The Wichita Vortex

by AsexualWritesFanfic

Set in 1960s America, the story follows Allen Ginsberg, a reporter who travels to the front lines of a civil war between the US and the OreCong, a communist faction based in the west. This short story is based off "Wichita Vortex Sutra" by Allen Ginsberg and parodies the message of his work. Some elements directly from Ginsberg's work and from history have been incorporated.

The Wichita Vortex

The Humveemoved slowly through the countryside jarring up and down with every rock and crevice in the dirt road. I looked out upon the burned fields that had been ravaged by recent battles. Smoke billowed in the distance and craters caused by the recent bombings covered the landscape.

"Is this your first time in the Midwest?" The driver, a large military man with a baldhead and a short brown goatee, asked suddenly.

"No, I came here once when I was a child. But this is the first time since the war." I responded. I continued to take in the scene. "How much longer until we reach the base?" I asked as I stared into the horizon.

"It's just up ahead."

I looked through the windshield. A large barbed wire fence loomed in the distance. As we approached, I could see small tents dotting the inside of the perimeter. The Humvee approached a large gate guarded by two heavily armed soldiers; they opened the gate after both of us presented our identification. We stopped in front of a large tent and the driver ushered me out of the vehicle. "Thanks." I said to the driver before he sped off without another word.

A large military man approached me. His uniform was decorated with dozens of medals and he stood a good half a foot taller than me. He held out his hand. "It's good to see you made it. Did you have any trouble on the way o'er?"

I took his hand and shook it. "No trouble at all."

"This area's been plagued by the OreCong lately. Those bastards have been poppin' up all o'er the area ambushin' our men." He said. "The name's Kinnard by the way, Major General Harry Kinnard of the 1st Air Cavalry Division."

I nodded. "Allen Ginsberg, reporter for Planet News." I said with a tone of professionalism.

Kinnard waved me to follow him inside his tent. He took a seat at a wooden table and pulled out a flask. He took a quick swig and returned it to his pocket without offering any of it to me. "Have you e'er done any first hand reportin' of this war, Mr. Ginsberg?"

"You can call me Allen," I responded politely. "But, no. This is my first time on the front lines."

"I ain't gonna sugarcoat it for you. It's dangerous out there, OreCong are e'erywhere and I can't guarantee your safety. Those damn Commies don't play fair and they won't spare you just 'cause you carry 'round a notepad instead of a gun."

I nodded. "I think I can handle it General Kinnard."

"You should get some rest. We head out tomorrow to Wichita and I don't need you slowin' us down." Kinnard shooed me away after pointing me to a spare tent that I could use to sleep in.

I walked in and laid on the blanket that had been placed down for me. I stared at the roof of the tent unable to contain my anticipation for my first day reporting on the front lines. While I wasn't going to be doing any live broadcasting, the opportunity to gather information for Planet News from the center of the conflict was something I could not pass up.

I began thinking about the onset of the war. At the time, a war with the OreCong seemed so farfetched. None of us ever thought that a radical Communist party based out of Medford, Oregon would gain so much traction in the western United States. Before we all knew it, we were in a war with ourselves. I had been working for Planet News for years when the war began. Many of the younger reporters were sent off to cover the war. But now it was my turn. They had requested that a seasoned reporter take on the task of covering the military's latest operation, Operation Masher. I gladly stepped up the plate. I wanted to help inform the people of the ongoing war like many of my colleagues before me.

After I had finally fallen asleep, the morning came swiftly. I walked out of my tent to see a line of men already dressed and ready to go. I grabbed my bag filled with the things I had deemed necessary for reporting the previous night. Kinnard approached me and handed me an M16 semi automatic tactical rifle. I must have given him a crazed expression because he seemed surprised by my reaction. "I don't know how to shoot a gun." I said quickly.

"That ain't a good 'nough reason. Just carry it 'round in case somethin' happens. You can ne'er be too careful." Kinnard said shoving it into my hands despite my protests. I slung the strap over my shoulder and followed Kinnard to the rest of the division. The men gathered around him. "Today we'll be headin' to the town of Wichita. Higher-ups have reason to believe that there is an OreCong base there. All of y'all must be thorough in your search. Don't leave any crack unchecked. Now lets move out!" He commanded.

