Tye was silent as the two left out of the building. He didn’t have time to entertain Jason or his antics. This was about him and those he cared for. It wasn’t something he was looking forward to, but it was necessary.
While they gathered information from the hostages, Maia and Sadie prepared the rest of the rooms for the men who were arriving. Once they finished, Maia sent the kids to play then she waited in the war room with Charlie, Rodney and the rest of their crew. They sorted the incoming information and threw around ideas.
Slowly, the men from Amitola and Allen’s camp piled in. The room was large. It was the kind of space that was likely used as a ballroom back in this plantation’s heyday. There were only a few windows and limited furniture along the edges of the wall. It echoed loudly when it was empty, but sound still carried as the men swarmed in.
When the men returned from the carriage house, she saw Caleb but not Tye. Her eyes darted from man to man in search of him. She realized Jason wasn’t there either. Caleb noticed her scanning the room. He walked over and put his arm around her then confided, “There was something he had to take care of. Give him a few minutes. He’ll be here.”
There was something about the look on his face and the tone of his voice that let her know whatever Tye was doing was serious business. Though she couldn’t fathom what it was, she didn’t have time to dwell on it. It was time to lay out the ideas they had come up then formulate a plan. Besides, she was too busy fighting off Jay’s stares and questions to stop and think about anything else.
Once Charlie and the rest of the guys were brought up to speed on the new information, Charlie pointed to the largest enemy camp. “It would be to our advantage to take out as many as we can with the least amount of effort. We know where their food and beverage supply comes from. They get moonshine every night. JT and Wade are going to intercept the transport of the moonshine and replace it with some of our homemade brew. It’s full of Botulinum toxins."
Danny could see the confused looks on some of the guys' faces. "It's a homemade brew that some of our friends whipped up. They didn't know when they were making it and they ain't here to tell you about it, but when we found 'em dead, we realized they used water from a contaminated well. The shit's badass. It won’t kill 'em all, but it will take out a bunch and make the rest wish they were dead. Either way, they'll be out of this fight."
Charlie continued, "That will go down tonight. They've already left. It could take anywhere from five to twenty-four hours to affect them. That means our best bet is to strike two nights from now.”
Maia heard footsteps coming down the hallway, so she fixed her eyes on the door. Tye walked in behind Jason. He was drying his hands, and she deduced from the spatter on his jacket that he’d been cleaning blood off of them. She studied him. His demeanor had changed. Briefly, when he saw her, he hung his head almost as if he were ashamed but then he shook it off and just as quickly as his body had slumped, he stood tall, chest out and head high. He made eye contact again, nodded, and gave her a half smile. She sighed in relief.
Charlie continued, “When we do strike, we hit all the camps at the same time. The men who come after us—if we set up a funnel to get them to go here, to the train yard, then we can take them out there. The coywolves take up this area, there’s a quick dust field here, the old Indian burial ground is here, and the flood mounds full of debris are here. There will be booby traps set up in the remaining open locations. That way they’ll be forced into the train yard and the trench funnel where we can trap them.”
Clarence held a clipboard in his hand. “We have nearly sixty men that we divided into six teams of seven. The remaining men will be assigned to specialty detail as medics, runners, or to stay here and protect Maia and the kids. It’s late, let's get a few hours sleep and be up bright and early to do some training. Any questions?”
Jay raised his hand. “What kind of information did they get from the guys they picked up? I think we all need to know if this is worth sticking our neck out for.”
Clarence took a moment to formulate his thoughts before responding then he held up the piece of paper they’d taken off of the prisoners. “You see this? It’s a list. The who’s who on a scale of highly valued to wasting oxygen. It’s who gets to live and who dies according to the elite who think they’re in charge. The ‘one-drop rule’ is back in effect and includes more than blacks.”
Sean, who’d been organizing Allen’s people all day, stepped up and took the paper from him. His eyes grew wide as he read. “What? The only boys under twelve or men with qualified skills who get to live are those who are one hundred percent white; no African; no Indians; no Hispanics; no Latin; no Irish; no French; no Italian; no Asian; no Middle Easterners; no bi-racial; and no Jews?”
