he saw his father’s present.
A small river tracing the land like a giant scar upon a once beautiful face glistened in the moonlight. He saw herds of animals stretching over the landscape. Many were heading in the opposite direction and heading towards the horizon. Many were stopping and drinking from the murky river below. “See my son, this…this is what I wanted to show you. This is your present.”
Mwai didn’t understand as he watched the animals all in unison moving towards the same destination. “I have built and given you a great life Mwai. Although, the one thing I have never been able to do is be there for you. You are my blood, but with us family runs deeper than blood. Family is the essence of life and when family sticks together there is no limit to how far it can travel or take you. Don’t you see Mwai?” His father waved his hand tracing the river,
“we…you…me…our family, we are the water. The Mungiki is like the water. Necessary….and everybody eventually needs something from us in this land. We must run our family like a business…be one with the Earth.” Mwai watched his father pick up soil from the ground.
“Business is like salt in the palm of our hand…” His father turned his hand spilling the soil. “We can cause disaster with a mere turn of it.”
“I don’t understand,” his father smiled and clapped him on the shoulder. “You will little Mwai…one day you will. When your grandfather told me this, I had no idea as well. When I give you control and officially bless you in, I promise you will understand.” They sat and watched the animals for what seemed like ages. “The Mungiki are family as long as the Njenga name runs it. We will always provide to the people and forever stretch like the river.”
GRRRRR… a startled Mwai leapt into the air but his father’s vice like grip planted him firmly back onto the Earth. “Easy my son, easy,” Mwai watched his father point towards the tall grass near a herd of zebras. The grass parted as the very air seemed to separate it. “That is the other present, my boy…now watch!” Mwai watched as the grass came to a stop. He saw the
zebra’s tending to the grass before slightly moving on grazing lazily in the night. Mwai felt his eyes bulge as he saw a large lioness emerge. She went after the smallest zebra. The zebras fled in panic as the lioness chased one of the baby zebras until they become shadows. “That is what I wanted to show you and the real reason we are here. I am relieved that it happened.” Mwai sat in horror as he knew somewhere a pride of lions would be enjoying a meal. “The weak will always get picked off. Nature itself is cruel but…but my son listen carefully nature is cruel for survival. People in the western world they won’t understand that. They’re cushioned up, too busy worrying about their celebrities and media gossip. The point my son is survival in this world can only be done through cruelty. You must remove fear from your heart and soul and do what needs to be done to survive. You can either be the lion or the zebra there’s no other choice…fear my son is like a cancer. It is a plague that eats away at you and everybody around you…restricts you and leaves you running in blindness. A man without fear is a man to be feared. Do you understand this son?” Mwai shook his head, “no, I’m sorry dad.” Clapping his son on the back, “don’t worry Mwai, one day you will…one day you will. Now let’s go back and get some sleep.”
Walking back Mwai couldn’t help but wonder about his father’s present. Advice was his father’s gift, but he wished he had a soccer ball instead. Shaking his head as his father gripped his hand saying softly, “Mwai!” Mwai’s attention was drawn to his wide-eyed father. “There is somebody in our campsite!” Mwai gripped his father’s hand in terror. His father released it and instead reached into his waist to remove a pistol. “Mwai, I need you to hide in the bushes and come out only when I say it is ok…ok?” Mwai nodded and hid himself in the tall grass. He watched his father creep up the hill his words muffled, “nobody…steal…Mungiki.” His father made his way over the small hill to the campsite and disappeared. Mwai listened carefully and
soon a gunshot rang. It popped like a firework and soon the night became silent again. Several more minutes passed as Mwai clenched his legs in nervousness. What was he going to do if his father was killed? How would he get back? After all, he couldn’t drive the car he was still too young.
“Mwai,” came a familiar voice. His heart seemed to have learned how to dance because it wouldn’t stop. “Its alright son come on up here.” Mwai emerged and stared at his father.
Something about him silhouetted in the night with the fire and smoke blazing behind him was something fearful. The pistol clenched tightly in his hand as his father looked menacing. The love and happiness that he once possessed at the beginning of his birthday trip was gone.
“Mwai, your father is talking now get over here!” Mwai gave a little gulp and began to move towards him. He wouldn’t dare cross his father when he looked like that. His father’s wrinkled face and unshaven mustache seemed to demonize his harsh attributes. He looked like something that had come out of the darkness from under his bed.
Mwai walked upon the camp and saw that there were two mysterious people in their camp. A dark-skinned man was lying on the ground clenching his bloody leg. A child a bit younger than him was crying gripping onto his bleeding father. Mwai turned to his father, who showed no pity. “Well, Mwai it seems that we have two big pieces of news for you. As you can see the first one is that we have some uninvited guests in our camp. The other is I get to teach you another valuable life lesson. A lesson that I hoped I could teach you later. However, fate has put them here and I never argue with fate.”
The man was begging on the ground. “P-please Maina I didn’t know this was your camp.
I would never try to steal…” “But you did steal…you’re a thief and nobody steals from the
Mungiki…nobody!” Placing his pistol in his waist, he moved towards the ground and picked up a silver object that Mwai had not even noticed. “So why does a thief need a machete?” The boy still cried at his father’s side. “Please sir, we are trying to escape. My father and I just needed…” Mwai’s father raised the machete, “well that’s the problem isn’t it boy! Your father needed but didn’t ask first.” Motioning to Mwai, “remove the child Mwai…get him out of here.” The boy gripped his father tighter, “Mwai remove the child!” Mwai walked over and pulled on the boy’s ratty shirt and malnourished shoulder. However, the boy wouldn’t remove his arms from around his father. “P-p-please, w-w-we’re only r-running away,” the boy’s words were garbled from his tears. Mwai watched his father storm over and remove the child easily throwing him several feet. “Please don’t kill me! I didn’t know it was your stuff!” To his astonishment Mwai’s father gave him the machete. “Now son listen…remember when I told you nature is cruel? Nature for man is greed, the feeling of more…” “More,” yelled the crying man.
“I-I don’t have ANYTHING were refugees. The soldiers came…destroyed my farm!” Mwai’s father grabbed Mwai’s shoulders and turned him to face the trespassers.
“Listen Mwai, people are always going to try and steal from you. They always will want what you have. You must instill fear of reprisals. They must be swift and brutal so nobody will steal from you. Soon everybody will fear that you will take what’s theirs. This man tried to steal, and he must be made an example of. Nobody steals from the Mungiki Mwai…nobody!”
Mwai watched his father move around the crying man. “Give me your arm," “please not in front of my son!” His father held the man down and outstretched his arm exposing his hand. “Take his hand Mwai,” immediately Mwai shook his head, “I don’t want...” “Cut off his hand you little chicken shit! Otherwise, I’m going to tie you to a tree and let the lions sniff at you until you
grow a pair. One day you will run this family and I’m not going to leave it to a pathetic, worthless...” Mwai raised the machete and sent it slamming onto the man’s wrist.
The scream filled Mwai’s entire body and sent chills running into his very soul. The blood that shot out was something like a squirt gun. The man screamed in pain as his dirty orange shirt and jeans became soaked in blood darker than oil. The boy was crying as Mwai’s father made his way to the child and kicked him hard. Forcing him to his knees, “he must be punished too.” The machete shook in Mwai’s hands as the brown almond-eyed boy stared up at him. The mysterious boy’s knees shook as terror evidently filled him. Mwai’s hands raised the machete which wobbled in them. They had grown sweaty as his grip began to slip. The boy seemed a lot further than Mwai’s arms could reach wielding the machete. He closed his eyes and took a swing where it landed, he didn’t care. He just hoped it would be over as quick as it had started.
(September 1988)
“Dad, what’s so special about this place?” Mwai had grown older and had become a father himself. His son resembled everything about him down to his black hair and small gap between his teeth. The mother was a captured girl that had served her purpose. The gift that she had given was a mere accident but still a gift none-the-less. She had succumbed to Cholera before she died. Although, love was never part of their relationship. The love she gave was given on a daily basis whether she wanted to or not. “Etana, my son this is where my father took me on my birthday. He taught me many things your grandfather. That is the reason I brought you out here. To teach you the same lessons that he had taught me. They are what I live by even to this day.” “Dad I am only eight.” “I was not much older than you my child, now run along
and play for a second. Let me grab my machete and I’ll take you to your present. Go on, run along but stay close to the fire Etana there are many dangers out here.”
The Ethiopian landscape could be a harsh mistress but at night the air grew cool.
Tonight, a gentle wind was coming out of the east. Mwai ravaged through his tent, “where is it?
Where did I put it?” Searching through his sleeping bag and underneath his pillow, “by Allah where is it?” “AHHHH,” raising his head, “Etana,” he yelled. Standing up he saw his machete lying on the folding chair. Running out of the tent in a panic, “Etana…Etana…Etana…where are you?” A growling could be heard and a soft calamity of animals howling behind the grass.
Grabbing the machete, he made his way towards the noise. The grass parted as the fire slowly died in the distance. “Etana, Etana, where are you?” Mwai scanned the area trying desperately to find some sign of his son.
There came a scuffing and rustling of grass about a yard away from him. Machete clenched in his hand he darted over towards the rustling and stopped dead in his tracks. He fell upon a sight that he hoped was only the result of a nightmare. An Ethiopian wolf had taken his son by the throat. His lifeless body hung like a broken doll in the mouth of the large wolf. It was a wolf that Mwai had never seen before. It was larger than a hyena and barely smaller than a lioness. It stared at Mwai as it snarled with the lifeless body of Etana in its mouth. Its eyes were bright as firecrackers as it glared at him in the darkness. The wolf was black as charcoal and its fur lay mangled in clumps. The wolf dropped Etana as it stared at Mwai. “Get, get out of here,” but the wolf didn’t run. It stood its ground determined to keep its meal. Mwai twirled the machete in his hand as he approached the creature. He spun the blade with such accuracy the wolf seemed to lose track of it. Its teeth snarled and Mwai thought he had it. The machete gave a quick slash, but the wolf dodged it and returned with a lunge.
