WARNING: This chapter contains explicit and offensive language. Reader discretion is advised.
I believe that in movie theatres, a film is allowed a limited amount of cursing and violence and still can keep a PG-13 rating. On this princle, I am not changing the rating of "Hear no Evil" until I hear a complaint.
Hear No Evil . . . (3)
PART FIVE: Heads and Tails - The Other Side of the Coin
"Aw, come on honey, don't be like that." His hands slapped onto the brick wall on either side of her head, trapping her in.
Cassie slid out through the bottom and under his left arm, quickly walking away.
Remain completely quiet. To speak would only give them more fuel.
Fuel to burn me with. I can't do anything, just wait and see what they do, she thought darkly.
"I guess she doesn't like you, Harry!" one of them peeped up.
Harold sneered and followed Cassie, his lieutenants close on his heels. No way this one was getting away from him again. Expecially after dancing with that white boy at school. Even if the guy was a total waste of life, he was still white.
And no girl is gonna be doing something so defiant as to flaunt the latest "desegregation" craze. He ignored the fact that segregation had begun in the early eighties, well before his own birth.
"Nah, she's just shy, playing hard to get" His packmates all burst out laughing, as if on cue. He caught her arm and spun her around, this time not letting go.
The fear in her eyes took him aback, but only for a moment. Harry was a hunter. Just like his father. Just like his grandfather. The animal always showed fear before the kill, but as his father had once told him, "If you show the beast mercy, you only show your own weakness."
Still, he hated this part.
He raised his fist, ready to sock her in the stomach.
A blow which never reached it's target. In a rage, he tugged his wrist out of the guy's grip.
Harry whipped around. The guy was pretty big, but had a reputation for being, well, "gentle". Almost never started any fights, refused to finish them. The only thing that kept Harry from ordering his packmates to pummel the guy was his position in the brotherhood.
He shook his head. How Jake Berenson became a County Commander, he'll never know. Of course, there was the fact his brother was the ex-Co. There were rumors that nepotisim had been shown, yet Jake's packmate's had always backed him in the votes, no matter what.
What is it about this pansy that incites so much loyalty? Harry wondered.
Oh well, no time for inter-WS policy revision. Now was time to bust some heads.
"Mind your own goddamn buisiness, jungle-lover." He grit out.
Jake calmly looked Harry up and down, then put his attention on Cassie. "Go to class, now."
Harold let her go, bigger fish to fry now. Without giving a signal, his brothers knew to start advancing around Jake and him, forming an inpenetrable circle of five.
Jake shook his head. "I don't want to fight you and I don't love blacks. But I also don't believe in senselessly beating the crap out of one, just for being black." he shrugged. "They can't help being inferior, it's not their fault and we shouldn't punish them for it."
Yes, that was the right. So many leaders had come and gone before Jake. Tyrants, all. The duties of the Youth County Commander were simple. Protect white youth from unstable elements. Control any person or group who attempted to step out of their Class. Punish non-white offenders. Set the prime example of a healthy white male.
Why was it so hard for others to simply follow their duties? Even Tom had stepped out of his bounds, punishing where it was not warranted. But not Jake. He was the Co now. His first day, he had torn up the "Warren Allowances", a so-called code of ethics book, which pretty much told cadets who they were allowed to punish and how far. This first act and many others to follow had won three officer elections in a row withelections now held every six months. A feat never before accomplished in Warren County's history.
Harry smiled complacently and spread his hands. "This isn't 'senseless', brother. The girl was seen talking and dancing with a white boy at one of your school's social functions."
Jake cocked an eyebrow. So, the other counties were spying on him. Strange, that usually only happened when a leadership was being challenged. Maybe Harold was a bigger threat than imagined.
Just keep listening, let this idiot bury himself. Just like all other Co's but me. Jake
thought.
"That new kid, wasitsname? Tobias. Sure, the guy's an wimp, but he's one of us. She should know better than to try and seduce one of ours." Harry continued. "Plus-"
Jake raised a finger. "First of all, I'm not your 'brother', second, I was there. No one was talking to the new kid and she went over to make him feel welcome. Third, if I see you pulling this crap around my school again, I'm going to personally see to it each of your faces are caved in."
"Who the hell do you think you-"
Jake stepped up into Harrold's face. "This ismy school,my turf, my brotherhood. You go back to Wilton, I've got things covered here. Cousin." he said, calmly.
