Lost Angel

by Kyle West

  “Slavery is wrong,” Makara said simply. “Nobody at Bunker One was a slave.”

  “Nobody had to work to grow food, Mak?”

  She paused as she thought about it. “My daddy did. But he could go home, too, to me, my brother, and my mom. He could do what he wanted in his free time, too.”

  He had the luxury to, Raine wanted to say.

  “Out here, Mak, things are a bit different.” How to explain that to an eight-year-old? “The world’s tougher up above. We don’t have machines to help us. The ones we do have don’t work half the time, or require fuel and batteries, which we just can’t make anymore.” He half-turned to look at her. “Make sense?”

  “They taught us in school that there used to be slaves in America a long time ago,” Makara said. She looked at Raine strangely, and Raine could guess the reason why she was giving him that look: he was black. Not all kids these days knew that black people used to be slaves, a long time ago in a world that was now mostly forgotten except among the old timers.

  Makara had at least something of an education in the Bunker, and this brute fact put Raine in something of an awkward position, even if this present form of slavery wasn’t tied to race at all. There were white slaves, black slaves, Hispanic slaves, Asian slaves. All were equal under the yoke, in that sense, and they were treated kinder than the slaves back then. At least, Raine hoped so. Makara’s observation still made him want to squirm.

  “This is different,” Raine said, trying to sound surer than he actually felt.

  “Why’s it different? Even if they weren’t slaves, they’d still have to eat, right? That man over there, he might have a kid, too. He might wish he could see her more, or have a day or two off every now and then.”

  Makara was making too much sense for Raine’s liking. Kids had a way of doing that, sometimes. Questioning everything adults took for granted.

  “They’ve got a good life here,” Raine said. “They’ve got food, water, a place to lay their heads for the night. That’s worth a lot these days. Why should it matter if they’re slaves, too? Isn’t that better than dying out there?”

  “But why can’t they be free, too? If they had freedom, my guess is they wouldn’t want to run.”

  None of us are free, Makara. None of us. Not even me. I’m a slave to duty. I’m a slave to saving these five hundred souls under my command. How can I explain that to you, though, that sometimes I come out here and envy the lives of these people, these people who never have to make a real decision for the rest of their lives? They eat, they sleep, they make love. So what if they’re ordered about here and there? Am I not the same, too, a slave to the expectations of my people?

  And so, the arguments and questions ran back and forth in his mind. Raine wasn’t much one for philosophy, not unless it was forced on him. And Makara was forcing it on him.

  Raine finally turned, and was surprised to see she was almost crying, as if her holy image of him had been broken. That was too much for Raine to bear.

  “This is really important to you, isn’t it?” he asked.

  Makara nodded, and wiped her face.

  “It’s like this,” he said, trying a different tack. “This might sound kind of strange to you, but sometimes, I envy these people.”

  Makara’s brow scrunched up in confusion. “Huh? You’re saying you’d rather harvest potatoes all day with men pointing guns at you?”

  “Um . . . no. That’s not what I meant.” He licked his lips, and tried to focus. “They don’t get to worry about anything. They just wake up, work a few hours in nice weather like this, and go home. Spend time with their families, like you said. They get a day off a week, too.” Raine chuckled. “Even I don’t get that, and I’m the big boss.”

  Makara laughed, too. “So, why don’t you become a slave, if they have it so good?”

  Raine shrugged. “That’s a fair question. You might be right. It’s better to be boss than a slave. There are certain privileges I wouldn’t like to give up.”

  “Like riding the chopper.”

  Raine laughed at that. “Yeah. I don’t think a slave would ever do that.” He grew more serious. “But not everybody can be me, Mak. In a perfect world, everybody would be equal. Maybe someday, we can grow to that point. I hope so.”

  Raine thought she’d be satisfied with that answer, but he had underestimated the precociousness of children.

  “Why can’t we grow now?” she asked, not letting the subject drop. “Why not make them free? What’s the point in even calling them a slave? Would they really run away if there were no guards?”

