Disclaimer: The plot, the stranger, Laura, and Kyle are mine. The rest are not. Well, technically most of the Nazis are mine too, but I don't want them.
Author's notes: There are ideas/attitudes in this chapter that I do not personally agree with. I don't mean to offend anyone, but Nazis just aren't P.C. That said, I'm sorry this took so long, but classes and homework eat up a large chunk of my time. (And LJ Groundwater, as much as I would be delighted to kill certain professors, I think the school administration would frown on that.) Thanks as always to Suzanne of Dragon's Breath for the beta.
Chapter 5
When the fog dissipated this time, a rather different scene was revealed. The place was urban, but that was all it had in common with the streets of London. To put it nicely, it was rather run-down. Carter was not so kind. "This place looks like a garbage dump! Heck, even Stalag 13 is nicer than this place!"
The description was not misplaced, for the street did resemble a crowded version of the Stalag's compound. Large, crude, wooden buildings lined both sides of the narrow street. The buildings themselves were tall enough to block the late evening sun, but the shade did not make the August air any cooler.
Although Andrew was certain anyone sane would have been trying to find a way to keep cool, many people were on the street. Some were grocery shopping at the occasional vendor, some were repairing the buildings, and none were idle. Even the children were working rather than playing.
He took a second look. The people all had certain characteristics in common. All wore clothing that was patched and worn, even the children. Andrew was no stranger to hand-me-downs, but even his thrifty family would have consigned those clothes to the rag bin months before. All had the pinched look of people that did not have quite enough to eat that Carter had come to recognize during his years as a POW. And all of them were black.
Andrew turned to look at the stranger. "Kinch?" he asked dully. He wasn't certain he wanted to know. Not if this neighborhood was any indication.
The stranger nodded. :Detroit, 1955.:
"Let me guess. The Nazis invaded and nobody cares."
:Not quite. After the Nazis gained control of the British Empire, its economy and the economies of its colonies began to recover. In the United States, President Roosevelt's New Deal programs disintegrated after his death. When the American people saw the improvements in Canada's economy, the Nazi party began to grow. By 1950 they had quite a few representatives in congress, most of them American born. Then in 1952, Nazi party member Michael Jones was elected president.:
"Didn't they realize what the Nazis do? The concentration camps, the executions…"
The stranger cut him off. :The improved economy, theincreased foreign trade, and food on the table. They realized they would be able to eat. The Nazi party utilized one of the same techniques as Hitler during his rise to power. They placed the blame for the depression on the Jews and those of African descent. They united the population against a common enemy. Most people were happy with the choice of scapegoat, particularly a group called the Ku Klux Klan. Many found their way into the ranks of America's version of the SS.:
"What about the Jews? Are there concentration camps in the U.S.?"
Not as of 1955. At this point, both groups have been relegated to a position of second-class citizen. The government created laws that gradually increased segregation. There was already a basis in the Jim Crow laws. Before long laws required both African-Americans and Jews to live in ghettoes set aside for them.:
A loud crash drew moth men's attention to the street around them. Carter did not know exactly what had caused the commotion, but it did show just how high the racial tension was running. Two young white men, obviously looking for trouble, had forced a confrontation with one of the residents of the quarter. Again, Andrew didn't know the cause, but the end result was obvious. The two would-be toughs threw a teenager into a fruit stand, then they walked away, not even stopping to see if their victim was hurt or to offer to fix the damage they caused the stand.
"Isn't anyone going to stop them?" Andrew asked, horrified that while some of the residents paused in their shopping to help the teen to his feet, none offered even token resistance to the two swaggering arrogantly away.
:They have no reason to. The authorities will not care, and the residents might even be fined for detaining the boys.:
"What!"
:Little Deer Who Goes Swift and Sure Through Forest, listen to me. These people live in this slum because of the color of their skin, not because they choose to. A government that cared about their well-being would not require them to live in this hovel. If the police were called, and they would be more like the Gestapo that those you are accustomed to, and if they decided to respond, they would be more likely to arrest the victims for being a nuisance.:
"What about the Bill of Rights? It's supposed to stop people from being arrested like that."
:Some would argue that it does not apply to African-Americans. Others would not care that it exists at all.:
Andrew said nothing as several passers-by helped the stand owner right his cart and salvage what fruit he could. It's just not right, he thought.
Silently, the stranger walked towards one of the buildings. As he and Carter climbed the narrow, rickety staircase, the sergeant couldn't help but notice the slight similarity to Stalag 13. When they entered one of the apartments, the resemblance was no longer slight. They could have been in Colonel Hogan's office, except the Colonel had better furniture. The room was small and cramped with a mattress covered by moth-eaten blankets on the floor in the corner.
There were two people in the room. The first, a woman Andrew guessed to be about ten years older than himself, was bending over a rough stove. The other was a boy of about three years, and he sat near his mother playing with a much-loved teddy bear.
:Laura and Kyle Kinchloe.: At Carter's puzzled look the stranger explained:Kinch's wife and son.:
Any further queries Andrew might have made were preempted by the opening of the door behind him. His jaw dropped as an exhausted and grimy Kinch walked in. He looked as though he'd tunneled for hours and then had had to dig himself out of a cave in.
The woman looked up and smiled. "Jim," she said. "How was your day?"
"Long," he replied and stretched his arms over his head. The muscles that had been impressive even at Stalag 13 bulged under his worn shirt. Kinch had obviously not been idle. He sank to the floor, and Kyle crawled over and began to regale his father with stories of what they had done that day.
