4-1-1: Where Are Our Children (A Serial Novel) Episode 1 of 9

by Gary Sapp

woman to be ruthless, efficient, and very organized.

  Thomas had also noted that she was very attractive.

  “And this is the exact moment…the opportunity that they’ve been waiting for.” Lucy pushed her chin out at the room that was filled the hilt with People of Color.

  Thomas shifted again. Lucy’s words had found some potentially unfriendly ears a few rows back and had drawn attention from two female Peacekeepers standing near an exquisite painting gallery that housed renditions of several famous Black leaders: Martin Luther King Jr, the leader of the Civil Rights Movement; Malcom X, the rigid head of The House of Islam; Isaac Prince, the founder of a House in Chains; and President Adolphus Sweet, the first elected Black President in American History.

  Thomas looked for clarification of her statement, since there wasn’t a way safely out of this room. “Perhaps you might want to rephrase that?”

  Lucy wasn’t stupid. She caught his hint, flashed a careful smile highlighting her overbite, and inched close enough to kiss him.

  “Perhaps that wasn’t very…prudent of me, Thomas.” Lucy said. “But I believe that you know that I am not a racist.”

  “I do.” Thomas replied in all seriousness.

  “Good. But being a foreigner, I possess objectivity and impartiality that you Americans lack.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m an outsider. I haven’t been overly influenced by your country’s culture or its history either way.” Lucy said in a whisper. “Slavery, Reconstruction, the Civil Rights Movement have all pushed these people to an emotional brink. The House in Chains has capitalized and exploited this moment to their advantage.”

  Thomas frowned at her reasoning but did not interrupt.

  “I’m not saying that People of Color in this country haven’t had to overcome obstacles; that would be shortsighted of me. But look around our planet, Thomas. Has there journey truly been so troubled? Have minorities in this land, especially in comparison to how smaller factions are treated by majorities in other countries, been treated any worse throughout history than anyone else?”

  “Americans tend to look inwards at times like this.”

  “You are such arrogant bastards in that regard.” She replied. “And that arrogance blinds you, darling. If you want to see real atrocities, in this past half century alone, look no further than in Kosovo, Rwanda, Burma, and Southern Sudan. These are true examples of a powerful majority exercising its power, its influence and its hatred of a minority and attempting to remove that minority from existence forever.”

  “I’m sure your people in South Africa would know nothing about this sort of thing would they?”

  Lucy nodded two times, smiled tiredly, and nodded once again.

  “You’re right, of course, darling. Your keen observations never fail to astound me.” She said, struggling to keep her voice level. “My point is that the minority in this county don’t understand how good they have it here. Where People of Color in this land face bouts of discrimination, a right leaning justice system, and the occasional unlawful police shooting or beat down, people with similar skin color around the world are facing genocide and eradication.”

  “Understood,” Thomas said. Does that mean that The Circle, the leaders of A House in Chains, shouldn’t continue to better the lives of their people in this country?”

  “I applaud A House in Chains efforts. I applaud their organization and their ruthlessness even more. They’ve grown to rival Hamas and The IRA in power and influence. No one in the Western Hemisphere has ever seen anything like the power structure they’ve built here.” She lowered her voice further. “Perhaps they’ve grown too powerful. As corny as it may sound, darling, the saying with great power, comes great responsibility, still applies even in this case. Since President Sweet’s assassination Xavier Prince and his brood have done nothing short of proclaiming a Jihad against Pandora. The Circle is supposed to be a governing body, then they should damn well govern, and not foolishly challenge the bully to fight they obviously can’t win. A House in Chains, and People of Color everywhere, should be thankful that Pandora has chosen not to oblige them so far.”

  I wish you were wrong, Lucy. Thomas thought. I wish you were wrong because Pandora may have obliged them with the attack last night. Thomas let out an exasperated exhale, felt suddenly tired and sat back as far as his chair allowed.

  Lucy slapped her coat over his lap and began to discreetly squeeze his manhood, gently at first, then with more force as the minutes passed along.

  “Hey.”

