Prey World - Organized Rage

by Alexander Merow

The Belarusian police had shot down more than 2500 demonstrators, and hundreds more arrested. About 400 police officers had also been killed or wounded in the bloody firefight and during the following riots, that had lasted till the morning hours of the next day. The media reported several days around the clock about the civil unrest and the street fights, mentioning the civilian casualties with no word. They accused Artur Tschistokjow, that he had incited his followers to attack the police and turned around the facts in the usual way. The leader of the Rus was still shocked, because he had never expected a bloodbath like this. But his first rally in a bigger Belarusian city had finally ended in a disaster, and there was no more room to put a gloss on it.

  Furthermore, the Scanchips of all persons, who had been identified as protesters, had meanwhile been blocked. It meant that all these people lost their jobs and became homeless in the long term. After a while, they were not even able to buy a sandwich anymore.

  But these merciless terror measures had not the desired effect, because now still more people had nothing to lose anymore and looked up to Tschistokjow like to a savior. Apart from that, more and more discontent spreaded among the Belarusian policemen, because of the fact that an increasing number of civil servants and officers got their salaries irregularly or had to accept wage cuts. Therefore, many policemen were no longer willing to risk their lives in bloody street fights or riots against Tschistokjow`s supporters.

  The leader of the Rus had meanwhile disappeared again, after he had escaped from Gomel, accompanied by a group of heavily armed guardsmen. A little later, he tirelessly continued his struggle, driven by growing hatred and fanaticism. In his eyes, the massacre in the streets of Gomal had been another indication that the revolution would come in the near future.

  Wilden and most of the other men from Ivas had escaped from the chaos, because they had decided to leave the city early enough. Nevertheless, two young men from the village had been killed by the police during the riots in the night.

  Today, Artur Tschistokjow had come to Minsk, where a few dozens of his lieutenants were waiting for him in a dingy restaurant in the south of the city. The demonstration in Gomel and its bloody consequences had paralyzed many of his followers, leaving them in a state of terror and insecurity.

  One or two had already asked Tschistokjow, to refrain public meetings and rallies in the future, but the rebel leader was boiling inside and did not want to hear things like this. Now he demanded perseverance from his followers. Tschistokjow walked to the end of the room, looked angrily around and started his speech...

  “My dear comrades!

  Bloody battles are lying behind us. Some of you have broken bones or have been shot. More than 2500 supporters of our freedom movement have soaked the streets of Gomel with their blood. The police has just shot us down, just slaughtered men, women and children - because they have claimed freedom!

  But our eyes are still glowing with excitement, because we stand now closer together than ever before. The blood of the fallen soldiers is the glue, which sticks us together. We have finally realized, how determined our enemy is and now we have to show him, that we are still a hundred, a thousand times more determined. We have to show them, that we will sacrifice without complaining. No guns, no tanks can stop us anymore. If we have to die for the survival of our nation, it is our duty. We do not want to ask, what`s good for us, because our lives are unimportant.

  It is only important that our nation survives and our country will be freed from slavery! Like the old Rus, we want to be strong and don`t want to fear death. We will do the necessary things, endure all the pain with a smile, and even die the martyr`s death for the future of our children. If we have reached this state of inner freedom, then we can and will win the external freedom too!”

  Tschistokjow`s men were silent and just stared at him. The resentful speaker waved his forefinger and the burning gaze of his blue eyes touched the faces of his followers.

  "If we march through the streets of another city, then our enemies will see, that they haven`t broken our spines. Then they will see our petrified glances and our steely will.

  And we will scream at their faces: “Shoot! But don`t think that you can stop the revolution anymore! Although you tear bloody gaps into our ranks, we will come back, with even more comrades, again and again, and come back and bleed and bleed! Until your tyranny has fallen!

  I have seen many of my faithful comrades in Gomel, dying in the streets, and I have held their hands until their eyes were cold and dead. You all have it too!

  Now you must be strong, my brothers! Now, right now, you must be faithful, grim, hard, fearless, because now fate will prove us!