Its teeth locked onto Mwai’s forearm. “AHHH,” Mwai felt its teeth beginning to shred at his arm. Mwai twirled and threw the beast off of him. The wolf flew several feet and tumbled through the grass. Mwai clenched his arm, “I’m going to skin you beast!” Making his way towards his son, Etana laid motionless his throat ripped open. Mwai had never cried in his life, but upon seeing the mangled corpse of his son he felt tears beginning to fill his eyes.
GRRRRR… the wolf returned, “you killed my son!” The wolf snarled louder thick white foam dripped from his bloody teeth. “I’ll kill you!” The wolf took another lethal lunge. It dodged the first swipe and made another lunge which Mwai twirled around to avoid. It snapped repeatedly making Mwai jump back several times. The beast gave a great lunge as Mwai yelled in a vengeful fury. He stepped to the side sending the blade to fall where he previously stood. The creature had missed Mwai but caught the blade in its shoulder. It didn’t seem to notice the large gash, but it caught Mwai off guard and lunged on top of him. Mwai fell backwards as the mere power of the wolf sent him to the ground.
The machete fell to the ground as Mwai kept the wolf at bay with the one good arm he still had left. The beast snapped at his face a mere inch from ripping it apart. His other arm reached for the fallen machete as the wolf closed in. His fingers dug into the dirt as the smell of death hit his nostrils. Kicking up dirt his fingers searched every inch trying to find the custom grip that he had added to the blade. Finally, he found it and gripped it tightly, “this is for Etana you son of a bitch!” Raising the machete, he slid it across the wolf’s throat. The wolf’s eyes bulged as blood poured over Mwai’s face. He sputtered for several seconds before throwing the limp creature off of him. He didn’t know how long he lay there but finally he scooped up his son and moved him back to the tent.
Why Can’t I Escape
[Candidate: Aednat McShane]
The sun was high in the afternoon as a crowd of people stood below me. Cheering loudly and waving our nations flag, the green, white, and orange still filled me with such pride. Ireland was always such a beautiful country and was always a key reason for my continued resistance.
The cheering grew louder as a lone man crossed a stage more than a hundred yards away from me. I watched the bald man wave to the people smiling with every stride. “That’s it,” I whispered focusing my eye through my high-tech rifle scope. I flipped off the safety as the man approached the podium. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky and the sun felt warm on my back. I held my breath as I steadied the rifle. “This is for the RIRA…for the unity of Ireland.”
My aim steadied as I saw the man waving jovially in my cross hairs. The wind was 5
miles out of the east. I saw my target give another wave as to my horror his lovely wife and three children came to the stage. “Shit,” I heard myself whisper as I saw him lean over and kiss his newborn baby’s forehead. The child was snuggly between its mother’s arms. I had to take the shot. I took my breath and returned my sight to my scope. His radiant smile beamed as his hand rested on his daughter’s shoulder. For my father, for my family, for my beliefs, and for the cause I steadied my aim. “Range 304 feet,” I felt the trigger squeeze under my finger as the sniper rifle jolted in my hands. The target grabbed at his face with a howl of pain. I had missed by centimeters but thankfully I was still able to cause a lethal blow. I watched the man fall to the ground as men in black suits covered the body. His wife nearly dropped the newborn baby in her shock. The other children stared completely horrorstricken. I withdrew from the rifle and began
to dismantle it placing it into the contents of a blue backpack. I was about to turn from the scene when I remembered something, my little trademark. Pulling out a miniature Irish flag I found a nice crack in the concrete and stood it over the spot where I had taken my shot. Silver lettering appeared on the flag, Unite Ireland. I watched the little flag fly lightly in the breeze. I didn’t think about the storm clouds that closed in on my family. There would be time to think about that later. I had to live to fight another day and to do that I had to escape. I had seen too many of my brethren fall to their naïve beliefs towards British intelligence and occupation.
I hoisted the book bag on my shoulder and was preparing to sprint from the roof top to make my getaway. My fellow Irish citizens were screaming as chaos seemed to ensue the crowd. From somewhere that seemed like miles away I heard a door opening I almost forgot where I was for the moment. “All units, all units suspect is on top of the Willis building all units I repeat…” I turned and saw the officer that I had incapacitated upon my arrival now standing in the doorway that led to my primary escape. Granted the second escape was a rusted scaffolding ladder two floors down. I swore if I had to use it I would immediately follow it with a visit to the hospital.
I raised my 9 mm. pistol from my waist and emptied the whole magazine into the man before he fell backwards down the flight of steps. I heard several bones snap before he reached the last step. Now was the moment for me to panic. I had hoped for at least a five-minute head start, but now time was against me. Making sure to not touch anything I exited hurriedly down the stairs and stepped over the officer. I was so angry at my sponsor that I had to give him a call when I was clear. I had to give him a piece of my mind before I forgot about it. For now, I had to plan my escape. I took the stairs three at a time and stopped cold when I saw people advancing up them. “Damn,” I heard myself yell as I heard the thundering stomps of what
seemed like hundreds of officers. A tactical team was moving up the steps with military precision. There was only one other way, “the scaffold!” The entrance to which was one floor down. I hopped down the steps and with a hard-military style kick. My Timberlands made easy work of the door which swung open as its chain lock clattered to ground. I had interrupted a family watching television.
They screamed as I slammed the door closed. I raised my pistol and pointed it at the older gentlemen with a quick finger to my lips. I made my way to the window and opened it.
The family had removed themselves from the couch and began cowering in the corner. “If you even have a SHRED of nationalism when the police arrive you didn’t see anything…alright?” I pointed my pistol at my fellow Irish countrymen and stuck my leg out the window. “If I find out that you gave me up, I’ll be back! The Puca never forgets!” I heard the people whispering as I climbed out the window and began running down the iron stairs. I heard the woman yell behind me, “Are you really the Puca?” I didn’t even answer the question I was already three floors below their window.
I hopped over the last railing and landed hard on a rusted dumpster. I dropped the last couple of feet landing softly as I headed down the narrow alleyway. I saw people running and cars at a standstill. My fellow countrymen seemed to be half rioting, half fleeing for their lives.
It was total chaos and somewhere deep down, I found it exhilarating. After all, it was mine and our organization destiny. The RIRA leading its brothers and sisters out into the streets to reunite Ireland under the one true flag. I almost wanted to smile at all the chaos and devastation but before I reached the sidewalk three men appeared before me. Dressed in the cliché black suits they blocked off the alley. “We have encountered possible suspect…” I began to retreat slowly until I heard footsteps from behind me. Three more men were approaching from behind.
Scanning my surroundings quickly I found no rescue, nor any sign of hope. I dropped the book bag and pulled apart my shirt. I knew the moment they all froze they were all either expecting me to withdraw a weapon or give them a free show. When I pulled out a silver like object their attention all directed to it. “Let me go or I’ll blow us all up!” I twirled around watching the men edging closer towards me. They stared at the small yellow bricks that surrounded my body. Red and black wires ran from the silver detonator to the vest strapped around my body.
I saw the slight fear in their eyes and hesitation in their encirclement. The panic that rose at the sight of a person strapped with so much C4 that they could level a city block. The men didn’t look like they had a clue on what to do. My thumb hung over the red button, “let…
me…go!” They all looked at each other stunned by the sudden turn of events. I saw another officer inch closer, “I’m warning you! You obviously haven’t been watching the news?” One of the men seemed to stare at me, “I am the Puca!” The men continued to stare but one seemed to study me like he was studying for a test.
I waved my hand, “let me go and I’ll let all of us live.” The youngest man who had been staring at me shook his head, “she’s not going to do it.” “And how do you know? I am the Puca! The most infamous RIRA patriot that even has your government tucking its tail between its legs.” I held my hand to my heart, “my life for the RIRA! My life for a united Irish way.”
The lead officer smirked, “that’s never going to happen. Your dream is dead. The peace negotiations have already taken place and you better get used to that. You’re only delaying progress for your people. Now lower that…” I rose the detonator higher, “I am prepared to do what I must for the cause! How many of you can say the same thing for what you believe?” I watched them inch closer, “one more step and I’ll do it! I swear to God!”
The young man smiled, “you know I don’t think you will, especially with your fellow countrymen running around. Now why don’t you just drop your little toy and…” I watched him reach for the detonator and I realized I had no choice. I clicked the button and with a loud BANG
the world seemed to disappear around me. White powder exploded from the small bricks sending out a cloud of white followed by a “where’d she go?” “Grab her,” yelled another man.
However, in the chaos I had ducked knowing the contents to the bricks were nothing more than ordinary baking flour. I withdrew my pistol and fired several times sending a couple bodies to the ground. Now was my chance I pushed through two men hearing a man yell, “she just passed me!” Another yelled from a distance, “I got two down over here!”
I tore down the alley and was soon swallowed up by the crowds of people. I tried to move quickly squatting low hoping my presence would get lost in the chaos. I moved behind a crowd of people and ducked behind another alley. I moved as fast as I could and crossed over another street. I followed a heard of people who were crying. I heard one woman yell, “the rioters are coming this way!” I saw a herd of people coming and many were overturning cars or throwing objects through windows. I began to run as far from the rioting as I could stopping only when I could make a phone call.
I removed my destroyed vest and let it fall to the ground with a slight metallic THUD. I withdrew from my pocket a disposable cell phone and dialed the number of my sponsor for this assassination. I had never met the man but only knew of his money. I imagined that he was a mousy man too weak and spineless to meet a real soldier in person. He answered the phone in a weak, “hello?” “Hello Mr. Chevy…” He sounded sleepy like he had just woken up,
“why…how did the assignment go?” “Primary objective has been achieved. I expect the transfer in the next hour.” I heard my sponsor, “no I’m coming to deliver the package
personally. I am actually flying there as we speak.” “I’m sorry Mr. Chevy but I don’t meet personally after an assignment.” The man’s mousy voice became silent. The seconds ticked by and “no,” he said as if the word was foreign to him. “That is just not how we do business…it’s not how I do business.” “Well, I think your business motto is going to change unless you want the package to get lost in the mail.” “I can assure you that problems will arise upon the package not reaching its destination.” “Well then you will meet me at The Angry Goat in Belfast at nine sharp.” I didn’t even have time to reply as the phone died in my hands. “I don’t go to Belfast…Damn it,” I yelled. I gripped the cell phone and began to smash it to pieces in my rage.
