Several resistance groups had formed in Texas, their numbers ranging anywhere from sixty to one hundred and sixty. Many would fall in a very short time due to poor training and lack of any real leadership.
Punks and other assorted crap-heads would also join under one flag so to speak. But Texan’s have never been the type to take shit from anyone for any certain length of time.
The punks would fall, and many of them falling by the very victims that they’d terrorized over the years. There would be no mercy shown.
Texas, was just mere days away from being under Siege.
Ranulf Black looked over the remaining members of his group, out of seventy people there were only six people left. He felt sad and lonely sitting by himself. They did not blame him for the deaths, but he sure as hell did.
They’d forced the role of leadership upon him, and instead of running away he chose to fight beside them. They were simply outnumbered, but not outclassed. They sent a great number of the bastards straight to hell.
Raping-child murdering bastards! Each and every one of them that they’d killed deserved it. It was bullshit to believe that the person’s environment helped charted a destiny. “I live in a real shitty neighborhood man, that’s why I raped and killed that woman.”
Good and decent people can come from really bad neighborhoods and a shitheads can come from the rich side of town.
The neighborhood has nothing to do with it. Bullshit! You did that crap because you’re a fuckin’ low-life. He and his team all came from the same neighborhood, the really crummy neighborhoods were always stereotyped as the place where creeps and shitheads were born and bred.
They’d come from such a neighborhood, but had never been in trouble with the law. They just didn’t have a ton of money.
Not even one of them had even had so much as even a traffic ticket. They’d worked hard all their lives, and strived for the Great American Dream.
Now their friends and families were dead, killed by the punks and strangely dressed men in black. He’d personally seen a little old woman shoot a creep point blank in the chest. Then saw a man in black take her head off with a shotgun.
One of his team members chopped the man to bloody bits with a machete, as he cried for his grandmother.
Bloody Goddamn Bastards!
That seemed to change Rockne Walker, the very large warehouse worker. Rockne had also had his own dream. He’d trained everyday once he’d realized his dream, he wanted to be the heavy weight boxing champ of the world.
Then his parents died in that fire and somebody had to look after his grandmother. Then this would happen and that would happen, something always got in the way of his dream. Then he was just too damn old.
But he loved kids and worked with them down at the youth center, he never once turned any kid away that wanted to train, nor did he ever neglect his sweet but very strict grandmother.
His dark eyes once danced with laughter and rascality, sadly now they were dark with hate and rage.
Then there was Zeke and Zack Muldroe, the two brothers that had came home from a double date, only to find that their entire family had been murdered by the black clad men. The brothers picked up their ball bats (the only weapons available at the time) and bashed the murderer’s heads in.
Two of the bastards were about to rape their ten year old sister. She was past the point of feeling anything, her head had been bashed in.
The cops were fairly certain they knew who the men were, but at the time they were totally powerless to do anything except take statements. It had truly sickened them to view such scenes like those at the Muldroe house.
It wouldn’t be long, and payment in full would be expected to be paid. The people of the neighborhood would come collecting.
Woya White had roamed the darkened streets, for several hours after three men dressed in black had ripped her clothes from her, and had tried to rape her. She’d slit the throat of one man and then managed to get her hands, on one of their guns and killed the other two men.
She was bruised, naked and was very disoriented when Leilani Spencer found her. Leilani had come home to find her husband and three year old son had been murdered.
Both had been shot in the back of the head, the woman had left her house in a blind rage, crying and out for blood, but at the time what she’d found was Woya.
Vengeance would be so sweet, vengeance would be swift and very final. For her man and her baby, she would kill every goddamn one of those bastards. Her man was a very good man, the very best...her baby, little Byron was only three years old.
Goddamn Them All To Hell!
Ranulf put his face in his big hands and wept.
That sinking feeling of impending failure, had returned and he just didn’t know what to do about it. He was the family screw up, the one that would make mistakes, all because he’d let his emotions rule his actions.
He knew that he’d make a very lousy cop, because he’d shoot some lowlife rather than arrest him. Many fail to see the problem with that, a cop is paid to protect and to serve. He shoots the bad guy, and quite suddenly all the problems are over and done with. Right?
