Sunday, October 28, 2012

Excerpt From Freedom's Sons, Chapter 38

[Some weeks ago I ran an excerpt from my draft novel Freedom's Sons, wherein a young girl named Danielle, living in Montana 40 years after the Northwest War of Independence, is giving the alleged truth about that war in a conversation with her grandfather, a Union veteran. I promised some of our people who thought I came on a bit too strong in that passage that our own old NVA vet would get his licks in at the appropriate time. Danny has now been forced to flee to the NAR because the FBI tried to murder her boyfriend. This is from Chapter 38. - HAC]

“I thought I could get second and first class [citizenship] by having lots of babies?” said Danny mischievously.

“Yeah, you can,” agreed John. “Second-class anyway, on the birth of the third child. You get your third-class when you complete your national service, because you’ve earned it by showing responsibility and giving something to the Republic, so the Republic gives you something back, that one basic vote. After that it makes sense to give older people with more life experience more say in the government of the country, as well as certain people like mothers who have a real stake in what happens in society. Not like you guys, giving any ape with two arms and two legs and a nappy head the same vote you give a surgeon or a physicist.” He grinned at her. “Of course, if you really want to go for an early first, you could always apply to join the Party.”

“Oh, God, my grandfather would drop dead of an apoplectic seizure!” said Danny, making a face. “And my father and mother would drop right beside him. I’m not really interested in politics, though. Politics is what got us into all this mess to begin with, and don’t worry, I know better than to say anything like that at the dinner table with your grandfather around!”

“Mmmm, yeah, maybe springing a thought like that on him off the cuff isn’t such a hot idea,” agreed Johnny with a nod. “But you know, Danny, maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing if you were to try and get Pop off alone and sit down with him and talk to him. Yeah, he can be cantankerous and opinionated and a pain in the keester, I guess like most old people are, but he’s earned the right. He’s a bona fide, dyed-in-the-wool revolutionary hero, and he’s one of the reasons you and I are even here at all.”

Johnny went on. “You know, after independence Pop could have been one of the big shots if he’d wanted to. He knew them all back then, all the big names, Red Morehouse and Corby Morgan and Winston Wayne, just about anybody who ever was somebody in the Party or the NVA. He met the Old Man himself a few times, and he even knew Melanie Young when she was still in Montana—bet you didn’t know she was born just down the road here in Walkerville? That was before she had to go on the bounce, and ended up with Tom Murdock out on the coast. After Longview, the new government practically begged all the old hands to stay on and take on major political and administrative roles, but some like Pop weren’t having any. They’d done what they had to do, and now they were going back to pick up what was left of their lives and get on with living, and Pop was one of those. He came back to this place, and the only thing he ever asked of the Republic in return for his service was the return of the deed to this ranch that the Jew bank had foreclosed on. Which he got, and then he got on with life, with one major interruption for the Seven Weeks War. Look, Danny, you’ve already started taking History and Moral Philosophy class at Cataract … ”

“Yeah, that’s the one I have to pass,” she said.

“Yup. No grades, only a pass or fail. That doesn’t mean you have to agree with anything Mr. Nixon says. You can argue with him all you want. Hell, he likes kids to argue with him!”

“I’ve already noticed,” said Danny dryly.

“But before you graduate, your H&MP teacher has to certify to the school and the state that you have at least some basic understanding of how our country came to be, and why, and how things are in the world. You don’t have to agree with any of it, but you have to know it, basically so if you screw up you don’t have any excuse. What I’m saying, though, is if you want to do more than just pass the course, Danny, if you really want to understand, then you couldn’t find anyone better to tell you how things really were than Pop.”

“Johnny, a month or so ago my grandfather drove me all over the American part of Jefferson County, showing me all these places where really bad stuff happened during the Trouble—sorry, I mean the War of Independence,” Danny corrected herself. “Murders and bombings and ambushes, and some of them were really bad. At least he made it sound that way, and he says your grandfather was responsible for some of it.”

“He was probably responsible for most of it,” said Johnny with a chuckle. “And he won’t deny it. Why don’t you ask him about it?”

So Danny did. She found old man Selkirk in his private den in the ranch house after supper, sitting in his armchair reading The Way We Live Now by the 19th-century novelist Anthony Trollope. “People really read a lot of books over here,” she began tentatively. “Not like at home, I mean over on my side of the Road. I mean, I know this is my side of the Road now … ”

Selkirk chuckled. “I know what you mean, Danielle. Our television signs off around midnight, with the national anthem, and we’ve only got four channels anyway. One channel for news and politics and current affairs, one entertainment channel, one educational channel, and one privately owned channel so we can let people breathe and experiment and sometimes let off steam a bit. Any more than that gets unhealthy, and the tube starts replacing reality in people’s minds. Like a lot of things, TV can serve a useful purpose, but only in moderation. Our people should always have something better to do than stare into a stupid electronic screen.” He held up the book. “Bet you didn’t know that most of the major literary figures of the Nineteenth and a good bit of the Twentieth centuries were anti-Jewish? This is a good example. The villain of the piece is a Jew swindler named Melmotte, who’s one of the slimiest hebes in all literature.”

