James Dutmore went over to the cabin, knowing full well that the old man didn’t like or trust any of those in his group. He as well as his team were small time, and his instincts, told him that the group they’d linked up with were a very highly dangerous group of people.
There was one woman that seemed to go out of her way to avoid him, she had the markings of an assassin. Her movements told him that she was very good at what she did. Her bland expression told him she could kill without feeling.
Then there was Macalister’s people themselves, those people were good at what they did, and they had taken to the woman’s group almost immediately. His people were being carefully watched they may have to abort.
They were just a group of friends, that had taken a page from Macalister and felt forced to make a change in Texas. In the beginning they’d wanted to make a peaceful change.
They had yet to even give themselves a name, thinking that they’d just be known as the good guys. For any group of people regardless of color, will take just so much, of being told how they’re to live their lives.
This group felt that most of the blame could and should be placed at the feet of the minorities. Wanting full compensation for things that happened to their grandparents and great grandparents.
Okay-it was wrong to enslave them. . . but why should anybody today have to pay for something, that they had absolutely nothing to do with? Quit harping on it, and leave it the Fuck alone.
Certain others feel that the rest of the blame should be dropped at the feet of the government. The government never once reminding the minorities of their proper place. . . and then taking the appropriate steps to keep them there.
They were free. . . and they should be happy with that much.
Stupid assholes. Don’t they know how easy it could be, for it to just happen all over again? Their group would never do anything like that, but there were some hate groups out there that were fully capable of attempting to do just that.
Think again buddy. Never again in America.
Let freedom ring. Always and forever.
No man, will ever again enslave another race, not as long as there are people like Dobs Macalister and Randy Baker left alive.
Lenny had gone as far as to say, to the new man. “You got these people fooled, but you don’t have me.”
“Loose the innocent act, I know who and what you people are. My people have been gathering info for many years.”
Okay, so the old man had more brass and balls than he figured on. Cunning old fucker. “Lenny, may I call you Lenny? Good...”
“Only my friends and family call me Lenny, my family is either dead, or they’re scattered to the winds. My friends are a just limited few, asshole. You, you’re not worthy to be shit-paper in my bathroom.”
James felt as though he’d been slapped across the face. Which he had in a verbal sense anyway. It was a gift Lenny had. If he liked a person his words took on a peaceful tone, and his eyes spoke what the mouth didn’t say.
If he felt nothing but ice, his words could cut and his eyes sear the wound close. If he were to tell one to get fucked, that person would feel extremely violated, and the sudden need for a very long hot shower.
“Best watch it old man, I may take offense. Dobs isn’t here to save you, and that stupid nigger that he left in charge isn’t smart enough to figure anything out.”
Lenny had lived a long life, and he had faced greater threats than this one man, and he was still very much alive. He smiled and snorted. “Your time is growing short Dutmore.”
James felt his temper snap and he lunged toward the man, he saw the sudden flash of steel, and felt the intense pain as the blade cut deep into his chest.
His drove his fist into the old man’s chest, and as he fell back he watched as Lenny fall to the floor. “Die you old fuck. Ain’t nobody gonna stop us. . .”
Moments later two members of his team entered the cabin. “Best get you patched up James we’ll clean up here.” Tim Duncan replied as he looked down at the old man.
“Better hope nobody figures out what really happened here. Lot of people liked that old man. Dobs will personally lead the hunt on us.” Larry Simms said in a low voice.
He didn’t like what had just happened, he didn’t even know that Dutmore was going to kill the old man. Talk. He was just going to talk, that was what Dutmore had said he was going to do.
“I take it you don’t approve.” Tim said, as James slipped out the back door.
“No, I don’t approve, he was a nice old man, and James killed him in cold blood. It’s goddamn fucking wrong.” Larry said in a tight voice.
“Is this going to become a problem?”
What’s so wrong with this way of life Tim? They just want to be left alone. If they want to rub elbows, with different races why should it concern you or James. Everyone of these people are really nice folks.”
Tim frowned at the words, spoken by the man he’d once called a friend. He nodded his head and began the clean up. This was not a problem that was just going to go away on it’s own.
