Spirit of Revenge

Beneath a moonless sky stood a shanty tin roofed shack, rigidly boards marked seasons of spring, summer, fall, and winter.  Grass refused to occupy the soil only mud and animal manure.  A steamy August night in Louisiana seemed to magnify a climate of irritability.  The air was thick without movement.  Screams and voices could be heard coming from a dilapidated structure, “hold’em, me can’t mend’em if he keeps movin all over the place,” momma Tutu said in exasperation, as the women tried to pin the muscular shoulder against what was supposed to be a bed.  Blood soaked rags that once served as a shirt lay on the floor in a corner.  The lantern’s illumination held by Mae revealed angry open slashes across Rufus’s wide back; slick with sweat and blood.  The sight made her nauseous.   Turning her head from the open wounds she looked out the window into the gloom of night thinking to herself, “when’s it gonna be over, is this the life I have to look forward to; beatings for just talking bout freedom,” her thoughts quickly returned to Rufus’s loud groans of pain assaulting her ears.  The old root woman’s hands were as gentle as she could make them cleaning the dirt from the deep slashes down to where pink flesh peeked through.
“How many times me tell ya not to be saying things bout Lincoln’s plans round’em whip carrying crackers,” she said through gritted teeth as she seethed with anger.

“I hate’em...I hate’em all...beat me for having hope to live better,” he said between gasps and moans.  The salty tears that streaked his face became the conduit of hate; hate colored by rage that resided somewhere deep within him threatening to become air and spread among the others locked into an existence of servitude.

Methodically momma Tutu grounded the herbs between her teeth; thinking deeply about the young man’s words, feeling his deep-rooted anger.  She then spit the ground herbs into an old chipped cup then adding another ingredient mixing the two.  “Hold still Rufus this is gonna sting a little bit, but it’ll keep ya clean...so don’t no fever get in ya.”

“Momma Tutu...ya think we is gonna be free by that there thing they is talking bout from President Lincoln?”

 “Hush now...stupid gal.  Ain’t no paper gonna set you free and take away these white folks free labor,” Mae said in a resentful soft voice; as if afraid her words would escape outside.

 “Wasn’t talking to you… now was I,” the other woman shot back in defiance.

“Shut your holes you two,” barked a harsh voice coming from the doorway.  As they all looked up, towering in the door was Ed square jawed and big boned frame smelling of whiskey and cheap cigars.  Silence dominated the small shack.  “Ain’t gonna be no emancipation for you all, so...ya better shut your black holes for ya git some of what Rufus got… whipped that hide right good,” he laughed as Rufus trembled with rage.  The two women could feel the brewing anger as they kept him pended down.  Momma Tutu continued placing the herbs into the wounds ignoring the slave hand mocking them.      

“What’s that ya got there some more of that coon medicine, better brew up some more you all gonna be need’n it if ya keep thinking bout some emancipation gonna be setting loose free labor round these parts, ain’t never gonna happen.”
The intensity in the room began to thicken as the silence became deafening.  Momma Tutu’s breathing became deep and regimented as her body temperature began to rise in the already stiffening hot shack. 

“You really want to leave this room Mista...ain’t no cause to beat down the already beaten.” 

Ed froze at the woman’s words not sure how to respond.  Looking at her through the illumination of the oil lamp, she took on an un-natural look to him.  The black slick complexion and piercing eyes made him uncomfortable.  The others seemed to hold their breath waiting for the repercussion.  Ed pointed a finger at her half-laughing, “Ya know something...old niggra woman you lucky,” he said as he turned and left out of the shack.  Everybody let out a sigh of relief.

 “Why didn’t you just kill’em,” Rufus said in a harsh whisper, “I know you knowed something from where you came from...you is a fresh water African, ain’t no more like you.  You shoulda killed that cracker.” 

 “Jus hush, jus hush for you get us all whipped up good or even lynched, and throwed to the gators for talking like that,” Mae said.  Rufus seethed with anger as the spirit of revenge slowly rolled over him “I’m tired...I’m jus so tired,” he said turning his head to face the old healer.

 “I know you know how to make a man’s heart jus crush all up in his chest...I heard you done it before.”  Then suddenly as swift as sidewinder Momma Tutu’s hands grabbed the young man’s face startling Getty and Mae; never have they seen her move so fast.  Through clenched teeth, “don’t you ever talk bout things you know nothin bout boy... hear me, or I’ll snap ya like a twig.  None of ya...hear me.”