We began our march from the makeshift base towards the town of Wichita, which was about 5 miles away. After the long, arduous march we arrived at our destination. The town had lost any grandeur it may have had. Many buildings had caved in from the recent bombings and any left standing looked like they had been abandoned months ago and had fallen into disrepair. Kinnard sent the men out in teams down the streets scouting for any sign of the enemy that they could find. I was ordered to stay by his side; he claimed that that was the safest place for me to be. We walked through the town, in and out of buildings, between buildings, turning over every rock, every piece of debris in our way.

After a few hours of searching, the men regrouped to report their progress, but no one had anything to report. The city was free of OreCong and the only people they had come across were families, mostly women and children, and a few elderly and sick people. It was like all the people of the town had disappeared—but not completely. Like when you erase a white board and there are those annoying lines left over and you have to spray a mild carcinogen in aerosol form on the little bastards to get them all off. Kinnard looked at all of them in angrily. "Are you tryin' to tell me there ain't nothin' here? Round up all the people of this town and we'll see what they have to say." It took much less time for the soldiers to bring all of the people left in Wichita to the Major General.

I watched as Kinnard walked down the line of people asking them the same questions. "Are you loyal to the United States?" The people would nod their head. "Do you love your country?" They would give him another nod. "Do you have family fightin' in the war?" Nod. "Are they fightin' for the US?" Another nod. Finally he would look at each person straight in the eyes. "Are there OreCong soldiers hidin' here in Wichita?" Most people immediately shook their heads. Others would pause for a while and then shake their heads. But all of them said no to his final question.

Kinnard paced up and down the line of people. "So none of y'all know where the OreCong are?" No one answered his question. The soldiers stood in a line opposite of the people, diligently awaiting their commanding officer's orders. "You've sworn your loyalty to the US but you still won't tell us where they are hidin'. Do you know what that means?" He stopped and looked down the line of people. "You musta been lyin' when you swore your loyalty. Which means that y'all are supporters of the OreCong." He shook his head. "You are all traitors in the eyes of the US, and we're on a mission to search out and destroy any person associated with the OreCong." The expressions of the Wichita citizens changed from one of fear to one of pure terror. Many people looked around to each other in panic. "And we'll just have to destroy all of you." He turned to his men. "Make sure that none of these traitors live to see another day. For the glory of America." One by one, the soldiers lowered their guns and took aim. The initial shots scared the people enough to send them running for their lives. But the soldiers stayed in place and took aim; it was not much longer until the town fell silent once more. In this case military issue artillery is the parallel for the mild carcinogenic aerosol spray. Both are incredibly effective.

I stood in shock after what I had just witnessed. I refrained from saying anything in fear that one wrong word would mean a bullet through my head as well. I watched as Kinnard looked upon the dead bodies and shook his head. "It's a shame that so many people have turned their backs on their country." He walked away from the carnage. "Let's move out men." The soldiers and I followed Kinnard and no one spoke after that. We all returned to base and I sought the comfort of solidarity in my tent.

I took out a pad and began writing everything I had witnessed. I included every gory detail and with every word I became more and more sickened by the events I had just witnessed. How could Kinnard have done such a thing to innocent people? What if those people were telling the truth and there were no OreCong soldiers in Wichita? Then everything Kinnard had done had been for nothing. He had searched for OreCong but all he accomplished was wiping out a town of sick, elderly men and women and children. My initial excitement felt almost surreal. I couldn't believe that I had ever wanted to go into the field; I now wanted desperately to escape.

I quickly arranged for a ride back to New York where I would be as far away from the cruelty of war as possible. Not long after, I left that military base outside of Wichita, without saying goodbye to Major General Kinnard or anyone else.

It took a couple days, but I finally returned to the city that I called home. I spent most of the time I was traveling writing, revising, and editing my report of the events at Wichita. I wanted desperately to return to my shabby apartment on 42nd street and rest, but I had more pressing matters to attend to. I went directly to the offices of Planet News and traveled to the top floor where my boss resided. I knocked on his office door and after waiting for a reply; I entered the office of Lawrence Ferlinghetti, the editor-in-chief of Planet News.

"Allen my boy, what brings you back so early? I thought you would still be on the front lines in Kansas." Lawrence said with a familiar smile. Lawrence and I went way back. He had been my boss for years and a good friend of mine for decades. "You don't look so well." He added with concern.

I sat down in a chair placed in front of his desk and handed him a handwritten final draft of my report. "It's been a long trip back, but I have a story for you."