“I never even heard of Trollop,” said Danny, shaking her head.

“That’s Troll-ope, and no, I suppose you haven’t,” said old Selkirk, shaking his head with a sigh. “What America has done to generations of young white people is criminal and unforgivable. You have no idea where you’ve been or where you come from, so how the hell can anyone expect you to know where you should be going?”

“My grandpa told me where I come from,” said Danny. “He told me what happened back then, when he was a deputy and you were a spucky …” She had blurted the word out through careless habit, and she slapped her hand over her mouth in sudden fear. “Oh, no, I didn’t mean to say …"

“I’ve heard the word, Danielle,” the old man said with a chuckle. “Never was quite sure what it meant. I think some Jew disc jockey in Seattle made it up. They also used to call us goots, which I think is a corruption of the word gook from Vietnam days, but I’m not sure who came up with that one or why, either. Usually it was just terrorist. Or racist terrorist, or racist murderers, or Nazi psychopaths, or murdering racist fascist Nazi terrorist psychopaths, or some other combination of any of those. They never really had much imagination when it came to us. I guess we freaked them out too much. On the other hand, did you know the English language has over a hundred different terms for ‘nigger’?”

“Uh, no sir, I didn’t know that,” said Danielle. “Mr. Selkirk, my grandfather told me a lot about you down through the years, none of it good. A few weeks ago when he found out I was seeing Johnny, he took me on a kind of ghoul’s guided tour of places over on our side of the Road where all kinds of horrible things happened back during the Trouble, and your name got mentioned a lot. Johnny said I should ask you about it.”

“So ask,” invited Selkirk.

“Why did … I guess I just want to know why it had to be so bad, so bloody and violent and terrible?” said Danny, picking her words very carefully. She was intelligent enough to understand that her own grandfather’s view of Ray Selkirk was bound to be heavily slanted due to four decades of walking around with a bad leg, but she also knew that the elderly man sitting in front of her had been considered a monster in his own time, and she needed to understand how far she could go with him before he took something she said or did wrong, and grew fangs.

“Because ZOG wouldn’t have it any other way,” Selkirk told her. “Because for almost a century before the Trouble as you call it began, the white people of America had done everything they could do to try and get these motherf—sorry, ma’m, I apologize, my language is from another age and I know it’s not appropriate for this one—because we did everything we could do just to get these people to stop.

“Normal white people never minded if Jews wanted to go to church on Saturday, or niggers wanted to jive around in juke joints and snort cocaine and cut each other up on Saturday night, or silly college kids wanted to act like little know-it-alls and play-act like they were commies, or rich men wanted to keep getting richer, or even if a few perverts wanted to sneak off into closets and do filthy things with one another. All of this stuff went on before, but it never oozed out into the sunlight and the normal world, where normal people lived and worked and went to church and got married and raised families from birth to death. The weirdness and the filth and the madness and the evil was always offstage, in dark corners or way high up in society out of sight. But then the madness and the badness started to flow under the locked doors and down out of the tower rooms, and it started getting into everything and poisoning everyone’s lives. Federal Reserve in 1913, a completely pointless war between brothers in Europe in 1914, the election of a syphilitic and a dyke to the White House in 1933 … ”

“What’s a dyke?” asked Danny. “That’s some kind of dam the Dutch use to keep back the sea, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it’s a damn something, all right,” muttered Selkirk. “Never mind, girl, that part of your education definitely ain’t my responsibility. What I’m trying to say, Danielle, is that like an apple with just a little spot of decay on it, eventually the whole fruit rotted, and the rot spread. The good people of America were too busy living. They were enjoying life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, like they used to say, so the Jews and the bad white people took over and decided that everybody had to be like them, to think like them, to live like them. They spent a good hundred years trying to force it on the rest of us. All down through those decades we begged and pleaded for them to stop, and they wouldn’t. They blocked off democracy and the law, took over the government and the courts, and made everything dependent on huge amounts of money that normal people could never raise, so normal people had no power any more. We complained, we protested, we petitioned for redress of grievances, we called idiot talk show hosts on the radio and we bitched and moaned, every now and then we got together and waved a few signs in the streets, and we voted for some ass—pardon me again, ma’am, we voted for some fools called Republicans who forgot us and betrayed us as soon as they plunked their keesters down in their seats after the election. And they added insult to injury. The Jews and liberals controlled all the media, so every television show and movie mocked us and belittled us and spat on everything we cherished.”

