Dawn of Defiance

by Dempsey, Albert

  Claudia was very responsive to his touch; she arched her body into his, wanting more. At only forty three, she just grew more beautiful with elegance, as she aged. He couldn’t wait to finish so that he could return to his beloved wife.

  When Vargän finally sat down behind his desk he opened a package labeled ‘TOP SECRET’ and took out an envelope with documents in it. There were photos of the Temple complex which was now in its final stages of completion. They also contained images showing the type of utensils to be used by the Levite priests, who would be performing the daily animal sacrifice to atone for the sins of the Jews.

  Animal sacrifices. This was very tribal and utterly repulsive to Vargän. Yet, that was part of their belief-system and it had to be respected.

  This is a strange world we are living in, he thought to himself as he put the package away.

  If it's that important to their belief-system, then let it be. After all, they had given up their nuclear stockpile to restore their old Temple. A more than adequate request, he thought.

  Vargän's knowledge of the ancient Jewish rituals was limited to his understanding of the Bible. A book he had browsed through a few times but never really took anything it said seriously.

  Yet, he still had a deep respect for the nation who had suffered so much through countless generations, at the hands of virtually every empire that ever existed.

  His very own mother had Jewish blood in her, but she was more Russian than Jew, that was a fact. She never really spoke about it to him; always trying to keep it a secret, her Jewish ancestry.

  Just then Katiyana came into his study and closed the door behind her.

  "Is everything okay, sweetheart?" he asked.

  She sat down opposite him and looked at him with the same blue eyes she inherited from Claudia.

  "No, Daddy, it's not okay. I do not know what to do anymore."

  Vargän closed the top secret file and gave her his full attention.

  "The last time you looked like this was when you failed your final math exam in college."

  It was true, she did inherit much from her mother but calculus was not one of her strong points.

  "Fabienne and I are lovers," she said, expecting her father to explode.

  "Okay," he answered and smiled.

  "Well, is it okay? I know how much a proper appearance means to you and Mom; I'm just not sure of what I'm doing anymore. Everything is just so confusing, Daddy. It's just that I feel I can talk to you about this, but not to Mom," she said, clearly anxious about his decision.

  "You're not making sense, Katiyana. What are you talking about, dear? Please, you do not need our approval on whom to date anymore. As long as the boy is from a decent family, and he loves you. I don't want your friends using you like they have before."

  Katiyana was sure her father knew about Fabienne as his security detail would have mentioned something by now. But from what she could gauge, he was still in the dark about her relationship.

  "Daddy, Fabienne is a girl," she said and waited for his response.

  Then she saw it; his facial expression changed as the truth sank in.

  "A girl…. Ah, I see."

  They both sat in silence looking at each other. Katiyana began to stand but Vargän reached forward and grabbed her hand.

  "Sit down, sweetheart. Come, just relax a little, you need a drink or something."

  "No, Dad, just be honest with me."

  He had never guessed at all that his daughter would have any lesbian tendencies. But then it all started to make sense. She was always a little more competitive and had a wild, unbridled side to her.

  He never told her this but Claudia had confided in him once to having a relationship with another woman.

  That was when she was much younger, of course, but the truth was that Katiyana was more like her mother than she wanted to admit.

  "You do understand that being in the limelight as often as you are does pose a problem? We must try to maintain an acceptable image to the public, but privately it will not be a problem."

  Instantly her expression lightened up.

  "I know you are more worried about what your mother may say about this, so let me break the news to her, unless you want to."

  Katiyana just nodded her head; she was Daddy's girl through and through. It took a special talent to handle Claudia.

  She jumped up and hugged him.

  "I want to meet the girl sometime so bring her over to the house next weekend," Vargän asked as she stormed out. This was the best news she could ask for.

  Vargän loved his daughter more than he loved his wife, he could not explain it but that was the truth of it. There was nothing he would not do for his beloved Katiyana. Regardless, his security would dig deep into the French girl's profile; he would insist on it.

  After Katiyana left he thought about it for a while. He would still prefer a nice, young man from a good European family, but she was still young and gay relationships were notorious for being volatile.

  The last package was the one he dreaded opening. It was hand-delivered by the official representative to the UWN from the Vatican. Without opening it Vargän knew the contents: it was the official invitation to an audience with the Pope. He too had informers well-embedded within the Catholic Church.

  Vargän put it aside for tomorrow. It was not that important that it couldn't wait for the morning.

  He still wanted to make love to Claudia and nothing was going to spoil his night with her. Standing up, he left the study and made his way towards their bedroom. For once he could relax, nothing mattered any more than to be with his beautiful wife, who was already waiting for him naked under the sheets. He trusted her more than anyone else in the world.

  Tomorrow's problems would have to wait.

  He would tell Claudia in the morning. He didn't want to spoil his evening defending his daughter. Of all the people in the world, he feared his wife the most. Perhaps that was why their lovemaking was always spectacular.

  Chapter 29

  "The world is a dangerous place to live; not because of the people who are evil, but because of the people who don't do anything about it.”