He took it and glossed over it. He looked up and smiled. "We really appreciate all the work you do for us. We'll have it in tomorrow's paper; this is front-page news you got here! See to it that you get some rest." I nodded and stood up to walk out the door. "And say hello to Peter for me." He said as I shut the door behind me.

I returned to my apartment and sat down my couch. I stared out of the adjacent window, trying not to think about anything, the alternative was too horrible. I heard the door open and turned around to find Peter walking into the apartment. He looked at me and smiled. "Allen, I didn't know you were coming home today."

Before he could say anything else I was on him, shoving him against the wall and kissing him hard. After everything I had been through my world was crumbling. I needed something real to grab on and cling to, and Peter had always been my rock. Now he was the only thing anchoring me to the earth when I felt like I would be sucked away into a swirling vortex that I had only just learned the existence of.

He tensed under me, but then he relaxed, seeming to realize that this was something I needed to get out of my system. I ripped open his coat and yanked his shirt out from where it was tucked into his pants. I need to feel him against me, to know that something remained solid, that I wasn't dreaming.

Peter hissed as I shoved my hands up under his shirt and raked my nails along his back. I only pushed him harder against the wall, kissing him even more roughly than before. I ground my hips against his, using them as leverage to shove his back against the wall even more. Our teeth were knocking together, but I didn't care. His hands came up to my neck, taking some control back, easing the angle and softening the kiss a bit. I broke contact and leaned my forehead against his, breathing hard. He remained silent, panting almost as much as I was. He lifted my head by tugging at the hair at the nape of my neck, and he looked me in the eye.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asked, his eyes searching mine. I took a breath.

"Not right now. Later." I looked back into his face, pleading, hoping he would understand. After a few seconds his eyes fluttered shut in concession, and I dove back down to capture his mouth again, though this time more gently. I lowered my hands to his hips, pulling him tight against me. I broke contact again to lower my mouth to his neck, kissing and nipping my way down from his jaw to his shoulder. He reached up and started to wrestle out of his jacket, and I pushed it off his shoulders for him. He grabbed my chin and pulled me back up for a kiss, and laid his other palm flat against my chest, pushing me back slightly toward the bedroom door. I took him with me as I began backing up, avoiding the coffee table at the last second before Peter pushed me up against the doorframe. He paused to pull my head down and take control of the kiss for a moment, then he broke away and muttered "Payback" against my lips. I grinned, and then pulled him back, pushing him with my body until he fell onto our bed.

I let go, losing myself in Peter. I could not wash the horror I had seen from my mind, but at least I could grant myself a reprieve.

Later he laid half on top of me, resting his head on my chest. I lightly traced my fingertips along his neck and shoulders. Peter sighed.

"So did you write up your article yet?" He asked.

I nodded. "I just gave my story to Lawrence, it should be in the papers tomorrow." I relayed him the details of my time in Kansas and he listened with an immense focus like he always did.

After I had finished my story, Peter gave me a sympathetic look. "That's terrible. To go through something like that must have been truly awful."

I sat and talked with him for a good few hours, listening to him talk about various things that happened to him while I was away. It wasn't long before the both of us went to sleep.

That next morning I hurried to the nearest news stand to grab the latest copy of Planet News. After paying the man I looked at the front page of the paper. The headline was not what I expected it to be. Rusk Says Toughness Essential for Peace stretched across the front-page. I read through the article. The article began with a statement from Secretary of State Dean Rusk noting that the US army needed to be more aggressive in their campaigns in the Midwest. The article then moved into news about the war, detailing a skirmish between the OreCong and the 1st Air Cavalry Division, lead by Major General Harry Kinnard, that occurred in Wichita, Kansas only days ago. I finished reading the article in shock. The massacre that I had witnessed had somehow been transformed into an ambush on US soldiers that ended up with a US victory over the OreCong army.

I quickly headed to the Planet News offices and returned to Lawrence's office, where I had been less than a day before. I barged in to find him on the phone. I stood there and waited until he finished his call. "What can I do for you Allen?"

I slammed the newspaper on his desk. "What is this?"

"It's that article you turned into me, I told you it would be front page news."

"This isn't what I wrote! It wasn't an ambush Lawrence, it was a massacre of Wichita citizens!"

