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Our Struggle, Our Story
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Stories
Our Struggle, Our Story
By: Eric Erwin
In dedication of the Minot Public School System, I am the only non-conformist that managed to escape your evil, neo Nazi grasp.
In thanks to my family and friends, for keeping me going all these years, and giving me the will power to never give up.
In special thanks to my wonderful girlfriend, Sarah. Thank you for putting up with me; that in itself is a life-long challenge.
Gone is the affinity of man,
A shadow of it's former self,
A world of terror we have conformed,
Lost is the will to move on,
Human remains smoldering in the fire,
The death of an era of peace,
Which we prayed upon for something that never existed,
Terror that we manufacture,
Children are left in the wake,
The god of mortals lays shattered,
At the horrific animalistic disaster we create,
Gone is the dream of humanity from our eyes.
© Eric Erwin, 2005
Seek me out in your darkest hour,
Under the frozen Earth that lays upon my chest,
Call me out to your need,
When the light seems to fade,
Waiting for this heartache to end,
As all of time begins to stop,
Change, the only will to survive,
Love, transfiguration of the heart and soul,
Pain breaks the will of men,
Death brings guilt to the living,
Choice, the paths that tempt us to evil,
Bravery comes with a price,
Valor is essential to survive,
Courage and consistency no longer apply,
Honor and pride, forgotten words of a long lost world,
Only self-reliance remains.
© Eric Erwin, 2004
1. Epiphany:
"One day, either in my life time or the next, there will be a day; where work will start, but no one will come. When schools will be opened, yet the entire building will be vacant of any forms of human life. A day when the life we know now, and the life that will soon come, will clash. The economy will collapse, the government will fail. A revolution will be formed from the ashes we are living in; this ever growing fire, rage, and oppression we currently know and accept to a point."
"Hate crimes, riots, mobs, and the government controlling our thoughts, actions, and feelings. Suppressing information from the public eye; terrorism: causing us to live in fear of even our neighbor. This crooked picture is looking well, to those who never open their eyes. An awakening will occur; a sleeping giant will arise against what we are afraid of. Pushing us closer and closer to the breaking point… and pushing us beyond it."
"The people of this land will once again have to fight, bleed, and die together. Unity will form once more. Race, creed, and sexuality will cease to exist in our eyes, and the will to live free and righteous will consume us once again. Whether we live or die, our ideas and struggle will influence the world once more. Society and inequality will be forever known as a bad dream. Instead, a new picture will be formed, a mirage if you will; of what we will eventually evolve into."
"This struggle, this conflict of right and wrong will be in front of us, our children, and our children's children. This won't be a foreign war; it will be in our homes, in our hearts, and in our minds. Battles will not be fought by strangers, but by friends, brothers and sisters, and mothers and fathers. A new urge to be in the freedom we were promised so many years ago, but altered over the years since its passing."
"Millions against a few will actually mean something in our history. The united people will over power the acts of a few, causing war with ourselves, causing war within ourselves. The mirror image of what we were will fade away into what we have become. Brought together for one goal; one simple wish that we are denied in this fake democracy, in the dictatorship that runs behind our backs. The rise of the people… united, indivisible, and empowered."
"Chaos such as this will spawn a new order, a new world. This world will be ours for the taking, as long as we don't lose sight of what we truly need and want. As long as men and women are willing to risk everything to have what they believe in, what they deserve, what they have earned. This is my story of our struggle, this is our story of our rebirth, this is how so many died before me... this is how so many of us will die. "
These words and the cheers to follow it continued to play through my head. I remember… I remember the day I spoke these words to my fellow brothers and sisters; the day when our lost hope turned into determination. Our will to live and struggle forward on this once great nation, now nothing but a vacant battle field of slums, gave us the push to continue our cause to regain freedom.
Alas, I remember when I said these words in court those, oh, so many years ago. Convicted of a crime I never committed, nor thought of, the only link was a stolen credit card I reported months before. They came into my house in two by two's, killing my wife for the crime of cooking; they shot her to death because she was holding a knife. They killed her and my unborn son; in one decision, they took my life away from me forever. They then beat me senseless with clubs, protesting that I had resisted arrest.
Dragged from my house; bleeding and slightly lucid, I watched as they set fire to it. A new anti-terrorism method that they employed: take away their life, and leave nothing behind for them to look to. I watched as everything I had earned in blood, sweat, and tears; I watched as my life burned away like a sugar cane field ablaze.
After the fire was gone and done, they loaded me into the back of a van, two men held guns at my head from behind, while we drove off. Where we ended up, I couldn't say, I passed out from lack of blood and exhaustion along the way. Dark and faded were the nightmares I had that night. Dreams of caressing my wife's now ivory and ruby wine colored face, as the flesh fell off from the heat of the fire that engulfed her. I cried out in agony time and time again.
Awaking within a darkened room: no bigger than a child's room. No bed, no toilet, no sink, no nothing… only a small window from which people could see in at me… to examine me from a distance. My clothes, my personal items, all vanished from my sight, even my wedding ring. I sat there, cradling myself in the darkened corner of the room, hoping and praying my time would come soon. Hoping to hold my dead love once again, to taste her crimson lips and touch her silky, ivory skin once again. Things didn't go this way.
Almost everyday, or at least every time I fell asleep soundly, dreaming of my "forgotten Lenore", three men would come in for baseball practice with steel bats; I became the ball. Broken ribs, bruising, swelling, a broken arm, and leg, all for me to sign a confession: stating that I was behind this terrorist act that my stolen credit card had been used for. I explained that I had reported it stolen, and that I didn't know what they were talking about… this only angered them.