Either this man was a fool and didn’t know the proper etiquette to do business or he was smarter than he sounded. For now, I needed to get away and the safest place for me was the only person I could truly trust now.
(Two Hours Later)
“Jesus and the sacred mother what are you doing here girlie?” A senior man with an Irish borough as colorful as the highlands greeted me at the door. He had red hair like mine which our deceased mother said was woven from the Irish fires from the first clans of our people. His skin was like mine pale as fresh milk, “Get in here quick!” Taking several glances outside, I moved inside and dropped my bag. “I’m sorry Da I just couldn’t…” Slap… my father’s hand had raked across my face nearly taking it off including my freckles. I felt my brain wobble like clothes in a washing machine. “I’m sorry Da…” “You have no idea how sorry you should be! I should have left you out there! You’re a fool Aednat…damn it if you don’t remind me of your mother!” He slapped me again, “and THAT’S for doing what you’re doing…AND don’t give me that look lass!” “Da, I just needed help and didn’t know where else to go.” He raised his bony finger at me blue eyes ablaze, “oh no baby girl Da is not bailing you out this time. I told
you what would happen if you continued those futile assignments. I am not helping you out with this one! You’re all over the news Aednat! I hope it was worth it! This time you’ve gone too far. You’re going to have to pay for this one. You can’t stay here, oh no not here Aednat! And you can’t run anywhere you’re wanted practically everywhere. My own daughter wanted in over nine countries…” I smiled “look who’s talking Da!” My father raised his palm as if wanting to smack me again. He hesitated and fought his lips that threatened to reveal a faint smirk. “My number is not that high lass. I told you what would happen if I ever saw you again! You and your fellow soldiers are a parasite. You should have called them for help!”
“Da, I really need your help, my sponsor…” “Not a word angel…not another word!” He paused revealing a deep internal conflict and then finally shook his head. “Alright let’s get you cleaned up and rested. You have two hours alright?” I nodded my head, “that’s perfect,”
running closer I kissed his cheek. He took it with a smile. “You’re welcome shall I make tea?”
I nodded again, “that sounds great.” “Very well,” he gave me a one-armed hug and I made my way up the stairs. My father had held the Quartermaster General seat on the General Headquarters Staff in the Official Irish Republican Army Southern Command. Now, he was on the Army Council for the Provisionals helping to continue the peace talks and negotiate the complete disarmament of all armies. Although, Da believed in family and I knew he would help even in my greatest hour of need. In the end, everything was for the cause.
A shower felt good and with a new change of clothes came a fresh perspective. “Da listen I need another favor. I need to know what you did with those boxes from me room.” “Out in the garage…why are you asking?” I took a seat at the familiar wobbly kitchen table, “just need something before I go.” My father began to pour my tea as he sat down next to me. His eyes slightly twinkled as he sipped on his tea. “So, tell me how’s the disarmament going?” Her
father gagged on his tea slightly. “I’m sorry but one of us was going to bring it up sooner or later.” He stared at me as he tried to regain his composure. He eyed me for a second before lowering his teacup. “We are continuing to decommission all our arms. So, in other words my angel they are still happening…like it or not.” “So, the Provos are giving up ALL of their arms?” “All of them…we have ended all armed campaigns and struggles.” He said trying to finalize the conversation. “Who is giving them up?” I watched him take a deep breath, “some of the INLA, us, Porters, Browne’s, O’Regan’s, what’s left of the OIRA, and PIRA. The only ones that are still fighting are the Continuity and well…you guys. In return, they have taken down aspects of the security wall as a sign of good faith. In a couple years, the Official IRA and Provisional IRA will be completely one hundred percent disarmed. So, now you can see why I can’t help you next time. You will have to go Aednat. I can’t see you again angel. Please drink your tea and be gone.”
The silence seemed to envelop them both and Aednat smiled at her father, “Da there is something else that I need to ask you?” She watched her father thin his lips at her and then give a hesitant “go on.” “I am thinking about leaving the RIRA,” “is that so angel?” Aednat nodded,
“I have been getting together like-minded people to try and establish a new group…led by a new council. I have come here to also ask you to join me to be Chief of Staff and fight together like we did in the OIRA and the Provisionals remember that?” “Angel that was years ago.” I nodded lowering my tea, “I know Da that is why I am asking you. You were on the Army Council.
Who better to help lead us…represent the cause? Think of everything you taught me…everything you did to me…mom did to me. The pain and struggle to instill that ideology into me. It cost me everything I have…everything I loved! YOU took that away from me! You can’t just erase that now that you have had a change of heart! The cause is all I have left…all
WE have left. We must unite Ireland and the only way…” “THE ONLY WAY,” her father’s voice rose as his eyes burned into hers. “The only way my angel is through politics the old ways are done. I can never take back everything that I had done to you or the father I was.” “The only way that they will understand is through violence Da. You told me that…taught me that!
Everything for the cause right…remember Michael?”
Her father sighed and shook his head mournfully, “Aye, of course I remember Michael. I will always remember Michael. He was family after all. But you know as well as I that we both parted ways because we both believe different things. I put my guns down for progress…real progress…you have not.” Aednat was about to speak but her father cut her off, “why did you leave the CIRA? Why didn’t you come back with me to the Provisionals? Maybe with us you would have found your peace? Maybe have been able to put your guns away too? Your mother would have wanted that..not wanted to see you embrace the Pooka the people and news call you.
Oh yes, my angel, I hear the whispers that people say about you.” “Ma is gone Da…killed by the occupiers…or did you forget that?”
Da’s face hardened and I could see the old rage starting to grow. It always made me shrink…remembering how small he could make me feel…insignificant. My heart panged slightly for my fallen love, Michael. I turned, “I promise you Da I had no idea that they were just bank robberies. I thought…well, they said that it was all for the cause. I was stupid…that’s why ok? I left my seat and joined the RIRA. You should have come when I asked you?” “I couldn’t angel when you get older you will realize that violence is no longer the answer…no longer necessary.”
“You should have come back to the PIRA…join the peace talks with us?” Aednat shook her head, “I was offered a council position on the Continuity Da. They said they still believe in the war! Still believe they are the rightful military of all of Ireland. I won’t accept British peace talks. So, I took the seat.” “But you left the Continuity for the RIRA, how could you get invested in those thugs too! They will kill anybody just to gain unity.” “I don’t agree with the slaughter of innocent people but to gain a united Ireland we must fight more than just loyalists, British soldiers, and the government. We must strike anything and anybody that will help gain our objective.” “At the cost of innocent countrymen,” “well that’s why I am trying to start a new group Da. That is why I have been doing so many outside missions. Why I am asking you to help me start another group to get everything back on track. The way it should be, the way it should’ve always been…about the end goal…about the cause.” “I’m sorry but I’m too old angel.
My fighting years have been long gone. We must now put everything into the peace talks and politics…now drink up and please go.”
Raising the tea, I sipped it slowly. Nodding my head accepting his dismissal, “you always could make a great pot of tea Da.” His voice wavered a little, “I’m, I’m glad that you think so.” Taking another sip, “I’m not going to flee Da. I’m going to fight and continue to fight. I have many soldiers that agree with me and are ready to continue the war. You taught me that your brothers-in-arms can be closer than family. They fight, die, and are there when you need them the most. We are a family and you prepared me to risk everything for the cause.”
Sipping on my tea more I saw my father staring at my lips and then at the tea. “You know you look just like your mother,” I could feel myself blush. “Da, I do not. My skins too pale and my cheek bones are too high.” He smiled, “cheek bones too high,” he chuckled slightly. “My little Aednat always finds the smallest imperfections.”
I sipped my tea some more, “I never realized how tired I am. Sometimes I wish…oh, I just wish the fighting was over.” “Angel there is something that I have to tell you and it is extremely difficult.” I continued to sip the tea feeling it relaxing every muscle in my body. “I heard through the council that the RIRA has expelled you and your renegade bunch. You are no longer recognized by them, nor any other army. And each group have agreed that if we see you doing missions in any of our names. The standing orders are to kill you, which means my angel I will have to kill you myself. You’re not fighting for a cause anymore. The truth is I already knew about the group you are starting. You and your fellow soldiers are nothing but a bunch of terrorists…not soldiers.” I knew my face had drooped in confusion. “How can you say this?
YOU…of all people…our entire life has always been for the cause.”
Da’s fingers gripped his teacup tighter as he surveyed me with a little sigh. “You and your followers have lost your way. Your continued resistance to these peace treaties. The killing of diplomats, officers, and political officials were nails sealing not only your coffin.
However, your little assignment today simply buried it.” “Da, why are you saying this? What about Michael? What did he give his life for then! I loved him Da. I know you could never accept that being that he was…”
Da raised his hand, “this is not about Michael lass. It is about us going political. That is how we get our country…our united Ireland…resistance is no longer an option or needed. The people are tired of war and the army is no longer needed. Our influence among our very own people is waning and support is dwindling. Volunteers are becoming harder and fewer to find.
Your nail bomb at the police station last December was foolish and unauthorized even by the RIRA. The only way to unite Ireland is through Sinn Fein…not through violence. Your resistance is slowing down our progress.”
I felt my body start to shake as I gazed wearily at my teacup. “Da, w-what’s going on, I feel…funny?” I dropped my teacup as my vision began to grow shaky. W-what…what did y-you do to m-me?” His face fell, “I’m sorry angel but your incident today cost all of us a price that we had to pay. I’ve had death threats, a visit by the P.S.N.I., and the government pushing in on me. I can’t cover for you anymore. They are forcing me to turn you over…believe me when I say I had no other choice angel. I love you remember that!” “What have you…done?” I felt my muscles relax as I fell off my chair. “You…poisoned…me?” Da shook his head, “just a sedative angel. They needed answers. I’m sorry sweetie, they knew more than we thought and are hunting down those resisting the peace talks. Soon even the RIRA and Continuity won’t exist. This is our only play we had for uniting Ireland still. But think about it, now you can be with Michael. You both can finally be the very symbol of the Irish Republic. The very reason why the unification should be made without violence…goodbye my angel, now you have your escape, the escape you always wanted.”