“Yes Ma’am,” they all responded in unison at once with an added touch of fear.  The old woman resumed dressing the remaining wounds becoming lost in her thoughts reflecting back to almost thirty years ago on another hot August night.  As the pages of time flipped pass the scene changed.

Down by the river trying to cool herself off one of the ranch hands staggered up, “wha’cha doing out here all by ya self girly...lookin for some company,” the man said leering at her as she attempted to back away.  You ain’t gone nowhere; not till ol Hank here gets some of that black stuff between them there legs...you is the only black tail I ain’t had yet,” he said with lust dripping from his mouth; his words slurred from the alcohol.  His staggered gait forced his prey back against the tree.  In fear, she trembled as the drunkard came closer.  She could smell the body odor mixed with sweat and the strong smell of whiskey.  Rotten teeth grinned at her,” please mister I ain’t trying to cause no trouble,” she pleaded as she watched him unbuckling his belt.

 “You damned right girly...just you be still an keep yer yap shut,” he said grabbing her pulling her to his stench filled mouth.   Twisting and turning her face away from him, he became rougher.
“Hold still damned ya.”  She struggled even more.  Tears rolling in streams down her cheeks, and then suddenly a large hand made contact with her face.  The open hand that struck her face seemed to echo through the night.  The sudden pain paralyzed her momentarily, and then another emotion quickly replaced her fear like a raging fire surging up through her sending her into an altered state of consciousness. She stopped struggling and became stern and ridged unmoving as the drunkard slave master’s field hand tried to wrestle her to the ground.  He found that he no longer possessed any power over her.  He froze for a minute, “what the hell is this,” he said steadying himself as she glared at him with eyes he’d never seen before,  suddenly he felt a strange and unusual sensation running through him as she just stared at him with the hatred of a hundred years coursing through her with her breathing becoming deeper.  Her mouth turned and twisted uttering words foreign and harsh.  The strange sensation turned to a throbbing and gripping pain that crept up through his legs; they trembled and shook, “what in god’s name is-“ Then his words were silenced as he dropped to the ground; mouth open with no words or sounds exiting it.  Bulging eyes spoke his pain as he grabbed for his privates.  “Please he managed to get out between the groans of pain.  It felt as though a fire had seared his entire genital area.  She just stood there unblinking unmoved by his pleads for help.  His words echoed of how he had taken what he wanted from the slave women; cruel and brutal dehumanizing them with no consequences for his actions. She thought of the heartless acts of cruelty against the women she loved.  She remembered the emptiness in their eyes.  “Heartless does as heartless is and you should be without one,” she thought over, and over in her mind watching the man now grabbing his chest convulsing in the dirt.  “Nobody can hear you now,” said a voice coming from her that did not belong to her, a spirit that had taken up residence in her.  She laughed a low guttural laugh at the dying man, then suddenly her own consciousness returned to her causing her to almost lose her balance; disoriented  and confused she looked down at the slump heap that death had claimed making him cold and rigid.  The man was still gripping his chest as fear gripped her again, only this time urging her to run as fast as she could.  When she finally came close to the old rundown shack, she was drenched in sweat and tears trailed beneath her chin.  The oldest of the young men standing outside seen her running.  Despite the darkness, his eyes were sharp as a hawk.  “What in hell is going on,” he said looking to see if she were being chased, but saw no one pursuing the girl.  An older woman came out, “Reese what is it?”

“Don’t rightfully know yet...looks like little momma.  As she came closer he could see the terror in her face and he began to run to meet her.  “What’s gotten into you?”
 Panting and crying her words were unintelligible.  By then the slaves had gathered around the frantic woman.  Babbling and making no sense one of the older women took her face between her hands calming her down where she could catch her breath. “What’s wrong child?”

 “I didn’t mean it...it just happened...he kept trying...he was trying,” then the tears started all over again as the young woman trembled.  “It was that Hank at it again...damned cracker,” Reese snapped spitting in disdain.

 “Where was ya at this time of night?  You can’t keep going down to the river...it ain’t safe wit them drunken slave hands around....girl I thought I done taught you better gal,” the older woman said in a vain attempt to calm her down,  “did he hurt ya any?”