It seemed like weeks had gone by, when they threatened me to sign or they'd kill my parents… I signed. After healing up to look appealing for the court, to show no foul play had been involved, I found out what devastating act had been portrayed upon the soil of our people. Not only was the Pentagon destroyed, triggered my several large car bombs parked just outside the complex, along with paid staff planting C4 inside key points of the interior, but the President and Vice President were assassinated on their way to the Congress building to address the nation on the State of the Union.
I was condemned, and I knew it. Without a hope of escape, nor being able to prove my innocence because of the confession, an epiphany hit me; these words I have now learned by heart, I said out loud to them, and the nation; watching to see what is to become of this man convicted of such evil deeds. I was sentenced to death by poison.
Not even two weeks later, I was strapped to the table, waiting. Waiting for my last rights to be read, waiting for the inevitable needle to puncture my skin, and inject me with this deadly toxin; I wouldn’t be surprised if they filled the syringe with a cleaning solution or bleach, just to watch me squirm. I couldn't believe all of this was happening to me; I paid my dues, taxes, I was active in supporting the troops in our latest war, I even volunteered to be switched from my hospital, to go help the surgeons in the medical units near the front line.
"…though I walk through the valley of death, I shall fear no evil. Amen." The preacher said, finishing my rights. The doctor got the needle ready, flicking the side to make sure the right amount of whatever he had waiting for me was accurate. My death grows nearer as he grows closer to my arm; grasping my bicep with his free hand.
Boom! A large explosion rocked the northern wall, spending brick, cement, and other sorts of debris into the room. The dust blocked my view, the only thing I could see was the doctor covering his face with his arm to save him from being hit with the matter that flew at us at high velocities; but it didn't save him from being shot in the ribs three times. The two guards in the room were too blinded by the haze to fight back, they died quickly. Five silhouettes gathered around me, unhooking my harnesses, and carrying me out of the room.
They threw me into the back of a vehicle and drove off in a hurry, as the police and military came in hot pursuit behind us; two regular police cars and a hummer followed us. The three in the back with me began to open fire on our hunters, as they fired back with the .50 caliber machine gun mounted on top of the hummer. It tore through the car like Swiss cheese, killing two of them instantly; one was completely cut in half, the other only had red mist for a head.
I can't remember much after that, I only recall that I took a graze to my side, it was enough to snap me back and hit my head upon the gear shaft. I had seen better days. I woke up some time after the exciting chase in an aid station, some ways in the wilderness. So much had changed; I only wished to awaken from this horrible nightmare. Though many wounded lay beside me, the atmosphere was surprisingly calm, I could here Beethoven being played in the background; such soothing and elegant music… one of the many things I took for granted.
Looking around my environment, all I could see were bunks with wounded and sick people resting upon them; so many different races, creeds, and both sexes; either wounded or working together to help each other. I thought I was in heaven already.
"Whoa! Don't sit up just yet, sir." A soothing, yet cautioning voice said to me, pushing me back down gently. I looked up to see this beautiful Asian woman, wearing a Kevlar helmet with a red cross spray painted on it; wearing a standard army camouflage uniform, with an intricate symbol on the front. It was a raised, clenched fist, with four people standing on top of it, resting on its knuckles, holding hands. I found out later that it symbolized unity over oppression.
"Where am I? How did I get here?" Was all I could manage to get out at the time,
"Well, five of our operatives where assigned to break you out of jail and bring you back here… two of them didn't make it, but they took out the corrupt military personnel that were trying to take you back. Amazing what a simple grenade launcher can accomplish when used right… huh, sir?"
"Why do you keep calling me sir?" I asked after a few seconds of silence.
"Well, you should get used to it; they're going to place you in charge after you get healthy again. Since your expertise would be a major asset, after the little number you pulled off in Washington."
"You guys really think I did that?"
"No, we higher up's know you didn't, but we will train you to be that good. The two main reasons we want you to be our new leader are simple. One, your speech that you performed inside that courtroom is exactly the thinking we like, and need. We need you to boost the moral around here; it's been pretty dim here. No one thinks we will be able to accomplish our goal."
"Which is..?" I asked.
"To bring freedom back to the people, and be rid of this oppression: to bring back hope." She said, I could tell this meant a lot to her, it sounded… it felt as though her heart spoke these soft words. Wanting… no, needing this more than life itself; more than the ability to exist, she wanted this goal to happen.
"I believe you can do this, and will not stop until it is done." I said, looking deeply into her hazel eyes. She stared into mine in return.
"Whatever it takes." She said, checking my bandages around my head and ribs. "You should be back to normal soon… you okay, sir?"
"Yes… why do you ask?"
"It looks like something's on your mind."
"Well… I'm curious, what's the other reason?"
"The other reason is to make our enemy nervous, but you should rest now… I know you have more to ask, but you need your strength." She said, before leaving my side to attend to her duties; I laid there, thinking.
So many things had changed in this great and free land. Freedom was one of them. It began slowly at first, The Patriot Act; the government was able to spy on anyone and everyone they wanted to without cause, nor reason. It gradually became worse with time. Later on, the first ten amendments were abolished over a slow course of time, along with the forth coming of banning gay marriages.
It came to the point where homosexuals were forced to register with the government that they were just that, gay. Then came the branding, they marked them with serial keys, tattooed to their arms, then they were forced out of their homes and re-located to ghettos, after that it became camps: it was the Third Reich all over again. Ovens, gas chambers, labor camps; everything that was wicked in this world came here.
Ashes rained from the sky, and no one questioned it. No one ever questioned anything the saw, heard, smelled, or tasted in the air, water, or soil. So much death and devastation; what could men do against such reckless hate? Parents, siblings, friends, and strangers wept in silence as millions died for nothing, they died for one man's ideal society. History repeats itself, there are no exceptions, there is no mercy… there is no hope.