(Present Day)
SPLASH… I felt a bucket of ice water douse my face and run down my body. “Wakey wakey,” cooed a very sarcastic voice. My eyes fluttered open and were immediately blinded by the bright luminescent light hanging directly above me. I tried to raise my hands to shield me when I felt something holding them back. An ugly freckled man with blonde hair that hung like woven gold stood over me. His flat nose and broad chin didn’t help his looks either. “Where am I,” I asked groggily trying once again to pull apart my wrists. I was no longer in Da’s house.
SLAM… The mysterious man’s fist collided with the small table in front of me. “I am asking the questions around here!” I raised my hands and heard the handcuff’s metallic rattle. I began to shake from the chill of the water. “S-so, y-you will be p-p-playing the good cop huh?” I felt a
hand smack my face as I looked up surprised. “You can’t do…” Leaning into my face he snapped “can’t do what exactly? You killed two of my fellow officers and a government minister.”
My eyes shot to the corner when I heard the shuffling of a chair. In the seat sat a mousy man with small glasses resting upon his small button nose. He had brown hair parted to the left and wrinkles that were etched deep in his face. “The legendary Pooka and soldier of Ireland.
Who would believe the assassin of the late great minister…” I scoffed loudly “he’s not great!
He’s responsible for continuing the occupation of British…” “That’s irrelevant,” shouted the man over me. The man sat back and paused before giving the tiniest of smirks. “I’m surprised you don’t recognize me. You don’t know my voice…my last name?”
I shook my head, “I don’t know! How about you take these handcuffs off, so I can get to know that face better!” The mousy man rose from his seat and made his way around the table and motioned towards the other two guards in the room. They left the room as I heard the freckled man give an evil little chuckle. “My name is Gordon Ford, or as you probably know me…Mr. Chevy.” “Mister…mister…Chevy,” “that’s right my dear Aednat!” “Why did you do this…just to meet me?” Mr. Ford even acted like a mouse as he seemed to scurry back to his chair. “Now, I have been instructed to get some information from you first and then I can take you…” I laughed, “I’m not telling you anything! Now let me go and I’ll forget this entire thing!” Shaking his head, “Peace between both sides of Ireland…your life is nothing compared to that even your father believes that. We have all seen the violence and terror that guerillas like you create. The government wants to stop it for the people. However, I need you for other reasons. I know you better than you think. In Portugal, you killed my father back in 93. The only way to get close to you was to hire you for a job. A job I knew you would be dying to do.
With the help of PSNI, we twisted your father’s arm and…here you are.” Mr. Ford smiled and continued, “Now before we can go Aednat they need to know where the rest of your soldiers are.” I spat at him, ‘I’m going to bleed you like a pig when I get out of here...keep the money! I want your head!”
“Tell me, where they can find the rest of your soldiers?” “SCREW YOU!” Mr. Ford shook his mousy head and surveyed me as if reconsidering his question. “Whether you answer or not it doesn’t matter, without you, your pathetic RIRA will surrender as did your OIRA and PIRA…tis’ only natural. Now what they also need to know is where are your safe houses and the rest of your Army Council? The police have to know that piece of information! They know the RIRA makes their money through arms dealings. Now tell them what you know!” “I don’t know anything!” Mr. Ford crossed his arms, “please Aednat stop jerking us around. Your continued resistance is pointless! Every group…EVERY formidable group in your pathetic resistance is signing the peace treaties and a part of the disarmament. I am afraid that if we don’t get answers, I’m just going to have to get them. Now why defend a group that doesn’t even want you anymore? They didn’t even acknowledge your efforts today in fact they denounced it.”
“My fellow RIRA soldiers will still fight. Politics are never the answer despite what the others believe. The only way that you will understand the Irish people’s desire to unify is through violence.”
I watched the door open and the two officers from earlier reenter. One was carrying a towel and the other was carrying a hose. “Well, it looks like you are going to be more work than I anticipated. We have a plane to catch and you’re just wasting our time. Personally, I don’t know why you are doing this? You have no support anymore…you’re protecting nobody!
They’re not Michael after all. You don’t have to make this so…” “YOU DON’T GET TO SAY
HIS NAME! I’m not telling you anything even if you know about the expulsion. Once an IRA soldier always an IRA soldier…peace talks or not.” Mr. Ford gave an exasperated sigh with an added annoyed glance at his watch. “Very well, I guess a soldier always has to do things the hard way.” Nodding towards his officers they moved around the table and snatched at my shirt.
The freckled man ripped open my shirt letting the buttons shoot through the air. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? You aren’t getting a free show!” “Now why would you keep a bullet on a necklace?” Aednat watched Mr. Ford move closer to exam the bullet necklace Michael had given me. “It reminds me that war is the only way to peace.”
I began to realize the trouble that I was in and tried to fumble with my handcuffs. I needed to dislocate my wrist but that would take some time. “They need answers Aednat and I need you to provide them now!” “I don’t know anything!” “Then you will sign their peace deal!
You will turn over all your arms and safe houses including your fellow Army Council members.”
“I don’t know anything!” Placing a towel over my face I begin to scream, “I don’t know anything!” I heard Mr. Ford’s mousy voice grow stern, “Why can’t I escape? That’s from the poem the Belfast Confetti right, a poem passed from soldier to solider right?” I screamed as the towel wrapped tighter around my face. I knew that they were staring at the large sentence tattooed across my stomach. “That poem was about a bombing right, nail bomb if I am not mistaken…one of your specialties, yes?” “HELP ME,” I screamed trying to crack my wrist but feeling only pain. I had to get these handcuffs off if I was going to survive. I felt my chair tilting back.
“Where are the safe houses?” Mr. Ford barely reached my vision as the towel obscured him. Water began to pour over my face. It was cold and felt like ice. I screamed trying to shake it off, but I felt my body being pinned to the chair. “Tell us where the weapons are!” My head
shook violently throwing water over everybody. I tried hard to fight but knew that it was pointless. I had to remember my Da’s words. I had to push my hate for him away and remember his words. I must remember to remain calm, if I don’t that’s how you break. I loosened up my body and put my mind someplace else. I twisted my wrist as the handcuff slid down cutting deep into my skin. I tried to ignore it as my mind seemed to take me away.
(December 2004)
It was almost a year ago when I committed my first operation outside of the RIRA. The operation wasn’t approved by the Army Council, then again neither were many of my operations.
I was skating on thin ice with the group, but action needed to be taken. It was a cold afternoon that day in the beginning of one of the harshest winters Northern Ireland had ever seen. I never was a fan of the dress, but for this operation I had to dress up. I couldn’t understand how girls could walk in cold weather with no pants on. The dress clung to my body as I walked up the police station stairs. My giant purse rattled with every step. I felt the cold air hitting my face as I tried to ignore the large nail bomb contained in it. I opened the doors and felt my hands rubbing against my cold arms. It wasn’t much warmer in the station either. I walked to the front and gave a little seductive stride. The policeman was a bored older man and looked uninterested in every aspect of his job. “Hello,” I said as his eyes rose to me, “what can I do for you miss?” “I need to talk to a detective. I need to report a crime,” I clenched my purse tighter.
“And what seems to be the crime,” I shook my head, “that is for me and the detective to discuss.”
The man shook his head as he gazed over my body, “well I need to know where to send you.”
“Assault,” I said and added, “somebody hurt me now hurry before I go get one myself.”
The officer waved his gnarled hands, “ok relax miss, this here is Officer Marsh, and he will be handling you.” A man approached from around the desk, he was skinny and appeared to have swallowed his tongue when he saw me. He straightened his cheap brown suit and wiggled his round nose, “and your name is?” “Margaret Keating,” I responded letting him lead me to a desk. “Ms. Keating you said something about an assault,” placing the heavy purse under my seat but more towards the middle I replied, “yes, my husband broke my heart and is cheating on me.”
I remembered the officer’s face as he said, “I’m sorry miss but that is not a crime.” I remembered how quick I came to tears and his continued resistance at my false crime. It took several minutes before I could make my getaway with an enraged, “FINE, if you aren’t going to help me, you’re just as useless as he is!” Leaving my purse, I ran from the room in tears. I pushed past several officers leaving Officer Marsh way behind me. I knew he was chasing me, and I also knew he’d forget about the purse. My mother told me before she died that you could seduce a man without ever taking anything off or even touching him. And in that seduction exploiting their weakness can leave you with all the advantage. That advantage was sitting in the police station ready to unleash a powerful message.
I threw open the front doors and ran down the steps. I turned the corner and reached into my pocket removing a small detonator in my hand. I remembered my Da’s words playing over in my head as I walked away. “You know what the most powerful weapon in the world is my angel?” I was so curious when I was younger. I remembered how eager I was when asking,
“what, what, tell me!” He reached over and grabbed my finger, “with a simple movement of this finger…you can change a person’s mind…change the world…and even change history.”
Grabbing the detonator, I stormed away with a smile on my face determined to do just that. I had to show them that true IRA soldiers would never agree to a peace treaty. I pushed the button
hoping any of my fellow brothers would get the message. A message that a group of soldiers were still determined to continue the resistance. Some that were still defiant in signing the peace treaties and whose sole objective was uniting Ireland. As the police station exploded, I recited the poem my father had taught me.
“Suddenly as the riot squad moved in, it was raining exclamation marks, Nuts, bolts, nails, car-keys. A fount of broken type and the explosion Itself - an asterisk on the map. This hyphenated line, a burst of rapid fire...
I was trying to complete a sentence in my head but it kept stuttering, All the alleyways and side streets blocked with stops and colons.
I know this labyrinth so well - Balaclava, Raglan, Inkerman, Odessa Street -
Why can’t I escape? Every move is punctuated. Crimea Street. Dead end again.
A Saracen, Kremlin-2 mesh. Makrolon face-shields. Walkie-talkies. What is my name? Where am I coming from? Where am I going? A fusillade of question marks.”
BOOM
(Present Day)
The water stopped as Mr. Ford grabbed the back of my chair, “where are the safe houses?
