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The Little Star That Could PART 2 (738 hits)


Part 2
On the other side of the Canadian border, African American refugees continued to pour in. More this time describing the hate crimes being perpetrated against them, by yet and still police in multiple cities, in retaliation for the Cleveland slaughter of their saintly brethren. All who escaped understood that their America was going to be fight to retake. The country they fled from had gone back on its word which was never kept in the first place. All too clear.
From the time of Malcolm X and onwards, The United Nations has been requested to intervene on behalf of African Americans, to condemn the actions of the past racially charged laws that were enforced by police and more recently to point out that the justice system is another way of prolonging slavery's setback. In either case, it has to do with getting help to protect this ethnic group and their culture from the everpresent threat of their government's doings. And in all cases, with America running the UN whenever it needs, the General Assembly has not yet been able to consider the mass kidnappings and holocausts a priority. Here, the wolves wear human disguises, and when someone cries wolf, these are the ones that come to the rescue.
The UN was once again getting the calls and appeals from America's black sector to bring in a Peace Keeping force to protect the lives that the American government couldn't. This time, African Americans were applying for UN refugee assistance in Canada and other countries. The UN was unable to deny the validity of the well documented recent events; however, with Washington's manipulative manoeuvring of the who qualifies as refugees, they were made to be on a waiting list for consideration. The list itself would be created only after the council met and voted in favor of a resolution to hear evidence of crimes against humanity. After that, they would need to vote on a resolution to decide whether or not to mention to America that it was doing something bad. In all, an ambulance stuck in a traffic jam.
Those that braved trying to keep peace by being peaceful, found that they were far less equipped to go the distances their predecessors had to mobilise peacefully together. Material wealth, letters and dignities now appeared, where before there were a scant amount of high responsibilities placed upon members of the emerging black classes. Lives larger than any house-negro's wildest dreams, never afforded the black modern elites the practical means or knowledge of how to eat take out from a soul-food restaurant with bare hands, no napkins, and be sure everyone is walking in the same direction with the same expectation on meeting their Maker.

For the hundreds of thousands suddenly displaced by violence and fighting in their country, the Canadian government set aside spaces to house them during the long winter. Lucky ones got a place in public housing units while others were forced to make do, sharing space in dormitories, auditoriums and sports gymnasiums. On a scale, this relief was still much better than how they were treated back home when hurricane Katrina scattered millions of African Americans to the FEMA winds. Nevertheless, and as it has been for the past few hundred years, Canada was welcoming the pools of scared, hungry, tired and freezing people. The American side was beginning to clamp down though. With their own citizens making the voluntary migration north, other voices called in to add pressure to the American govt to respect the human rights of the long suffering minority group.
In the 21st century, it is well known that black media is more than far reaching. Movies, TV, newspapers, magazines, music, videos, private broadcasting networks, publishing companies, radio stations and then there's the internet. The depth of the situation was well known and circulated throughout the cities of America and this also meant that the government storyline about domestic terrorists was as fundamentally challenged as the forces that were trying to bring order to Cleveland's streets. By the end of January, it was estimated that atleast some two hundred thousand armed fighters had clandestinely converged onto the Cleveland battlegrounds, following calls and hails for help and support. They had no intention on letting this police force live, much less commit any further crimes against the black community. It was all too clear. No demands and no surrender.
What the majority of those who went to fight in Cleveland didn't know, was that they were inadvertently joining up to fight along side elements with a larger agenda. The Ourweh Cult of priests and warrior monks knew to concentrate on this city, for the mysterious forces revealed this location to be the sacrifice ground where Ourweh would smite their enemies with a devastation so terrible that the oppressors shall never again look to trouble them or the rest of the world. This prophecy had been foretold before the times of Nat Turner when Ourweh warriors led sporadic revolts against slavery each time the mighty Star ordered them to shed the blood of their oppressors.
Instead of cursing the system and demanding justice, these peculiar brethren knew no fear in snatching the authorities up, dispatching them efficiently without gloating hatred, and doing so as if it were a chore like task. The numbers of new comers took note also that the sacrifices, which shocked the public, were carried out in such a ritualistic manner, and without any of the rage that should accompany revenge killings, they'd become instantly curious about the sect. The Ourweh following grew exponentially by the hour in the battleground that was now the national flashpoint. Knowing that there was help in their fight against the country that had never ceased trying to demean them, brought the young black street soldiers enormous confidence in the resolve that they'd chosen. What started for many as a chance to break the pigs off, quickly evolved into a mission to change their destiny in America. Ourweh was all about what they were about.