Harry smiled again. "I was just watching your back. If that girl reallywas dancing with a white boy, why, it would be horrible if the proper actions weren't taken by the Commmander of her County. There might even be an investigation of the White Youth Society to see if there should be a . . . re-arangement of leadership. I was only making sure there weren't any 'oversights'."
Two County Commanders. Packleaders in a standoff.
The threat was clear. To back off meant admitting Jake was right. To stay and beat Jake meant
a pack war. Jake's brothers versus Harry's. A war between cousins.
. . . Of course, he could always get that bitch later.
Harry shrugged. "However it seems I was mistaken, let's head back." He smirked and waved at Jake as he and his pack slowly withdrew, not turning their backs on the other Packleader. "I'll be seein' you around, Cousin."
"Cassie, what's the matter?"
Slamming her locker door shut, Melissa followed her best friend into the nearest bathroom.
"Just please leave me alone." Cassie said, quickly closing herself into a stall. "Besides, if you're caught in a colored bathroom, you'll get detention. Just go."
"Oh, like I care about that. These things are so ancient, you justknow when they make those school renovations in the fall, everything's gonna be intergrated." She shook her head. "But you're trying to change the subject."
"Look, it's not your problem, please don't worry about it."
Melissa leaned against the peeled-paint and graffiti surface of the stall door. "Well, is there something I can do?"
Cassie sniffled. "Yeah, you can help me make up an excuse for being late to Geography."
Melissa laughed as the stall door opened and Cassie put her arms around her in a little hug. "Are you going to tell me what's wrong or do I have to squeeze it out of you?"
Cassie bit her lip, hesitantly. "Some of those WYS guys almost jumped me outside the school."
Mellisa's eyebrows shot up. "What! Jake wouldnever do that! I mean, yeah he's into the whole 'we're better than everyone else' thing, but not violently so. He wouldn't have ordered a punishment."
Cassie shook her head. "No, Jake was actually the one whostopped them. It was some guys from Wilton County. They came out of nowhere, going on and on about the school dance last week. Something about me talking to Tobias. I was trying to get away, when Jake showed up"
Melissa squinted. "From Wiltoncounty? But, we're out of their jurisdiction. They actually tried to 'punish' someone from out of their county?" She chuckled a little, which made Cassie give her a hurt look.
"No, no, don't get me wrong, Cassie. I'm just thinking of what Jake's gonna do to them for entering his county. They'd better not sleep tonight, is all I'M saying."
Cassie gave a weak laugh. Yeah, she wanted to see them get their justice. She also knew just what sort of justice WYS Commanders usually dealt. Not something she'd wish on anyone, even Harold and his lackies from the smaller, and more opionated, Wilton County.
Good thing Jake was in charge of Warren, or they'd probably be just as bad here.
Melissa touched her on the shoulder, interupting her thoughts. "Come on, let's get you to class, before Mr. Riley flips out."
Cassie nodded distractedly and followed her best friend out of the room.
"Empirial Geography in Relevence to Current Quota" screamed the brass plate affixed under the window.
Quietly, Cassie eased the door open a crack and peered in.
Every head in the class turned towards her.
Sheepishly, she opened the door wide enough for her to slip in and speed-walk to her seat.
"Ah, Miss Carnet. I'm elated that you chose to join us on this fine day of higher learning."
Mr. Riley put his finger between the pages of his text, to keep his place, and partially closed the book.
"Enlighten me. What, surely urgent, matter kept you from arriving on time?" he asked, resting one buttock on the edge of his desk.
"I . . ." Mr. Riley was one of Cassie's main tormentors . . . and a known chaperone of the White Youth League. She would get no sympathy here.
She bowed her head. "My locker wouldn't open . . ." she muttered.
"Excuse me?" he asked curtly, cupping his right hand to his ear.
She cleared her throat and looked him in his intense, manic eyes. "My locker wouldn't open."
He looked at her expectedly.
"Sir." she concluded.
He nodded and muttered just loud enough, "Maybe your locker is black too." The class laughed like the pawns they were.
Cassie let out a shuddering breath and looked down at her books. Her shoulders slumped and she toyed with her pencil in her hands.
Nothing to do. Just wait for it.
Mr. Riley smiled at Cassie and shrugged. "It would explain why both you and your locker are always so unreliable."
Cassie looked up at him, her face could have been made of stone. This is what all of her "kind" had to deal with. What right did she have to cry?