Where is the Army Council? Where are the rest of the soldiers?” I couldn’t even catch my breath as the ugly freckled man’s fist raked across my face. “Give me a list of your other members,” he slapped me again and then again. I glared up at him, “I’ll kill you!” He leaned back and laughed a little, “you got heart kid…you got heart!” I gasped for air as I felt my lungs throbbing from soreness. I gripped the steel handcuffs and continued to slide them. I could feel
the blood flowing down my fingers. My chair had returned to its upright position. I turned to see that I was alone. The officers and Mr. Ford were leaving me alone in the room without a backward glance.
The first round was just a test to see how I would react under pressure. It was only a matter of time before they broke me. I begin to think about my options. I knew that as far as the public was concerned, I would be deemed nothing more than a terrorist. I always knew the end would eventually be here and it seemed that day had finally come. I always said I would rather die fighting for the unity of my country. However, those days were gone and my expulsion from the RIRA seemed a long time coming. I was certain it was due the day I dropped that nail bomb at the Belfast Police Station. What use could I be to my fellow soldiers dead? The soldiers that were still loyal to the cause, loyal to me. The few soldiers who still believed in the war. The few that believed in the fight for Ireland unification even to the bloody end. What would happen when they recovered the information from me? I knew eventually they would get something out of me. After all, I was only human I was not in fact a Puca.
The handcuffs were slipping around my wrists as the skin shredded beneath them. It was only a matter of time before they started torturing me again. I felt one of the handcuffs slip from wrist in a electrified shoch of pain. I tried to hide my groan with a struggled whimper. I couldn’t let the information fall into their hands. I was just sad that it had to end like this. I always wanted an escape and I guess this was it. The fate of the true IRA…the new IRA I tried to create would be lost forever. My father’s betrayal would go unpunished. Hopefully one of my fellow brothers-in-arms would figure out what happened to me and pay me that final wish.
I reached around noticing a huge chunk of skin missing from my wrist. The blood ran down my arm as I grabbed the metal bullet from around my neck and yanked it off. For the fate of the cause and my “family” I knew what needed to be done. My final resort which would mean my final demise. I knew they were behind the glass. Whispering to themselves, I could almost hear them, “what’s she doing?” I unscrewed the top of the bullet and raised the small copper cartridge. “See you soon Michael Mo Shaol in Tir Na Nog…long live the RIRA,” and with a final toast I swallowed the contents.
I saw the mirror vibrate and heard the scuffling of feet. SLAM… the door crashed open as I began to choke. “What the hell did she do?” I coughed as I felt hands on me. The officers seemed confused, but I began to choke as I felt foam beginning to form in my mouth. “Get an ambulance, I can’t afford to lose her!” I fell off the chair and began to convulse on the floor.
The poison I had taken would take lethal effects shortly. There was so much more that I wanted to say. So much more I wanted to do for the cause.
As my eyes closed, I felt my mind wander into the unknown. Pleasant thoughts seemed to enter my head like an oncoming movie. I didn’t have a normal childhood being raised by a high-ranking soldier of the Official IRA was not a normal life for an Irish lass. I remembered sitting at the top of our basement stairs at night listening to my father with the Army Council. In his off time, Da would often bring me down to the basement. He would teach me all he knew about weapons and bomb construction. Da and I fought in many operations together in the OIRA and PIRA. Before these operations he always told me the Belfast Confetti poem, or we’d recite the family poem. These operations with my father and brothers-in-arms became real battles fighting with British soldiers, Loyalists, or the Police Services of Northern Ireland. I
learned to give my life for the cause, my life for the struggle, my life for my family, brothers-in-arms, and the belief Ireland could be united.
“We are the Pookas from tales old wanting neither riches nor gold Our places are set in Tir Na Nog
Desperation creates determination…determination in my participation To fight for all to see...to die for all to be free
To never lay down our arms to a foreign invasion and celebrate peace as one nation A never-ending cycle has taken shape...so why can’t I escape”
Iron Cross
[Candidate: Anton Juttner Koppe]
(July 2005)
A heavy crunching could be heard as dry leaves littered the gravel parking lot.
Tightening my black leather glove I motioned my hand forward as my fellow members surrounded a small synagogue. A thin man with a swastika tattooed on the back of his head approached me. I sounded annoyed as I asked, “are your Hammerskins in their places?” The man nodded, “yes…but this is just a threat, right? I mean you’re not actually planning on doing anything drastic right?” I pulled my leather gloves even tighter onto my hands superiorly. “You are mere recruits. So, whatever happens in there you let me do the thinking for the Waffen-SS
Werewolf. You got it?” Mr. Hammond straightened his black leather jacket with the cross Hammers logo for his little organization. “Alright but you’re not going to do anything too crazy are you?” “My, my, my, my Mr. Hammond do I suspect a little sympathy for those Zionist pigs?
You and your Hammerskins cheer loudly for a Fourth Reich and now this! You’re lucky my father and I haven’t castrated you and your men for showing up without your uniform. You and your Hammerskins are just recruits but the uniform is code, if you want in with this army…remember that!” The hooked nosed man shook his bald head, “I didn’t think you would want to draw so much attention. I hate the ZOG and all those Zionist pigs…it’s just, this is a holy spot. It’s one thing if it’s at a carnival or a school. This is God’s house after all.”
“Mr. Hammond if you knew anything about history you would realize that God has forsaken them for taking his only son. We are just going to help him along.” “What do you
mean help along?” I smiled widely, “the Fourth Reich begins with a statement and what a better statement than one made in revenge. Strength lies not in defense Mr. Hammond but in attack…always attack. This is the Waffen-SS Werewolf’s greatest moment to show the world that Nazi Germany will indeed rise again. We must continue the fight…continue towards the final victory. You need to accept a simple truth Mr. Hammond. For in the end, it is not the truth that matters but the victory.”
Mr. Hammond stared stupidly at me as I rolled my eyes in frustration. “Look, you just make sure nobody can escape alright?” He nodded at me “no problem their boss…I-I mean sir!
The only exit is the front door here and the basement door.” I nodded back with an almost uninterested, “good…very good.” I stepped forward and checked my side arm, an Astra 900. I began to climb the wooden stairs when “yuck!” I yelled loudly realizing I had stepped onto a piece of chewed gum. I scrapped the gum off my shined up high black military boot. I knew I must look weird being one of the few men in the world to sport an actual authentic Nazi SS
outfit. My outfit was worn by an actual SS officer from Hitler’s most loyal and fanatical Nazi’s, the Schutzstaffel. It was only fitting that our soldiers would wear it being the few to still swear undying loyalty to Adolf Hitler and the Third Reich.
However, things have changed over the past twenty years. The Fuhrer couldn’t be found and soon our numbers began to drop in every chapter that my father and I created. My father and I were desperate now. Odessa was desperate. We needed men, so we turned to the only supporters we knew we could get, skinheads and Neo-Nazi’s. Their beliefs were based on the advancement of the white race. What a pathetic and narrow-minded bunch? The Waffen-SS
Werewolf has sought out our Fuhrer to establish an army of his most loyal solders and create a new Reich, the Fourth Reich. The idea of an all Aryan race was on the back burner for the
Waffen-SS Werewolf and Odessa. I wish I could have killed that Mr. Hammond. Every member knew to wear the uniform even if they were new recruits. However, our numbers were too low. Odessa and the Waffen-SS Werewolves needed every man.
“Oh and Mr. Hammond,” the short bald man walked up to the stairs. “Yes Anton…sir,”
straightening my Nazi hat. I gave a soft, “follow me please and don’t speak. God forbid your stupidity will be reflected upon me and our entire operation.” I opened the wooden door to a quarter filled synagogue. I watched as all of them were worshiping a god that had forsaken them a long time ago. I just hoped wherever the Fuhrer was, he knew that he still had loyal soldiers looking for him. Knew that there was an organization named Odessa located in South America keeping all of us connected. Helping our soldiers keep our oath alive. An oath we took to serve Hitler and the Reich until our death, until his death, and even beyond that. Odessa united only those groups that wished to continue the war, to continue to fight, and restore the once great Third Reich under a new banner. These skinheads and Neo-Nazi’s were fools blinded by their hatred of color. They knew nothing of National Socialism, war, or the Third Reich. However, our operation code named Iron Sky could only advance through numbers. In the end, that was all Odessa, my father, and I had or needed.
All the congregants stopped and turned to stare at Mr. Hammond and me. It must have been a strange sight a 21-year-old boy with brown eyes, pale skin, and dressed in full authentic SS uniform. They only began to mutter in whispers as I straightened my leather gloves again.
“Oh, I didn’t mean to interrupt you please continue with your false prayers.” The small congregation was separated, whites on the right and the darkies on the left. I smiled laughing a little, a couple from the far end of the church rose from their pews. “YOU,” they screamed as an older, heavier woman pointed at me. They all looked scared like pigs on their way to the
slaughterhouse. Terror seemed to fill each tear-soaked eye, as well they should be. It wasn’t every day that the murderer of two people showed up to their victim’s own funeral.
“How dare you show your face here! Why isn’t the sheriff arresting you?” “Quiet you sniveling old fool!” My demeaning voice seemed to overpower the old dark-skinned man. “If I wanted to speak to a spook, I’d go shop at a Family General!” The insult seemed to cover the entire church as nobody spoke. “I don’t take insults, speak about, or let alone speak to an old…”
The intake of breath when the “n” word was dropped was astonishing. But I finished my sentence as if saying the “n” word was as natural as breathing. The congregation was silent as I walked down the middle of the pews.
The accusing couple still stood and as I came closer to them finally able to put names to the blurry faces. “Mr. And Mrs. McLaughin,” my sneer did not have the same comedic impact that I had thought. “You’re a monster,” Mrs. McLaughin whispered. Her pudgy face was red and tear soaked. Mr. McLaughin who had always reminded me of the scarecrow from the Wizard of Oz. Skinny, straw-colored hair which sat like a pile of dead hay on his head, “how’s the family,” I sniggered. Mr. McLaughin’s face was filled with upmost hatred, “you have a rotten soul!” Wagging my gloved finger, “you would not believe how many times I have heard that…as a matter of fact the first time that I ever heard it was with your daughter.”