“Tim listen to me: We can go to Randy, we can tell him what James is up to man. We had nothing to do with this, but if you cover this up, and it’ll be like you approve of him killing Lenny.”
Tim suddenly spun around and tried a sucker punch, but Larry was expecting the move and easily blocked. The two men stood staring at one another, hate burning in their eyes. “You’re a dead man Larry. Whether you talk or not, you’re going to die.”
“I’ll be waiting for you Tim, unless of course you ain’t got the balls to do
it yourself.” Larry said with a faint smile, as he backed away. He looked down at the body of Lenny. “he didn’t deserve to die like that, I swear to the Almighty that I’ll be setting things right.”
“The Almighty!” Tim snorted. “A month ago you were an avowed atheist.”
Larry smiled, “God may forgive you and let you into His kingdom. Be sure to tell Him, who sent you there, and if you have to write it, spell my name right you stupid illiterate sack of shit.”
“It must have been his heart,” Randy said sadly to the other two men in the room. “he wasn’t in that good of health.”
“This isn’t going to set well with Dobs he loved that old man.”
“Do what you can to find out the truth, and then let me know.”
“You think it may have been something else?” the doctor asked.
Randy looked around the small cabin. Yeah, that was highly possible. Lenny wasn’t a complete slob, but his place was never this clean. Somebody had taken great care, to clean or to cover up whatever had actually happened here.
“Just please take care of him, and report only to me, don’t send any reports or news by anyone else. You personally come and tell me of your findings.”
They both had been hearing the odd clicking sound for the past ten minutes. Randy was certain he knew what it was, he’d heard that sound many times. It was the same sound that a tape recorder made when the tape ran out.
He traced the sound to it’s source, and smiled grimly as he took the recorder. It was well hidden. Why? Why would Lenny hide a tape-recorder, unless he recorded something special. Someone saying or doing something...
Larry watched as the large Black man left the cabin.
As long as Ann wasn’t too close to me, it would seem that whatever was done to us lost it’s punch. I still wanted her, but I didn’t know if that was all in my mind or in my heart.
If I got too close to her, I just knew that I wanted her, her scent seemed to always echo somewhere inside me. Roses. Yeah, that was the scent.
She was a very attractive woman, and could bring out those primitive thoughts in any man. But, whatever they’d done to us, had not lost it’s effectiveness.
“Maybe it’s something in the laundry soap.” she said in a hopeful tone. “It’s the same mom always used even back then.”
“We need to find the source, I can’t go through life getting turned on every time I’m around you.”
Ann smiled, “I’ll try not to take that personally, I’ll go and get the soap and let you smell it.”
“Is it somehow scented with flowers?”
I shook my head, “It’s the scent of flowers that drives me out of control.”
“What if, we just went our separate ways?” Ann asked. “I can wait for you to send someone after me.”
“I could also use my radio, but we’d be in the same camp, what if we were to loose control there?”
“In a very sick way, this is a good line of defense: Fix it so that a person is either so repulsed, or so aroused by another that they don’t dare go around them.” Ann replied thoughtfully.
“Not if they’re strong that is, think about it Ann: If a person isn’t so strong and they give in. . .”
“They’d rape or kill whoever was to get in their way. But not everybody can be under mind control. But it could explain many of them. That good church going kid, that all American type suddenly snapping.”
A very crazy idea came to mind, no that was entirely too unrealistic. “Dobs that’s a very half-baked idea.”
The wind seemed to shift, and the aroma of roses assaulted my nose. I took a step toward her trying to fight the sensation. “That those that don’t give in are part scoundrel to begin with. They can fight it because of some hidden strength.”
She turned to face me, and took a step toward me. “Very polite way of saying they’re part bastard, and part son of a bitch. But they have to have something else, inside them to help balance it out. Something called compassion.”
“Compassion should be considered a strength too Ann. It’s a very powerful emotion. It gives a person the option of helping another, or to show sympathy for
those who may be hurting, to kill or not to kill.”
“How can killing be an act of compassion?” Ann asked a very horrified look in her eyes.
