by Chogan Swan
Thick Black Theory
A Symbiont Wars Book
By Chogan Swan
Copyright 2017 Chogan Swan
DEDICATION
I dedicate this book to all the brave people who have come into my life who are on the way to overcoming abuse: childhood, sexual, spousal/relational, betrayal and all combinations thereof. All of you have inspired me with your courage and resilience. I hope this book speaks to you with a voice of hope and encouragement.
In a real sense, Kaitlin’s story belongs to all of us. And when I ask myself—What would Kaitlin do?—I know I’m really talking about you.
I further dedicate this book to you who have chosen to read this story and, therefore, to hold it in your heart and mind. You are now the one who will decide whether to make it part of your inner world. You have the power to share it, review it and recommend it to your family and friends and let any benefit you find here become a part of their inner world too.
By doing these things, you make yourself a part of my hopes for these words to matter to someone, change someone’s perspective or make them feel strong enough to be courageous in their daily life.
I hope it becomes a part of you in a positive way and gives you some hope in a world that can be a dark and confusing place most of the time.
— Chogan Swan
Introduction
I feel I should mention here that Kaitlin’s viewpoint on Thick Black Theory and the book Thick Face, Black Heart by Chin-Ning Chu—as a philosophy and study—do not necessarily match my own, and Kaitlin’s journey here reflects her own working out of the dynamics found in them. She does that in her own way with her own values in place. I suspect that is how Chin-Ning Chu would have suggested she go about it too.
This story is not for children. It contains adult content.
If you’ve read the earlier books, you will have some inside information on what has happened in this universe so far. But, this book stands on its own. You can read it at any point in your journey through The Symbiont Wars Universe. To stay in touch with new releases or promotions, you can:
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Part I
“...there is an inward state that must be achieved in order for words and actions to be effective.”
— Chin-Ning Chu
Chapter 1 — Preachin’ to the choir
One by one, Kaitlin wiped down the covers of the books she’d been reading over the past two weeks and slipped them back into the plastic Kroger shopping bag. Last to go in was the big disappointment, Thick Face, Black Heart. Her mouth turned up at the corner as it went into the bag with the rest.
Cool title though.
But, it sure took enough pages to say, ‘You have to be ruthless and not care what others think to get what you want’.
Preachin’ to the choir on that, Reverend Chu.
Mmost of the book was concerned with justifying that premise or softening it up, and it wasn’t anything Niccolò Machiavelli hadn’t said in The Prince, four hundred years earlier.
The blurb that connected the book to Sun Tzu’s The Art of War had convinced Kaitlin to give it a chance. She’d read the entire book, just to see if there were any nuggets to help her with her own wars.
The best she had found was, A knife has great utility, and, without it, life would be extremely inconvenient. Yet a knife is also a deadly weapon.
To Kaitlin’s way of thinking, the deadly weapon part was what held the greatest utility. Kaitlin checked to make sure Blondie was clear in the higher right pocket of her cargo shorts.
Yep.
She’d read enough psychology books to know that Mr. Matthews—the school psychologist who’d tried every week to get her to talk about what was bothering her—would probably consider Blondie a crime trophy. But, Kaitlin preferred thinking of her as a rescued pet.
The other prisoners from her stepfather’s expensive knife collection had gone to better homes while bringing in needed currency to help fund her escape.
Kaitlin wished them well and continued putting the books away.
Kaitlin had stopped reading self-help books about a year ago. There had been a few helpful concepts she’d uncovered from them, but most of them seemed to have no understanding of what kept people chained in their minds.
Fear.
The ones that did, she’d read twice.
Kaitlin put her things in her backpack, sliding the tablet and Bluetooth keyboard into the foil-lined layer where she kept the books she ‘checked out’ from the libraries she visited. Without that special section in her pack, she wouldn’t be able to get the books past the scanners at the door. Then she’d never be able to read a paper book outside of library hours.
Her other reading site, for when she had to find something obscure, was good old B&N with free access for all titles within their Wi-Fi range.
Since it was almost time for the library to open, she finished her coffee and left the McDonald’s, tossing the cup in the trash as she exited. The library was a short trek across a parking lot, and she emptied the books into the after-hours bin as she passed. As usual, she kept her hoodie pulled over her face and unruly red hair when passing the security cameras.
Her ride out of town would be leaving in an hour, so she stopped by the ATM, withdrew the $300 maximum from her account then caught the city bus to a stop close to the address the rideshare people had given her.
Kaitlin spotted another ATM at the corner and decided to stock up on cash since it was convenient—again, using the techniques she’d learned to avoid identification on camera. Since she was going back to Dallas to file for emancipated minor status, she really didn’t need to hide anymore, but she didn’t have a reason to stop using the habits that had kept her safe, alive and off the grid for three years.
Her mother might contest it. Kaitlin was more than willing to drag her stepfather into court to show cause that the home environment was unsuitable. She still had the video recordings of Dan’s creepy attempts to seduce her—as well as the name of a good lawyer in Dallas if it came to that.