"Now, maybe if you had-"
Mr. Riley stopped and looked towards the door, which had flung open. Jake stepped through and calmly paced over to his chair, sitting board-straight.
The instructor gave him a genuine smile. "Mister Berenson, do you have an excuse for being late?"
Jake nodded. "I had some extra-curicular activities to attend to, Sir." he said, without hesitation.
Mr. Riley, noting the code word "extra-curicular", simply nodded and turned to address the blackboard. "Now as I was saying, before the tardiness parade arrived . . ."
Picking up his baton, he tapped the map, just on the right middle side of North America. Now, as we all know," He looked up at Cassie. "Orhopefully know," she bowed her head, submissively.
"The North Eastern colonies separated from mother England in 1965. While the Americans actually won the war, England having trouble sending supplies to their troops so far away, the weak country they founded did not grow as quickly as they would have liked."
He placed his baton on his desk. "Thus, in 1970, when RussoCanada stormed the continent, The Allied Provinces of America were the first to fall under their might.
He turned on the projector sitting on his desk and pulled down the screen from the top of his board. The faded light projection was a political cartoon. It showed North America and a section of Europe. On England, stood a man wearing a crown biting his nails. On APA, a dust cloud with arms, legs and rifles sticking out, obviously representing a large brawl.
"This was drawn by S.F. Kipp, a leading propaganda artist and a criminal still wanted in four countries. Do any of you genius's think you can interpret this cartoon for the class?"
One of Mr. Riley's more astute pupils raised his hand. "Yes. Jeff?"
"Well, the meaning is kind of obvious, Sir. The King of England is watching the Russo-Allied war, wondering if Canada will move on to attack the remaining English colonies."
The teacher nodded. "Yes, Jeff, that's one of the reasons." He thrust on a new slide, showing a list which he read aloud.
"There were several reasons why England had to worry. One, yes, the other remaining Englishcolonies situated to the west would be at risk. Two, any victory for Canada in North America wasalso a victory for mother Russia in Europe. England not only had to worry about its colonies but it's own survival as well. And three, after separation from England, as a part of the treatyof New Amsterdam, APA was legally responsible for insuring that the bulk of it's exports and
imports were to and from England. The King would lose a large source of revenue if Canada prevailed."
He reached over and turned off the projector. "Thus, the King's hand was forced. He would have
stifle English pride and help his former enemies, the Americans."
"Now if everyone will turn to page forty-six in your texts, we can start on the history of our
grand and glorius Empire, which BEGAN with the Russo-American war . . ."
Hear No Evil . . . (3.5)
PART SIX:Kitchen Tables and Eyerape
The Regional Commander sighed and placed his can of Coke on the table. The dangerous looks on the County Commander's faces as they entered the room were tell-tale of along night ahead.
He gently brushed a speck of ash off his collar and waited for the Co's to take their places behind their chairs.
RCo Daily had been in this job for the past four years, as Regional Commanders were not elected by White Youth, but promoted by their superiors in the White Society. He knew he was in line for a step up to the State Command Staff and there were even rumors of him making Supreme Commander. The highest rank in WYS would give him state-wide power, as much control as a cadet was allowed.
The low-lit lamps punctuated the table's surface, casting a creepy, upward, yellow glow on their grim faces and shining off their insignia. The RCo was already seated at one end of the table, as was his right, facing the White Society Cadre, a chaperone, seated on the opposite end. The Cadre having taken his seat before even the RCo, as was his right.
On each side of the table, the twelve Co's waited patiently for the command 'take seats', which was given hesitantly by RCo Daily, not wanting the meeting to begin.
"All right, we have some old business to clear up. Commander Kovacks?"
The Co to his immediate right cleared his throat, stood and consulted his clipboard.
"One, border disputes. It seems that a few of the counties are having troubles with cross-border punishments."
Daily noticed a few of the Co's shuffle nervously in their seats.
He peered at Kovacks in the dim light. "Who?"
Kovacks lifted a page on his clipboard, than stood at attention. "Revena and Renselaer, Warren andWilton, Glen's Falls and Palmer counties, Sir." he recited, emotionless.
Daily slammed his palms on the table as he stood up, earning a few jumps from the Co's.
"God dammit, when are you going to stop acting like school-children and grow the fuck up? We are Commanders, it is our duty to protect our people. How can you unite the White Youth when you can't even stay the hell outta each others way?" He whipped his head over his shoulder at Kovacks. "Who were the first two? Ravena and . . .?"