“He read it right, ballerinas. According to this, most of us would be dead,” Danny said.
Sean stared at the paper and scratched his head. “Why French?”
Jason rubbed his goatee. “I’m going to take a guess and say they’re doing away with all of the people groups who assimilated into white culture like the Irish and Italians so that would also include Acadians and French Canadians.”
The historian in Charlie launched into a tirade. “Nah, nah. I detest hearing people say that. Remember, a lot of countries and ethnicities are considered white: Latinos, Italians, Irish, North Africans, Middle Easterners; they're all considered white. It wasn’t ‘white’ culture people had to assimilate into; it was British culture. The WASPs did this. White Anglo-Saxon Protestants who deem themselves more worthy of life than us other lowly people. That ain’t got nothing to do with white.”
“Teach, teacherrr,” Rodney shouted.
“C’mon, Charlie. Teach us something,” Caleb added.
Charlie continued, “Consider the facts. The original thirteen were British colonies. People were forced to give up their native tongue for English, and we adopted much of their way of politicking. The largest religious group here is their Protestantism; that’s the church they used in England to control the people. Our most elite colleges were founded by Protestants. Though we exchanged the royals for celebrities, we kept the idol culture. The overwhelming majority of our supposed American history is the story of England’s conquer of people groups who hadn’t yet submitted to their tyranny except they make it sound all spiffy. People would do well to remember the true reason for Independence Day, and it ain’t got nothing to do with beer and burgers. It was about the common man, in all colors including white, all cultures, and all creeds, coming together to fight off oppression by a brutal, narcissistic group of elitists; same as we’re doing now.”
Suddenly, everyone felt a need to clap and shout. Some even yelled out “Amen” and “God bless America.” Charlie was on a roll. Clarence knew if they were going to get anywhere they had to move on even if the lesson was a good one.
“Good points. Let me bring it all home for you. Who in this room is white according to these specifications?” Clarence asked. Several people raised their hand. A couple put theirs back down almost just as quick. He shook his head. “That’s what I thought; less than a dozen would pass. The rest of us don’t have a rat’s chance in hell.”
Sean added, “I’m looking at three people who said they’d pass but let me read the rest of it to you. No one with mental or physical handicaps including…” He took a deep breath and continued. “…homosexual, transgender, and any other forms of abnormal gender identity or sexual preference, as well as autism, ADHD, bipolar, and chronic fatigue? And the icing on the cake: no one with incurable or debilitating diseases including allergies and lactose intolerance? Jed—” Sean pointed to a blue-eyed Caucasian man who was tattooed and well-built. “You might pass at first, but eventually they’d realize you got a lil’ sugar in your tank. Once they do, you’d be done away with.”
Dirk paced. “Is this a joke? So what if he’s gay? He’s one of us. He don’t mess with nobody.”
Clarence replied, “It doesn’t matter. According to this, he won't
make it. Neither would most of the others who raised their hands. That’s what we have to face.”
“What’s your point?” Jason asked.
“My point is, the majority of us don’t qualify to live and if we do, we’re still likely to lose someone we care about.” Clarence took the piece of paper from Sean then held it up. “And the reason they’re doing this is because if they kill all the men who fit these criteria, then that would just about even up the gender divide, wouldn’t it?”
“What about the women? What happens to them?” a voice from the back asked.
Dumais decided it was best if they knew what their women were up against should they be caught. “The women they capture are graded much like what you see at Bottleneck when they auction them off. The women with the highest grade aren’t sold. They’re sent to a community in Clinton, LA where a bunch of rich men built a self-sustaining community for them and their friends.
High-grade white women are married and treated like royalty. The rest are baby factories. Once they give birth, the white women raise the children, or in some cases, they’re sold. Of the lower grade women, the child-bearing, white looking women are auctioned as wives for a higher price, and the rest are sold as slaves for a lower price.”