  If we give up now and don`t save our people, then our nation will be extinct. Then, all fighting has been futile and pointless. If we give up today, then all freedom fighters around the world can give up too, because they also have to risk their lives and have to suffer and die for the new morning!

  If we fail, the world enemy will wipe out our nation in the next decades. Then all the sacrifices of our ancestors had been in vain. The nations of Western Europe are close to their total destruction and Russia is the only hope, our mother Europe still has in this dark age. If we fail, Europe with all its great nations will die a cruel and painful death. And if Europe dies, the rest of the world will become a bleak desert. Then, the light will leave this planet forever – and will never return!

  So this is the most important war which has ever been fought in mankind`s history! Therefore, we have only to care about our fight, not about our little lives! We have no right to surrender in this battle, in front of our children and grandchildren and world history!”

  Artur Tschistokjow screamed it into the ears of his comrades, and he was shaken by anger and energy. Soon, his men felt moved as by an electric shock and the courage returned to their hearts again.

  Only a few doubters remained among them, after the speaker had finished his preaching. The next demonstrations and rallies were already planned, despite the carnage of Gomel. And Tschistokjow`s followers finally took heart. What had these outcast and neglected men to lose anymore?

  While the situation in Belarus escalated, also other parts of the world were shaken by discontent. Frank and Alfred saw it on television on 24.03.2035: There had been a rebellion on the Philippines. The regime of sub-governor Oquino was overthrown by a successful insurrection. Rebel leader Michael Arroyo took over the power, founded the former Philippine state again and finally allied with Matsumoto`s Japan. Overnight, another fire had broken out in the Far East. Four years ago, when Japan had fought its great struggle for liberation, there had been some first riots in many parts of the country. Now, the Philippine rebels, supported by Matsumoto, had actually managed it to break their chains and had conquered the city of Manila. Frank and the others were beside themselves with joy. A second revolution had been successful and another state had resisted the power of the World Government. Within a few hours, all eyes focused on the Philippines and the international media were boiling mad. The Lodge Brothers had another enemy.

  “That`s a true sensation!”, shouted Wilden and jumped up and down in front of the TV.

  Frank, Alfred and Sven clapped their hands. The latter tried it anyway, because three fingers were missing on his left hand since the Japanese war. Nevertheless, also Sven`s remaining eye lit up with confidence and hope.

  “When can also do it!”, said Kohlhaas smiling and raised his fists.

  ”Now the Philippines! This is another kick in the butt of the World Government, ha, ha!”, cheered Alf.

  “Matsumoto has his first official ally!”, returned the village boss and looked triumphantly at the screen, where a concerned reporter commented the pictures from Manila with a sardonic undertone. Thousands of people were demonstrating in front of the presidential palace, while Arroyo was delivering a speech.

  “Let`s see, when the GCF will march in there!”, remarked Bäumer and stroke over his dark beard.

  “They won`
t attack the Phillipines. After all, the Japanese stand behind Michael Arroyo!”, answered Wilden.

  “Do you think, that Artur has already heard the news?”, asked Sven the others.

  Frank looked at him and nodded. “Well, I`m sure about that. It is on the news since hours...”

  “It`s going on in Asia! And it is time that we give the Lodge Brothers another kick in their balls, in Europe!”, called Wilden.

  Now the World President was interviewed and appeared visibly confused and worried. The four men in Ivas laughed, however, uttering spiteful remarks.

  In the course of the day, Artur Tschistokjow called them, completely beside himself with excitement.

  These great news from a distant part of the world had significantly increased his morale and the Belarusian politician sounded more optimistic than ever, and told Wilden that he had planned a major offensive, full of publicity campaigns and protest marches for this year`s summer and autumn. It was only a matter of time for him until Belarus would fall into anarchy.

  Apart from that, Tschistokjow had just a lot of luck, because the powerful did not pay much attention to his movement, turning their views at more important regions of the world, and left the fight against his organization to the regional authorities and Medschenko.

  Frank, Alfred and the rest of the other young men from Ivas returned to Belarus in the following week to support the Russians in their tireless publicity campaigns for the freedom movement. For several nights, they were even active in Minsk.