Lawrence shook his head. "Now, now Allen. We can't be going around telling the US people that our men are massacring innocent people, it's not good publicity."

"Who gives a rat's ass about good publicity? We're a newspaper, we report the facts!"

Lawrence laughed. "Allen, do you understand how crucial the war is? If we let the OreCong win, no, if we let the Communists win, then there's no stopping them from spreading all around the world. If the US falls, the rest of the world falls with it..."

"Don't you think that's a little extreme?" I interrupted.

"You have to understand..." He continued, obviously ignoring my comment like I was just some two-dollar hooker stripping to pay my way through medical school, but we all know I do it for the LSD. "If we were to report the whole truth, the people wouldn't support this war. They don't understand the stakes. But without their support, there would be no war. So in order to keep the public behind us, we have no choice but to fudge the truth just a little bit. Do you understand now?"

I nodded; I could tell that there was no convincing him otherwise. I left the office without another word. This man had been my friend for years, but at this moment I despised him more than anyone else. I started feeling like a complete fool. I had been blind to what Planet News, and probably every media outlet for that matter, had been doing this entire time. I had been blindly supporting the war without realizing what was going on, and I was working in the media.

I made a decision at that moment. I would no longer allow the public to be unaware of what was really going on in the war. Since Planet News didn't seem to want to inform the public, I would take on the task of telling people about the truth myself.

I got on the subway and headed to the most populated area in the city, Times Square. I walked to the middle of the square and lifted my hands to the sky. "People of the United States of America, listen to me!" People crowded around me, most giving me strange looks. Children pointed at me and mothers rushed them away trying not to make eye contact as I looked amongst the crowd. "The media, no, the government has been feeding you lies! The war is not what you think it is!" Some people rolled their eyes, shook their heads, and walked away, but others stayed to listen. I took out the day's edition of Planet News and pointed to the front-page headline. "Planet News has lied to you even today! There was no ambush in Wichita; it was a massacre of innocent people done by the military! I know this, I witnessed it happen!" Some people began to laugh now. "I lift my voice aloud and here declare an end of the war!" I took another look around the crowd; the amount of people seemed to have increased. "We must end this war before we lose ourselves, before we fall into the vortex of fear and violence!"

I continued to go to Times Square day after day, bringing the truth to the people of the city. Slowly and surely planting a seed of doubt within them about the legitimacy of the news.

As I began to walk out of the apartment for another day Peter stopped me. "Allen." Peter said. I turned to find him standing in the entryway, his expression full of worry. "We need to talk."

"Can we do this later? I have somewhere I need to be." I responded urgently. I had come to enjoy standing among the people of Times Square and informing them of the truth of the war. It somehow felt natural to me, almost like it was something I was always meant to do.

He shook his head. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about. Allen, you need to stop this."

"What are you talking about Peter? I'm opening the eyes of the American public to the lies told by the government, why would I stop that?" I said in an agitated tone. Why did he not understand the importance of my mission?

"This is crazy!" He said stepping towards me. "You go off day after day spouting nonsense. I want everything to go back to the way things used to be. I miss the old Allen."

"The old Allen? You mean the person I used to be before I left for the front lines?" Peter nodded. "We can never go back to that! I won't sit by and let the media do as it pleases just so that it can keep the war from being unfavorable!"

Peter shook his head. "This is all in your head! There's no way that the government or the media would lie to us! Why now? They've always been truthful before this. What's different about this war? Tell me!"

I hesitated then as I tried to think of a reason. Then I remembered the conversation that Lawrence and I had had days ago. "It's because some people in this country think that if we lose this war, the whole world will fall into Communism."

"Then let them think that! This war is being fought so that we can continue living like we always have, at peace and safe in our own beds." Peter countered.

I shook my head. "You just don't understand anything." I felt betrayed; I thought that Peter would be the one to understand where I was coming from the most. I had assumed that he would be my biggest supporter in my new cause. But I saw now that he was as hopelessly lost as Lawrence and the rest of them. I opened the door to find two men dressed in all white standing in front of the door.

"Mr. Ginsberg, you'll be coming with us." One of them said.

I looked at the two men in confusion and then looked back at Peter for an explanation. He looked at the ground.

"I'm sorry Allen, you gave me no other choice."

"Peter wait... Just LISTEN to me!" My eyes pleaded with him.

He closed his eyes and shook his head before slamming the door behind me.