(March 2005)
Stephanie McLaughin was the most popular and beautiful girl I had ever met. And she was all mine, the pick of the litter, my father’s money tended to do that. Her straight blonde hair hung like sheets as her rosy, red cheeks matched the red glow in her skinny lips. She had green eyes and a smile that shimmered like a thousand pearls. She told me she was pure Aryan and of
pure German blood. The kind I would only ever date. We were walking around town a couple miles from this same synagogue. She grabbed my hand as we passed by a particular hole in the wall place. A large red graffiti swastika painted on it. “Oh, poor Mother Agwe look at what those racists did to the front of her store!” Stephanie replied sounding upset at the sight of the swastika. “Poor lady, she is the best! They call her the Queen of the Other Side.” Stephanie pulled me closer to the door, but I stopped abruptly. “It looks like a place for Voodoo.” She nodded, “Mother Agwe is considered the mother of Southern Voodoo and Head Priestess of Hoodoo. We should get her to read our future!” “And you expect her to simply tell our future just like that,” she smiled “you got money, right?” I frowned, “money can’t buy everything.”
Ignoring my comment, she gave another pull of my hand and we entered the store.
It was the darkest room that I had ever seen. Shelves upon shelves lined the room creating many walkways. Each shelf contained different powders, bags, dolls, trinkets, bones, and other voodoo related merchandise. Many different herbs and objects hung from the ceiling and even a whole shelf dedicated to skulls of humans and animals. There was a faint smell in the air, vanilla mixed with another pleasant smell that I couldn’t put my finger on. A heavy-set woman with skin as dark as the room glared at us as we entered like deer emerging into an open field. A purple turban sat upon her head as large, hooped earrings jingled in her cauliflower ears.
Her face had a melted wax look to it as her nose seemed to have been broken many times. “Get out of here you racist Aryan Guard…” I raised my hand “no we aren’t with the Aryan Guard!”
Her voice was rough as she yelled, “no children allowed in this store!” “Mother Agwe we are here to talk with you.” Her lips thinned as her face turned to disbelief. “Mother Agwe has nothing to talk to you about.” I grabbed Stephanie’s hand, “come on we should go.” She shook
her head, “we want you to read our future like you do for all the other kids.” “Mother Agwe doesn’t do sorcery or private rituals!” Stephanie nudged me motioning towards Mother Agwe.
I walked closer to the wooden counter noticing multi-colored candles were lit in a room sitting directly behind her. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a twenty. I slid it over the counter towards her. I felt disgusted giving my money to a non-German but love always required a price. “Mother Agwe can’t be bought with your blood-soaked money.” I dug into my pocket and pulled out a wad of cash that my father and I had received from Odessa. I placed what looked to be a hundred dollars onto the counter. She stared down at the money and then back up at me, “future, huh?” Stephanie came forward, “yeah just our future like you did for Ryan Thompson and Jackie Witherspoon.” She shook her head “I don’t know what you children are talking about. Although, if you are willing to make a donation to my shop. That is something I am willing to accept.” I looked at Stephanie who nodded, “alright it’s a donation.”
Mother Agwe took the money and showed a slight disgust as she did. She pointed towards the opening in the counter. “In here,” she said motioning to the room filled with all the candles.
The only light in the room was cast by the hundreds of candles that surrounded a lone round desk. A purple tablecloth imprinted with strange symbols covered the table. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea huh?” Stephanie smiled at me, “don’t you want to know the future…our future?” “I know my future Stephanie and that’s you. There’s nothing that I need to know.”
“Well,” she said thinking slightly to herself. “What about your past?” “My past Stephanie, I know my past. After all, it’s MY past I lived it you know?” She laughed a little, “I mean your past life.” “Who cares about that shit?” Looking a little hurt, she shrugged it off with an “I want to know you…your soul.” Her hand rested upon my heart, and I smiled “alright Stephanie, I’ll do it for you.”
She smiled when a booming voice yelled “alright, alright gather around the table you two!” Her water-colored moo-moo swished around her as she moved her large belly around the table. She straightened her turban as she waved them into the seats. “What were you all looking for again?” “I want to know our future,” Mother Agwe turned to me. I could almost taste the dislike in her gaze. “I…well…my past,” I could feel my brain shutting down under the woman’s stare “past lives, mhm?” Her cold eyes were filled with a dislike that I had seen many times on other people. “Spoiled little rich boy wants to know if he was rich in his past life huh?” I felt Stephanie grip my hand, “no I want my girlfriend to see who I really am…” I motioned my head towards Stephanie, “we’re engaged.”
Mother Agwe nodded, “so if you are getting married you must know everything about each other already.” Stephanie gave a nervous laugh “no, my friends came here and had their fortunes read so we decided to come in and have…you know a little fun.” The very room seemed to grow icy as the candles fluttered like a giant wind had passed through. “Fun,”
Stephanie looked to me, and I looked just as dumbfounded as she did. “Fun,” repeated Mother Agwe with ice in her voice. Stephanie had clearly said the wrong word. “You think my rituals are mere parlor tricks like some common magician?” I smiled “well you honestly don’t really believe in this mumbo jumbo. You give false hope with false merchandise...” Her fist landed on the table as it shook violently, “I do not practice mumbo jumbo!” She stood “I am the Queen of the Other Side!” She marched to a wooden box in the far corner of the room and opened it with a wave of her hand.
Stephanie looked scared but I gave a disbelieving smirk. Mother Agwe brought forth a small black bottle. “Do you have any idea what this is?” Stephanie and I stared at a dropper filled with a black liquid. Strange writing appeared on the bottle very similar to the writing on
the purple tablecloth. “Could you even wrap your tiny suburban minds around this?” Stephanie gripped my hand as I said, “look first off you know nothing about me. I am not a rich spoiled American snob. I’m German born and raised in Russia. I have been nothing but polite to you spook and all you do is treat me and her like a cracker. You’re disgusted with the fact that we are white.” “Color does not matter to Mother Agwe but it matters to people like you!
FOOLS…fools like you with a limited minds so consumed with your hatred and embrace of Nazi ideology…” She paused as she leaned in closer to me. “What does color matter in the afterlife? I have been to places that are deeper than the shallow existence you live.”
“Shallow…me…” she snarled at me “Yes, shallow like your Aryan Guard friends.”
“He isn’t part of any hate group,” Stephanie shouted at Mother Agwe and continued,
“Everybody harbors some racism it’s a proven fact!” I stood up as Mother Agwe flashed the dropper at me again. “I asked you a question boy!” I shrugged trying not to kill her where she stood. Stephanie was the only thing that mattered to me. I’d give up everything to keep her happy even my belief in the Fourth Reich. Swallowing hard before I replied “I-I don’t know but by the color I would say I’ll be pissing blood for a week.” Stephanie gave a nervous giggle, but Mother Agwe heaved holding the tiny bottle. “This is called Devil’s Juice, Ji Dyab La. One drop dulls the pain, two drops kill the pain, three drops and you go insane.” “Insanity from three drops of some strange liquid,” I chortled. “Three drops from this liquid silly boy and you will become my soldier, my slave…just like those fools that follow you like sheep!” She began to laugh wildly. Her laugh was high and cold as her eyes seemed to bulge out of her head. I took Stephanie’s hand as I began to pull her away. “Look, you can just keep the money alright we’re going to go.” Although, Mother Agwe did not even seem to notice. Her laugh was wild and insane, “and you wouldn’t even know it!”
“Ok crazy lady, I am just going to leave with my fiancée…” Mother Agwe gripped her heaving breast as she gave a wave, “just as well. You both are so shallow I was able to read you the moment you walked in.” “Read us the moment we walked in…really?” I muttered feeling the anger rise inside me. “Shallow,” scoffed Stephanie. “You know people told me you were mean, but they didn’t say that you were a total bitch!” Stephanie’s comment did not even seem to resonate with Mother Agwe. “I have seen into both your souls…” “Come on let’s go Stephanie,” I growled motioning her out the door. “Wait,” yelled Mother Agwe which made us both stop in our tracks. “The afterlife requires that all debts be paid.” Shaking my head,
“consider it a real donation.” “NO,” yelled Mother Agwe. “I can’t allow that! The afterlife requires all debts to be paid.” Before I could respond Mother Agwe turned to Stephanie. “I wouldn’t marry him if I were you child.” My heart seemed to drop into my stomach. “Excuse me,” I muttered not able to hide my shock or building rage. “He is hiding a dark secret from you. He has a rotten soul!” “A rotten…” but my voice fell silent when Stephanie released my hand. “What is the secret? What did you see?” Mother Agwe seemed to have caught her attention. “The secret lies in his heart and his entire life before you. His line is filled with rotten and horrible people.”
Mother Agwe had a big mouth causing me to laugh. “All that from a thirty second observation…this is a joke, right? Stephanie you can’t…” “Who did you see?” Mother Agwe waved her hand airily “many unknown people, old Nazi soldiers…for some reason a Werewolf…and his father.” She said raising a finger continuing “I did see somebody in particular.” “Stephanie,” I yelled watching Mother Agwe entrance her. “Who did you see Mother Agwe?” Her voice lowered, “Adolf Hitler.” My laugh was so loud that it seemed to jolt Stephanie back to her senses. “You can’t believe this!” She just stared at me and then back at
her. “Are you sure of this?” She stared at Mother Agwe who lowered her voice. “He’s not related to Hitler by any means. It’s just his life revolves around him and his regime.” “I don’t worship Hitler!” I had to steady my voice to bury the lie. “Believe me my child, Mother Agwe is never wrong.” She turned her head to stare at me, “his soul is rotten.” Stephanie shook her head in disbelief, “but he is the nicest, sweetest man I have ever met.” “You must look inward my child, look deeper into his eyes, his life…into his past. In them, I guarantee you will find the answers.” “Alright that’s enough!” I grabbed Stephanie’s hand, “I don’t know who you are, but you don’t know me or anything about me! My father and I escaped Russia and found refuge in America, and this is how I am treated. We’re leaving!” Stephanie followed me out the door with Mother Agwe saying, “heed my words child! He is a rotten child with a rotten soul!”
(July 2005)
The scene exited my mind as I stared at the silent onlooking crowd. “I’m sorry I must have dazed off there for a second.” I began to walk towards the two coffins which sat at the front of the church. “GET AWAY FROM THEM,” screamed Stephanie’s mother she began to tug on her husband’s arm. “Oh, why isn’t the sheriff and his men doing anything?” I walked closer to the coffins taking in Stephanie’s final appearance. “Don’t worry Mrs. McLaughin we won’t be expecting any intruders. My storm troopers have seen to that.” “How dare you even show your face here…dressed like that!” I began to laugh as another “darkie” rose from his pew.