 “No...I think he’s ...he’s dead,” she sobbed.  Silence fell heavily for a moment as questioning eyes looked at one another.  The terror that once belonged to little momma now belonged to everyone.  “Ooooh my lord child...they gonna kill us all dead.”

“It’s lynching time....”

 “Hush you all,” said a tall slender woman of her fifties.

“Reese you round up the men and go on down to the river see what’s going on,” she said in a hushed whisper as tension filled the hot humid night air sending streams of sweat to drench their cloths.

 No one spoke as their fear ate at them gnawing at their stomachs.  What would they find at the river?  What would the next day reveal?  Would it be the end of a rope or would it be something much more sinister and cruel?

Reaching the river the sight rushed into view; slumped over the ground.  The ashen grey remains stared off into the night; hand still clutching his chest with his belt buckle unfastened.  Just at his feet lay the empty whiskey bottle.  Everyone was speechless trying to ponder the events that led up to the man’s demise since the woman could give no clear details only hysterical sobbing.

 “Oh my sweet Jesus...”

“Hush up June boy...ain’t nothin sweet bout this here mess.”  The men moved closer to the corpse to get a closer look.  “What we spoosen to do bout dis...Huh?”

“Looks like his heart done gave out,” Reese said rubbing the stubble on his chin.

  “I say that ol cracker done got what he deserves look at him ...look at his pants all undone.  He was fixing to have his way with another one of our women...jus last month he gotta hold of Bessie… girl ain’t been right since...jus ruin’t.... I say good for the Sonuvabitch.”

“Shut your pie hole fool before somebody hears us.”

 “Ain’t nobody out here but us.”

“Both of ya shut it...now.  I can’t hear myself think,” Reese snapped.

 “If we weight him down good...”

“NO...we gotta make it look like an accident...like he was swimming to cool himself off and got caught by the current and drowned.  Just take his clothes off hang’em up on that branch.  June boy you keep an eye out...Billy help me get his clothes off.  Jiff you get a branch and dust away all these foot prints and everything, hear me boy everything and don’t leave nothing.”

 “Good lord he stinks...ol dirty bastard.”

“Stop ya yakking and just get’em undressed we gotta make it look like he drowned before anybody comes looking for’em.”

“Alright Reese,” the younger man grumbled resenting the authoritative control.  Within minutes, they had the body undressed and the cloths hung over the tree’s branch.  The silence of the night was almost as un-nerving as the incidents itself; as all manner of nocturnal creatures became silent, witnessing events unfold.

“That ol cracker done messed wit da wrong one.  They always said there was something different about little momma.   Gal got some kinda power we all ain’t never seen the likes of before...now it done come out...that ol cracker won’t be grabbing no more colored women,” Jiff said wiping the sweat from his brow.

I hope you have enjoyed Another reality a place for the 3rd eye to indulge
This was an excerpt from the Cultural-Sy series "To Resurrect and Avenge" Book 1 you can visit www.wix.com/soyinkaiyabo/chasochronicals  or  to watch the book trailer

http://astore.amazon.com/wwwicosochch-20

available at amazon.com

The Metal Threat

Down town pandemonium erupted as metal crashing against metal sent screams into the air as bodies scattered fleeing from the 50-ton bulldozer that had seemed to have developed a mind of its own as it rammed unsuspecting vehicles and caused massive damage to parked cars, and oncoming traffic.  An over turned minivan lay on its side pushed against a fire hydrant; the geyser of water added to the already chaotic and frenzied scene with mounting confusion.  Several vehicles disabled by the rampaging construction vehicle made it difficult for emergency responders to get into the area; therefore the metal menace continued on its destructive reign crashing into anything that lie in its path.  Plate glass windows shattered as flying debris stabbed through the glass injuring the customers of stores, shops, and grocers.  Personal belongings littered the sidewalks and street.  Twisted metal signs laid across parked cars pushed up against one another while the driver of the bulldozer shifted to reverse backing over dozens of bicycles.  Terrified screaming pedestrians scrabbled to get out of the way.  Suddenly the bulldozer shifted forward pushing over a traffic light.  Sparks flickered as it leaned in an awkward angle before crashing down to the street sending puffs of smoke into the air.  Several people remained trapped in mangled vehicles.  Anguished cries for help only egged the bulldozer on as it plowed into more vehicles.  One vehicle’s window was smeared with blood. 