“If an animal, has been hit by a car and is suffering, isn’t it an act of compassion to end the pain?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Wouldn’t it also be an act of compassion, to also kill some scumbag-rapist rather than allow him, to get hold of another woman or even a child?”
“Dobs. . .”
“Maybe you’re onto something.” she said with a faint smile. “If we were any closer, we’d be doing the vertical tuck and roll.”
The strong scent of roses was in the air, and I was actually able to combat it.
“Are you feeling anything?” I asked nervously. It made me a bit uneasy actually asking this woman, if she was turned on, or if she was getting turned on.
“Nothing-I can’t handle.”
I sniffed the air and then smelled her neck, and the urge to throw her to the ground and attack hit with a violent fury.
“What are you doing?” she almost shouted. Then she looked into my eyes and passion almost overtook us both.
We both turned away at the same time.
“This is just great, I don’t even like sex that much,” Ann said with a straight face. “and yet here I am needing you like I need air.”
“Could have fooled me.” I said with a smile. “June used to complain that I wasn’t normal. She’d heard somewhere that all men ever thought about was getting some then getting some more.”
“Maybe we can force it out of us, just keep going and maybe it will run it’s course.”
The secret lies within us. I looked down at my left hand, and thought about the ring that was suppose to be there. I was suppose to be with my wife. Not here, and certainly not with this woman. I could feel the pressure building within my chest. I should be there holding my son, dreaming about what kind of man, he’d grow to be. Not wanting to make love to this woman.
Love had nothing to do with it.
I could feel myself growing angry, highly pissed at myself for being weak enough to allow this to control me. I’d once began to read a sex book that a buddy of mine had found.
It was sick and disgusting, and I’d hated every turn of the page, but I just couldn’t seem to put it down for some reason. The pull that I felt when I looked at Ann was the same thing.
I finally threw the book into the trash pit and burned it, I couldn’t do that to Ann. But I couldn’t leave either. Whatever, it was they’d put inside us wouldn’t let that happen.
Nobody was going to believe any of this crap, oh wow, many years ago me and this woman had been brainwashed, and now every time we get too close to the other we’re overcome by sexual desire.
Just leave and don’t look back, that’s what you’re thinking. It may or may not work. Think about this: I catch the same scent on another woman, and then I attack her. . . this is even scaring me.
Is that even possible? Could that actually happen, or can perfume scents be different on other women? Is this also part of the programing? To make the subject become so paranoid, that they’re afraid to move or to act.
There are worse desires I guess, at least Ann has the same ones as I do.
Anger. Focus on anger, a small voice beckoned me.
June would never believe any of this crap. How could I ever expect her to? My pregnant wife. . . pregnant? “Ann, what precautions are you taking to keep from getting pregnant?”
“Me? What about you? Why is it always the woman that has to focus on prevention? You men are a damn joke, you get your jollies and then run. A friend of mine had a guy tell her that he ate too much pepper and it made him sterile. Bastard never did live up to his responsibility.”
I had to push it, and I couldn’t tell her why. I knew I was on to something.
“Well Annie men can’t take the pill, you broads can. Now I’m asking you, are you on some kind of birth control?”
“I suppose you think any woman, that isn’t sexually active should be on the pill just in case.”
“Never know when the big urge might hit them.” I replied sarcastically. “A man shouldn’t have to worry, if she’s going to show up someday with some little bastard, expecting him to help.” the words left a very bad taste in my mouth, and I hated myself for the words I was speaking.
But it was working.
“Oh-that’s real nice, I didn’t see you trying too hard to restrain yourself from getting into bed with me. Don’t worry! I won’t screw up your happy home. I’d never want anyone to know how low I’d sunk.”
“Didn’t sink as low as I did, usually one has to pay for the services you provided.”
Her eyes blazed with anger, and for a moment I thought I’d pushed too hard. “That last one hit below the belt,” she said softly. “but it was very effective.” she said with a shake of her head.
“You sure?” I asked.
“Trust me. . . you’re most definitely the last man on this planet, I’d ever want to sleep with.”
I grinned my response most men would have been deeply insulted. “Haven’t changed emotions have you?”
“You didn’t die in my bed, so I guess you’re gonna live Dobs.”