"Renselaer, Sir." was the quick reply.
"Renselaer," he barked. "Ravena, stand to attention!"
The two Commanders practically sprung from their seats.
The RCo eyed them carefully and wrote something down on a pad of paper before him.
"Warren and Wilton, South and Palmer! Up, NOW!"
Jake stood to attention with the other six, awaiting his fate.
The RCo nodded calmly. "There's only one way to settle your bullshit. The way of the fist."
A few of the Co's jerked their heads and gaped at their leader.
Cadre Riley tensed a bit at this, but allowed the RCo's judgement to stand. It would mean a rearangement of the un-official borders and a whole hell of a lot of paperwork, though.
Daily nodded with a wild-eyed look. "Oh yeah, that's right. I am notgoing to have you sending a bunch of your soldiers home bruised up just because you can't be responsible for your own actions. Maybe getting the shit kicked out of you, instead of sending someone else to do your dirty work, will stop this bull."
The way of the fist. No pack war.
Two commanders meet in front of their counties. They are checked for weapons and tested for performance-enhancing drugs. They are stripped shirt-less and duke it out, bare-knuckle to bare-knuckle. Years ago this was how all pack disputes were settled, until the rules changed. Now, whomever yielded first not only lost the dispute . . . but theirregiment as well.
Jake smiled. All he had to do was beat Harold. No one innocent would be hurt, then he could bring justice to Wilton and free them from the string of tyrant Commanders they have had to endure. Yes, onlyhe, Jake Berenson, knew the right.
At this rate, they might as well give him Supreme Commander now, and save themselves the trouble of election and promotion. Just a few more years . . . just a few more years . . .
"Kovacks, write this down," RCo Daily said, breaking Jake's self-important mantra. "At the next state fair, the Way of the Fist shall judge the strength of our commander's will."
"Whomsoever God chooses to lead each county will rise up and defeat the false leaders. Those who have slithered their way into the noble seats at this table will be thrust into the light, by the fist of the righteous . . ." he drifted off, losing energy.
"Sit down, sit down," he waved them, wearily. "Next order of buisiness?"
"I don't get it, what's wrong?"
"Cassie, we're out of money. I don't think we'll be able to keep the ReHab-"
"Do you think it's right to just blurt it out like that, honey?"
Cassie's mother gave her husband a stern look. "Walter, Cassie is a responsible girl. And considering that this affects her just as much as us, she has the right to hear the truth."
The yellow glow of the overhead lamp not only added the perfect atmosphere for this conversation, but also served to remind them of their current financial situation. The dimmer switch was broken.
"I'm not going to be able to handle the duties of the ReHab along with the second job I'm going to be forced to take. You're gonna have to have a lot more responsibility around here, sweetheart." Cassie's father conceded.
"But, Dad, I can't take care of the animals and school! Both are full-time jobs!" her eyebrows raised anxiously as she shot her glance from parent to parent, searching for which one would be most likely to see her point of view.
Nothing.
"Cassie, thereisa way that you can continue going to school and work at the ReHab . . ." Walter said, hesitantly looking to his wife for help.
"So if you whup Scary-Harry, you get his county?"
"That's pretty much how it works."
"Well, Jake-buddy, you better learn how to fight."
"Excuse me?"
Marco and Jake rounded the corner, the steady thump of the basketball on pavement in sync with their pace.
Marco hesitated. "You're a big guy, I'll give you that. But you've never had to fight before." Marco shrugged at Jake's hurt look. "Hey, usually you just say something and it's done. You know why our county has the lowest punishment rate? It's not because you're kinder than the other commanders, just more people listen to you. They don't try to be tough and blow you off like the other CO's."
Jake nodded. "I guess so, I mean, I don't think I've ever seen a rebellion here. Which is strange, because I had to punish people left and right when I first got the job."
"Well, it's probably because of Rachel. All the flesh crimes stopped after she was-"
Suddenly Marco noted the fact that his friend had been ignoring him and staring across the road. Or more specifically, at Mellisa Chapman. Marco smirked. Despite the position of power Jake posessed, it would not change his heredity. Or the fact that Mellisa's father hated Jews. With a passion.
He grabbed Jake's shoulder gently. "Buddy, I'll never be a lawyer, doctor or an officer. It's something I have to accept to survive. You have to accept that you will never have her."
Jake shrugged off Marco's hand. "Screw her Dad, man. It's just not right. I should have whatever I'm willing to work for. Geeze, what religeons we come from shouldn't matter."