Several attempts made by pedestrians to jump on to the bull Dozier to remove the operator failed; confronting  what sat behind the controls of the machine was an affront to nature.  Something that possessed a human body sat behind the controls, but its eyes gave the appearance of something unearthly, as the eyes were void of life in their sockets glaring out at the horrified.  A young man who leaped onto the metal menace in an attempt to dislodge the operator made another attempt.  Shock and disbelief had frozen him in place.  A cold stone like hand lightning fast grabbed the man's throat like a vice.  For that short period, the young man literally looked into the face of death before being flung from the bulldozer.  Again, the machine backed up from mangled metal and turned to ram an approaching police car that had managed to circumvent the mass of tangled wreckage by jumping the curb driving down the sidewalk.  "Wha'da fuck...this is unit 22 on 3rd and Bakersfield road...I got a priority.  Oh my god-” The bulldozer’s huge metal scoop crashed down on the top of the cruiser after ramming it with unnatural speed.  Glass exploded everywhere striking pedestrians and emergency responders.  Horrified on lookers watched as the vehicle looked as though it were being pushed into the ground taking the cop inside with it despite the rounds fired in a futile attempt to stop and unstoppable foe.  His screams died away under the commotion of the screaming pedestrians. In the distance, more sirens could be heard approaching the catastrophic scene as dispatchers shouted for additional units.

"Oh shit did you hear that," she said in mid stride returning to the cruiser with Jackson on her heels, and his ear almost glued to the radio's speaker.  Jumping into the cruiser Jackson flipped the switch for the blue strobe lights and sirens.  "Something real ugly is going on," she said reaching for the radio's mic to respond as the cruiser's tires screeched around the corner almost on two wheels.  "Damn don't get us smashed up before we get there."

"I got this," Jackson replied concentrating on the traffic ahead to avoid any vehicles slow to move from the cruisers right of way. An air horn accompanied the flashing lights and sirens aggressively signaling the cruiser’s immediate approach, and to make way.  "MOVE damn it...don't you hear all this shit?"

"They hear...they think their gonna get a case if we hit'em."

"Yeah they gonna get more than a case...stupid sonuvabitches gonna get dead with all this metal running up their dumb asses."

"All units approaching the vicinity of 3rd and Bakersfield Road exercise extreme caution individual armed with a bulldozer one unit down with pedestrian casualties," the radio blared a second time.  A block and a half away and the chaos could be seen.

"Oh shit," Sierra said staring at the massive pile up of cars and trucks scattered around looking as if they had been dropped from the sky surrounding the bulldozer.

"We're gonna have to foot it...this is as close as we're going to get," Jackson said glancing up at the news helicopters that had joined the grim scene.  The bulldozers engine roared as its operator gunned the accelerator.  To the far left, the smashed cruiser seemed to beckon to the cops.  "Shit...we gotta get to that car."  Seconds later, more of the 7th district cars pulled up as close as they could to the scene.  The injured were removed from the area while cops attempted to proceed to the cruiser mangled beyond recognition, but with lightning speed, the bulldozer maneuvered itself in their direction preparing to ram them; chasing them back behind the wreckage of the other cars.  Again, they tried from another angle careful not to alert its operator.  A hushed crowd waited in anticipation.   Only the roar of the bulldozer’s engine dominated the ground below while helicopters hovered overhead adding to the urgency of the scene.  Closer the men and women in blue crept; cuffs and keys held in place in an attempt in silencing the clink of metal.  Radios were turned completely down, and breaths were held.  Sierra swallowed hard not knowing what she would be greeted with once she approached the mangled wreckage.  "RUN," a voice shouted out.  The swift turn of the bulldozer’s scoop almost caught Jackson as he dove out of the way.  Hot asphalt biting into his hands and knees caused a string of curses to erupt from his mouth.  "Yo man...you ok," a firefighter asked helping him from the ground.  Soon police supervisors were on location setting up their command center.  The intersection was now gridlocked; a standoff between cops and machine filled the atmosphere with eeriness.  Despite the open view of the bulldozer, its operator’s identity remained a mystery.  The only person that saw him was unconscious.