  Albert Einstein

  Chantel stood upon a cluster of rocks, looking out towards the Wolfsberg Cracks. It was impressive and daunting at the same time. Things did not turn out as well as she envisioned; the quad-bike she stole had run out of petrol less the ten kilometers from the Kruger's farm. Luckily she had enough time to place her diary before heading off to hide away until morning light. She had watched from a distance as they searched for her, but she had to stay on her course.

  After abandoning the quad, she had a grueling hike though bush and over koppies, often ending in a dead end. On more than one occasion she had to back-track a few kilometers to attempt a different route. At least she had a map and was heading in the right direction.

  The food she had stolen that fateful night was only enough to last for a few days, so she carefully rationed herself with snacks to keep her hunger pains at bay. Yet, the facts were clear and her decision took days in the making, but she had to abandon the group for their own safety.

  It was the right decision; sometimes, something is crystal clear, and she felt pure again. The Cederberg was truly one of the most beautiful landscapes, untouched by civilization, barren, rough and harsh.

  Faith is a strange thing; it's meaningless when it's never tested, but priceless when you overcome obstacles.

  Will I overcome!

  She missed her diary, especially now as her thoughts became clearer and she wanted to write them down.

  All that I am in this world has been reduced to a backpack.

  Chantel soon realized that in this wilderness, when it comes down to it, you are ultimately alone and at the mercy of God. Moments shared with friends and strangers, are just moments. But you spend most of your life alone, even when surrounded by your friends.

  Looking around she could feel God's presence; His majestic power displa
yed in the awesome landscape and the way everything seems too perfect to just have happened by chance.

  Does the 9mm in my pocket really give me the security I needed?

  ‘Faith and brains often walk hand in hand,’ Nathan had told her once.

  He would be very disappointed in her, and she hated the feeling, but she had to do the right thing now. Steenkamp had placed her under so much pressure and she felt trapped.

  Instinctively she looked down at her iBand concealed in the watch, and a shiver went down her spine as she realized she was still connected to the devil himself.

  Just a little longer before I smash you to pieces!

  This was a world that was unforgiving, and she knew it better than most. Yet, standing on the ledge, she felt more alive than ever before. Faith was just the belief that Nicole would find her diary within a day or two. It was also knowing, that deep inside, regardless how deceitful she had been, they would forgive her in time.

  Chantel had an abundance supply of water as the mountain streams were full and it tasted pure and clean. It would be a while before she found a better resting place, so Chantel took her backpack off and made her way to the shade of a bush. It was great to rest her feet and to just sit. Her back was wet from the sweat and her arms and face already burned from the scorching sun. At least she had her sunglasses, which no doubt had saved her eyes from the glare.

  Less than a liter of water left before she would run out. From the hiking trail and map she could see that she was in luck; perhaps another four kilometers before she could fill her water bottle up again.

  Only resting for five minutes at a time every thirty minutes, she managed to cover a lot of ground efficiently. Nathan had used that method and it worked. She would miss him.

  Guilt had burned its mark into her soul, and the face of Nathan would always be imprinted in her memories. Nathan was perfect in every way, except he was too old, and he was a man.

  No one knew her secret, but Chantel preferred women to men; they were more loveable, sensitive and sensual.

  She struggled with her feelings, especially in a staunch Christian community, yet she was still pure and a virgin. Often she would long for a soul mate, someone she could be herself with, someone who would understand her intimately and completely.

  Knowing something is wrong when you feel it is right, is a contradiction that rattles the soul. Memories of a love she once knew kept her going, an innocent love in her youth that was perfect in all ways, except that it was forbidden by the church.

  Yet, regardless of her desires, her belief in God was greater than it had ever been and she put those forbidden desires, so sweet and dear, out of her mind.

  I am losing it! She thought to herself, knowing it could just be true.

  At only seventeen she had endured more at her age than most people had in their entire lifetime; the loss of her parents at such an early period, and then to be adopted by an over-religious uncle who dominated all with his bombastic ways.

  She was a gentle soul, rebelling against a cruel world. Hate had taken hold of her as she remembered Steenkamp's gloating smile, which she believed would be whipped off his face some day.

  Standing up Chantel stretched again, looking around to see if anyone had followed her.

  This place would have been perfect to survive in, except it promised too little food for the group. Nathan had stated factually that the coast offers the best option; an endless supply of food was a big draw card, as fishing was easier than hunting.

  The day went by faster than the previous one, especially as the pathway she hiked on turned onto a gravel road that made for easy walking. Chantel prayed and sang, she had somehow rediscovered her youth as she forgot about the world she left behind.

  In the distance, less than a kilometer away, was an intersection. Gravel roads always needed constant maintenance. A working crew was busy repairing a section of the bridge that had washed away from the heavy rains. Chantel ducked behind some rocks to listen and to take out her map. She looked out at the workers who were on lunch break.

