weren’t with him the way Lansdale’s men were with him. They were nothing but a paid labor force, and they had to know that.
You can buy obedience, but you can’t buy the kind of loyalty that makes a man throw himself between a pistol and his boss.
Lansdale might have had plenty of worries—being shot in the back was never one of them.
verything had been going along just perfect until those master-race morons showed Tory-boy a club he could join. Not some club that maybe might let him in if he did things for them; this club, they wanted him for himself.
“I’m a pure Aryan, Esau!” he told me, all excited. “See, there’s ice people and mud people, and I got the perfect blood in me. They’re a great group of guys. And they understand, too. The first night, they tried to get me to have beers with them. I told them I can’t do that. Mostly, when I say that, folks look at me funny. But not them, Esau. After I told them I had to keep bad stuff out of my body, they looked at me like I was just talking sense.
“The leader, he even said I was the ideal example! Pure, clean living, that was the way to build our race.”
thought it would pass. Tory-boy could get all excited about something and then forget about it by the next day.
But it only got worse. One morning at breakfast, Tory-boy told me he had a new girlfriend. “They picked her for me, Esau. And guess why! ’Cause we’ve got the best blood. She’s pure white, too. So we’re going to make babies. We’re going to uplift our race!”
I knew that was never going to happen. Years ago, I’d had Tory-boy fixed. I got the doctor to read the medical records, and he agreed a vasectomy would be “in the young man’s best interests.” With me signing as guardian, it was all over in an hour.
Tory-boy didn’t know why he was getting the “operation.” When I told him it had to be done, otherwise he could end up in a wheelchair like me, that was all it took.
I needn’t have bothered with all that. Tory-boy knew I never would do anything that wasn’t good for him, no matter what.
It would be a while before those skinhead imbeciles found out Tory-boy couldn’t make babies, but they already knew what he could do with a baseball bat.
They didn’t need Tory-boy, but they sure knew how to use him. When he told me about going out on “actions” with his “brothers,” I knew it was just a matter of time before they killed someone. And who would end up taking the blame for it.
I couldn’t put protection on Tory-boy anymore. He had learned too much new stuff. He wasn’t exactly sure why muds and homos and race traitors were all controlled by the Jews, much less why they all had to be exterminated. Still, he was ready to do his part.
I guess he didn’t remember the real reason why the Beast had killed Rory-Anne that long-ago night. Telling him nigger cock was much better than his was the same as her
I felt my heart start to crack in my chest, stress fractures already forming on its surface.
had almost waited too long. When Tory-boy came home and showed me the swastika tattooed on his arm, that’s when I knew things had changed forever.
Not because of the tattoo—because he hadn’t asked me first.
That’s when Tory-boy told me he needed the tattoo because a real important meeting was due to happen the very next month. The big leader himself was coming all the way from Louisville to speak. Men were driving from Columbus, Cincinnati, Pittsburgh, Wheeling, Richmond … and a lot of other places. He couldn’t be the only one there without what he called “White Power ink,” could he?
The night of that important meeting, I suffered some kind of attack. It was so bad I could hardly speak, and my upper body was locked up so tight I couldn’t get much of a breath, either.
Tory-boy picked me up, carried me to the van, and drove me to the emergency room, paying no attention to red lights or stop signs.
When they took me in the back, the doctors told him he couldn’t stay there with me. Tory-boy didn’t move. So some young doctor called for the security guards. But they were local boys, and they told the doctor they weren’t about to get themselves broken into pieces over nothing—all the young man wanted to do was stay with his brother, what was so wrong about that?
That really infuriated the doctor. He ordered a nurse to call the police. She told him, “I’m sorry, sir, but you’re not from around here. Trust me, the police won’t come, not if you tell them who it is you want them to try and haul out.”
t took a long time to run all their tests. They had my whole medical history there, and they could see I’d never had a seizure before. The doctors were puzzled, but doctors never admit that, so they kept at it for a long time before they said I was “stabilized,” but I’d have to go over to the state hospital for more tests pretty soon.
Tory-boy probably thought his “brothers” would understand, once he explained why he’d missed the big meeting.
aybe someday he’ll find another club that will want him to join.
The one he used to be in is gone, and I don’t think there’ll be another one taking its place, not around here. I can’t see them trying to start up a new operation in the same town where seventy-nine of them were all inside a concrete building—Tory-boy said they called it “The Bunker”—when a series of sequential explosions turned the whole thing into a giant incinerator.
Every one of them cremated, like they told Tory-boy they were going to do to the Jews someday.
he very next day—a Wednesday, it was—Tory-boy and I went for a long ride, all the way to the state capital. The people I make things for told me where I could find a needle artist who’d know better than to remember things. His shop was always closed on Wednesdays anyway.
That man knew his work. He turned Tory-boy’s swastika into a big butterfly. A black butterfly, outlined in red, with just a touch of gold beneath.
Tory-boy never flinched all the time the needle was working on him. He never feels pain in his body.
All his pain is in his blood.
o now you know. You know the only crime I ever got caught clean for was by accident. I don’t mean I didn’t intend it; I just mean I never imagined the kind of investigation it would launch. How could I know the FBI had an informant planted in with those Nazi people? That’s how they knew every single person who was supposed to be in that cement tomb. And that’s how they knew who
And they only knew that much because plenty of folks had seen Tory-boy around after the concrete oven had done its job—there were no bodies inside that anyone could hope to identify.
So, when they came out to the house after that, they came in force. The only way to save the dogs was to tell Tory-boy to let them pass. Otherwise, the men wearing all that body armor would have had their chance to use those machine guns and other toys they couldn’t wait to play with. Tory-boy would have tried to stop them, and their gunning down his dogs would’ve turned him into a monster worse than anything those men had ever imagined.
Once they got inside the house, they surprised me by acting so polite. But I was a match for them in that department. I knew Tory-boy would be anxious, what with all those people and cars around, but I never let it show.
They told me what they already knew, and I didn’t blink. But once they showed me their own agent’s field reports, once I did the math and worked out the dates, I saw there wasn’t but one way to save Tory-boy.