“They still do, sir,” said Danny. “I’m a Christian, remember?”

“Yeah, so you know. But believe me, Danny, it was a lot worse back then. Worse than you can imagine. They didn’t just hate normal people’s religion, they hated our beautiful skin and hair and eyes and our magnificent minds and our mighty souls, for they themselves had none of those things, and it drove them mad with hate. It became pretty clear that they didn’t just want to lord it over us, they wanted us all dead. All white people who didn’t bow down and kiss their assorted body parts, and even those who did were only buying themselves a little time. I know you probably think I’m just regurgitating Party propaganda, child, but no kidding. They really wanted to kill us all. No more white people, anywhere, ever. And for generation after generation, all we would do was weep, and wail, and gnash our teeth, and wring our hands, and beg and plead with them to stop. That was all we ever wanted. We just wanted them to stop!

“So what happened then?” asked Danny.

“We made them stop,” said Ray simply. “You know how. Your grandfather told you how, and I imagine he told it pretty much right.”

“Did you really have to murder all those Mexican people that one time, to make the bad people stop doing what they were doing?” asked Danny quietly.

“Yes ma’am, I did,” said the old man. “I suppose I could try to explain it to you, but I doubt you’d get it, because you weren’t there. You’ve never had to live like that, a stranger and a victim in your own land where people with dark skins hunt you as prey, so you’d damned well better hunt them back, better and meaner. You could never understand, and that’s a very good thing. You shouldn’t have to deal with horror like that. We did it so you would never have to. Danny, there are some things in life that just have to be done. You don’t go all broody and introspective like Hamlet and dither about it. You just get on with it, you do what has to be done, and you don’t spend the rest of your life repenting, or justifying, or agonizing over it. The continued life of this wonderful and beautiful race of ours is the ultimate justification for everything, because politically correct horse dung aside, the fact is that we are the world. Really. Shakespeare once wrote all the world’s a stage, or I suppose in these times it might be said that all the world’s a movie. If it is, then white people have all the speaking parts. The other races are just extras for the crowd scenes.” 

“My grandfather said it wasn’t necessary,” Danny persisted with quiet stubbornness. “Grandpa said we should have chosen to die rather than be cruel to the dark people to survive, because we’re supposed to be better than that.”

“I’m sure he did, and the horrifying thing was that even in the face of extinction, there were white people who truly felt like that. Still are, I imagine, even to this day, in spite of everything America has become. The Jews have done a slap-up job of destroying our minds and making us hate ourselves, I’ll give ‘em that. There are white people in what’s left of the United States today—very wealthy white people, of course—who genuinely believe that our race deserves to perish from the earth for the crime of making this planet a place of civilization and man’s creation. White people who actively work for the destruction of this country because we will not think and believe like them, and be like them, and accept their moral superiority and obey them. That’s the true essence of liberalism, white people doing what they’re told. Goodthink, as Orwell called it. You know who George Orwell was, Danny?”

“Uh, no sir, I’m sorry, I don’t,” Danny admitted.

“That’s a pity, because you’re really missing something. George Orwell was a Communist who lived long enough to learn wisdom, and his last two novels redeemed his life of error. I’ll lend you those books, and I think they’ll help you understand,” said Ray. He shook his head. “You know, I swear, white people are the only race that is even capable of formulating such a thought, that we deserve to die. You ever notice that? We’re the only race on earth that possesses a conscience. We are the only people in human history capable of feeling guilt and shame. You’re a Christian, you say. You know the story of the Garden of Eden and the serpent who persuaded Eve to eat of the forbidden fruit?”

“Uh, have you read the Bible, sir?” asked Danny in some surprise.

“Sure,” chuckled the old man. “Haven’t you ever heard that the devil can quote Scripture? You know one interpretation of that chapter is that the forbidden fruit was actually the knowledge of sin. Adam and Eve took a chomp and then all of a sudden they realized they were naked and started grabbing for the nearest fig leaf. The white race is the only human species that is capable of understanding the concept of sin, of offending God and incurring His wrath. Niggers have no sense of sin. They only fear the whip, and when you take away the whip you get—well, look at what’s left of Chicago and Minneapolis today, and see what you get. Asians are more advanced. They have a deep sense of honor and sometimes ethics, but that’s not the same as a conscience. Only white people have that. I’m sorry, miss, I’m rambling, like old men do. Where were we?”

“You said you had to use all that terrible violence to make the bad people stop doing what they were doing,” Danny reminded him.

“Oh, yes,” said Ray. “Well, we did.”