“How dare you show dishonor to their memories!” “Shut up,” I yelled staring at him. “I admire bravery, but I despise foolishness.” The man pointed a finger, “dressed in an outfit like that who is the foolish one?” Another congregant stood up “who is this little white prick anyway?” She was dressed in a hot pink suit that looked like it was from the fifties. The man yelled “this is the man that killed Derek and Stephanie!” “YOU ARE THE ONE THAT KILLED MY SON,” she
yelled in a tear-soaked rage. The other man yelled, “he’s the one that has been all over the news!” The enraged woman began to march towards me. “Move, move out of the way I’m going to kill him myself!”
The woman’s heels clicked on the synagogue’s hard wood floor. I withdrew my Astra pistol and pointed it towards the advancing woman. “I would sit down if I was you,” the woman stopped in her tracks. “The next move you make better be to your seat,” her face was contorted with such rage. “I hope you lower your pistol. The moment you do I’m coming for you.”
“Please do, I would love to put down another Ni…” The congregation gasped when I dropped the “n” word again. “You…racist…monster!”
“MONSTER,” I yelled at the top of my lungs. I could feel my face shake with rage and the Astra pistol lower slightly. “Racist…monster…how can I be racist? She was the one that lied to me! She told me she was pure German…PURE German! Now I come to find out she was really half German, half Jewish! Now, you tell me who really is the monster? Derek over there poisoning an innocent white girl? You people allowing the mixing of races! I believe Kipling said it best ‘let the corn be all one sheaf and the grapes be all one vine’.” I turned back to Stephanie’s parents. “You should be ashamed, absolutely ashamed. Letting your daughter intermingle with a darkie…betraying her race like that! You should be lying in coffins too!”
Stephanie’s father clenched her sobbing mother, “your racism blinds you! What happened to you? You used to be so polite and kind.” The gun began to tremble in my hand, “I have never been kind! It was an act, an act for Stephanie. I tried to change but now this newfound racism has freed me! My oath to the Fuhrer fuels me…made me see you all for the traitors you are!
Half German or not you have betrayed your people and country. You should have buried your polluted Zionist blood!” I walked forward several inches, “half breeds or not you are traitors to
the Reich and to the Fuhrer. You should have continued the fight until your very deaths! We are much larger than this and only the Waffen-SS Werewolf continues the war! My newfound racism blinds me…HA! This all coming from a man that the Fuhrer would have ordered me to hang for treason and having polluted blood! You should have been fighting with Odessa instead of living with these spooks and pathetic Americans.”
“Waffen-SS Werewolf…Odessa…continuing the war? What war…do you mean World War Two? We’re half Jewish. We’re not a hundred percent German anymore.” “You’re a bunch of mutts…breeding like dogs in an alley.” I laughed as Stephanie’s mother continued,
“just because she fell in love with another guy doesn’t give you any right! Why did you take my baby away from me?” In my distraction from Stephanie’s mother Derek’s mother took a couple of steps towards me. I saw my mistake and raised the gun again. BOOM… the gun went off like a firecracker as the woman took it right in her left breast. Her eyes bulged as she fell to the ground. The congregation roared as a man began to run towards the fallen woman. “Everybody shut up and stay where you are!” My voice rang like a church bell as everybody froze in their spots. “I can’t believe you’re doing this! All this, all of it because Stephanie had fallen in love with somebody else? You’re insane!” Stephanie’s mother was red in the face. Her eyes were swollen as her question did not seem to register with me.
I stared down at the dying woman. It was strange I felt no pity, no remorse. I just raised my head and smiled to the onlooking congregation. “This is war Mrs. McLaughin…war. In peace sons bury their fathers and in war fathers bury their sons. Now, I don’t have time for all this! I have come here to let you know that you are all traitors to your race…” I turned to the other side of the congregation. “Yes, even darkies can be traitors to their race because you won’t stay in your place.” I began to move down the middle of the pews. “You are ALL a crime
against humanity and must pay for your treachery.” They all looked confused Mr. McLaughin yelled “you can’t shoot all of us!” “No you’re right Mr. McLaughin even with all my soldiers outside. However, I promise for all the pain you have inflicted on me, and on my people…you must all burn for it.” I made it to the door and Mr. Hammond retreated out the doors without a backwards glance towards the startled people.
“Mr. Hammond…make sure you lock the doors.” The stupid looking man gave a whimpered, “t-the…the d-d-doors?” Disgust in my face I shouted, “DO IT!” Mr. Hammond nodded his head and placed a large stick through the handles. “We…a-are just scaring them, right? I mean, you’re not going to kill them for what Stephanie did?” Returning the Astra to its holster, I gave a smug “I meant every word I said Mr. Hammond…every word. You see war is a bloody thing and until my father and I find the Fuhrer or find his heir you are stuck taking orders from us. We must rebuild our Reich to its former glory and to do that people need to die. Who better than a bunch of traitors?” Gazing stupidly up at me, Mr. Hammond gave a weak “b-but you got your revenge with Derek and Stephanie. They paid it with their lives.” “BOTH their families must pay for this heinous act…that gold digging bitch getting pregnant by a darkie.”
Mouth open Mr. Hammond added “but weren’t they engaged? They loved each other, right?”
“She didn’t love him Mr. Hammond. They were getting married because he knocked her up simple as that!” “Well, how do you know that? Maybe they were in love? Maybe her parents were right?” I rested my hand on my sidearm, “I’m sick of your love for the Zionist pigs and your spineless convictions! I thought the Hammerskins were for a Fourth Reich not a bunch of mutinous cowards! If you wanna take their side, be my guest the Waffen-SS Werewolf takes only the strongest. I’m afraid I see weakness in you and your organization!”
Mr. Hammond shook his head, but still held an air of concern. “No of course not but there are white people in there…” I glared at him wordlessly until he reluctantly nodded in agreement. “Good…then you be the one to burn it.” Mr. Hammond’s mouth seemed to have dropped a little more, “b-b-burn it? You mean the synagogue?” I straightened my gloves again.
“Did I stutter Mr. Hammond? You do this and I can see if my dad can talk to Odessa into getting you a silver ranked Infantry Assault Badge.” I retreated silently to a police car which sat in the middle of the field. Three officers were kneeling on the ground hands behind their backs. My storm troopers each pointed their weapons at them. “What took you so long son?” I marched up to the hostages, “Mr. Hammond is having second thoughts. He might need to be taken care of.”
My father looked similar to me in almost every way just taller and deep wrinkles. His once youthful blonde hair now looked tired as his hawk like face seemed to sag in sadness. He had a tired look about him. He was weathered and broken from his years of war and prison.
I gazed at the nine soldiers my father and I decided to bring for this mission. Six of our most loyal members dressed in traditional black SS uniforms of Nazi Germany, and three dressed in SS Brown Shirts. Brown Shirts were new recruits, “which one of you brought the Molotov Cocktails I asked for?” Removing his pistol from the direction of a deputy my father moved towards me. “Are you doing what I think you're doing Anton?” I glared up at my father and he retreated slightly. “For Operation Iron Sky dad,” I saw him shake his head frantically.
“N-no son, we can’t! We haven’t gotten our monthly payment from Odessa. All the rest of our soldiers are back at the compound and our numbers are low. We can’t afford to go to war now!
We can’t handle the retaliation that this will surely bring.” A particularly fat soldier lowered his rifle and moved to his old pickup truck. He pulled out a box and flipped open the top to expose three glass bottles filled with lighter fluid. “Good, I am glad somebody in this group follows
orders!” Taking the glass bottles, I strolled over to the synagogue as Mr. Hammond seemed to follow my every step like a guard dog. I heard my father’s voice behind me. “Anton, I’m proud of you,” his words seemed to make the night grow even colder.
“Mr. Hammond where are the rags that I gave you at the compound? Did you keep them like I asked?” Mr. Hammond gave a weak nod as he withdrew four handkerchiefs,
“you’re…you’re not seriously going too…” “To do what…” I snarled snatching the handkerchiefs out of his hand. “I…I don’t want any part of this!” I pulled off the cork and stuck the handkerchiefs in each bottle. “MUTINY is it,” I shouted snatching his lighter from his right breast pocket. The front doors of the synagogue seemed to bulge as the trapped people inside tried to break down the door.
The handkerchief was easily engulfed in flames. “I can’t let you do this Anton this is not what the Hammerskin Nation’s mission is…” “You aren’t a Hammerskin anymore! You pledged your allegiance to the Waffen-SS Werewolf. So, remain silent you sniveling little weasel! I will not tolerate betrayal! Our mission is to unite the German people, unite our allies, and become reborn in the Fourth Reich. This is a historical moment, a moment that the war begins! The time when we declare the Nazi surrender void. That true German patriots will never surrender their ideology. We’ll fight to take back what we believe and the land that was stolen from us! The war is never over and you, you sniveling coward will learn the punishment for traitors!” Mr. Hammond grabbed my arm, “but these people are innocent! You got your revenge. Stephanie and Derek are dead!” “But Mr. Hammond they supported it, betrayed our race. What would happen if I hadn’t put a stop to it?” Mr. Hammond looked fearful, but I continued to growl in rage. “Interbreeding…letting that abomination live is not a crime against Germans or whites. It’s a crime against humanity!” I recoiled my hand again and threw the
Molotov as high as I could. It collided with the synagogue and set a portion of the wooden roof to blaze wildly. Mr. Hammond stared in utter horror. “Now take care of those officers while I finish this.” Mr. Hammond took several steps back mouth wide in shock. “Y-you want…to kill…police officers?” “YES, you blithering idiot tell my father to do it or I’ll shoot you for insubordination!” Revenge was a dish that was best served in flames and as the next bottle was thrown at the roof I muttered “war is a bloody and violent act.” Before we left the rural synagogue, I made sure Mr. Hammond would pay for his disloyalty and weakness. That night he paid it with his life.