  Lucy leaned over and stuck her tongue in his ear. “So when can I can expect you to drop my hotel room?” She said between bouts of licking. Lucy’s breath was a hot summer breeze. “I’m soon to be a divorced woman. I do deserve some measure of comforting don’t I?”

  Thomas is saved from her question and erotic bombardment when a spokesman stepped to the podium and asked a growing impatient crowd to settle down, that the press conference at long last was beginning. The platform was filling with known members of a House in Chains including two members of that principal governing party known as the Circle that Lucy had just mentioned, Grace Edwards, who was looking professional in a suit and stockings and Warren Washington, who wore his standard condescending smile on a handsome face, were standing atop the highest step. The next row was filled out by what Thomas could only surmise as The Board, a secondary political body which included Councilman Vanessa Davis, who was wearing one of her signature wigs, and at floor level stood a half dozen Peacekeepers and other friends and allies of a House in Chains. What is all of this? And then the same spokesman introduced the primary speaker for the presser.

  Thomas Pepper couldn’t believe who he saw take the microphone.

  Senator Terence Lavelle:

  He was a bright skinned black man of 55 years old. He was above average height, below average weight, and looked as if he’d been born with a frog in throat and a permanent scowl on his otherwise good-looking face. “Good morning,” He said with little enthusiasm. It reminded Thomas of the other man’s demeanor when he lost the Democratic bid in the last presidential election. “I’ve been authorized by Mayor Johnson to speak on her behalf. Afterwards, I will allow a handful of questions only from our esteemed panel of journalist who were issued the numbers one through 15 and are seated in the first two rows in front of me.”

  Lavelle allowed the first round of information to sink in then he continued on. “First, I feel it is necessary to extend a moment of silence for the victims of last night’s events.”

  The room fell silent.

  “Thank you,” Lavelle said in the moment afterwards. “As a member of The Board, I have been instructed to say, and I personally hold the belief, that Serena Tennyson and her illegally mandated organization of outlaws and hatemongers have moved against A House in Chains, People of Color, and specifically the citizens of Atlanta in the past 12 hours. A car bomb exploded last night at The Andrew Young Youth Center. 42 young men and women have been confirmed dead, although at least a half dozen more are as of this moment been unaccounted for. One of the first responders, a firefighter from the fifth percent has also perished. His name is being withheld until his family can be notified of his bravery and sacrifice while performing his duty.”

  Thomas noted the number of casualties had risen twofold since Sheila had shut off the television with the remote and pulled the covers over both their naked bodies last night.

  “Details are arriving in from The Siege at The Fox Theatre in pieces and fragments and unfortunately very little can be confirmed at this time.” Lavelle was saying.

  Thomas Pepper, Lucy Burgess, and apparently many other people were caught unaware that a significant event occurred blocks away from the youth center as well. Lavelle scowled and swallowed a drink of water until the loud and nervous chatter died down. He straightened the clip on his tie and pressed on. “And finally, as many of you have long suspected, and now with the heavy A House in Chains presen
ce in this room can confirm, I will announce that Mayor Ernestine Johnson, like me, like most People of Color in the room, is a standing member of A House in Chains. In fact she is a dignified member of the Circle. She has the mark on her body, and more importantly in her heart.”

  Thomas notes that this time the conversations don’t cease and desist. Thomas had long suspected that Mayor Johnson had ties to A House in Chains just as the senator said, but not only is she a member, but a card carrying associate of the governing body. Wow.

  Finally, Lavelle raised his hand for silence. “Please, everyone.” He said. “Please. Let us move on.” Lavelle’s persistence and his booming voice won over the boisterous crowd at last. “We’ve invited you here, into Mayor Johnson’s home, so that you would understand and acknowledge that the attack on Atlanta’s mayor was the final leg of a well calculated three tier attacks that occurred last night.”

  “How exactly was the mayor attacked?” Jack Manning, lead columnist for the Constitution and seated in chair number three asked. Every eye in the building burned through Lavelle awaiting an answer of Manning’s question. When Lavelle failed to respond right away Manning compelled him to explain his previous statement so that everyone would understand. Manning concluded by asking, “Was the mayor stabbed, Senator, was the mayor shot? What