  Checking the map, she estimated that the Kibbutz was about 15 kilometers away. She decided that this was now the perfect time to get rid of the iBand, and the tracking device they had implanted in her wrist. Another shudder went down her spine as the dreaded moment had finally arrived.

  Her pocket knife was not exactly the perfect instrument to make an incision into her wrist. However, the last obstacle to freedom lay less than a few hundred meters away, and the other just under her skin. Both watch and chip had to remain in close proximity to each other. A signal would be sent to Steenkamp if they parted.

  Sitting down again she took out the knife and sharpened it against a rock as best she could. Feeling the small bump under her skin she located it, and without hesitation cut in. The pain was far worse than she expected, and she had only made a small incision. Blood streamed down her wrist and dripped onto the sand.

  The tip of the knife touched the tracking chip and she could feel it was hard, and it was still loose under the skin. Blood was everywhere, and it began to pool on the rock where she rested her hand. Pushing again, she levered the tip of the chip so she could grab it with her fingers.

  It was slippery and she almost pushed it back into the cavity once more.

  The pain was unbearable.

  "Fuck…!" she grunted as the pain level exploded in her wrist and shot up her arm.

  Then, just like that, it popped out, as if her own body rejected it, pushing the evil capsule away from under her skin. It fell onto the gravel in a pool of blood. Leaving it, she quickly wiped the blood away and closed the cut with a band-aid and bandaged her wrist as tightly as she could to seal the wound.

  It would need stitches, but if she didn’t use her wrist too much it would probably seal itself. Eventually, with the operation now behind her, and the chip washed clean with a little water, she studied the device with utter amazement. It was shaped like a capsule that had a coding system on the side. She could not see inside the capsule but it felt heavy.

  Instinctively she wanted to smash it against a rock, but she decided to keep it in her hand and as warm as possible. To those who tracked her, the two units had to stay within range of the signal that synced the two devices. This technology Steenkamp bragged about was state-of-the-art.

  He lied to her about it releasing a toxic poison that would kill her in seconds. She may have only been seventeen, but she was far from stupid. Perhaps it was her faith in God that gave her the courage to remove it.

  Now was the time to set herself free; no more tracking or spying.

  The last message she sent to Steenkamp was this morning. He knew she would send him a report this evening with the final coordinates before they initiated the capture. From their last conversation he was losing patience and he made it perfectly clear to her.

  The municipal truck was off to the side of the road as she approached, with the workers about twenty meters away. Sneaking to the back of the truck, she knelt down beside the wheel and found the perfect compartment to place the capsule and iBand in, which she wrapped in an old plastic bag. Her DNA was all over it, but she did not care anymore. They would track it down within the next day or two, depending on Steenkamp.

  Chantel thought of leaving him a personal message, but she decided that it was more than he deserved.

  The workers greeted her as she strolled by; she knew some of them would be questioned, and waved at them as if she did not have a care in the world. One of the municipal workers even whistled at her, which made her smile, humanity in its simplest form is still beautiful. She waved back at him as she strolled out of sight.

  It was a brisk walk as she tried to put as much distance between herself and the workers before they wrapped up for the day. Those workers back there all lived a simple life; they were, in essence, slaves of the lowest class. Just like slaves of the ancient times who were branded with their master’s sign or had their ears pierced as a mark of ownership.
/>   It was late afternoon and a shudder of fear came over her.

  Only one more night alone, she thought, trying to raise her spirits.

  A smile formed on her face when she thought about how Steenkamp would react when he found out.

  She had much to tell those at the Ark. Her uncle had taken her there once when they were still building the farms. It was the most remote of them all. No one knew about it and Chantel wanted to keep it that way. She knew, even when she asked Nathan, that he had no idea where the other Kibbutz was.

  The last time she visited the farm was about three years ago, when she was only fourteen. She was sure they would still remember her. But that was before the bombs and the ISIS network that had entrapped the entire world in its grasp.

  I cannot wait to see them all again and to have a bath, she thought. A warm, deep bath with bubbles and candles and maybe even some wine.

  Memories of her beautiful Angela came back.

  I am free, I may be hungry, but I am free.

  Chapter 30

  "Depopulation should be the highest priority of foreign policy towards the Third World."

  Hendry Kissinger, 1974

  The gravel road weaved and dipped through the arid Karoo basin as the mid-morning sun caressed the barren landscape. It was bitterly cold and silent, except for the rumble of an approaching vehicle in the distance, traveling at high speed and leaving a dust cloud in its wake. The Land Rover was already caked in a brown dust that masked its original color.

  "How much further do you think?" the black girl asked as she looked at the Satnav on the dashboard.

  "We should have been there already!" he said.

  They had left Cape Town early that morning to do a cover story on a little town in the Karoo for a documentary they were shooting. The permits restricted them to Zone 3 and to a little mining town called Copperton. It was said that a person cries twice in Copperton; when you arrive and when you leave. There would be no crying however, as they had no intentions of going there.

  "I think we’re almost there, it can’t be much further," he said while slowing the vehicle down.