(October 2005)
I heard the metal door slam as I raised my eyes from the newspaper that I was reading. I saw to my great pleasure that my visitor was somebody that I did want to see. I shook my head as I thought about all the visitors I had while locked up. The craziest women trying to contact me, some trying to find the goodness in me, some even desiring to marry me. I smiled when I remembered a dark-skinned woman requesting time alone with me. I denied the visit of course but as the man made his way towards me. I could see that his smile did not match my own. He sat down opposite me behind the glass and picked up the phone. An older man with snow white hair and a large bald spot in the middle of his head. He straightened his red rimmed glasses and muttered, “Hello Anton my friend, how are you?”
“You’re my lawyer Jack, you tell me how I am. I’ve been stuck in this can for far too long.” Placing his hands out in front of him, Jack seemed unable to speak. “Jack how long have I known you?” Straightening his glasses again, “a long time Anton since you and your father fled Germany.” “Now, I see that look upon your face and I hate that fucking look so let’s hear what you have to say!” Shaking his head, “I can’t it’s too painful.” “Painful…PAINFUL,
how’d you like to hear your life being sentenced to 24 life sentences huh?” “I’m sorry Anton,”
“sorry for what you fool?” “Your father…he…was killed.” I curled up the newspaper in anger feeling my teeth grit in a rage. “You know this…certain of this?” Jack leaned into the phone and gave a somber nod. “He was killed by an unknown assailant. I’ll give you more details when I have them.” My piercing eyes began to search his gaze. “What am I supposed to do now? Operation Iron Sky…” Jack was whispering now, “Anton my friend listen this is me talking and not your lawyer. Operation Iron Sky is finished.” “IT IS NOT FINISHED!” I had slammed my fist down in my building rage. I had spoken too loudly, “sorry…sorry.”
Jack took a deep breath and continued, “As you know ATF seized the compound, we just now got it back. The men that have returned and lost have given us not even a skeleton group.”
“Well, we’ll just build up our numbers again. In fact, that is what I am doing in here. Tell the soldiers that I am trying to unite all the whites in here. I’m trying to unite the Nazi Lowriders, the Brotherhood, everybody…that should give us numbers and protection. Maybe Iron Sky is finished, but we have a new game plan. Don’t you see the Waffen-SS Werewolf WILL grow again?” “The Waffen-SS Werewolf is finished! You have to think of a way to survive in there.
I have helped a countless number of your fellow soldiers because I believed in your cause.
However, I am getting on with my life…and you should too! The group shrinks by the minute, and I am afraid after the auction the group will be a shit-stained memory. Your father was a good friend and a great client. I came here to tell you that your appeals were thrown out. I’m sorry but you will never get out.”
“What about the rest of the group or Odessa? You can’t just leave me in here without any help from the outside!” Shaking his head, “there is nothing you or I can do Anton. After auction, I expect the troops will soon disperse. After that crawling back under whatever rocks
they came from to begin with. The war is over…accept that. There is nothing left to fight for.”
I felt my stomach drop. My entire world was seemingly collapsing around me. All the training, all the medals, all the recruitment, all the operations, and time I spent with my father seemed utterly meaningless now. “Your father asked me to give you something if he were to ever…well, you know? Anyway, the book will arrive later this evening. I suggest you thumb through it and read it over carefully. You might find something in there that is well worth your time.” Jack rose from his seat, “and I guess with that I will take my final leave. I also must tell you that I plan on taking any additional funds and giving it to charity in accordance with your father’s will.” “CHARITY,” I yelled standing up in a rage again. “That’s my money! That money should go to me or Odessa. That will is a joke and you know it!” “Joke or not it is his active will. And legally Anton, it is your father’s money and he stated that all profits would be donated to a charity of my choosing. I think I have it here actually if you’ll just give me a…” I slammed against the glass as the guards made their way towards me. “You son of a bitch, I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you!” Jack laughed a little straightening his brown suit, “I’m sorry you feel that way Anton.
However, I do hope you have a good life all 24 of them.”
Dear Anton,
If you are receiving this letter, then I am dead. I am sorry to leave you in this state, but I hope that at the end of it you will forgive me. I am sorry to tell you this my son, but I have not been entirely truthful with you. In fact, my lies far outweigh any truth that I have spoken. The hardest for me is to know where to begin. I guess it starts where our lives began in Russia. Yes, my son Russia not Germany. I remember the training that you underwent in Siberia. I become prouder of you every day. I remember the day that you took your oath. I remember how proud I was when you
stood there in that blistering snow pile. Recited the oath under six hours of sub-zero temperatures. I never knew experienced soldiers that could withstand cold like that. Your grandfather served in the Sixth Army at Stalingrad in a German Operation called Operation Barbarossa. He was one of the few that escaped the encirclement by the Soviets. He eventually died in an operation known as Operation Watch on the Rhine. You have heard of it as the Battle of the Bulge. He disguised himself as an American soldier and penetrated deep into enemy territory. His mission was to attempt assassinating a General by the name of Courtney Hodges. Your Grandfather had me join the Hitler Youth and I fought in the Battle of Berlin at 15. Since the Battle of the Bulge, I never heard from your grandfather again. Your grandmother died in the Battle of Berlin.
I took my oath in the Hitler Youth when I was 12 and have lived by it until my death. In this American prison I have learned one thing. We are the crazy ones my son. They look at us like we are a joke. If America was overrun by the Germans back in the day you think Americans wouldn’t still be resisting? You think they wouldn’t be fighting for the country that they love. Our country was taken, carved like a turkey, and they expect us to take that lying down? My son, my precious son, I hope you can forgive me. I only ever wanted to raise you under the National Socialist banner. I am determined to leave this world with a clean conscious and have realized the futility in our sacrifice. It is time for the truth to be spoken.
I have lied to you for the past two years in regards to Odessa. The money has dried up and I was unable to continue our payments on the compound. In fact, I
haven’t received a payment from Odessa since our stay in Mexico. I am afraid I am responsible for drawing the attention from the American ATF. However, it was our actions at the synagogue that officially finished the war. I have been unable to contact Odessa. Approximately in 2003, I had stopped receiving payments for continuing our funding for Operation Iron Sky. Odessa had heard rumors that Nazi Hunters were still in the Argentinean area. My guess is that Odessa was captured including high command, as far as our allies. Well, I’m afraid that I expect the worse.
As far as our chapters in Russia and Germany, I am afraid since our flight our numbers have greatly decreased over the years. Our other international chapters are almost dried up or now defunct. Odessa was our last refuge, not just for our soldiers and fellow brothers-in-arms, but for our Fourth Reich. Odessa united all the remaining groups and continued the fight. Uniting our cause with that of the Skin Heads or Neo-Nazi’s was a foolish operation of Odessa. I can understand the need for numbers after all war is won with numbers. But what do those fools know about fighting for the greater good? All they see is their blind ignorance.
I have also lied about the likelihood of the Fuhrer still being alive. I have to admit that breaking into the Kremlin was an act of a desperate man. I am sorry that I put you through that. It was true when I said that I believed the Fuhrer was locked up somewhere underneath it. I must admit that I was running out of options. Odessa had no contact with anybody from Hitler’s council. The rumors of bases in Antarctica, the Philippines, Bavaria, or his escape to Japan was all just rumors. That is why I believed the Fuhrer to be there. You see son the SS were the most loyal and I refused for years to accept that our Fuhrer was gone. It is my sad news to admit that
I believe the Fuhrer to be truly gone. Only a true blood descendant has the right to lead the Fourth Reich. You see my son continuing this fight is pointless please don’t waste your life following a dream that can never happen.
I remembered how foolish I was in the beginning. I helped to defend Berlin when the Soviets were advancing. I and a few others continued to fight when the Soviets were knocking on our very door. When Germany surrendered, the oath kept us bound. Our pride and nationalism kept the fight burning inside of us. I, with a few others fought until May 9th, but we wanted to continue the fight. That is how the SS-Werewolf had gotten started. Many of the soldiers remaining in the fight wished I could have joined the SS. I had earned enough metals to potentially fit on both breast pockets. Even during the Battle of Berlin, I had received an iron cross from the Fuhrer himself. The same cross you received after our mission into the Kremlin. I stand by what I said when Dr. Aribert Heim awarded you one. I wish the Fuhrer could have given it to you himself. A true honor it was for me.
In the end many of the remaining soldiers either surrendered or shot themselves. I and Artur Axmann, the Reichsfuhrer of the Hitler Youth rescued many suicide candidates and told them about the SS-Werewolf group. At one time we had many different groups, one even numbered twelve hundred. Can you believe that?
Imagine what we could have done with those numbers at the compound that day?
The SS-Werewolf continued to fight, arsons, assassinations, nothing big to help win our country back. I and Artur formed the Waffen-SS Werewolf creating a group of the most loyal of Hitler’s followers. Many of my fellow fighters were veteran soldiers
already. We wished to do more than the mere SS-Werewolf. The Waffen-SS
Werewolf’s first battle didn’t last long. After an hour, we were all captured and thrown into prison by the Soviets. Artur and the remaining soldiers were tried in 1949. I on the other hand stayed in that prison until the Soviet Union collapsed.
That is how you ended up in Siberia not because your mother and I had to flee. I was considered too dangerous by the Soviets. They transported me to a Gulag in Siberia where I was left to rot until I was released after 35 years. Remember your training, God you were so young! Although informal it was it will help you survive this dismal place. The only thing I can give you son is advice. Our cause is dead, but I can go happy knowing that you can survive and live a life. In prison, fear is a weapon. Men must fear you. Every crime no matter how small must be met with immediate consequence.
Also, in my last days I have been having regular meetings with a relative of Stephanie’s named Jango Cassidy. He was the one that wrote those magazine articles about us. He has been asking me more in-depth questions about you and the training we did in the Soviet Union. He has been quite persistent to know everything. Be wary my son, he said that it was for another story, but I don’t believe him. He was nervous and fidgety the entire time but demanded answers. I don’t know what I said because they shot me up with Sodium Thiopental. Stay awake my son, he was very interested in you this time…very interested. I love you son always remember that and I am telling you as your father lay down your arms. The war for a Greater Germany can finally be buried. I leave the world knowing that you will honor my wishes. Live son…LIVE.