Jake watched Melissa pull a few letters and magazines from her mailbox. Shifting the strap on her bookbag. Smiling as her father waved to her from the window.
Marco considered making a "screw her dad" joke, but decided to be a good friend instead. "Yeah buddy. It's just life. Accept what is. Know your place."
Jake nodded quietly as they neared his house.
"So, I'll see you tomarrow?" Marco asked at the mouth of Jake's driveway.
"Oh, yeah, sure. I'd invite you in, but my Pops, he-"
"Dude, I know. We've been friends since we were, like, fetus's. I think I know a little something about your Dad by now."
Jake smiled. "Yeah, I'll see you tommarow."
"If we get you some . . . extra help, you can be trained to take over my old duties and we can train someone else to finish your old chores."
Cassie blinked confusedly. "If we can't afford to keep the ReHab, how do you expect to pay someone to-" Right then, it hit her. "Mom, Dad . . . we can't!"
Her mother raised her hands. "Now hear us out, Cass. We have a bit of money set aside for a rainy day. Enough to adopt an UnFit-"
"Adopt! Adopt! What you're talking about is a slave, Mom! Call it whatever you want, it doesn't change that what we're doing is wrong!"
"Cassie. Calm down. NOW." She said, using 'the tone'.
Cassie quietly leaned back into her chair and waited.
"Since you will be asked to take more responsibility, this UnFit will be completely yours. The state fair is coming soon, and you know how great the deals are there on some usually expensive sla- UnFits. It's your choice, you can choose whom your going to be working with at the ReHab or your father and I will go down to the Fair and choosefor you . . ."
"Well, well if it isn't Casanova."
Jake studiously ignored his father.
"Mister Chapman gave me little ring today. Said he noticed you watching his daughter. What have I told you about eye-raping those above you?"
"I wasn't 'eye-raping' her, Dad. Give me a break, huh?" Jake moaned.
His father shrugged. "Yeah, whatever. Go empty the dishwasher."
Jake's mother was sitting at the table perusing the Reader's Digest while his father leanedagainst a kitchen counter, coffee in hand.
His mother peered over her book. "So, is she a prospect for the future Mrs. Jake Berenson?"
"Mom..." Jake moaned, rolling his eyes. "Youknow I don't plan on getting married until I at leastmake Lieutenant in thereal army."
She raised her eyebrows. "Well, don't wait TOO long, honey. Before you know it, you'll be twenty-five and the Government will be pounding on your door every day, trying to pawn an 'unwanted' on you."
Jake's father chuckled over his coffee. "Or worse, a 'reformed'. Those Uber-obedient mind-slaves." he shuddered dramtically. "Those poor girls are like zombies after re-education. Gives me the willies."
"Oh, honey, be nice!"
"Come on, wouldyou want Jake married to one of those freaks? Or one that's pretending to be reformed? I can see it now, another Rachel married to our boy."
Jake winced a little at the mention of his cousin's name. Hoping they didn't notice, he ducked
his head and placed the stack of plates in the cupboard.
"Jake, it's okay." He felt his mother's sympathetic hand on his shoulder. Great, they noticed.
"Rachel had it coming. It was yourduty to turn her in. I'm glad that you did it, instead of letting her go on with her ridiculous ideals. Better to stop her now, early, before she gets used to the idea of being able to say and do whatever she wants without reprocussion. If only
Tom hadn't been so embarrassed about being a Co and related to her, I'm sure he would have brought her in years ago."
"Your mother's right, you can't beat yourself up for it. You did the right. You always do, my boy . . ."
End of Chapter Three (3)
BEHIND THE SCENES: I wanted to show why Jake would be coerced into joining the White Youth League. Now obviously, the league was primarily searching for young, white, arayan boys. A sort of Hitler Youth. But please recall that towards the end of WWII, Hitler had become so desparate for troops, he began allowing ethnics into the SS, considered the most elite of his military. So it's feasible, that since his father is a "patriot of the empire" and he was a big, strong kid, he could be allowed in.
But why join? Well, he always hero-worshipped his older brother, Tom. Even trying to play basketball, emulating Tom's most prized skill and hobby. This fact, not to mention Grandpa G's and Fitzpatrick's military experience, made me think I could get away with positing that Jake has a family legacy of military service which he is compelled to succeed in, to gain the respect of his older brother who is a hero fighting in South America.