  “They might.” Raine pursed his lips, knowing he had to explain carefully. Makara was fully convinced she was right. Her hazel eyes looked up at him in challenge. A girl, no matter her age, was always dangerous in that state. He had learned that from both his wife and his daughter.

  And not too many people found the courage to argue with Raine these days, but this eight-year-old sure did. Raine found the difference to be refreshing.

  He also found that he didn’t have a good answer for her.

  “Say I free them,” Raine said. “What then? How do their lives change?”

  Makara thought for a moment. “They can leave, if they want.”

  “I can’t let them leave, Mak,” Raine said. “If they leave, they die. It’d be irresponsible of me. That’s less food for the base, for my men, and for you, too. That’s less food to give to any new members, who might want to join us.”

  “Then give them another reason to stay,” Makara said. “If you give them a good life, they’ll stay. Right? If life really is so good here, like you say, then they won’t leave.”

  And just from those words, he saw everything laid out before him in an epiphany. The feeling was flabbergasting.

  “Maybe you’re right,” he admitted. “It would change things. A lot of people wouldn’t like it, though.”

  My brother, for one. Ohlan had always been about tighter controls for the slaves, even enforcing slavery on all new members for a few years until they’d earned their stripes.

  “Who cares what they think?” Makara asked. “You have to do the right thing. We had no slaves in Bunker One. I don’t want there to be slaves here, too.”

  Raine shook his head at her willfulness. That only made Makara smile.

  But then, everything snapped into place, like a vision in Raine’s mind. Makara was right. Every man wanted to be free; Raine knew that.

  And that could be the key to the Angels’ success.

  “If we free them,” Raine mused, “word will get out. More slaves will run away, coming to us from other gangs. When they do, we’ll give them their freedom and they’ll fight for us and die fighting for it. It’s the way for us to grow, going forward.”

  It would also be the right thing to do. And it was rare when the right thing to do also just so happened to be the prudent thing. It wasn’t guaranteed to work, of course, but already the Reapers’ raids were making him bleed. The Angels had good territory and the will to survive.

  The only thing they lacked was manpower. And this could be a way to get it. Maybe even the way.

  There would be obstacles, of course. And the transition would be painful. But it could be done.

  “We’ll become the safe haven,” Raine said, his decision fast becoming finalized. “We’ll be true to our namesake. Guardian Angels of the people.”

  “We can save a lot of people,” Makara said. “I know we can!”

  After they watched the fields a while longer, meditative, Raine fired up his chopper and tore back to Angel Command.

  Chapter 13

  ALMOST ALL THE MEMBERS of the Council were present the next day for a new meeting Raine had called. Included among their number were Darlene Sanders and Isabel Robles, who represented the medical and educational interests of the Angels, along with Dan Green, head of Security, and his brother Ohlan, head of Diplomacy. Two of Ohlan’s associates, Terrance Shaw and Adam Miles, were absent, which would o
nly help in what he was to propose today. The only remaining member was Eddie Melo, who was usually more sympathetic to Ohlan than Raine.

  “We’re going to end slavery,” Raine said, without preamble. Seeing the shocked expressions of most of the council members, he hastily continued. “I admit, it’s a risk, but we have plenty of food stored up in case some of the slaves choose to leave. That’ll give us time to find more recruits.”

  “Find more recruits from where?” Eddie Melo asked. He oversaw Inventory, including census information that kept track of all immigrants, deaths, and group membership. “Recruitment has slowed down a lot, Raine, and I don’t think freeing the slaves would help. They’d band together and form their own group, last a while maybe, but eventually they’d get swallowed up by one of our enemies.”

  Ohlan smiled, and made a gesture with his hands that seemed to say, “There you have it.”

  “I disagree,” Raine said. “Offering freedom to everyone who joins us is the greatest publicity we could ever have. What will slaves of other gangs do when they realize we’re the haven?” When nobody answered the rhetorical question, Raine continued. “That’s right. They flee their masters and come to us.”

  “Sounds like a way to paint a target on our backs,” Melo said, skeptically.