Many did escape though, but not in time to leave the country. Airports, ships, and almost all forms of civilian travel had been put to a halt. The borders to our friendly neighbors had been closed; erecting ten story high walls to block out any who try to escape, along with patrol men and guard dogs, there was no way through. Those caught trying to flee would be shot on sight.
With communication to the outside world forever severed, trade died out, causing another depression within our economy. The whole system began to collapse in on itself; the only way the government and military stayed intact was that it controlled the gold, which meant it controlled the currency and money. They were paid, fed, and kept happy; as the rest of the country began to dwindle: areas that once contained families that would play upon their lusciously green yards; laughing, spending time together, living with almost no care in the world… all that seemed to change over night.
Houses were boarded up, burnt, ravaged by hard weather, and contained graffiti. No one laughed anymore, no one was really ever seen. Gang wars, the mafias, psychopathic killers, and rapists roamed most of the towns at night. During the day people tried to go about their lives, doing what they could to bring in food or money However; the only real way get food and money was to join the military. The training began with brain washing techniques, breaking their will to only follow what superiors told them to do, no matter what.
After that, they went to boot camp; to learn how to kill anything and everything they were told. The final test they had to perform; was to murder their family without hesitation. If they even stopped to think about it for a second, they and their loved ones were shot on sight. Ashes to ashes; the whole world felt like one big nightmare.
But nothing compared to the massacre that was bestowed upon the military; the war of 2012… the war with China. The battle plans were drawn, and made by Congress with one fatal error; no air coverage, just an all-out ground assault. Ten million men and women were sent; ten million people… ten million soldiers never came home again. The war was called off, giving China their demands: half of our gold, and half of our nuclear weapons.
After complying with that, China later over-threw Russia, combining the two powers into one, causing Russia to once again fall into Communism, along with Japan, South Korea, and Vietnam; creating the world's largest super power with North Korea as an ally. With our country at less than half of it's military power, our country declared a Civil War to prevent being forcibly taken over. Most of the military now centralized in Washington D.C., in order to keep the capital safe from "terrorist" attacks.
After I healed, my training started: learning battle field tactics, leadership responsibilities; the works; it took me two years of my remaining, short life, but well worth it. We managed to gain foot holds inside of the once great, and proud city; now nothing but rotten buildings that matched the face of this new America; deformed and decaying away at the seam of its once fine power.
Corrosion and conformity gripped the citizens, who were forced to work for nothing to keep the government and military going. Whether it was bank workers, who kept the gold locked up and distributed it on payday, to janitors; who were to keep all government buildings clean without complaint.
Our numbers compared to the military are greater, but we still don't have the training, nor do we have the technology they do. So far, we've only managed to scrounge enough weapons and ammo to arm maybe one hundred thousand units, three M-1A tanks, two helicopters, and a S.A.M. (Surface to Air Missile) Launcher. They have one million troops stationed and doing reconnaissance within and out of the city, many tanks, helicopters, but only a handful of planes. Still, it might as well have been the whole Air Force after us, but then again, it doesn’t matter for me anymore. Those four months ago, when I gave my words of courage; after our aid station was bombed and strafed by their pilots. Many stories ended that day, as mine will end soon.
The butt of the gun came down on the back of my head once again, snapping me back to reality for one last time. I sat back up slowly on my knees, my arms cuffed behind my back; it was end game for me. The General placed his gun in the middle of my spine, without a second's delay he pulled the trigger, causing the bullet to rip out of my stomach; my blood ran black… my liver. I've only got five minutes left.
I slumped forward, falling on my already bruised and battered head; blood began trickling down my forehead and nose, meeting together on the grass of this abandoned soccer field, forming a modern art work that would even take the breath away from God himself in awe. The gun now rested against my temple, as the General kneeled next to me; I felt honored. A General kneeling before me; in a sense.
"Any last words; you servile, bastard child?"
"Yes…you've…already lost." I managed to get out, trying to scream in pain. The bullet slowly twirled its way out of the gun, connecting with my flesh and bone. Bouncing its way around inside of my head, turning my brain into liquid mush; my story has ended but another begins tonight. Another ray of hope will take my place.
Right before I fade out into blackness, I hear the triumphant cry of rage from the far side of the field unleash itself, as more bullets and blood begin to fall; the General lands on the Earth on his side, holding his right shoulder, crying out in pain. I watched as I left my shell to see my successor walk up calmly to the General with only a knife is his hand. He took his time; slowly cutting off appendages from this corrupted man. A finger or two here, an ear there; showing him what he was now missing. The General's eyes froze in horror, as he slowly passed away from blood loss and the shock of it all. So begins the beginning of the end, the beginning of our dream; this is now his story.
The light began to glow stronger as I moved towards it, I felt free… righteous. As I grew nearer to my final resting place, I saw her face; my forgotten love. I reached out and caressed her silky, ivory skin… and embraced her crimson lips once more.
2. Hero:
Flying down a 25 mph road at 50 was always Steve's style; no time to wait, always in a hurry. This always made Jeremy, Steve's friend and current passenger, nervous about riding with him. With his seat belt on, and prayer already performed, he had little worries about dying, and even if he did, he felt he would die in a "state of grace", he was a little religious.
"So Steve, I have to ask, how can you afford gas money? I mean, I work for the government, and I can’t even manage it."
Steve just smirked and kept watching the road, flying down the vacant streets and alley ways; well vacant of life. Old, broken down cars sat on the sides of the road; rusted, ignored… no longer needed nor able to be used by the common person, since gas became scarce, the price sky rocketed to two hundred dollars per gallon; not exactly the most-affordable commodity.