  In early April, the Rus organized five concurrent demonstrations in small towns in the east of the country, each with about 1000 people. They were successful and except for some minor clashes with the police, it all ended without bigger problems. Sometimes the officers simply looked away, leaving the demonstrators alone.

  Today, Frank, Alfred, Artur and about hundred leaders of the guardsmen squads from all parts of Belarus had met on a large meadow, far out in the country. It came down in torrents, but Frank ignored the ugly weather.

  “Frank and Alf, I will make you the leaders of my men with weapons. I have already told you!”, said Tschistokjow.

  “Thanks!”, answered Frank, feeling honored.

  “Most of them can speak English. You can talk to them, no problem”, explained the Russian. “These men are the leaders of all my guardsmen units. I already told them, that in future you will give them the orders.”

  Kohlhaas perked his eyebrows up. Then he grinned to himself. “Am I some kind of general now?”

  “Yes, exactly! You are the general of the guardsmen! Right!”

  “And Alf?”

  Bäumer looked annoyed and felt ignored by Tschistokjow. “What`s about me?”

  The rebel leader mused for a minute, and finally he said: “Frank gives the orders to the northern units and Alf to the southern units, okay?”

  Alf shook his head. “You can leave this honorable task to Frank. Shall he lead all these troopers. Meanwhile, I can watch his back...”

  Kohlhaas laughed and winked at Bäumer. The blond Russian mused again.

  “Well, Alf, as you will!”

  “General Frank Kohlhaas!”, said Tschistokjow while he clapped on Frank`s muscular arm.

  “Your guardsmen need bulletproof vests, Artur!”, meant Frank now, pointing at the troopers behind him.

  “Bulletproof vests?” Artur was baffled and looked for his German dictionary.

  “I can explain it, I mean armor, helmets and so on”, said Kohlhaas with a grin.

  “Ah, I see...”, Artur seemed to brood and scratched his head.

  ”In Gomel, our men hadn`t head any protection against bullets. But the cops had helmets and bulletproof vests.”

  “You`re right!”, Tschistokjow raised his hand and gazed pensively at the sky.

  “Try to get this stuff, all kinds of armor, helmets...”, said Frank to Artur and let the guardsmen muster.

  Then he told them that they had to equip themselves from now on. Each trooper should get a helmet and any kind of body protection till the next rally.

  They spent the rest of the day with firing practices and Frank tried to teach the young Russians some basic military tactics. He loved his new role and enjoyed the respectful attention, he recieved from his new “soldiers”.

 

  At the next demonstration in Luninyets, a bizarre sight was offered to the numerous inhabitants of the town who were witnessing the spectacle. About 300 troopers had come with their partly self-made armors. Some of them had strange looking vests of iron plates, others wore bulletproof vests which they had bought on the black market somewhere in Russia. Many guardsmen had some old helmets of the former Soviet army, the NVA and even the old German Wehrmacht!

  Frank could not help grinning, but the main thing was that the helmets, which were partly already many decades old and often rusted, would protect the men.

  “Better a weird looking helmet on the head, than a bullet in the head!”, said Kohlhaas to himself and grinned again.

  And even the sparsely represented police reacted confusedly on this sight. Tschistokjow delivered a fiery speech against the outsourcing of Belarusian factories and production complexes to low-wage countries and earned thunderous applause from the people, who were afraid of losing their jobs.

  Otherwise, everything went smoothly and some police officers even greeted the 3000 demonstrators friendly. Artur seemed to be content. One day later, Frank and Alfred drove back to Ivas.

  It was at the beginning of May. Meanwhile, Kohlhaas and Bäumer were “on vacation”, as they formulated it. They spent their time with hanging around in the living room or sitting in the kitchen, and took some long walks in the woods, enjoying the first warm sunrays of the year 2035.

  “Have you seen Julia in the last days?”, asked Kohlhaas his friend.

  They went deeper into the forest and finally sat down on a fallen tree. Alf shrugged: “She seems to be away. No, I haven`t seen her. Perhaps she is in Grodno, with Viktor.”