  Heads nodded all around. Even Darlene and Isabel, who were usually Raine’s staunch supporters, were nodding.

  “Let me ask all of you a question,” Raine said. “Most of you have been here from the beginning. Many of you are here right now, instead of out there in the fields, because you have useful skills. Without that training, without that education, things could have ended up a lot differently.”

  “What are you getting at?” Dan asked, speaking for the first time.

  “My point is, is slavery your vision for the Angels’ future? Don’t you want to make this city a better place? We’re all equals in the eyes of God. I believe that with all my heart.” Raine watched the councilors, wondering if his words were having the intended effect. “Things were rough, getting started. We needed food, and slavery was the way to get that up and running quickly. Now we’re fine, and it doesn’t make sense to keep doing something that brings misery to so many people.” He looked at his arms. “Especially given my racial background. I’m a hypocrite if I’m not doing everything in my power to make things better.”

  Ohlan slammed a fist on the metal table, causing everyone to look at him. “This ain’t about race, brother, and you damn well know that. It’s about survival. I guarantee you, if you let those slaves free, you’ll be condemning the rest of us to starve.” Ohlan now stood, eyeing the assembly. “Now, I know it ain’t pretty. But this is the harsh reality of the world we live in. There are those who have, and those who have not. You already treat those slaves better than anyone else in L.A., Raine, and all of them have the opportunity for freedom if they prove themselves.”

  “That doesn’t happen,” Isabel said. “Not anymore. The freedom clause is just a carrot we keep pulling away from them, to keep them in place.” She looked at Raine. “I agree with you, Raine.”

  “Have you lost your mind, Isabel?” Ohlan asked, as Isabel rolled her eyes. “Am I the only one who hasn’t lost their mind?”

  “I agree, Ohlan,” Eddie Melo said, stroking his goatee. “What we have, works. The harvest comes in on time, and we have a surplus. If anything, we need to be looking at expanding our slave base. That means more food, more soldiers, more scouting parties to find supplies. I know, slavery isn’t ideal, but they work harder than people who aren’t forced to do the dirty work.”

  “Yeah,” Darlene said. “Because our men will kill them if they don’t.”

  Eddie nodded, not seeming to catch Darlene’s sardonic tone.

  Raine considered what Eddie said. It made sense, but he also thought Eddie was ignoring the advantages ending slavery could bring. “What if I told you that freeing our slaves could actually help us long-term? Everyone knows nobody wants to be a slave. If those other slaves hear about how we’re the haven, that any man who comes in here walks free, what do you think that’ll do to us?”

  “That’s dangerous,” Ohlan said. “Our allies here would take that as a grave offense. You think they’d let us steal their chattel with no consequences?”

  “Chattel?” Isabel asked. “They’re people, Ohlan.”

  “You have a soft woman’s heart,” Ohlan said, to Isabel’s reddening face. “It’s just not feasible. It will ruin the precarious position we’re in. Mark my words, if we go down this road, it’ll be the end of us all.”

  Isabel was glaring at Ohlan. “I’m for it. Even you, Eddie. You can’t deny recruitment has been down lately.”

  Eddie shrugged noncommittally.

  Isabel’s speech became impassioned. “If we’re the only ones who do this, we’ll start seeing the results in weeks. We keep the other gang leaders close in the meantime and divert them from what we’re doing. Our line can be that it was a personal decision on Raine’s part, and his vision for the Angels’ future. Ohlan can do his thing, finessing the other leaders.”

  “So, we frame it as a personal decision,” Eddie said. “One that might actually be bad for us, so they think it won’t benefit us?”

  “Exactly,” Isabel said.

  Ohlan gave him a dirty look, and Melo clarified his position. “I still think it’s a terrible idea.”

  “We have to try something new,” Darlene Sanders said. “With an influx of refugees, most can be assigned to farm work. Even if the free individual doesn’t work as hard as a slave, there will be more of them. Furthermore, every one of ours can be trained to use a gun. Something you don’t want to do to a slave, since he can turn it against you.”