Staring out of the passenger window, Jeremy was trying to remember a time where he didn't feel as though he was living in fear; it all seemed so clear to him now of how it all started. Most assumed it began at the Patriot Act, but it reached back even further than that, back even before his parents met, back when they were merely being conceived. Back in World War 1, the scare of the Germans in the United States. Words were temporarily changed from their original settings and meanings; no one used the words sauerkraut, or bratwurst. These words became too German to be considered worthy at the time; were not to be used in an American, not German, society.
That was merely the scratching of the surface, after the war had ended, we left Germany to the fate of the British, French, and Italians; sending them into billions of dollars in debt to France for war damages, was limited to an army of one hundred thousand troops, and was forced to give up a part of land that they had fought for and won during the French and Prussian war. From our actions of doing nothing, we inevitably caused World War 2.
Our decision left so many people in turmoil, hungry, and lost in Germany; many feared that the Communist Party would seize control of their country in its desolate state; since their new democratic government seemed to be failing them. Then, only a decade later, the world fell into a depression, which seemed to make sense to Jeremy now; what goes around, comes around.
In the midst of these hopeless times, four leaders stepped up to rise and set things right in their countries, or at least what they thought was right. These men were Franklin Roosevelt, Winston Churchill, Adolf Hitler, and Benito Mussolini, not to say that all of them were great in everything they did, but economically… they did wonders.
Everyone had a purpose, a job, and was able to prosper enough to live and survive… well, almost everyone. Then, the unthinkable happened, war broke out again, only this time France became powerless to hold off the invasion, causing them to be thrown out of the war and occupied. Russia was losing ground and Britain was beaten back and held on their homeland, where they would never surrender, nor give in to tyranny again. But nothing prepared the United States for what was to happen next.
The attack on Pearl Harbor devastated the nation, sending us into the war, and causing the government to round up Japanese citizens, putting them into concentration camps within the United States. Jeremy was unsure if anyone actually died in the camps from poor or negligent treatment, but no one in these camps were ever convicted of a crime, just hypocritical nonsense to make white people feel safe, but things only grew worse, as fear gripped the nation after the war.
The red threat began almost immediately after the end of World War 2, where the government was allowed to spy on people. Many of which were convicted of being a communist spy, and either faced jail time or were forced to name ten of their "comrades", so they could investigate them as well. Such invasion of privacy became part of the American life, especially after 9/11.
Not even six weeks later, the Patriot Act came into play; which allowed the government to spy on anyone they wanted to with just "a" purpose; it didn't have to be for terrorism, just a reason to find someone that could be a potential threat. Everything continued in this downhill fashion, spiraling out of control; things were about to become worse, until the assassination of the last President and Vice President; but sadly, this only caused things to become worse for those of us still living under their rule.
Almost everyone Jeremy knew was either now enlisted or killed for one reason or another, Steve was all that was left of his childhood. Jeremy shook his head, looking out of the windshield, he saw that the sun was beginning to set, not the best time to be out in the streets, car or not.
"Steven, are we almost there?"
"Almost… hey, can I trust you Jeremy?"
"Of course man, we’ve known each other for almost all of our lives."
"Well… okay, I'll tell you how I'm able to afford gas. You remember my awful neighbor, right?"
"That guy that smelled like a combination of beer, cheese, and cabbage?"
"Yeah, that guy."
"Yeah, I remember him…what does he have to do with you making more money?"
"Well, I ran into him one night, he was completely shit-faced and pissed off. He confronted me at my door about loud noises or something, and the next thing I know; he's trying to strangle me."
Jeremy nodded, seeing the black and purple bruises on Steve's neck. "Okay, continue."
"Well, I couldn’t get him to let go, I kept trying, but I noticed my shovel sitting next to my door, so I grabbed it and hit him over the head with it. His skull made a loud crunch noise, and he let go; but I had such an adrenaline high going, that I kept hitting him in the head with it, until his head was nothing but a pile of red, chucky bone matter."
"I knew that I would be executed if anyone found out it was me who did it, so I dragged his body into my house and put him in my bathtub. I couldn't decide what to do with him, so I gutted him, placed his organs on ice, grounded his body up, and I sold the organs to the Black Market in town; made a fortune really."
Jeremy laughed in disbelief of his story, "So, what did you do with the ground beef? Eat it?" Jeremy laughed again, until Steven replied.
"Yes, I did… and I'm very, very hungry Jeremy," he said, eyeing up Jeremy, the health nut that he was, "very… hungry." He added, locking the doors in his car. Jeremy turned ghost white, he could see in Steve's eyes that he wasn't playing around. He watched as Steve reached down next to his seat to pull out a blade, but that was the least of his worries.
Slam! The car punches right into the side of an abandoned Semi-Truck that rested in the middle of the road, the body of the car began to compress in on itself, turning it into a compact car. Jeremy's seat belt prevented him from flying out of the windshield but gave too much, causing his forehead to bounce off of the dash board. Steve on the other hand, never appreciating the features of a seat belt, ergo… never wore one. Steve slammed head first against the windshield, shattering through it, and successfully winning the first battle of survival; however, his skull was no match for the side of the Semi, a large crunch could be heard as his skull fragmented into his brain, killing him instantly; the other part of this forceful impact compressed his spine, fusing the bone together, shooting the cartilage in between the bones out of the way in all directions of his body. Steve had seen better days.