But it wouldn’t. Kaitlin knew what motivated her mother, and that motivation would keep her from trying to rein Kaitlin back in.
Fear.
Kaitlin sighed. The situation illustrated the truth that your opponent’s fear was your own ally, and Kaitlin knew how strong that ally was. She had seen its power in her mother’s face for years.
Once an enemy, now an ally.
Kaitlin pushed her long, even stride to her fastest walk on the way to the modest ranch house in the suburbs outside Atlanta where Brian’s church network had scored the rideshare to Dallas for her. The ride was with an older couple heading west to visit their grandkids during summer vacation.
Last week, Kaitlin had an extended phone chat with the woman, Beatrice Handy, a retired science teacher. No red flags came up during the talk, and Kaitlin’s story about traveling home from visiting friends went down without comment. Beatrice was more interested in talking about what Kaitlin’s interests were than her situation and family. When she’d learned Kaitlin was a writer and was actually paid for what she published, Beatrice vowed to go online and buy some of her books so they would have something else to chat about on the drive.
“If she wanted to..,” Beatrice had said.
Kaitlin had warned Beatrice that though her latest series of stories was for young adults, they weren’t kid’s books and included some rough-edged material and language. Beatrice had just chuckled. “I may be old, but I�
�m not made of glass. Honestly, Kaitlin, in every generation, young people think they invented sex, swearing and violence.”
When Kaitlin rang the doorbell, a very tall man answered, looking down at her with eyes framed by white, bushy eyebrows that hovered only a few inches below the top of the doorway.
“Mr. Handy?” Kaitlin said.
“Good morning, and yes I am,” he said.
“I’m Kaitlin. I spoke with Beatrice on the phone last week about the rideshare.”
“Of course, of course. Come in,” he said. “I’m sorry, I was expecting someone older after reading your book. Beatrice told me I just had to and I’m glad I did.”
He opened the door and stepped aside. “You certainly led your characters on a harrowing ride in that one.” He chuckled, turning to face down the hall. “Beatrice, our young author has arrived.”
“Well bring her in for breakfast, Bernard.” Footsteps sounded in the hall then a bustle of Beatrice came around the corner.
So that’s what ‘spry’ looks like.
Kaitlin made some mental notes. Most of her characters were younger. There weren’t many older people in her life to draw on for inspiration.
“Hello again, Kaitlin,” Bernice said, reaching out with both hands to clasp Kaitlin’s in a firm welcome. “I made a batch of Welsh tea cakes, and they just came out of the oven. We can bring the rest with us for snacks on the way. How do you like your tea, dear?”
Kaitlin, sensed the right answer wasn’t ‘sweet and iced’—even though that was the only way anyone drank it where she’d grown up.
Kaitlin smiled. “In a cup with good company,” she said, using a phrase she usually applied to coffee.
“Oh, I can see you don’t save all your good words for your stories. Come in and sit down for a few minutes. Bernard has the bus all ready to go, but let’s see how my teacakes turned out. They should be cool enough to eat now.”
Kaitlin pulled her arms out of her backpack and set it by the door.
“I hope you aren’t allergic to eggs, wheat or currants?” Beatrice said.
“No ma’am,” said Kaitlin, taking a chance on the currants, which she didn’t remember ever eating. “It smells wonderful.”
She followed Beatrice into the dining room. The table was set with fine china and much more than just tea and cakes.
Beatrice bustled some more around the table. “Since we are traveling, I thought we’d just have a continental breakfast and bring along all the leftovers,” she said. “Would you like some granola? I can’t drink dairy milk, but we have some they make from almonds now, if you care for any.”
Kaitlin sensed the right thing to do was to let Bernice feed her. Though she made sure to select plates and utensils that weren’t the first available and only ate what she’d seen Bernard and Beatrice eat first. It didn’t stop her from enjoying the teacakes with the hot tea. She could see how someone might think tea was an acceptable alternative to coffee, provided you could have these incredible cakes at the same time.
As the tea and cakes continued to disappear, and their conversation branched out, Kaitlin noted that Bernice was treating her with unusual deference. After thinking about it, Kaitlin figured her series of Young Adult novels—the ones that paid for food and clothes while she traveled under the radar—represented something besides a portable job in Bernice’s mind.
To Bernice, Kaitlin was a celebrity.
Kaitlin had been writing since she was thirteen. She wrote what she liked to read—gritty stories about teens struggling with their problems. Even after she’d abandoned hope of staying with her mother—choosing the life of a runaway instead of suffering Dan’s attempts to corner her—she would find a coffee house somewhere and pound out stories on her Bluetooth keyboard. and cheap Android tablet.
That was how she’d met Brian.
Chapter 2 — Rent
Kaitlin had been on her way south, but had holed up in a little downtown coffee shop in a town in the middle of Virginia, trapped by an early snowstorm and a cold snap. The group she was travelling with—catching rides in boxcars—had decided to stay in a traveler community nearby. Kaitlin, feeling unsure of her safety there, had decided to move on. But, she’d waited too long. Now she wasn’t sure which way to jump.
