“Good girl. That’s the spirit. You gonna make it now, talkin” like that. All right, what do you know about guns?”
“Nothing. I was born in New York City.”
Lois shrugged. “Ever’body has their faults, I suppose.” She smiled. “That’s a joke, honey. Well, we can teach you about guns. OK. Now then, you ever heard of a man named Ben Raines?”
“Are you kidding! Sure, I have. General, president. That’s the man who broke away from the union to form his own country. Why?”
“Word I get is he met with the commander of the IPF, a guy name of General Georgi Striganov. That man is, so I hear, one bad dude.”
“Sounds like something you’d eat.”
Lois laughed softly. “Son of a bitch stick it in my mouth, hell pull out a nub. Talk is General Raines put the evil eye on the Russian, gave him a double whammy. Said he was gonna fight him, stop him and his IPF from doing this-like what was done to you and me.”
“Anybody can,” Peggy said, “General Raines is the man’ll do it.”
“Damn right. That’s the way I feel, too. You get better, honey. It won’t take long. And you be careful who you talk to “round here. Soon as you’re up and about, we’ll talk some more.”
“You’ll teach me how to shoot a gun?”
“Somebody will, don’t worry. We ain’t got all that many guns, now, but we’re gettin” some.”
“The people in that little town where the IPF finally caught up with me, they just stood and watched them take me away. I couldn’t believe it. They just watched, didn’t do anything.”
“Most of them couldn’t do nothing. The IPF come around, gatherin’ up all the guns. You too young to remember the way it was back in the mid-eighties, honey. The goddamn government of the United States passed laws that gave the Feds the right to take all the privately owned pistols. That was the worst law Congress ever passed. Ain’t no son of a bitch ever gonna take no gun of mine-not ever again. I’ll die first; but I’ll go out shootin’. Believe it.
“Some of the white folks are in favor of what the IPF is doin’. A lot of them hate it. White folks is just like black folks: No two think alike “bout ever’thing. But General Raines got all kinds of folks in his new Tri-States, so I hear. EverTsody works together. No hate, no KKK, nothing like that white-trash group of people. God! Just think how wonderful that must be.”
“Maybe we can link up with General Raines’s people.”
“Could be. It’s a dream to sleep well on.”
“Anything we plan on doing, Lois,” Peggy said, a new firmness to her voice. “It can’t be passive resistance.”
“Lord no, child. Them days is gone forever. Let me tell you something else t greater-than out this General Striganov: He’s got folks testin’ other folks’ intelligence. Lot of fancy machines and words. He’s weedin’ out what he calls the mental defectives. Anyone under a certain IQ is in bad trouble. They just been disappearin’. The IPF is takin’ it slow and easy and quiet on that, not wantin’ to stir up a bunch of people. But they’re collectin’ folks and takin’ them away. Where is up for grabs. Nobody ever sees them again after they’re taken, so you can guess what is happenin’ to them.
“Something else: That evil Sam Hartline was in here this mornin’. Just after you come out of the operating room. I heard him tell one of the orderlies that after you got all better, he wants you in his stable.”
Peggy looked at the older woman. “Just what in the hell does that mean?”
“You a beautiful woman, Peggy. Young, light-skinned. You could pass, you know that?”
“I’ve thought about it.”
“Sure you have. Don’t blame you. But Hartline wants you for one of his women. He’s an evil he-goat, honey. Likes to hurt women. And he’s built up real bad, if you know what I mean.
“Son of a bitch will never get me!”
“Just settle on down, now. Think about it. You be the first black gal he’s put his evil eyes on. Be nice to have someone reportin’ back to us on ever’thing he says.”
Peggy could not believe what she was hearing. “You actually want me to prostitute myself?”
Lois smiled. “A stiff cock never killed no one I ever
heard of, honey, and women been spreadin’ their legs to get information out of men for centuries. My grandmother told me that her grandmother told her that back in the olden days they was called house niggers. Kept them down in the quarters informed as to what was goin’ on in the big house. You get my drift?”
Peggy nodded.
was “Sides, once a man gets it up and hard and in you, you got him in a damn good position to slide a knife ‘tween his ribs. You follow me, girl?”
Peggy’s smile was grim. “I can dig it, honey.”
“I’ll talk to you later. For right now, you beside” get some rest.”
“How?” The question was bitter.
“Just close your eyes, girl. It’ll come. You may think it’s the end of the world, but give it some time-it’ll heal.”
“Yeah,” the young woman said. “Just give it time.” She closed her eyes as the door to her room hissed open and closed. Peggy was asleep in five minutes. But her sleep was restless and troubled. She dreamt she was hearing a baby screaming. Tears rolled from sleeping eyes to dampen the pillow.
Refugees from the IPF’S brutal tactics began drifting into the only known safe havens in the country: Juan Solis’s southwest, Ben Raines’s Tri-States and Al Maiden’s New Africa. The stories they told were horror stories.
And in the three areas of freedom, the commanders pushed their troops hard during training. The people, of all races, all religions, realized the urgency of the
training. No one complained.
As summer began to wane, Al Maiden grudgingly began to realize Ben Raines was not a bigot or a racist, and that if any type of democratic government was to survive, the three leaders had best work together. They maintained daily radio contact, using a scrambler network of codes.
“I was wrong about Maiden,” Ben told Cecil. “He’s not a bad sort.”
“I was even further off base with my thinking,” Cecil said. “He’s coming around. It’s the damnedest metamorphosis I have ever witnessed.”
“I wish to hell ya’ll would speak American,” Ike said with a smile. “I’m a Mississippi boy, “member? We ain’t used to them big words.”
Cecil groaned and Ben laughed. They both knew Ike was one of the most intelligent people in Tri-States; he just liked to act the redneck part. And did a very convincing job of it.
“I’ve got over two thousand in here,” Juan informed Ben. “I spoke with Mark and Al yesterday. Al said close to that number have drifted into his territory. How about you?”
“Just about the same, Juan. Most of them in pretty sad shape, both mentally and physically. I’ve found very few fighters among my group.”
“Same here,” Juan told him. “And Al reports the same.”
“Well… it seems General Striganov is stepping up his moves, and getting rough with it. I’ve heard some grim stories.”
“Same here. There are some pockets of resistance in Wisconsin, but Hartline and his boys are brutal. No
prisoners, except for women, and then they’re used pretty badly.”
“My LETTERRP’S say Striganov is staying above the line, Juan. What do your patrols report?”
“Same thing. But, Ben-we can’t allow this to continue. My wife has just about stopped speaking to me, and Al said Mark’s wife has closed the door on him, if you know what I mean. I think that’s next with me. How about you?”
Ben knew exactly what he meant. Gale had turned decidedly cold. But Ben could live with that; he understood-or thought he did-how she felt. This was the 1930’s and “40’s all over.
Ben felt sick every time he thought about the IPF and their selective breeding program. But he was realist enough to know even with the three forces combined, they were not strong enough to smash Striganov’s people, not without committing all free forces in an all-out war. And if they did that, leaving only a token force behind, the
