WARNING: This chapter will present many racist views. These are NOT my beliefs, I put them in only to show some of what Mac went through and how terrible racism can be. Unfortunately most of the comments come from actual meetings of the KKK, skinhead militias, etc. What I describe is actually the more mild things I've seen in research for this story. It turns my stomach even to put these to paper. I think racism, particularly the idea of white supremacy is outright evil and disgusting. I also think that if we ignore it or shove it aside, it festers and grows like a disease. I apologize in advance for anyone I offend, know that is not my attention. I do NOT believe or support any of the views voiced by the Militia assholes. -Pox.
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The room was dark, like a bar, and hot. Mac wiped sweat out of his eyes. The roars of the uniformed men and few women surrounding him seemed to suck the air out of the room and thump against his body like a gauntlet of fists. He'd already excused himself to puke. The hatred around him hurt. He gritted his teeth.
"This Nigga isn't even a person!" The Colonel, leader of this militia, screamed. He stood over an African-american who looked around them with panic. He'd made the mistake of fishing out of a creek near the militia compound. He'd been beaten bloody. He was exhausted and terrified.
The Colonel slapped the man across the face.
"See it ain' human! It can't blush. It doesn't feel anything. It's only here for one thing-to rape our women and kill us all. What should we do with it?"
"Lynch! Lynch! Lynch!" Mac raised his arm and chanted with the
Others around him. The Colonel stood on stage grinning and raising his arms to work the crowd into a frenzy. Mac met the cowering victim's eyes. The man closed his eyes and fell on all fours shaking so hard Mac could see it from the back edge of the crowd.
"Look how it begs, worse than a fucking dog!" The Colonel screamed froth flying from his mouth. Mac dropped his hand and ducked back. He squeezed into a dark alcove and bent over. He didn't have anything left to puke. He felt hot, dizzy and his heart pounded. He slumped against the wall.
"Kill it!"
"Burn it!
"Lynch, lynch…" Mac closed his eyes forcing himself to move
through the pressure pounding against his body. His blood burned. He didn't see some guy he didn't know. He saw Bozer up there beaten, facing this hate. Mac shook his head. He had to do something.
Mac's eyes raked the environment. It was a barn made with plywood and cement bricks covered with flags and symbols about White supremacy. Mac's gaze alighted on the box of supplies by the door. It is what they would use to burn a cross later. It would have exactly what he needed.
It was well guarded. How could he get them away from the box? He glanced at the racists. They were pumped into madness. Mac slid along the wall. He stepped toward the guards. The fists on the rifles tightened.
"Great night, isn't it!" Mac said with the most enthusiastic grin he could muster. One of the big men wrapped an arm around Mac and pulled him into a side hug.
"Amen, brother! We're gonna party tonight!" Mac nodded. He stepped closer to the box.
"Is this your first cross burning, kiddo?" Mac forced himself to look into the dark eyes of the hillbilly in front of him. I ain' your brother and I sure as hell ain' your kiddo! Mac growled. He nodded unable to produce language.
"You're gonna love it, then we have a picnic brewing with some of the best ribs you'll ever taste."
"S...sounds great!" Mac managed. From afar he could hear his Phoenix teammates in his ear. They were drowned out by the fury raging around him. He clicked the comm off. He didn't want them to hear this. Shit, he didn't want to hear this.
"You're looking a bit green, you 'k?" Mac put a hand on his gut and another on his mouth. He bent over the box and fell to his knees only half faking the retching. The men all bobbed back disgust on their face.
"Jesus, dude. What the hell did you eat?" Mac tuned them out. As he wretched he reached into the box and pulled out a lighter hiding it in his hand. He slipped it into his pocket as he wobbled to his feet. The guards all circled the box and peered in.
"You puke in the box?" Mac wiped his mouth as he grinned.
"Nah, I wouldn't do that." He winced as the one to his left slapped him hard on the back, "I do need some air, though."
"Aw you're gonna miss the-"
"I have to-" Mac made like he was going to puke on them. They stepped aside.