The men began yelling and cursing. Jason interrupted them, “Guys, guys…listen, that’s not the worst of it. The men and boys they catch are tortured. They’re scalping them before they even kill them. They castrate they boys under twelve so they can’t reproduce or, in their minds, ever become men. They only thing they'll ever be is slaves. The men who are chosen to be a part of their army have to meet a quota, or else they’re forced to fight to the death, perform homosexual acts, or kill themselves, all publicly. These people have no moral code. They have no empathy or remorse.”
Clarence paced back and forth pointing to various spots on the table. “They’ve already killed over a hundred thousand men. They attack area by area, and we’re next on their list. It’s only a matter of time before Allen’s community is their target. Earlier today, we went to Perkins Road, and we saw one of the areas they hit. Dead men were everywhere with their skulls showing. Even if someone had survived, they’d have a hard time living after. They search and take everything then they burn what’s left to the ground. If you need more reason than that to fight, then we can’t help you, and maybe you should head home, but God be with you because they're coming.”
No one backed down. Instead the words, “I’m in” echoed throughout the room as each man chose to fight.
Luke patted Dumais on the back. “Ah well, Dumais, you might as well fight. With your cross-dressing tendencies and irritable bowel syndrome, you ain’t gon’ make it, man,” he laughed.
Dumais popped him in the back of the head as he tried to duck. “That was an undercover assignment you asshole, and I'm sure you'd crap yourself too if a grizzly, six foot, four inch, tranny wearing a dominatrix outfit grabbed your junk then put vice grips in your face."
Laughter broke out all around Dumais, but he was serious as he continued, "Anyway, I’m certain if they didn’t knock you off for being Jamaican they’d certainly do away with your dreadlock head for still living in your parent’s garage at 36.”
The men continued to laugh. They talked amongst themselves before they retreated to the bedrooms in an attempt to get some rest.
Tye made his way over to Maia and Caleb. Jason was right behind him. She took the rag from his hand and wiped the blood spatter from his neck. “You should let me clean those cuts for you. You don’t know if that guy had anything. If his blood got in your cuts…”
“You gonna clean my face too?” Jason asked. Noting the look on her face, he added, “I’m only asking you as my friend.” He made sure to emphasize the word friend when he said it.
“Yes, come on. The last thing we need is to lose someone to a staph infection.”
They followed her to one of the downstairs bathrooms where she kept some first aid supplies. They both took a seat on the counter on opposite sides of the sink. She doused a cotton pad in hydrogen peroxide and cleaned the cut above Tye’s eye then the scrape on his jaw. “Let that air dry for a minute,” she said as she moved onto Jason.
She soaked another cotton pad and cleaned the injuries on his face. She held back a chuckle looking at how many more cuts, scrapes, and bruises he had compared to Tye.
She applied antibiotic ointment to their open wounds and the ones that needed a bandage got one. Jason thanked her by giving her a fist bump then he walked out.
She rubbed Tye's chapped lips with a bit of coconut oil. “I’m going to take Sadie and Elex upstairs to go to bed. They’re drained, and I am too,” she said laying her head on his shoulder. “I’m coming with you. Just let me get changed and I’ll be right up, okay?”
“Okay. I’ll see you in a little bit.” She smiled back at him as she walked out the door.
He headed to the library where they stored their belongings. He grabbed his clothes and headed back to the bathroom. As he changed his clothes, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. There was more blood on his neck. He wiped it off and thought about how much easier it would have been to shoot the guy, but Jason had insisted on slitting their throat instead of wasting a bullet. His pocket knife wasn’t long enough to do the job the first go round, so he had to cut him twice. It was a mess. He reminded himself that he did this for his family: Junior and Sadie, Caleb and Elex, and Maia and her boys. He wasn’t taking any more chances with the lives of those he loved. He resolved to do whatever it took to keep them safe.