The lowlife deserves the same rights as anyone. Sad, but very true. A rapist can be caught in the act, but according to the law he has the right to a trial by a jury of his peers.
One hundred and fifty people can stand back and watch some bastard kill a
child. Why, that many people would just stand back and watch is beyond anybody with a brain. The point being is: that many people can see the crime, and then some scumbag attorney can still get the bastard off.
In some neighborhoods, a hundred and fifty people just standing around, would be called a mob. And mob law rules, in other words nobody saw or knows a goddamn thing. They take care of their own.
I saw the cab pull up and I slowly walked toward the sidewalk, there was something about the three silhouettes that was very familiar. The first person to get out was a very stocky man with very broad shoulders.
I took two more steps forward.
The second man was tall and even though dress in jeans and a tee-shirt he still looked very refined.
I felt my heart quicken. Joe and Sir Robert! Then I saw the familiar form of my sister. “Sara Ann!” I shouted as I ran toward the three people. I froze for a moment when I saw the second woman.
The first one to take hold of me was Joe, the boy had grown into a mountain in width. He took me in a bear hug and bounced me around. “What’s matter big brother don’t you say hi to me any more?”
“You’re too goddamn ugly to hug and kiss. Let me go, you’re breaking my fucking ribs!”
Joe laughed and let go, and I almost fell on my ass, Sir Robert had to grab hold of me to help steady me. “He did that by chopping trees, and clearing the land. Little dim-wit was moving boulders by hand.”
Sara looked first at me, and then began to look around, as though looking for someone. “She’s not here. Things have gotten bad here Sis.” I looked again at the very beautiful younger woman.
“I’d heard that it had. But ...” she said with a shake of her head. “Why didn’t you get in touch with us?”
“You guys were safe, and that’s all that mattered. Besides I’d opened up this crap-shoot. I didn’t want to involve more people I loved than I actually had to.”
“We’re here now, and that’s all that matters,” Sir Robert said firmly. “family is what is important...honoring one’s family.”
There was something very different about him.
I took hold of one of the bags and we all walked to the house, that feeling of an impending fuck up was gone.
Sir Robert grinned, at me as I blew the dust off the bottle and poured us both a double shot of Jack. “I haven’t touched it since you guys left Sir Robert.” I said with a grin.
“Let’s get one thing cleared Dobs, can it on that, Sir Robert crap.” he smiled knowing the unasked question that was on my mind.
“Sit down please and I’ll explain.”
“So, that fancified little fart has come back, I never did like him or any of the Macalister family.”
“Why? What did they ever do to you, to make you hate them so much?”
“They think they’re so much better.”
That statement went right over the heads of the men that were present. “I don’t understand, the Macalister’s be the first to show up when there’s trouble. They’ll be knee deep in shit and mud heping whoever needs hep. They be out there workin’ in the wind, sun, rain and snow, how can they think they better?”
“I’ll explain it so’s that even a moron can understand it: Their daughter married into royalty, they started looking down their noses even more. Heping Folks even more.”
“Maybe they didn’t want people to think what you’re thinkin, or maybe they didn’t want to loose sight of where they came from.”
“You see it’s morons like you, that I’m trying to get my point across to. They were looking down their noses at us, feeling sorry for us because their family was moving up.”
“That’s a damn lie!” the man shouted. “People listen to me. Stop and use your own minds. Long before their daughter ever married they were heping. After she
married, did they cause the change in the weather? I’m so sure that they suddenly had high connections.”
There was a low murmur among the crowd.
“Pete after that twister took the roof off your barn, they came and heped you didn’t they?”
“Yeah, they did.” the man replied.
“Tim after that bad storm, and your herd got scattered to hell and gone, who was the first to show up?”
“The Macalister’s.” the man said firmly.
“This man is so goddamn jealous that he can hardly see straight. If he’d not married his first cousin and produced such a hideous halfwit, Sir Robert might have looked twice at her.”
The crowd roared with laughter.
“The Macalister’s are not the enemy. Who is it that’s leading the rebellion? A Macalister. Trust me, use your own commonsense and just leave it alone.”