Traveling with cold or frozen water falling on your head sucked.
On her way back from the bathroom—in between cups of coffee—she’d noticed a book lying on the table where a guy was working at a laptop. He’d been there all afternoon, attacking his keyboard.
She wasn’t sure what made her stop, but she’d read the book the day before at the library where she’d been haunting the Young Adult section.
“Hey, I just read that book at the library yesterday,” she said. Maybe she’d grown too used to being around people from traveling in a group. Normally, she wouldn’t have taken a chance on talking to a stranger, but she’d been watching him, off and on, for hours and hadn’t gotten a bad vibe from him.
He looked up and met her eyes. “Oh? Was it any good?”
Kaitlin pursed her lips, tapping her finger on her wrist. “I liked it that the author didn’t talk down to the reader, even though it was written for a younger audience,” Kaitlin said.
The man nodded. “Yeah, I hate it when they do that.”
Kaitlin spent a second sizing him up further. He didn’t dress in a business suit or business-casual the way most of the weekday traffic did in this coffee house. Instead, he wore jeans. A tie-died tee shirt peeked out from the collar of his black hoodie. She’d seen him here before too. He seemed too old to be a student at any of the nearby colleges
“Why is it on your table though?” she said. “It’s written for teens and you aren’t reading it. The binding hasn’t even been opened.”
The man grinned, white teeth splitting his sun-browned face. “Busted!” he said. “I’ll tell you why, but you have to promise to keep it quiet.”
Kaitlin grinned in reply and nodded.
He pushed out a chair for her to sit down. “The evangelical college in town has some sort of witnessing class as part of their curriculum,” he said. “They send students around to coffee houses in the area to sell religion. They usually ignore me when I say I have enough already. Even though I pretty much believe what they do. It seems I still have to pass a quiz. I tried pointing out that their methods were alienating people rather than converting them, but that didn’t work either. It got to where it was keeping me from working. So now, when they ask if they can sit down, I change the subject from religion to books and sell them one of mine. They either buy or leave. I have no idea how many of them read the books, but I invite them to come back and discuss it when they’ve finished. A few actually did return to talk, but only one had given up on trying to get me to attend their church.”
Kaitlin laughed then paused. “Wait,” she said. “You wrote that book?”
“Yeah, and I donated two copies to the library. My name’s Brian, by the way.”
“That’s not the name on the cover.”
“I use a pen name. I promote my books, not my personal identity.”
Kaitlin pursed her lips. “I’m Kaitlin,” she said, surprising herself by using her real name instead of her street name.
It’s only a first name.
It wouldn’t help anyone track her down, and this guy seemed okay.
“Pleased to meet you, Kaitlin,” Brian said. “I’ve seen you here before, right? What are you working on?”
“Um,” Kaitlin said, summoning her courage. “I write stories.”
“Cool! What are you doing with them after you write them?”
Kaitlin shrugged. “I’m not sure. I guess I’m saving them for now.”
Brian nodded. “Do you mind if I read a few pages? There aren’t many writers in this town.”
Kaitlin bit her lip then nodded. She had a handful of burner emails; she could use one of those. Plus, she’d liked his book. “Can you write down your email?”
B
rian pulled a business card from his pocket and handed it to her.
The pen name was on the card along with some blurbs about his books and his email.
Kaitlin walked back to her tablet, selected a short story she’d finished two days ago and fired it off to the email addy on the card with a note.
Let me know if you want to talk about it when you’re done.
Brian held up his thumb.
Kaitlin looked out the window, watching the snow plummeting from the darkening gray sky and piling up on the street. She frowned. Getting back to her tent in the woods by the river would be easy enough, but she’d leave tracks that would show until the snow covered them. She didn’t like leaving a trail for predators to follow. For six months, she’d been mostly on her own, but she was running low on cash and needed to get further south fast. No way was she going to hop the freights by herself.
Kaitlin used her browser to check the cost of Amtrak tickets to Atlanta. From there, she could get back to Tucson, swinging wide to avoid Dallas of course. She called the station with her tablet connection to confirm the price, but found she was nine dollars short unless she broke into her emergency cushion. Moreover, the train didn’t leave until 6 AM. Her stomach sank a little.
Her tablet pinged.
Brian had sent back an email.
Let’s talk!
Kaitlin picked up her tablet and keyboard and carried them with her. She sat, feeling oddly vulnerable.
“I liked this,” Brian said. “Do you stick to short stories, or do you have longer stuff too?”
“I didn’t think you had time to read my longer stuff.”
Brian grinned. “Maybe not today, but, judging by this, your writing could make you some money, if you had a good editor, a cover artist and a marketing strategy.”
“Nope. All I have is me,” said Kaitlin, frowning.
“Well, can you show me your portfolio of stories and describe them? We can go from there.”