Jeremy sat up slowly, still dazed from the accident; he watched with his left eye as blood began to trickle slowly down the left side of his nose, converging on his lips before finally going down his chin to slowly dip off. As he sat there in disbelief, he could swear he recognized a faint scent that wasn't blood; something familiar, something he always enjoyed when filling his ca... gas!
He immediately unbuckled himself, and started pushing on the door; it wouldn't budge. Jeremy repeatedly slammed his shoulder into the door, until his arm was too sore to attempt it again.
"Oh my god… I'm so fucking stupid!" He said out loud, as he reached up to climb out of what used to be the windshield; his adrenaline was pumping so hard that he didn’t notice that glass shards had dug in underneath his fingernails, and hands, at this point he only cared about survival. He squirmed frantically to escape out of the car; this steel death trap that he willingly invited himself into.
Getting over the last edge to land safely on the cement, he ran as fast as he could until his veins were pumping nothing but pure adrenaline, until his chest began to ache to the point it felt like he was having a heart attack; then he ran some more. He felt like he had been running for hours after he stopped fifteen blocks away, falling down into some tattered and worn hedges.
He kept gasping for breath, he couldn't slow himself down; and could barely see a thing after some of the blood ran into his eye while he took off sprinting. His hands began to burn and hurt to contract them, his side was starting to bruise up.
"Probably from the car crash," he said to himself inside of his head. "Well, at least none of them broke and punctured my lung… I'd be in a world of hurt then." He said as he laid his head back, closing his eyes slowly. He was so lost to the world, he didn't hear, nor see the man who came up to him; after seeing him run across the road that he had been wounded on.
This figure, who wore a black ops suit with a gas mask on, picked up Jeremy from his poor choice of a sleeping area, and carried him inside of the house that he had stopped at. Hauling him over his shoulder, he opened the door to the spare bedroom; a vacant place that was smaller than most Motel 6 bedrooms. In the middle of the room lay a twin-sized mattress, upon an old, rusty bed frame. Next to the bed sat an old, warped wooden dresser, it sat no more than four feet off of the ground.
Resting Jeremy on the bed, the man opened up the first drawer, inside of it contained first aid supplies; military bandages, tweezers, scissors, rubbing alcohol, a needle and thread. Pulling out the tweezers and bandages, he began to work on Jeremy, removing the glass shards that dug themselves into his hands and under his fingernails; he then ripped off his shirt and sat him up, wrapping the bandages around his waist where he bruised the worst.
Setting him back down upon the mattress, he then pulled out the needle and threat, stitching the gash in his head back into one piece of flesh, applying a bandage around his head afterwards.
"There, that should do him for now; at least until I can acquire some morphine for him… he must be having some wicked dreams." He said to himself as he left the room, closing the door behind him, locking it from the other side.
Jeremy laid there, eyes clenched and sweating. Whatever awaited him in his almost coma induced sleep, it didn't bode well with him at all.
3. What Nightmares are made of:
Looking around this dream-like state, Jeremy found himself brought back to a time in his own memory, back when the special units called Enforcers went from house to house, and school to school, looking for registered homosexuals who didn't report to the camps. Depending on which group found them, decided what course of action would happen.
Most of the time they were just thrown into a transport unit, and sent to the nearest location; sometimes they were driven out to the middle of nowhere and told to dig a hole, then shot and buried in the very grave they made for themselves. Very rarely, they were forcibly removed from their place of residence and shot in the streets. So many stories ended because of this bigotry.
The men and women who formed these groups always wore black B.D.U.'s, with gas masks as a scare tactic. It worked. No emotion, no remorse for human life; they only saw in black and white. Right from wrong, at least what they were told was right, and what was wrong according to the government. They never stopped to think for themselves; most of the population figured they couldn't think for themselves anymore… that all that was once humanity inside of their beings was dead and gone; just a walking shell, and nothing more.
Jeremy always remembered this because of his best friend, Mary. Mary happened to be a lesbian, but found herself growing more and more interested in Jeremy, at least Jeremy felt this way. Though they became friends at a very young age, their bond never seemed to dwindle, nor flux. Never in all of Jeremy's memory could he recall either of them ever fighting, arguing, or being angry at one another.
They both helped each other out in school and in life, when one began to struggle; the other was there to catch them and helped them find their way. It seemed that nothing would ever separate these two, but as time went along, so did change. Neither of them changed, just the world around them; forming into an axis of hate, bigotry, and unexplainable rage and hostility; so they both would learn, at a ripe age of twelve.
Standing in line at the cafeteria, just like any other day, waiting to be served their usual slop that they called food. The usual chatter of meaningless structure and ideas on Mrs. Grant, the little neo Nazi woman who ran the school. It was only the fifth day of school, and almost half of the student body had been removed from school. Either they didn't meet her ideal plan, or they just refused to listen to her.
"Can you believe it? They removed Ronnie from school." Mary said to Jeremy.
"Really? Why did she do that, I mean, he wasn't the best student, but he hasn't done anything wrong."
"I don't know, but some of are betting it's because he was Native, you know her, she's racist."
"Yeah, but can't she get in trouble because of that?"
"Look at the world Jeremy, do you think anyone besides us is going to care?"
"Touché"
"Oh well, lets just hope we don't get removed… hey!"
Jeremy looked up from his tray of grease to see Mary being pulled up by her arm by one of the Enforcers. Mary tried to fight it, but only received a fist to the gut for her troubles. Jeremy tried desperately to help her, but the man that stood behind him brought the butt of his gun down on Jeremy's back, knocking him hard to the floor.
As they carried Mary outside, kicking and screaming for dear life, Jeremy tried to get back up to his feet. He only managed to get to his knees before the Enforcer walked up beside him and field goal kicked him in the head, Jeremy's vision faded as the gas mask stared back at him until he blacked out.
