Dawn of Defiance

by Dempsey, Albert

  "Yes, you are right," Steenkamp said, "but not now and not today, and I still want to know where the other camps are!"

  The guards both looked at the pool of blood beginning to drip off the table and onto the floor.

  Not knowing if they should clean it up or just leave it to gather, they took a step back. Russell's face was swollen, his nose was broken, and his eyes began puffing up.

  "You are now making a mess," Steenkamp said.

  "Last chance van Tonder. Where are the training camps?"

  A blank look met Steenkamp's angry stare.

  "Okay, if you want to play hardball then so can we and I promise you one thing: you’ll severely regret wasting my time," he said as he ran his finger along the mountain range displayed on the plasma screen.

  "I think it is one of these farms. Which one van Tonder? The clock is ticking."

  The shocked look on Russell's face confirmed that the other members interrogated earlier that morning had revealed more than he had hoped. His transparent facial expressions confirmed Steenkamp’s suspicions.

  "Yes, we know, but this is not about what we know. This interrogation is about your involvement and future co-operation."

  "Tell us about your harem. Why do you keep so many young pretty girls around?"

  Russell looked at him with loathing.

  "Go to hell!" Russell shouted, spitting blood on the table.

  The guard slammed his fist into Russell's broken ribs, distributing a wave of pain that almost made him black out.

  "Eina, fok! That must have hurt," Steenkamp said with a little sarcasm of his own.

  "Please gentlemen, give the man a chance to answer."

  It took Russell a few moments to regain his breath. He could feel the broken rib piercing his side with every breath he took.

  "You're wasting your time. I know nothing, and I swear before God that even if I did, I would never tell you."

  "Oh, I think you will talk. I think you will sing for us in the end," Steenkamp said as he turned towards the plasma screen and activated a video feed.

  "All we need is the location of the last little farm. That is all. But you still want to play games with me. Fine, we have a game of our own to play. A little in-house entertainment for you to watch, and I'm sure it will jolt your memory."

  Russell was trying his best to focus on the flickering plasma screen.

  "Just think about the consequences of your actions!" Steenkamp said as he left the room.

  Russell tried to open his eyes properly and focus, but his vision was still blurred. He could faintly make out a young girl sitting on a bed. Then realization dawned on him; it was fourteen year old Sanet, Derrick and Jill’s daughter. She was still innocent and pure of heart, a wonderful girl full of life and dreams of show jumping.

  The peaceful scene of her relaxing, reading a magazine while slouched on a bed, was soon shattered when the door burst open and two African soldiers stormed in.

  They dragged her from the bed kicking and screaming and onto the cold cement floor.

  "Stop it, please stop, leave me alone!" she screamed, but they slapped her repeatedly until she went silent.

  Frozen with fear, she nevertheless screamed again and tried to crawl under the bed.

  But they would have none of it and dragged her out, her flailing arms and legs having little effect.

  Once more they silenced her with a well placed backhand.

  They then picked her up and threw her back onto to the bed. It appeared to be their standard routine.

  One soldier held her down while the other cuffed her hands and feet to the bed frame. He then slowly took out his knife and began cutting her clothing off, ever so careful not to cut the precious young flesh beneath. She finally came around and broke her silence with deathly yells.

  The sound that came out of her mouth was one of sheer terror. Then, just as suddenly, she went silent again.

  Russell tried to look away but the guards forced him to watch.

  Sanet appeared to black out again while the soldiers continued ripping off her clothing, taking their time.

  Somewhere a buzzer sounded and the soldiers immediately left the room.

  The picture of Sanet lying there naked without moving, her innocent body completely exposed except only for her blue and pink panties made Russell scream inside. When she finally came around she struggled no more, somehow she realized her fate.

  The sight of Sanet naked and helpless brought Russell to his senses.

  "Okay, okay please stop, I will tell you everything."

  "I know you will," Steenkamp said as he stood behind him.

  Russell was struggling to breathe as blood had already begun to clot his broken nose. His lips were split from the blows to his face. All he could taste was blood as he continued swallowing mouthful after mouthful to prevent himself from suffocating.

  "Do you like little girls, Russell? Is that why you keep so many of them around as servants in your little harem?"

  Russell did not respond.

  "Now, where are the other two bases, Mt. Carmen and The Ark?

  Verstaan jy nou vir my van Tonder, of moet ek vir hierdie Kaffers sê om jou te verkrag?" Steenkamp said.

  Russell knew the threat of gang rape in prison was a nightmare not to be taken lightly.

  "Please, just let her go, please for fuck sake, she’s only a kid."

  "So then for the last fucking time, tell me where the other bases are!" Steenkamp demanded as he slammed his fist into the table.

  "Mt. Carmen is about thirty kilometers along the R303 from our place," Russell said with disgust in his voice. He knew he was betraying his friends but hopefully someone had escaped to warn them.

  "That’s good, but we knew this already van Tonder, we're not stupid.

  Where is the farm you people call The Ark?" Steenkamp asked as he took out a cigarette and lit it before sitting down on the chair opposite him.

  Both men now stared at each other.