"Sure man." Mac pushed past them and dashed to the back of the building. He fell to his knees trying to get in air. He was ready to level the whole place and tell Matty to stuff it. Shaking, Mac took a long breath. He clicked his comm back on. He winced at his teammates overlapping loud voices. Matty had read in Riley and Bozer. Mac felt shame scrape along his skin, burning like road rash.
"Mac?" Matty broke through. Mac opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
"Dude, you ok? We've been watching you-" Bozer started. Mac straightened his eyes widening. He saw Bozer caught and beaten.
"No, don't." He hissed. Mac was unable to stifle the loud note of panic.
"What? Mac do you need exfil?" Riley asked.
"Do you have the info?" Matty asked her sharp tone a counter note to Riley's worry. Mac leaned against the building. He forced himself to consider his options. He shook his head. There really weren't any, were there? Mac sighed.
"Mac, what's wrong?" Matty's voice was so motherly Mac felt tears pricked his eyes. He forced them away and rubbed his face.
"Nothing. I need more time." He winced at the tightness in his voice.
"Mac, you don't sound good-"
"I have to go. Don't come until I call you." Mac turned off his comm. He pulled it out of his ear and went to throw it far away. He paused, surprised by the illogical move. He stowed it in his pocket. He pulled out the lighter and crouched near the back of the building. With his knife he dug a hole through a tiny opening in the cement and through the wood. Mac lifted a twig and stuck it in the hole. He made sure it was touching the linen flag inside. He lit it and stayed long enough for it to flare into a small flame he knew wasn't going to burn out before it hits the flag. Mac glanced around him. Most everyone was inside the auditorium.
Mac braced himself then came around to the door. He greeted the guards who laughed at him and teased him about puking. Mac's skin crawled. Only the knowledge this whole place was about to go up in flames let him allow them to touch him at all. He grinned as he sniffed smoke over the stink of unwashed bodies and grimy sweat.
A murmur began to move across the wild audience. The murmur soon turned to cries of fear. The guards turned and ran into the building. Mac ducked to the other side of the door and he crouched in shadow waiting. It didn't take long. He could see flickering coming through the door. All of the militia inside the building came running out desperate.
"Leave it, let's go! Get the water line going or this whole compound will go up!" Mac grimaced. He waited until every racist was out of the building then ran in. He choked in the thick air and waved it out of his face as he nimbly worked his way across the auditorium.
The beaten man looked at him with wide eyes, but didn't make a noise. Mac didn't have time to untie him.
"You have to stay quiet, ok?" The man nodded, a tiny blade of hope flaring in his eyes. Mac tugged the man toward him and grunting with effort lifted the man over his shoulders. He wasn't Jack. His muscles, shoulders and back hurt as he scurried through the shadows of the compound. Luck was with them, the side gate wasn't guarded. It was locked. Mac huffed as he pulled out his knife. He felt like it took him years to move the tumblers. He stepped out and locked the gate behind him. Mac ran as fast as he could into the dark forest surrounding the compound. He headed toward the creek. He fell to his knees and felt skin torn, but he got back up and kept on moving his adrenaline pumping through him.
Mac didn't realize he was at the creek until he slipped on mud and fell into the water. It was cool. Mac slumped unable to go on any further. He eased the man off his shoulder. The man fell into the water beside him.
"Sorry, sorry." Mac whispered as he cut the man's ropes. He could only see his eyes and teeth in the dim glow of the distant fire.
"I'm so sorry-" He murmured. The man offered a painful smile. He squeezed Mac's shoulder. Mac looked back, "They're gonna be coming soon, keep along the creek until you know where you are. If they get too close hide under the water." Mac tugged a reed from the water and carved into it until it was a hollow tube. He handed it to the man. The other man grinned and opened his mouth. Mac couldn't tolerate his gratitude. He cut him off.
"Good luck." He hissed. He rose turned and ran back the way they had come. Mac run faster and blindly. He welcomed the branches slashing across his face, arms and chest. The bumps, the bruises. With each one he saw the man he'd freed get punched, or kicked, or- Mac took a step and suddenly there wasn't anything under his boots. He didn't even have time to cry out in surprise as he bounced down a steep boulder field. The dizzying trip ended when he slammed into a large oak tree.