  “Yes, could be...”, muttered Frank.

  “I know, it annoys you...”

  “Yes, could be...”, returned Kohlhaas sadly.

  “Nevertheless, she likes you, Frank!”

  “Pah! Of course! And why does she constantly visit that Russian?”, hissed Frank angrily.

  “You have told me, that you have already...”

  “Already what?”

  “Well, you have...”

  “Just forget about that!”

  Alf looked at his friend in wonder. Then he said: “You have kissed her...and then?”

  “Yes, something like that. Well, not exactly, I mean...”, stammered Frank.

  “Don`t talk Chinese, Frank!”

  “If she would be my girlfriend, she wouldn`t be in fucking Grodno, okay?”

  Alf just grinned and asked for details. “Now, tell uncle Alf the whole, sad truth!”

  “Fuck you, Alter!”, ranted Frank, giving Bäumer a slight nudge with his elbow.

  “Let`s go!”, he suggested strongly and rose from his seat.

  Alf could imagine that Frank had probably a bid exaggerated a few months ago. The reality of his “successful advance” towards the heart of Julia Wilden was apparently much more disillusioning than his euphoric “reports of victory”.

  “Nevertheless, we have kissed. Even though, it has probably just been more amicable”, thought Frank and melancholically looked at the treetops, which slowly filled with fresh green leaves.

  For a while, they walked through the beautiful forest that surrounded the village, and were silent. Perhaps the revolution which they all hoped for, was just an illusion, like Julia`s love. Frank should still find it out soon enough.

  Meanwhile, Wilden dealt less with his daughter and more with strategic preparations of political campaigns. Today, he had risen early in the morning and was now sitting in front of his computer. The village boss designed a new flyer for the freedom movement, which was directed against the proposed “appro
ximation of energy costs” in the sub-sector “Belarus-Baltic”.

  This so called “alignment” meant nothing else but a massive increase of prices for natural gas and petroleum, which Medschneko`s government had announced for October.

  Wilden had seen a report about this newest raid of the regime last night on television. The prices for oil and gas should be increased with not less than 60%, as the media told the people. Perhaps this was another turning point in the lives of millions of Belarusians and could finally become the last straw that would break the camel`s back.

  While the country still had its own oil reserves, oil and gas were nevertheless imported from other regions now. Moreover, the population of Belarus had suffered under the constantly increasing prices for almost everything. This new “approximation” finally shook the people to the core and made them angrier than ever before. Apart from that, the steady reduction of the manufacturing industry and various tax hikes had driven countless Belarusians into a black hole of hopelessness and despair. Now the Medschenko regime tried to pull even more money out of their already empty pockets.

  “Equalization of prices...”, whispered Wilden quietly to himself, staring angrily at the screen of his computer. “Those damn bandits!”

  He went on to formulate the new leaflet and admired his meanwhile thorough knowledge of Russian. Then he looked thoughtfully out the window, typed around on the keyboard again and suddenly startled up. Somebody had knocked on the door.

  Frank tried to hurry up. The house of the village boss was already behind the next street corner. Thorsten Wilden had rung him up this morning and had excitedly explained, that he had an important message for him. The young man rushed past a row of empty houses and finally turned left. Now he was almost there.

  Some seconds later, he abruptly interrupted his run, gaped and gasped quietly. A police car was parking on the street and he could see the village boss, who asked three officers in, in order to close the door behind them in the next moment. Frank scurried to the side and hid behind a wall.

  “What the hell do these cops here?”, it flashed through his mind. His heart started to pound like crazy, then he sprinted back home.

  “Alf, Alf! Damn, where are you?”, he yelled through the hallway.

  Bäumer came down the stairs from the upper floor and slowly rubbed his eyes.

  “What`s up?”

  “The cops! There is a police car at Wilden!”, shouted Kohlhaas with a horrified expression.

  “What?”, Alf was suddenly wide awake and almost fell backwards.

  ”The cops? What?”

  ”Yes, come with me and take your gun! Now!”