  Steenkamp took a deep inhale and paused before slowly exhaling a cloud of smoke into van Tonders face.

  “Now you can also tell me about the American, the specialist you have working for you?” he said.

  "If you already know everything, then you don't need me," Russell said, still with blood in his mouth.

  I have betrayed my family and my friends; he thought and begged God to forgive him.

  Steenkamp activated the plasma screen and moments later Sanet started screaming as the guards entered her room again. Taking the remote, Steenkamp increased the volume and watched for a while. Russell started to struggle against the handcuffs, but they dug deep and the two guards held him firm to make sure he could watch. The soldiers on the plasma screen seemed very eager in performing their duty - they were joking and talking in a foreign language. Sanet's screams were finally silenced as the one guard placed a pillow over her face while the other soldier ran his hands over her white skin and finally ripped her panties off.

  "Why did you not tell me, van Tonder that your niece Chantel is here?" Steenkamp asked.

  Russell knew then that she was still alive. Thank God she had not been killed in the gunfire.

  The camera zoomed closer onto the bed and Sanet's naked body.

  "Do you want the same thing to happen to Chantel?" he asked, as they watched the screen.

  The soldier held the pillow firmly over Sanet's face until she almost blacked out and then withdrew it, almost trying to suffocate her but at the last second giving her hope and another breath of air.

  "I think we'll keep her here for a while…… in-house entertainment. What do you think about that?"

  The two guards behind Russell laughed.

  "I know she is still young, but who knows, she may even enjoy all the extra attention," he said while exhaling rings of cigarette smoke.

  Russell's heart was pounding, pumping blood to his inflamed wounds that felt as if they were about to burst. He simply could not take it any longer and shut his eyes to escape
the look of terror on Sanet’s innocent face.

  Steenkamp left the room; he knew Russell would survive the show, no need to send in a medic. Those wounds were not life threatening, they would not kill him tonight anyway.

  Lt. Lucas Modisa heard everything while he waited patiently outside. Snapping to attention, he saluted again.

  "Sorry sir, just a habit."

  Chapter 4

  I watched as the Lamb opened the first of the seven seals.

  Then I heard one of the four living creatures say in a voice like thunder.

  'Come!' I looked, and there before me was a white horse

  It’s rider held a bow, and he was given a crown, and he rode as our conqueror bent on conquest.

  (Revelations; 6, 1-3)

  Vargän Barchevski stood in awe behind the podium looking out across a sea of faces that stared back at him. Seated before him was the crème de la crème of political society, three hundred VIP dignitaries all dressed in their finest for the grand opening of the newly commissioned UWN building in Brussels.

  The auditorium was adorned with banners and flags, and drapery hung from the ceiling in the distinctive blue, white and gold of the UWN. The emblem was projected on massive plasma screens across the hall and to the live satellite feed sent out across the planet. The prominent icon was instantly recognizable, the UWN logo holding the earth in a wreath of golden stars. It had a distinctive Roman feel to it.

  A sea of flowers fanned out in both directions from the podium. Vargän could pick up distinctive traces of lavender and roses; his wife, Claudia, had insisted on the flowers herself for this momentous occasion. He glanced over to her and smiled; his moment had finally arrived.

  Vargän's pounding headache had left him feeling frazzled and spent, yet he mustered his strength to overcome his anxiety, especially in addressing the dignitaries seated before him. Most of them came from impressive bloodlines; representatives from all of the dominant families of industrial and political power were in attendance. The economic powerhouses mingled with the military industrial machine that spread its dominance over 70% of the planet. It took the auditorium almost two minutes to settle down. Vargän's popularity and support was still unmatched.

  What would his mother say? Vargän thought to himself.

  He had been thrust into the spotlight after the terror attacks of 9-11, and within no time became the voice of the people, or so his political advisors told him. Thinking back to the first time he joined the United Nations seemed like yesterday, in fifteen years much had changed - since that single event which almost plunged the world into a full scale war. Thoughts raced through his mind.

  Vargän had grown accustomed to addressing large audiences. However, once he started to speak, a calm would came over him. Yet no one would have imagined how rapidly Vargän would have ascended the political ladder. At times he was not even sure where his influence came from.

  Some deep, almost spiritual conviction took hold of him the moment he accepted a job offer at the United Nations. His appointment as Chief Political Advisor unleashed his true calling and seemed to tap directly into his natural talents as a peacemaker, always bringing calm to volatile situations. Change is inevitable, and when change occurs, it moves like an avalanche, gaining speed and momentum, smashing everything in its path; ideologies, bureaucracies and the will of obstinate people. Thrust to the forefront as spokesman for the United Nations, his face was now the face of global reform, the Gorbachev of the New World Order.

  In his late 40's, Vargän had already received a Nobel Peace award, as he was instrumental in changing the mindset of old Europe, and ushering in the new, more advanced reformation process; one that brought change and instant economic relief to impoverished nations. A worldwide revolution had spread across the multitudes, driving a reformation process and raising global consciousness on all levels.