Mac gasped and sat up. He shook with cold and was slick with sweat. It took him a second to remember where he was. Mac closed his eyes and rubbed his side trying to slow down his fast breaths, or at least breathe quieter. He glanced over at Jack surprised the Delta was still asleep. The older man was out, his arm and leg hanging half out of bed. Mac swallowed and strode to the bathroom. After he closed the door, he slumped to the tile. He pulled his knees to his chest and put his face in the cup of his arms. He shook and cried and fought not to scream.
Jack bolted awake, his hand closing around his Beretta. He searched the room. Jack gasped when he looked over at Mac. Mac's bed was neatly made, but no Mac. Jack gracefully rolled to his feet. The bathroom was empty. He could see signs of a shower. He touched the towels hanging over the shower bar. A few hours ago. Jack glanced at his watch and raised an eyebrow. He'd slept a full six hours!
"No, dammit." Jack growled as he crossed to his bed and slid into his boots. Had Mac woken up upset? How could he sleep through that? Part of Jack's brain argued that he hadn't slept much over the past month and had been exhausted. Jack cussed himself out. No excuse, Dalton. Dammit. Jack pouched the gun into its waistband holster and stomped toward the door. He froze noticing a note taped to it.
Went for a run, meet me in caff for breakfast. Mac. Some of the fear unwound. He closed his eyes and wiped his face. At least Mac couldn't go far. Mac was surprised to see the halls lit with light that felt like gentle sunlight. He remembered that astronauts had trouble with knowing day from night and it screwed with their systems or something. The Pod people were probably doing something similar here.
Jack had an innate sense of direction. He easily retraced the path they had taken on their tour. He paused in the doorway of the cafeteria. No Mac. Jack felt a sinking in his stomach. He knew where the kid would be. Dammit. Jack walked quickly to the gym. He froze in the door. Mac was indeed running around the track, but he was long past needing to stop. Mac ran as if Satan himself was on his heels. His face was red and his gait unsteady. One hand cradled his side. He was about to drop. Jack strode past scientists doing their morning workout.
Jack jogged until he was in front of Mac. He could hear Mac's wheeze from twenty steps away. Not good. Jack crouched and grabbed Mac with both arms stepping back with the kid's momentum. Mac froze, his eyes looking at something Jack couldn't see. Mac gasped for air. Jack slowly released him. Mac slumped to the astroturf as soon as Jack let him go. Jack felt Mac's sweaty forehead. He felt cold and shook. Jack could feel Mac's muscles twitch under his touch. Mac's eyes were wide. Confusion slowly seeped in. Mac blindly reached up and wrapped his fist in the front of Jack's shirt.
"J-J-" Mac huffed. Jack straightened him on the ground then held his hand.
"Yeah kiddo, it's me. Just lay there and breathe, ok?" Mac closed his eyes.
" 'K." He gasped. Jack looked up as Jem ran to his side.
"What's going on? What does he need?" Jack appreciated the woman didn't ask if they were ok, when they obviously weren't.
"You got a medic?" Jem nodded and pulled a radio from a holster at her him.
"Code Blue at the gym." A staticky voice answered her. She put a hand on Jack's shoulder.
"He'll be ok, we got some of the best docs in the world...and a few cool toys." Jack absently nodded. He didn't take his eyes off his partner. Mac's breathing was almost normal. Mac dropped his hands and turned his head to the side, his face going slack. Jack petted Mac's hair back from his wet brow.
"Yeah, he'll be ok." Jack murmured. He knew he was talking to himself more than Jem. He'd put off their talk wanting to be in a good place himself. It was obvious Jack couldn't afford the luxury of waiting any longer. He had to get Mac to open up or next time the kid starts punishing himself, he might just kill himself. Jack's mouth went desert dry at the thought.
"Aw, kid. What is going on inside that head of yours?" Jack whispered. He wasn't surprised no one answered him.