“Reverend Billy Bob Pritchard, he’s the head of our church, and he delivers a digital sermon every Sunday from our home church in Tulsa, he says violence never settles anything.”
Old Ray sighed. “Look, Danielle, let’s bring this closer to home. I know that whatever you think of me, which probably isn’t much, but you care for my grandson, and regardless of the skeletons in your family closet I’m glad to see that. John is right at that age where he needs a good woman and responsibility to steady him down. I have reservations about your religion due to some things that happened in my own past, but that was many years ago, and I get that Christianity in an all-white society is a lot different from what it became under political correctness, when it morphed into a monster like a werewolf under a full moon. From what I’ve seen so far, I think you two would be good for each other. But what do you think would have happened if we hadn’t used force a few weeks ago to get him back from those snakes who were planning to do him harm? Where would he be now, and what would he be suffering? Where would you be, and what would you be feeling? I’m sorry, ma’am but this idea that violence never settles anything is simply not true. It has settled the fate of people and nations quite effectively and finally, ever since history began. Do you know that all of us, both my family and yours, exist only because of a single act of violence?”

“Something from the War of Independence?” asked Danny, getting the name right this time.

“No. I believe you’ve mentioned that one of your teachers at Cataract High School is a lady named Mrs. Allura Campbell, correct?”

“Yes, sir,” said Danny. “The Campbells have had me and John over for dinner at their house.”

“Of course, I knew that,” muttered Ray irritably. “My mind must be starting to wander. You know who Mrs. Campbell is, or rather who her mother was?”

“Yes, sir,” answered Danny. “Georgia Myers, who killed President Hunter Wallace. That’s why they call Allura the Daughter of the Nation. The whole country kind of adopted her after Lieutenant Campbell’s father and Elizabeth Parris smuggled her back to Montana in the last weeks of the war. It’s famous. Mrs. Campbell is the only history teacher I know of who has a section about herself in the textbook.”

“It’s Elizabeth Cardinale now,” remarked Ray. “I knew that goombah husband of hers Vince back in the day, when he was a Volunteer. Maybe you’ll get to meet her if they ever come out here for an Old Fighters’ reunion.

“Anyway, do you have any idea the effect that nuclear explosions in Missoula and Butte and Kalispell would have had on this part of Montana, Danny? I and my children who were born at the time would all be dead, but so would your own grandfather and your parents, and you and your brother would never have existed. This entire part of the world would be nothing but a radioactive wasteland that could be seen at night from satellites as a big glowing patch of sickness and emptiness. God knows how many people of all races would have died in this country, in the U.S. and Canada, even in Aztlan and Mexico, all because one gibbering madman hated us so badly that in his madness he would slaughter millions rather than allow an all-white nation to exist. That is how badly some of these people hate us, Danielle, and this one had the power to act on his hate. A brave woman stopped him, by stabbing him through the eye with a pencil and then surrendering her own life as the price of that deed. Two lives for how many untold millions saved and how many millions who would never have been born except for an act of violence. Your preacher is wrong, Danielle. Violence most certainly does settle things. A lot of things.”

“My grandfather would agree with you,” said Danny with a sigh. “He just thinks they got settled wrong.”

“I know,” said Ray with a chuckle.

Danny was looking at a framed portrait of a young woman standing on the mantelpiece of the fireplace. She was a pretty girl, dressed in a leather mini-skirt and spiky-haired, with body-piercings and jewel studs, a style fifty years out of date no woman in the Republic and few in the States would be seen dead in these days. Ray noticed her looking at it. “That’s my sister, Carol. It was taken before the war, when she was about your age.”

“Why does she look like that?”

“Just a child being silly. Even out here in Montana, white kids lived in a television and computer world that came from the degenerate cities. Niggers were supposed to be cool, so white kids tried to dress and act like them. Carol’s whigger phase was short, thank God, but she liked that photo because it bugged the hell out of Mom and Dad,” Ray went on with a laugh. “I keep that one in here because she liked it so much. Reminds me of a time I can’t really remember any more, before all the sh—all the trouble started. We have a better picture of her on the wall in the living room, taken later, without the nose ornaments and the hair spikes.”

“Yes, sir, I’ve seen it,” said Danny. “I think she looks sad in that one.”

“She was,” Ray told her. “It had started by then.”

“Mr. Selkirk,” said Danny slowly, not knowing whether she dared broach the topic at all, “John told me what my grandfather did to Carol and her children. How he sent them off to that place in Nevada and they died there. I didn’t know. That’s one thing he never told us about, ever. I am truly sorry.”

“What for?” asked Ray. “You didn’t do it. You weren’t even born then.”

“But why?” asked Danny, shaking her head. “I don’t understand how he could do something like that.”

“The same way I could put bullets into the heads of all those beaners, Danielle,” the old man told her. “Because it was his duty.”



Blogger brian boru said...

When do you think the book will be published Harold? It seems that I like each NW novel you produce even more than the previous one. My favourite so far is Freedom's Sons. Could you put a map of the Republic as it looks when you bring out the last one?

3:48 AM  

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