  This incorporated many new ideas, binding them into the powerhouse of the world's largest and strongest economies. Vargän began forming bilateral co-operation deals between the four main economic zones, merging governments and corporations into a new system of economic cooperation that will rival all financial empires before. The United World of Nations declares its self the future government of humanity as the epicenter of a New World Government. Not only does it cover more area than the old Roman Empire, stretching its reach all the way from the southern tip of Africa, to the furthest regions of the Baltic. It has also set its reach to stretch into space with an extensive program to colonize the moon and then from there mars. Those few countries that still resisted at first did so out of stubborn pride.

  At first the United States, Israel and China showed inflexibility by clinging onto their old world securities. But they too would come knocking on the door; it was only a matter of time.

  India was a challenge for a while, but Vargän eventually persuaded them to join the UWN as he needed a sizable detachment of peace keepers to be deployed in territories once occupied by China. Africa turned on the Chinese who withdrew their financial aid packages, now they sided with the UWN. Vargän was pleased he had secured access to the manpower needed to drive the reformation process. With more than twenty million peacekeepers, taken from across the world, they had the resources to usher in change. Not to mention the strongest military machine to enforce global reform.

  The opening of the newly completed complex in Brussels was an epic event. It was vital to send out a clear signal to the rest of the world, who was still in a state of shock since the nuclear explosions that had obliterated Manhattan and London. Two small nuclear weapons is all it took to change the world forever.

  London and New York, the once great cities had fallen. Fated to suffer punishment from the Islamic fundamentalists who vowed their great day of vengeance would come. With London it was the ultimate chess move, taking out the King and the Queen with one bomb. The Houses of Parliament and Buckingham Palace instantly vaporized. The heads of the evil Western Empire were removed: one symbolically, the other literally. King William's body was never found, for how could it be as London had been reduced to a nuclear waste land. The British Royal family had been decimated; Buckingham Palace was the chosen point for ground zero.

  King Harry, they say, never shed a tear during his coronation, as all his tears had run dry.

  He was just a symbol of a once proud nation now reduced to an insignificant little island again. But the time for mourning was far from over, as hope still remained to build up what had been destroyed.

  "Welcome, my brothers and sisters," he said, addressing them first in Russian, German, French and finally in English".

  It was well known Vargän could speak several languages fluently. Very seldom did he require translators, except with the African initiative. Yet most people spoke English, another great contribution by the British Empire. But it was the decadent cultures of America and the Hollywood phenomenon that embedded English as preferred language into the masses. Vargän took another deep breath and cleared his thoughts before he continued.

  "We have rebuilt a symbol destroyed in hate, to one restored in hope. Not just a symbol of concrete and steel, it is a house of nations. It's what unites us in brotherly love and unity. We are not the same anymore, for how can we be? We are stronger than we have ever been before and we are wiser than any other generation before us. We are building a new future, a glorious one based on peace, security and prosperity," he paused.

  "We need to embrace our destiny as we usher in a new era of global enlightenment. No longer do borders separate us, for we are all brothers and sisters of the new age. Equality makes us global citizens," he paused again to deliver the punch line.

  "For our children inherit our world and so we give them the ultimate gift."

  The moment had come.

  "Welcome to the United World of Nations."

  The applause was more deafening than before. Everyone was standing; some wiped away tears while others hugged each other. His headache had somehow receded and he felt on top
of the world as he looked over the auditorium.

  Vargän took another sip of water. He started his speech a little different from the way he had rehearsed it in front of his family that morning. He glanced at them again, sitting in the front row with the other dignitaries and figureheads.

  "This building symbolizes human determination; to never give up, especially our noble obligations towards our future."

  Vargän paused as his emotions began to build. He too had suffered personal loss. Friends vaporized instantly in the nuclear bombs, a totally senseless crime that killed six million instantly.

  "We dedicate this building, as a symbol and a monument, to the memories of those who perished. But also as a living testimony to the progress and changes we have already achieved in such a short time. Humanity has finally woken up, in the nick of time, and stayed the inevitable. We have begun to undo the evils of the past, and to move into a new social evolution; a process that will literally guarantee the survival of the human race."

  Vargän had another sip of water, he then realized that his headache had now completely disappeared. He glanced once more to where his family was sitting, immense pride swelled within him.

  "To truly be a citizen of the world, we have to give up our national identities, and take on the global responsibility of being all nationalities in one, to be all religions in one. We need to preach peace and love to all people. This is not a political ideology; it is a human desire to genuinely improve at being better humans. For twice we went to war on a global scale, twice!" he repeated himself.

  "In one century alone we have had two World Wars, not to mention the many other countless and senseless bloody conflicts. For what change did they bring? Nothing!" Vargän said while looking out over the hall, now reduced to absolute silence.

  Even Hitler would be in awe of this speech, he thought.

  Vargän detested the man; he went too far and had no real workable vision.

  Aryan race, what was he thinking?

  "Power only slipped from one side to the other while politicians benefited themselves from the riches of the land; always placing themselves above the people they swore to serve. To be a true leader you must learn to serve those who put their trust in you. You must live as your people live and if necessary, suffer with them. The fuel of politics is greed and privilege, which has directly caused the worst of humanities achievements: war."