 "What the hell is this," barked lieutenant George Morison while cops and firefighters were desperately trying to devise a plan of rescue. Not knowing the cop's condition made everyone anxious.  "Has anyone heard a radio contact from him?  What is his status...is he dead, alive...what, and what the hell is in the driver's seat...and why can't we get the SONUVABITCH outta there?  What the hell are all of you standing around for," the lieutenant snarled through gritted teeth looking around at the chaos," get these civilians outta here!"

"Sir...their here because ...well...they can't leave...just yet."

"Why the hell not?"

"Because these are all their vehicles and they’re witnesses," the sergeant said pointing around to the wreckage of cars becoming more and more exasperated by the second; with all the questions he had to stop and answer while his men were trying to reach the trapped cop.    “Asshole," the sergeant thought to himself walking away.  "Sergeant...get a paramedic up here...we gotta get that cop outta there; that's if he's even still alive."

"Sir...we gotta get him cut outta there first of all and second; the sonuvabitch won't even let us get close to him... let alone get a paramedic in there," he said growing angry.

"You better get somebody to go in there and get that man outta there," Morrison called after him as the sergeant continued to ignore his demands.  "Damn asshole with fucking gold bars."

"Hey Serg the only way I see to fix this problem is to get a clean shot in...maybe we can nick'em...slow'em down," Jackson said with Sierra nodding in agreement.  "It's gonna take to long to get sharp shooters down here; swat's on the other side of the city on a job at a drug house."

"Why can't we do it," a southern drawn voice said coming from behind them, "I can hit that ass from fifty yards," she said turning all the attention to herself.  Standing there 5 ft 10, 170 lbs, and solid mass the 19-year veteran from Sheldon South Carolina unsnapped her holster.  "Now just wait a minute Max the department is still on the hot seat from the last shooting," the lieutenant said, and then all of a sudden the bulldozer that had been sitting motionless roared to life turning in their direction.  "Oh shit."

 A floored accelerator marked the four of them to be the next target.  Scrambling for their lives with hats, nightsticks and handcuffs flying in numerous directions they barely escaped the deadly menace.  "That's it I'm gonna pop that wild cat," she said drawing her 9 mm from her holster from behind an over turned truck where they had taken cover.  Three consecutive shots rang out stunning everyone the operator of the bulldozer fell limp slumping over the controls. 

"You got'em...damn woman...you da shit," Jackson said in awe.

"Good shoot Max.  OK...let’s go check out what we got here," the sergeant said, but no sooner than he could turn around criticism reared its ugly head, "cease fire god damn it who fired their weapon?"

"Max did sir...she took out the threat."

"That was an unarmed civilian!!!!"

"I beg your pardon sir but that unarmed civilian was armed with a fucking bulldozer trying to ram us," she said fuming, "I used the necessary force needed to stop the immediate threat SIR," she bellowed out standing toe to toe with the lieutenant; un-intimidated by the man's rank.  Jackson and Sierra stood off to the side watching in total disbelief before they joined the others in attempting to free the cop from the mangled cruiser.

"Morrison's an asshole all week," Sierra said clearing away some of the debris.

"Yeah SONUVABITCH coulda at least taking a day off from being an asshole today," Jackson responded.

"That's what you get when ya only think about your own ass...I guess.  What a dick head." 

Finally Morrison stopped arguing with the seasoned street cop; realizing he was getting nowhere.  "Officer I want a use of deadly force report before the end of your shift."

"Fine...it beats being dead," she snapped walking away.  Feeling defeated frustrated and embarrassed Morrison looked for another outlet to vent on; walking over to cops, firefighters, and medics working diligently to free the cop from the mangled cruiser, "I want this mess cleaned up ASAP."  For a minute, everyone stopped and looked at the police supervisor as if he had two heads and went back to working.  The sergeant stepped away from the cruiser wiping sweat from his face, "We can't do that sir...not right now anyway."

"And why's that sergeant?"

"Sir this is a crime scene."

Thanks for taking the time to visit Another reality.  I hope you enjoyed this excerpt from the 

Cultural-Sy novel To Resurrect & Avenge Book one. You can visit me at  

www.wix.com/soyinkaiyabo/chaoschronicals
also available at amazon