His dream turned into darkness and despair, running in his dream as fast as he could, he would only manage to move at a snail's pace. As he saw an image in front of him, faded and distorted from his view, he kept running closer and closer.
As he grew nearer to the distorted image, the less he wanted to see it, for he could already make out the Enforcers that were there that day in school; and Mary, sweet Mary who never hurt another soul in her life, on her knees in front of them, facing Jeremy; still only twelve, still so innocent to the world. With a semi-automatic weapon to the back of her head, Jeremy kept running in hopes to spare her life, so she could continue her still so new story. Fate it seems, never like Jeremy to begin with.
He felt his legs slowly melt to the floor, slowing his movement even more than before, he felt bound just a few feet away, unable to gain any ground. He struggled and squirmed to move closer, but it was all in vain. A shot went off, sending poor Mary's blood and gray matter to fly in every direction, covering him from head to toe in her essence. Jeremy dropped to his knees.
"No!" He cried out in anger and sadness, covering his face with hands. He began to weep uncontrollably, as if a part of him died with her; as if his better half was gone.
"Jeremy…" He heard in a haunting voice. He looked up from his hands to see Mary standing in front of him; blue, cold, dead; he watched as a little more of her brain matter and blood slowly seeped out of the exit wound in her head in horror.
"Jeremy… why didn’t you save me? Why did you let me die?" She said, moving forward to him in a flash. Jeremy leaned back, terrified of this being that stood before him now. She rested her hand on his shoulder, pulling him forward. She pressed his lips against hers, kissing him softly and warmly.
Pulling back after the kiss, she stared into his eyes; so empty, so dull… but she managed a loving smile. Jeremy sat in awe of her, wondering what could be next to happen, but he watched as her smile slowly faded into a frown. Her eyes lit up with fire, as she let out a scream of rage. Drawing back with one of her arms, Jeremy noticed she was holding a sickle; he watched in shock and fear, as she brought it up over her head and stopped it by embedding it in his head.
Jeremy sat up on the bed, breathing heavily and sweating. Jeremy put his hand on his head gently, the throbbing pain he now experienced awaking made him feel that the dream was real. Then he noticed the bandages, and the fact his shirt was gone.
"Where the hell am I?" He asked himself. Standing up onto the floor, he felt stiff and sore all over his body; he noticed the dresser and that the first drawer was open. He peeked inside to see the remnants of medical supplies; closing the drawer, he felt curious as to what was in the second drawer. Opening it, he found a 9mm, a silencer, and three clips that were filled. Stuffing the ammo into his pocket, he pulled out the handgun and silencer, twisting the silencer onto the end of the barrel; he then placed the weapon between his belt and his pants.
He reached farther back in the drawer and found a box within it. Pulling it out slowly, he noticed it required a key; feeling all over the inside of drawer he found it taped to the bottom of the drawer above it. Peeling the tape off, he inserted the small key into it, opening the top of the box slowly. Inside was a picture of a family and a tune being played; it was Beethoven's Furelise. He sat the box on the bed and sat next to it, admiring the picture as the soothing music played. For the first time all day, he felt himself relax; giving at the family that stared back at him, it reminded him some-what of his family.
God how he missed his sweet, innocent youth; when life seemed to make sense: nap time, snacks, finger painting, and Lego blocks. That's all he needed, that's all he knew; life just seemed so peaceful and promising. No stress, no worries; well except the worry of not making to the bathroom in time, but even the elderly have the problem from time to time. How much he missed his family, he never knew until that moment, he began to cry softly.
The drops of water ran down his face slowly, landing upon the picture softly as he thought about his parents, and siblings. He was just a teenager, out on the town with his friends; causing trouble and mischief when he came home to find his house had been burned to the ground; ashes to ashes his old man would've said. Ashes to ashes.
Almost every house on his neighbor hood ended up that way, all because of one person who allegedly sent aid money to a terrorist faction that caused devastation and assassination on our soil. He knew this man, and knew that he would've never done such a horrific deed; not even if he and his family were in danger of death. The more he thought about it, the angrier he became.
He almost cried out in rage, when he heard a pounding on the other side of the door. He stood up facing it, taking his gun out of its holding, cocking it, and taking aim. The pounding was heard again, followed by a voice.
"Hey Jeremy, you need to get out of here, a military sweeper team is coming! Crawl out of the window and make a break for it, and whatever you do, do not let them get a hold of you, I'll try to hold them off as long as I can!"
He didn't hesitate. The instant the voice stopped, Jeremy took off to the window, bashing the glass out with the butt of the pistol. Crawling out of it, he took refuge behind a fallen tree that had made its home just outside of the window; for as he was climbing out, he saw headlights of a hummer approaching fast.
While in the prone position, Jeremy scuffled his way around to the side of the house, crouching up to see what was going on. He watched the troops slowly pile of the vehicle; seven of them, five of which were armed with semi-automatic weapons, the other two only appeared to have pistols.
"They must be officers." Jeremy said to himself inside his still weary mind. One of the officers pointed to the left side of the house, the right, and the door. Before anyone could move after that, a shotgun blast came from the front window of the house, releasing slugs into one of the grunts, dropping him instantly to the ground. They retaliated.
Hiding behind the doors of the vehicle, the grunts pulled out grenades, lobbing them one by one into the window; the shockwave of the explosions rocked Jeremy backwards onto tree branches, causing a loud snap as some of them broke. He looked up to see the five remaining men, staring at him.
Without hesitation, or thought, Jeremy sprung to his feet and bee lined it towards the back yard. Hopping over the fence, he ran down the darkened alley; being careful to avoid dumpsters and to jump over boxes and piles of miscellaneous garbage that cluttered the alley, he continued to run as fast as he could.