  “We don’t even have that many guns,” Ohlan said, exasperated.

  “Not yet,” Raine said. Everybody looked at him, but he didn’t elaborate on that point.

  Raine looked at each person. He thought he had enough to bring it to a vote, even though his decision was final. The council was mostly an advisory body, but Raine wanted to send a message.

  “We’re bringing this to a vote,” he said.

  “Right now?” Ohlan asked. “We’ve barely even discussed it. Besides, we’re down two members.” Ohlan eyed his brother, seeming to recognize that that was exactly the reason Raine wanted to vote on it now.

  “I’ve heard all I need to hear,” Raine said. “We’ll figure out the logistics later.”

  “Raine . . .” Ohlan said.

  Raine plowed on. “All in favor of abolishing slavery, raise your hand.”

  Raine, Darlene, and Isabel raised their hands. Dan looked at Raine. Had Raine misjudged him? He’d been awfully quiet.

  Ohlan smiled triumphantly. Without a majority, nothing would happen.

  But Dan lifted his hand in the end, while Ohlan and Eddie kept theirs lowered. Ohlan’s smile transformed into a grimace. Raine almost got a chill from watching the way his brother glared at him.

  “Measure is approved by a vote of 4-2,” Raine said. “All of you are expected to work together and come up with a plan that will enforce the measure as effectively as possible.” He eyed both his brother and Eddie when he said that.

  “I bow to the will of the council,” Eddie said.

  Ohlan said nothing.

  “Meeting adjourned,” Raine said.

  Chapter 14

  IT DIDN’T HAPPEN ALL at once, but it did happen.

  Within the week, slavery was abolished in Lost Angels’ territory. Furthermore, it was proclaimed that any slave that set foot on Angels’ territory would be protected and given a place there.

  For the first time in the group’s history, any person could leave. And some did. But as Raine suspected, most chose to stay and keep their jobs on the farms, with less hours and more time off. As the weeks went by, Raine was surprised to find that productivity didn’t fall too much. Ohlan and Eddie had been wrong about that.

  One thing they had been right about was that th
e other gang leaders didn’t like it. The Lobos, the Hawks, and the Krakens all saw their escaped slaves’ numbers go up as many fled to Angel territory. Raine did his best to keep those leaders placated, usually by sending his brother to talk them down. Dan didn’t like Raine giving Ohlan such a vital role, but his brother had a way with words, and more importantly, the ploy seemed to work. The gangs didn’t raise as much of a fuss, though Raine had to give some concessions, such as allowing slave catchers into his territory, and allowing them to take back slaves if they were caught. He remained firm, though, that any slave visible from Lost Angel Command fell under his jurisdiction.

  It was only a temporary measure, though. Soon enough, not even Ohlan could keep Raine’s rivals placated. They had lost too many men, and enslaved people were wily enough to find a means of escape, even with tightened security.

  When war at last broke out over the issue, Raine supposed it was inevitable.

  IT WASN’T JUST THE Angels at war at that time. The Reapers north of I-10 were the main event as Carin Black consolidated the gang’s power over most of northern L.A. and its outskirts. South of I-10, the patchwork of territories and minor powers, including the Angels, fought amongst each other. The Krakens joined up with Raine, and after that, it was everybody against the Angels’.

  The Slave War lasted for two years, but in the end, the Angels were victorious. All the opposing gangs’ slaves were freed and ordered to join the Angels. Most of the gang leadership that had instigated the war were put to the bullet while anyone under their charge was integrated into the Angels’ growing territories.

  Makara during this time didn’t get to go out anymore. She had to stay indoors, helping with the war effort in whatever way she could, which usually meant fetching things for the busy adults. She was something of an informal messenger between other adults and Raine, and fulfilled that role happily enough.

  Lost Angel Command came under siege only one time, but its defenses held firm. One by one, the rival gangs capitulated, and by the end of the war, the Angels were twice as large as they had been before, with more resources, guns, and ammo than ever.