It was almost midnight when Tye walked into the crowded room. He scanned the mattresses for Maia and Sadie. He found them in a corner. Sadie was asleep near the wall, and Maia was on the bed next to her. Elex was below them on another mattress. Even though there was an empty spot next to Maia and one next to Elex, he decided he didn’t want either of them.
He pulled the blanket up and slid underneath, taking care not to disturb her. He’d hoped she’d still be awake but it was just as well, he was exhausted anyway. He wrapped his arms around her, and she stirred.
Startled, she opened her eyes to see who was next to her. “It’s me. It’s just me,” he said. Immediately, she exhaled. Without hesitation, she turned to face him then put her head on his chest and her arm around his waist. He smiled inside at the gesture. He’d had to coax her there every time before, but tonight, he didn't even ask. Nothing meant more to him at that moment than knowing she felt safe with him.
Chapter Thirty-Six
The men woke bright and early. Tye marveled at how peaceful Maia looked before daring to wake her. He couldn’t resist touching her face. He grazed her cheek. When she opened her eyes, he smiled. “Good morning, beautiful.”
She glanced around the room and noticed most of the mattresses were empty. She rolled onto her back and covered her face with her hands. “Nooooo…It’s time to get up already?” she asked.
“Yes, it’s after seven o’clock, so come on. The boys want to see you before they leave,” he said, gently moving her hair off of her face.
After she cleaned up and got dressed, she headed downstairs. The sweet smell of corn greeted her. One thing they had plenty of was cornmeal, so Charlie and Danny prepared cush-cush then served it with protein drinks. Maia grabbed a bowl and sat at the table.
The guys chuckled as Caleb stared at his food. “You good, man?” Tye asked.
“Um, is it like grits?” he asked.
Tye poured a little of his vanilla protein drink into the bowl with the cush-cush and mixed it up. “Sort of, but it’s a bit sweeter. You treat it more like oatmeal.”
Caleb looked around and saw others adding dried fruits, sugar, and chocolate to their bowls. He reached into his backpack and pulled out two MRE packets. He poured the maple-flavored syrup and bacon bits into his bowl. He stirred it well and took a bite. Several people waited for his reaction. After a few times around his mouth, he finally gave the nod. “It’s not bad.”
By mid-morning, the boot camp crash course was well underway. Tye taught them how to break free from holds, maximize damage during a confrontation, and how to escape from certain restraints. Tony trained them on the proper use of a weapon and the rules of engagement. Dirk took them through basic tactical skills and introduced the field exercises.
Maia, Charlie, and the kids went with Tomas to see the area they'd use as a hiding space in case the dog hunters made it inside the old house. Not long after they started coming here, the boys found a closed-in area in the crawl space of the raised home that was accessible only from the second floor of the house.
The only way to get into the secret room was through a group of built-in cabinets in the upstairs hallway. With the cabinets open, Tomas reached inside and unlatched a hook that attached the shelf to the side of the wall. He slid the shelf back revealing an open area underneath. They jumped in and followed the stairs down to a 12x12 room. It smelled, and it was filthy, but it was well hidden.
Maia examined the room, and its contents then folded her arms. Eyeballing Tomas, she asked, "What were y'all doing down here?"
Tomas cringed, and his gaze shifted downward. He didn't say a word.
She knew what they were doing. She could smell it, and the bottle caps they tried to bury in the dirt-filled corners were a giveaway.
Charlie sensed the boy's uneasiness as he glanced around at the cold space. “What is this here?” he asked, pointing to a metal grate in the wall close to the floor.
Tomas exhaled and gawked at Charlie as though he'd just thrown him a life jacket. He knelt down and unscrewed the bolts that held the grate in place. “That’s the crazy thing. You have to crawl through, but this leads out into the woods not far from the old road we use to get home.”
Charlie shined the light inside the cramped tunnel. The round, concrete pipe looked like it had been there for ages. He was concerned about the structural integrity but in a do or die situation they’d use it to try to make an escape.
Amitola: The Making of a Tribe Page 38