Turning out of the alley, he saw an arm appear in front of him; the two objects collided in a cold, unflinching power slide. Jeremy gasped as the world turned upside down and back to normal, landing face first on the cement; luckily his new stitches broke his fall, as he let out a scream of agony. Holding his head as the figure flipped him over, holding a gun to his face; it was one of the officers from the house.
He punched Jeremy repeatedly in the gut, hitting his bruised up ribs, every time Jeremy tried to protect them, the man would pistol whip him upside the head. Finally stomping down on his sternum, the officer stood up, pointing his revolver down at Jeremy's head, as he held his chest tightly in pain. The suit cocked back the firing pin, taking careful aim, and time.
"Any last words, you fucking waste of filth?" The officer said; Jeremy looked up to see a silhouette standing behind him; for a second Jeremy thought it was death in the flesh, as it were. But as he squinted, he saw a shimmer, a flash of light that rammed its way through the suit's neck; twisting and pulling it out, the officer grabbed for this throat, making gargling noises as he fell helplessly to the ground. Lying upon the cold, solid cement, he reached out to Jeremy with one hand, while grasping his neck with the other, blood began to trickle from his mouth as he tried to speak. Jeremy kicked his feet onto the ground, pushing himself back, as the man with the blade stepped into the light that shined down upon the fallen soldier.
This mysterious man was dressed in an all black suit, wearing a black top hat, and a cape that had a red lining on the inside of it, the man appeared to be in this fifties, with dirty gray hair poking out the bottom of his hat. He bowed before Jeremy as he knelt down and continued to cut into the already condemned man. Slashing his gut open, he reached in with his white gloved hand, feeling around inside, searching for something, while the officer gave his last death twitch, resting lifelessly upon the cold asphalt; completely motionless, except for when this Jack the Ripper reincarnation pulled roughly on his organs and intestines, searching for something. Jeremy didn't want to find out.
He began to run again, unsure of where to go, he ducked into another alley; hiding within an empty dumpster. Closing the lid as he hopped in, he sat down, cradling himself in the corner; he couldn't see anything, he didn't want to see anything. This whole day just seemed to be one long dream; the kinds of things nightmares are made of. He decided to wait until he heard the military vehicle go by, then he would try to find his way out of this hell; but where would he go? Almost every place is like this… only it's not the military to fear then; people who are much, much worse would be awaiting him, with open arms of jutting, sharp, piercing, morbid ideas of torture to try out on his flesh of fallen angels.
4. Meeting Old Friends:
It seemed as though time slowly crept by as he awaited the sounds of a vehicle -or anything for that matter- to go by him, so he could make his great escape to nowhere. With no one left to help him, nor comfort him; Jeremy sat alone in his darkened cell, counting a seconds that passed him by. Not even a gunshot to be heard, no sounds of steps, no screaming, no crying… nothing but emptiness and neglect of life around him.
The only thing he could hear was the song from the music box, playing over and over within his mind. He closed his eyes, and with the tune continuously playing, he painted a mental picture; the way life used to be. The sidewalks crammed with people mindlessly in search of where to go, and cars, miles and miles of cars, trucks, and other assorted vehicles, all moving in slow motion and never finding their way.
A sea of faceless suits, cell-phones, and briefcases; endless motion, negotiating, and business… never was it a family in search of structure, fun, or excitement. Always the same, always neglected, the youth forever lost in avoidance and always came last for importance. How much can one person take before they feel they aren't wanted? Suicides became customary, and no one was there to shed a tear for them, nor wonder why they were so down that they felt it was all that was left for them.
Even if they weren't ignored, the attention they received wasn't what they sought; child abuse rose to an all time high before and during the depression. So many jobless, so many stressed and unable to cope with it, that they saw no alternative. As a result, more teenage crime, rape, and killings came into the picture. Those lucky enough to make it to adult-hood were scarred for life; whether it was upon their skin or within their being, we all had wounds that would never heal.
Even with life so low, just listening to that masterpiece of art over and over again, Jeremy couldn't help but think of everything that was good in his past. It wasn't much, but even though life began to turn upside down, he couldn't help but be reminded of all the loyal friends he used to have, and how much his family used to love him. Even though they were all gone, he would never forget them, or how they changed his life, and made him into who he was today.
He snapped back to reality when he heard someone walk by the alley in a hurry, somewhere between power walking and jogging… he couldn't tell for sure. After the footsteps disappeared, Jeremy pushed the top of the dumpster up and slowly exited it. Pulling the gun from its resting place, he held it both hands; one on the grip, and one on the bottom, as he moved up to the edge of the alley. He leaned out with the gun in front of him to see if anyone was still there.
Looking down the road, he couldn’t see anything; the street light that was previously on was blown out. Jeremy squinted to see if there was any movement, he saw something shiny just a little under his gaze. Looking down, he felt it looked familiar to him… oh no.
The blade went up and cut against his forearm, causing him to drop his gun; Jeremy stumbled back, tripping over a metal trash can; he landed on the Earth, smacking his head against it. Feeling dizzy, he gradually made it back to his feet in time to see the blade swiping for his throat. He jumped back turning into the alley, he started running but there was only a dead end on this building. He glanced around to see if there were any fire escapes; no such luck.
Turning around again, he saw Jack again, grinning at him with blood and particles of meat smothered against his face; his eyes petrified Jeremy, as he looked into them, seeing insanity staring back at him. Jeremy slowly stepped backwards as the homicidal maniac slowly sauntered towards him, until he was pressed against the brick wall that was erected behind him.