  The two men ran down the street, reaching Wilden`s house after a few minutes. Moments later, they hid in the yard of an vacant house behind a shed and waited. The police car was still there.

  “This can`t be true! There has never been a cop in Ivas! What does that mean?”, whispered Frank softly, peering past the shed.

  “I don`t know...”, muttered Alf nervously. The two were silent, while Martin Brenner and his wife, Wilden`s neighbors, came out of their house and stared at the police car which was blocking their gateway. What had happened?

  „The most of you are farmers?“, asked the policeman with the globular face.

  Wilden had both hands in his pockets and tried to evade the views of the cops as good as he could.

  „Yes, this is a village of farmers!”, he returned.

  “But you are njemez? German?”, probed the other policeman.

  „Yes...nemez...Tej hotschesch goworitch pa russkje?“, answered Wilden with a smile and hoped that his offer to talk Russian would bring him some sympathies.

  „Njet!“, grunted the officer. „We talk in Englisch!“

  Shortly afterwards, the policeman told the village boss that they had pursued some teenagers, who had sprayed an antigovernmental slogan on a wall – “Down with the World Government!”

  The mummed young man had escaped into the woods near Ivas. It had been some nights ago, as the officer explained.

  „Did you see any suspicious persons here in this village?“, he probed again now. Wilden tried to smile.

  „No, I did not see three suspicious young men!“, answered Wilden angrily, playing the indignant man. “You have already asked me that…”

  Suddenly one of the cops left the group and went into the kitchen, where Mrs. Wilden welcomed him with an anxious smile.

  „You are okay?“, asked the man and grinned at her.

  „Yes!“, breathed Agatha Wilden silently.

  Then the officer walked around and seemed to watch out for something, while Wilden tried to start a harmless smalltalk with his colleagues. He spoke about the many interesting sides of farming, the lot of work in the village, seeding and harvesting and so on. Finally he told the policemen that Lithuania was a very beautiful country, full of nice people.

  The two cops became a bit kindlier now and accepted Wilden`s offer to follow him into the kitchen to drink a warm tea. For some minutes, the village boss seemed to calm down.

  „Oh, you have many books!“, it suddenly resounded out of the library in the next room and Wilden looked like he had been stabbed in the back.

  He stood up immediately, smiled at the officers and hurried into the library, where a cop stupidly googled at the countless books around him. Obviously, he could not understand the German book titles at all. Meanwhile, Agatha Wilden gave the two officers another delicious blackberry tea – and just smiled and smiled.

  „Ha, ha! Yes, my hobby is history. Just a hobby. I like to read everything about history”, said Wilden, stroking nervously through his gray hair.

  “Are these books legal?”, enquired the officer with a harsh undertone.

  „Yes, of course. The books are all for historical studies. For my little hobby. You know?”

  “Nietzsche?”, the policeman stared at an old book and seemed to be overcallenged.

  „Ha! Not very interesting. Just an old book!“, laughted the village boss calmingly.

  The officer put the book back on the shelf. Then he left the room. Wilden took a deep breath and wiped off some drops of cold sweat from his brow.

  „I don`t read at all. Reading is boring!”, grumbled the officer and finally went back to the kitchen.

  After the policemen had enjoyed their tea, they left the house and shook Wilden`s hand with a friendly smile.

  „If I see any suspicious persons here in this village, I will call you immediately!”, promised the village boss. The officers just nodded approvingly and the police car disappeared again.

  The policemen had come to Wilden, because the authorities knew him as the registered owner of dozens of houses in Ivas. Meanwhile, all the villagers had become more than upset, because this was the first time that a police car had come to the outlying and still abandoned looking village. This had changed today!

  Fortunately, Wilden seemed not to had aroused the officer`s suspicions and had mimed the upright and harmless taxpayer once more.

  Shortly afterwards, they knew who had made the silly spraying in the neighboring village of Rajazov. It had been three still very young teenagers, whose families had moved to Ivas with Wilden`s permission one year ago.

  Frank, Alfred and Sven finally beat them up, while the village boss threatened their parents to banish them, if something like this would ever happen again. But after a while, all calmed down – even Frank and Alf, who had reacted on the incident with a tantrum.