And following what sounded like Mexican party music to a warehouse building, our lone agent was about to witness much more than the violent pursuers that he feared. The saws were revving, he hopped up on a dumpster to get a look inside a window. Every one inside was focusing on the centre of the room. The group in the centre were swinging chainsaws at something in the air above them but were unable to find anything, he noticed the blindfolds. Some of the saws were sending sparks off each other while they searched above them for something to cut at. There were a dozen other people doing what looked like pulling up and down on ropes, all to the rhythm of the mariachi music. The crowd sitting on the floor were all clapping their hands to the tune and laughing. What in the world, he thought? Then one of the saws caught something, held it long enough for him to make out the shape of a set of legs, and then one of them fell to the floor. A piņata party. Soon other saws found their targets and their teeth gashed away at flesh and bone sending blood showering down. The screams were nowhere as loud as the audience and the rope workers tried their best to keep the PIGYATAS afloat.
From under his feet, the dumpster lid burst open, toppling him to the snowy alley ground. An Ourweh centry guard leapt up onto the edge and poised, crouching there eying him. Looking in each direction now, figures were moving in the shadows. Special delivery.
The music changed and waves of bass vibration shook the building, surrounding streets and the eardrums of anyone within a quarter mile. Ourweh was speaking to them by several ouiji moogs, through the hands of the monks on the bass keys. Young initiates were lining up to be baptised in the blood of their oppressors and freed forever from the mental stigma of persecution. Now they would be warriors for Ourweh, reborn, freemen.
Sanford and his friends were, in a few days, able to track down over a hundred officers due to the underhand tactics of the espionage enabled press. They must have had access to the department's personnel files, for every destination they visited in the limited curfew hours revealed police employees of all sorts, active to retired. All of the address details and photos were pasted into one document on his phone and shared with his contact list with a request to forward to everyone on their contact lists and so on. He knew it would reach the right number of people within an hour or two. All he had to do now was sit and watch. Ordering himself and his friends another quiet round of coffee, they knew this was the last time they'd have a peaceful sip here. Some would go back to their farms and wait with their guns til the feds found them or not. A few had been preparing to go up to Canada when Sanford called on them and now was the perfect time to get going. Another winter blizzard was due by dawn.
The night crept on to the morning of the next incursions. The previous evening's losses were horrific, troops and airships, all. The footage from the high flying drones overhead told the story of calamity. They now knew that they were outmanned by a large margin and there were a dozen points where the apparent rebels were moving to and from that emitted high energy signatures, causing more alarm. Shutting down city power was unavoidable, and for any residents stranded in the fighting, they would have to bear the brunt of the blizzard that was whipping snow down on the region, hampering their chances of a bringing the resistance to an end.
The blizzard blacked out the sky for a week, depositing 20 feet of snow on around the entire Cleveland area. The heaviest on record in the age of weather reporting. The region was paralyzed. The efforts of the federal troops were all put into holding their positions and being ready to move in on the rebels as soon as the weather lifted. The sieged areas cut off from power and gas were silent. No signs of rebel activities could be detected through the harsh elements and slewing snow that had reached several densely packed meters. Using nature to fight against the rebels, the feds figured that the snowstorm would be enough to break some of the resistance. There was no way they could survive buried under twenty feet of snow without heat. And they were right.
On the eighth day, the weather calmed enough for them to get a drone in the sky over the city. Buildings taller than two stories were sticking up from an avalanche that blanketed the town, and somewhere down there had to be tens of thousands of frozen combatants who were foolish enough to pick a fight with the law during the winter months.
For one thing, it wasn't Spring. So any counting being done before the rooster even has a twinkle in his eye, was about to provide the rebels with another opportunity for Ourweh to bless their sacrifices.
NOTE: A REMINDER THAT THIS IS CREATIVE FICTION. DON'T GET CRAZY, PEOPLE
Snow is the best cover in these instances when an enemy believes that the opponent is weak, in retreat and desperate. This clearly not being the case for the Ourweh warriors, who were building tunnels in the snow on the first night of the blizzard, just as soon as enough had fallen to cover their ant-like operations. Fact is, they had been under them for some time before moving clear of the exit offensive blast zones.
The field command post that the feds erected had to be moved a few times during the snows, in order to stay on top of the drifting mass. With only their 4x4's to mobilise, the rest of their vehicles and heavy assault equipment had been left under the impossible layer of snow. And as they falsely believed, unreachable even to them. For a few days, the rebels had infact tunnelled to and sorted though the collections of weapons and artillery. So the small avalanches that brought the command encampments down into the slurry, utterly paralysing their capabilities to respond, left ample time for the warriors who'd stayed back to distract the pursuers with snow, time to even throw a snow ball at a few of them before sending back the final pilot hostage and escaping into region. Ourweh had not required these, the rebel army were already upon their real enemies where they hid.
CX
http://versenovelryunit.simdif.com
Posted By: Clint X
Saturday, December 27th 2014 at 3:03AM
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