The man let out a chuckle that sent shivers up and down Jeremy's spine; nothing good could come of this Jeremy thought to himself. He looked around himself to find anything that he could used to fight off this aggressor. Lifting up the trash and filth that laid strewed around the alley, he managed to find a brick; it wasn't much, but enough to possibly tip the odds in his favor. Pulling his arm back with the brick in it, he tossed it at the man, taking his top hat off.
"Fuck! Too high!" Jeremy yelled inside his head. He watched as the man raised his curved blade up so it was level with his head, holding the pointed end of it with two fingers. The man threw it at Jeremy, flicking it from the wrist. Jeremy watched in slow motion as the blade traveled towards him, flipping ever so gracefully, as it embedded itself into his right shoulder. Jeremy grabbed onto the hilt, falling to his knees in pain; after ripping it out, he held the blade in his hand sideways, making it easier to slash.
Rising from his feet, Jeremy looked back at the man, who was holding Jeremy's gun. Jeremy dropped the dagger and put his hands up; even though he knew the man wasn't going to take him prisoner. A cold sweat began to take over Jeremy's body, his lips slightly trembled, his eyes gave off a focused look. As the man aimed at his head, slowly pulling back the trigger, the tension of waiting was enough to kill Jeremy.
Bang! A shot rang out, but Jeremy knew it wasn't from the man in front of him; blood began to trickle down Mr. Jack's head. He fell face down onto the ground; his cape covered up his body from sight. Ironic way to die, Jeremy thought. But who killed him?
Jeremy looked up to see a figured standing on the edge, pointing a semi-automatic rifle down into the alley. He couldn't make out features, for he was on the second story of the building, and in darkness. Looking perpendicular to this figure was another, they both were roughly the same height, but one was more stocky than the other.
"Are you okay down there?" The voice above him called out.
"I'll live, where did you two come from?" He shouted upwards.
"Don't worry about that here-" he said throwing down a rope with knots tied into it, "-use that to climb up here so we can get you out of here." He said.
Grabbing onto the rope, he began to climb steadily upwards towards the heavens. Oh, how much this reminded him of physical education in school; he was the only kid in his class for five years to make it to the top and back down. Sometimes, he would even go all the way up just to jump from the top. But, as fate would have it, the last year he made it to the top and jumped, he ended up landing on his knee wrong, causing the cartilage to slip out from between the bones, mashing them together.
The surgery alone was painful enough, but the physical training was over kill. After replacing parts of the fragmented bones with sea coral and putting in plastic to replace the cartilage, he agreed to take it easy after that. He couldn't help but stop and think of Mary again; she would always cheer him on as he climbed, and he would always help her to the top; even if it meant carrying her on his back. He sighed heavily, wishing she was here to help him through once more.
"What the fuck are you doing?! Climb the damn rope you ignorant bastard, we don't have much time before…" Bang, Bang, Bang! Three shots sounded over his voice; two of them hit him in the chest, and the third one embedded itself between his eyes. The man fell forward off of the building, flipping one complete turn before landing on his back and head, crushing his skull open and snapping some of his vertebrates, he was dead before he even hit the ground; painless death.
Jeremy began to climb faster, hoping the other figure on the roof would help, but when he looked up to see where the person was, the silhouette had vanished. Before he got a moment to think another shot was fired, but not at him, at the rope above him. The line snapped.
Jeremy found himself falling to the ground from halfway up the building, the wind felt cool on his face, just before he landed on his shoulder popping the joint out of socket; Jeremy had seen better days. Dazed from the shock Jeremy rolled himself over, trying to focus on the world again; he managed to do so as the butt of a rifle came down on his face. Jeremy went out like a broken light bulb; the stitching that had been done on his forehead tore, causing him to bleed out again.
"Sir, get over here; we've got a prisoner!"
5. Soldiers:
The medic ran up as the Private was reporting to the Captain of his findings and actions taken, while the two rear guards positioned themselves on opposites ends of the opening to the alley; crouching down and hugging the brick wall for cover; all but the Captain wore gas masks. Concealed and conformed, they hid their face from the world to be undistinguished and unknown. No talking, no thoughts, just following their orders; perfect pets of a corrupted mind.
The medic took a look at Jeremy, sliding the mobile stretcher off of his back. He unfolded it and snapped the bars into place, making it secure to hold personnel on it. Next, he examined his shoulder; feeling around he found here it was dislocated, and pushed it back into place; a loud pop notified him it was good as new. He dragged him onto the stretcher, laying him on it with arms crossed over his chest. After getting him on the stretcher, he pulled out a syrette containing morphine and stuck it into his inner thigh, on his left side; Jeremy's face and body relaxed as the medication took affect.
"… then after I knocked him out sir, I checked to see who was under the cape, judging from the blood on his face, gloves, and blade; I'm guessing he's the one who killed Lieutenant Biggs, sir." The medic heard he private say as he walked up.
"Private, I need your help carrying the wounded man." The medic said.
"Yes sir," he said as the both saluted the Captain before returning over to the stretch. Both picked up one end of it, carrying the wounded hero towards the opening of the alley. The captain followed close behind them, pistol drawn.
"Alright, you two," he said, pointing to the two at the opening of the alley. "Advance slowly to the hummer so we can get the hell out of here."
"Yes sir," they both said. The Sergeant on the right side of the alley leaned out to give cover for the private that ran up to a parked car, taking cover behind it. He stood up so he could see over the hood; gun fixed in front of him as he scanned the horizon with his eyes. Raising right hand, he signaled for the Sergeant and the rest of the men to move up.
Block after block, cover after cover, they slowly moved up the area.