  “What?”, hissend Frank, opened the front door and looked at three hardly 16 to 18 year old guys, whose heads were bandaged. Two of them had black eyes and a few scratches on their faces.

  “What?”, he yelled at them again. Now even Alf came to the door.

  “We just wanted to apologize, Mr. Kohlhaas...and...uh...Mr. Bäumer”, said one of the teenagers quietly.

  “Yes, all right! Accepted! The main thing is that you have understood, that such stupid shit can lead to a great disaster
. Why have you done it that close to our home village?”, huffed Frank menacingly, standing in front of the frightened boys.

  A 17 year old boy named Ingo Moser nodded and stammered: “Yes, we are sorry. We will never do it again!”

  “This is healthier! Believe me!”, hissed Bäumer and his eyes twinkled angrily. Meanwhile, Frank almost felt a bit sorry for the beaten up boys. They had come to the doorstep like some shy little dogs, and hardly dared to cough.

  “Okay, we are sorry too. We didn`t want to beat you up that heavily, but you have just deserved it. This stupid action has endangered the whole village”, said Frank, cooling off slowly.

  “What do you think, the cops will do with us if they ever find out who we are?”, added Alf.

  “We just wanted to help the freedom movement. Sven always says...”, stuttered a fat little boy with red hair and freckles sheepishly.

  “I`m gonna talk to him. Maybe Sven will allow you to join his group, but you will follow his orders, okay? And here, in the proximity of our village, you will not spray or make any propaganda at all, otherwise I will eat you alive!”, grumbled Kohlhaas and perked his dark eyebrows up.

  “Yes...I mean...no...of course not, Mr. Kohlhaas”, wailed the chubby redhead.

  “Tell your parents, that we are sorry for the black eyes and stuff. But this lesson is better than everything that awaits us, if the cops or even the GSA will ever show up here”, explained Frank and dismissed the teenagers.

  “Thank you, Mr. Kohlhaas and Mr. Bäumer”, he could finally hear. Then the three boys walked off.

  A few days later, Frank had arranged that the three teenagers could join Sven`s group. When he went shopping in Steffen de Vries` little store and met the mother of the redhead, the woman only greeted him with a silent “Hello!”. Kohlhaas did not care, if she was still offended, because the boys had deserved the beating, as he meant.

  In the following days, the village boss ordered increased security measures. HOK checked all the Scanchips of the villagers again and spent endless hours in front of his computer. He even revised the registrations of vehicles and planes once more.

  Meanwhile, Julia had returned to Ivas. This time, Viktor was not with her. Frank just nodded silently, when he saw her in the village or in Wilden`s house. The young woman had immediately noticed that he was still angry about her and sometimes she tried to start a smalltalk with him, but Kohlhaas openly ignored her and was not willing to change his behaviour.

  Furthermore, Artur Tschistokjow had planned another rally at the end of the month. This time he had chosen Lyepyel. The situation in the country had become even worse in the meantime. The economic and social decline had taken an alarming course, and now there were spontaneous outbursts of anger and indignation in many parts of Belarus.

  In Pinsk, workers of a production complex had started a strike to enforce higher wages. In other cities it was the same. The police had always to intervene, and the strikes ended with several dead and wounded people.

  Medschenko`s regime was under increasing pressure, while Tschistokjow`s movement got a massive inflow of new members.

  After a football match in Minsk, there were heavy conflicts between young Belarusians and immigrants from Georgia and Kazakhstan, who lived in the north of the city. The rival groups attacked each other with baseball bats and knives and many people ended in hospitals. Two Belarusians and one Kazak were killed. In the following days some Belarusian youths threw a self-made bomb at a group of foreigners and the riots escalated, while the local police tried to quell them with sheer brutality. But the feuds between Russians and immigrants still continued, and four Kazaks were finally shot by an unknown man in front of a pub. Meanwhile, some parts of Minsk resembled a powder keg and the situation in the country stood close to a giant explosion. However, this was the condition Artur Tschistokjow was waiting for.

 

  Mood of Crisis