Dinner did not take long to complete, but the portions were smaller than Andrew expected. Surprisingly, he found he wasn't hungry, so he tuned out the sounds of the diners in order to question the stranger. "Kinch doesn't look so bad; he has a family. He's just so tired. Why is that?"
:He spent a hard day at heavy labor.:
"But he's smart. He said he worked at a phone company, and I think he was a plumber's assistant once. Why isn't he working a job like that?"
Had it been a part of his nature, the stranger would have sighed in exasperation. The young man was determined not to understand. :He is not permitted to. Unskilled labor is all that is available to him.:
Andrew intended to question the stranger further, but stopped in surprise when the light went out. He looked around frantically (but pointlessly, as the room was pitch black) trying to figure out what had happened.
:It is late. They are attempting to sleep.:
Carter's panic subsided and he was glad the darkness hid his embarrassed flush. "Umm, yeah. I knew that."
Minutes passed and Andrew grew impatient. "Why are we standing here in the dark?"
:You wished to see what would happen to one who did not fight, yet upheld the law. Thus, we are here.:
"I'm not trying to be rude, but there isn't much to see right now."
:There will be.:
Tired of standing still, Andrew tried to pace. Tried, because before he took two steps his foot hit something. He wasn't certain what it was, but he thought it was a pot. It certainly sounded like one. He winced at the noise.
A soft voice came from the direction of the bed. "Jim, what was that?"
"Probably the neighbors," he answered groggily. "Go back to sleep."
:Stand still: the stranger scolded. If Andrew hadn't known better, he would have been sure the stranger was getting rather irritated. :If you haven't noticed, you can still move things here. You do not want to awaken them.: Andrew blushed scarlet.
Several minutes passed before he dared speak again. "Is whatever it is going to happen soon?" he asked hopefully. Just standing in the dark was getting boring.
:In approximately two hours.:
A pause. "Can't you do that thing with the fog and make it happen sooner?"
:Surely: and the voice was definitely irritated now:you have learned patience working with your chemicals and as a saboteur.:
"I was never very good at that part," he responded. When he realized the stranger did not intend to reply, he added, "So, can you?"
:No.:
The hours passed in silence. Every so often Carter would open his mouth to ask a question, but would then reconsider and close it again. As bored as he was just standing in the dark, he wanted to get visible again, and the stranger was the only one that he knew of that could do that. Making him mad probably was not the best solution. About the time he thought he would go crazy if he had to stand still another moment, he heard something.
Five years ago he would not have recognized it, but five years ago he had not been part of the army. Three years ago the sound would not have alarmed him, but that was before spent time as an unwilling guest of the Germans. Now the loud bang of a door being slammed open followed by the heavy pounding of booted feet on a wooden floor signaled the arrival of enemies. He heard it every time the Germans thought the Stalag 13 inmates were hiding something.
The Kinch in whose apartment Andrew was standing had never fought in a war and had never been imprisoned in Stalag 13. Carter would have been willing to bet Newkirk that this Kinch would not recognize the sound.
He would have lost.
At the first bang of the door he heard a frightened Laura whisper, "Oh, Jim, not again," and Kinch had turned on the light before the boots made it to the stairs.
Andrew was still trying to adjust his vision to the sudden brightness when the apartment door slammed open. At least he thought he was. He could not possibly have seen what he thought he saw. That was just impossible. He rubbed his closed eyes with his hands, willing them to show a different scene when he reopened them. It didn't work.
The Kinchloes stood against the wall, still in their nightclothes, while one of the men covered them with a rifle. Two others ransacked the small apartment on the pretext of searching for something. Andrew felt like he had had the wind knocked out of him. The intruders were not wearing Gestapo or SS uniforms. They were not even regular German military. They wore the uniforms of the Detroit Police.
Kinch watched impassively as they destroyed his home. It was the same face Andrew had seen him show dozens of Gestapo raids. He didn't even flinch as the men tired of overturning the few furnishings and began to throw the covers off the bed, slashing the exposed mattress. No one spoke as the mattress stuffing flew about the room. Then, one of the men lifted the child's stuffed bear.
The boy was smart. He knew exactly what the men planned to do to his beloved toy. "No!" he shrieked as he ran to grab it. When he got close, the police officer holding it casually tossed it to his companion and equally casually smacked the toddler across the face. Kyle fell backwards crying with blood coming from his mouth and nose.
Instantly Kinch's face turned from blank to enraged. Hands clenched into fists, he started to stalk across the room towards the man who hurt his son, obviously intending to cause harm. He ignored his wife's attempts to hold him back until all three of the police officers leveled their guns at him.
He froze, hands still in fists, rage warring with his instinct for self-preservation. Finally, with another glance at his son, he relaxed, his face blank once more.
Once certain he was no longer a threat, the intruders relaxed. Sneering, one walked calmly up to Kinch and slammed the butt of his rifle into Kinch's stomach. Breathless, Kinch fell to the floor. Then, as all three men walked out, kicking Kinch as they passed. One took the time to spit on the floor before he exited the apartment.
Andrew turned to the stranger in horror. "How could?" He fell silent, unable to find words to continue.
The stranger shook his head, and the fog surrounded them once more. :Convinced yet, young warrior:
"Colonel Hogan!" Andrew said desperately. "We haven't visited him yet! The Colonel isn't a criminal, or Negro, and he always has a plan! He should be okay!"
:Very well. We shall visit Washington D.C. next.:
